Just as soon as they had landed they were off again! Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie have packed up their brood of six and left Japan after just 48 hours in the country.
And it seems one of their children, six-year-old Zahara, wasn’t too happy about the constant travel. She gave waiting photographers an icy star as she boarded the plane with her parents and other siblings.
All of the Pitt Jolie clan clutched soft toys as they walked through the airport.
During their limited time in Tokyo the family visited famous local toy shops while Brad Pitt promoted his film Moneyball.
Zahara isn’t impressed with the wainting photographers at the airport.
Angelina ushers her children through the airport
Brad is close behind with Knox and Zahara.
Brad and Angelina looked red hot at the Moneyball premiere.
Clooney revealed he lost his virginity at the age of 16, and now regrets taking such a big step before he was old enough to understand it.
“I was young, very young,” he told the magazine. “Too young.”
His first orgasm came much earlier and Clooney still remembers it more than 40 years later.
“I believe it was while climbing a rope when I was six or seven years old,” he said. “I mean, nothing came out, but all the other elements were there. I remember getting to the top of the rope, hanging off the rope, and going, ‘Oh, my God, this feels great!'”
Clooney also discussed his infamous sense of humour. The heartthrob is renowned for his love of pranks and juvenile jokes and says he still thinks there is nothing funnier than a fart.
“I think it’s one of the funniest things in the history of mankind,” he said. “Even the idea of a fart makes me laugh. Saying the word ‘fart’ makes me laugh. I have iFart on my phone. I have remote whoopee cushions. Farts. To me, there’s nothing funnier.”
George is currently dating former professional wrestler Stacy Keibler after splitting from Italian model and TV presenter Elisabetta Canalis earlier this year.
Your say: Do you think George Clooney’s juvenile sense of humour makes him more or less appealing?
Hugh Grant may be a new dad but he is yet to sign any documents regarding the child.
The 51-year-old British actor, who became the father of a baby girl on September 26, is three days over the 42 days required to sign documents regarding the child, Metro reported.
The child’s mother, Chinese actress Tinglan Hong who is 19 years his junior, has also failed to register the birth.
Westminster register office in the UK has confirmed that so far neither had registered the birth and had not arranged an appointment to do so.
“It’s appointment only to register a birth and there is no appointment. It is very unlikely they are just going to walk in the door,” a register office staff member said.
The six-week-old child, reportedly named Jessica, was born at the Portland Hospital in Westminster, London.
But despite not signing any documents the pair will not have to pay any penalty.
“It is not like we are going to turn up on his doorstep with the police and chase them up. It is quite common to go over 42 days. We’ve got some as long three months. Parents have lots of reasons for not registering a birth,” the register office staff member said.
But if the birth is still not registered within three months, the registrar becomes liable and can be fined up to £200 ($315).
Hugh reportedly was not present for the birth and has only spent about half an hour with his daughter before travelling to Scotland to play golf.
We know him as the charming TV host and hard-hitting journalist, but for Jenna Martin, her father Ray is just her doting, sometimes embarrassing dad.
When I think of my dad, what comes to mind is not the toothy-grinned television star swapping stories with a Hollywood celebrity, or the hard-hitting journalist reporting from the latest conflict hot spot.
No, the image that sticks is Dad, with his fingers covered in peanut butter and honey from his toast, tearing through the newspaper.
Every day, whether he’s in London, Libya or at home on Sydney’s lower North Shore, he reads the morning rag religiously from cover to cover.
This daily ritual takes place even when he’s not looking for a story. When it’s been your job for 40 years to find out what’s going on in the world, it’s tough to stop investigating.
My dad, Ray Martin, is special. I guess it shows his triumph as a father that, as a kid, I never knew he was special to a lot of people, not just me.
I can’t pinpoint the moment I figured out he was famous. I thought every dad’s office was a television studio where Whoopi Goldberg or some other passing celebrity would drop by to plug their latest film.
As I got older, I grew more aware of the attention that Dad got whenever we went anywhere. We couldn’t leave the house without him being stopped for an autograph or a photo, or a “G’day, Ray!”
Everybody in Australia knew who he was and everybody at school knew who I was. I loved that people loved him, but I hated feeling like our family was on display.
For Dad, my discomfort in his celebrity was the craftiest bribe: all he had to do was threaten to get out of the car and kiss me goodbye at the school gates, and I was putty in his hand — I’d do anything to avoid that.
In the sanctuary of our own home, we’re quick to rib Dad on his snoring, his terrible singing voice and his abysmal cooking (although he microwaves a mean can of baked beans).
The Gold Logies are gathering dust out of sight and there are no famous friends dropping by.
Beyond our shared love of country music and Woody Allen films, Dad and I are extremely similar. We have the same curiosity, the same sense of humour and, I have been told, the same ideas about what is decent and important in life.
If that’s true, then I’m honoured — Dad is the most morally courageous person I know.
For the past two years, while dabbling in performing and directing, and finishing my Master’s degree, I’ve been working alongside Dad as a researcher and producer.
We’ve roamed Australia, telling stories about everything from indigenous education programs to Tasmanian boat shows.
When Dad decided to write another book, I wanted to be involved. It’s been fascinating travelling back through the years and the yarns, and helping him choose his “favourite people” for the book.
I won’t lie, researching and transcribing dozens of interviews left me with some fairly serious repetitive strain injury, but it was great to share the memories with him.
There were even times I had to crack the whip and make him work, as he’s both easily distracted and an excellent procrastinator. Yet who better to nag a man than his daughter?
It’s a joy to have Ray Martin as a father. He’s done some pretty amazing things — journalist, humanitarian and would-be opening batsman for Australia (he wishes) — but being a dad is what he does best.
Ray Martin’s Favourites: The Stories Behind The Legendsby Ray Martin, published by Victory Books, on November 1, $49.99.
Read more of this story in the November issue of The Australian Women’s Weekly.
Kerryn Phelps, Jackie Stricker and two of their kids Jaime, 30 and Gabi, 12.
When Kerryn Phelps and Jackie Stricker stood on the steps of New York’s City Hall last month to legally wed after 14 years of being married in all but name, they had their daughters by their side. This was the moment they had longed for, as they tell Juliet Rieden
“It was fantastic, wasn’t it, Jac! I almost couldn’t believe that we were standing there in front of the New York City clerk [Mike McSweeney, who decided to take the ceremony personally], who started this really very beautiful, moving ceremony. The words were lovely and then at the end he said, ‘By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you married’.”
There’s a pause as Kerryn Phelps lets the phrase wash over her all over again and I can hear a frisson of excitement in her voice.
“I actually became a little overwhelmed by the personal emotion of the event,” she says. “It just reminded me of why we have fought so hard for this for so long.”
Did she cry? “I did. We all had a bit of a sob,” she says, with a throaty laugh.
Professor Kerryn Phelps is not prone to outbursts of emotion. She’s the calm, analytical GP at the top of her profession, who loves to lobby politicians with precise, reasoned argument and weigh in to the political jousting arena on matters she feels deserve her passion.
“Jackie’s better at talking about feelings,” she says. Yet speaking to The Weekly the day after she legally married long-term partner and the love of her life, Jackie Stricker, Kerryn is clearly overcome.
Marriage had been part of Jackie’s life plan since she was a little girl, but as a gay woman, it was also something she assumed she couldn’t have.
“I grew up thinking, ‘I can’t get married’. And my mother, when she was alive, was really upset when I told her I was gay because she thought that it meant I couldn’t get married and I couldn’t have children. Well, that’s all been turned on its head now.
“I wanted a fairytale, just like all my friends had. I didn’t think it was fair or reasonable that I couldn’t get married just like them,” she says.
The wedding was a truly joyous occasion, but back in Australia, the couple had lit a very different fire.
“The furore in the Australian media when they found out what we’d done — Kerryn was reasonably well-known because of her media career — was just incredible,” Jackie remembers.
“It was like a bomb exploding. ‘What do you mean you’re getting married? You can’t get married! How dare you use the word marriage.’ The vitriol that came out was staggering.”
Kerryn was equally blindsided by the public reaction. “We certainly didn’t intend to set off a national movement. What we did at the time was just a very private and personal ceremony of our own, a recognition of our own.”
The repercussions were extreme for the couple and those around them. Jackie, who was then working as a teacher at a private Sydney girls’ school, was openly criticised and felt she had to quit her job. Kerryn lost her position as a medical columnist in a Sydney newspaper.
“Looking back now, I think it was necessary to have the difficult time that we went through in order to understand that there were a lot of people going through a far more difficult time with their sexuality,” says Kerryn.
“Up until then, I don’t think either of us had really completely experienced the homophobia and discrimination others encountered in their careers and families.”
Read more of this story in the November issue of The Australian Women’s Weekly.
Your say: Do you think Australia should legalise gay marriage?
Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are at it again! They have packed up their whole family and set out on another overseas trip.
Despite having their hands full, the super star couple looked relaxed as they landed at Tokyo’s Haneda International Airport with their six children Maddox, Pax, Zahara, Shiloh, Vivienne and Knox.
The family was greeted by hundreds of screaming fans and photographers who were waiting hours for their arrival.
The two eldest children, Maddox and Pax, lapped up the attention waving to the crowd while Shiloh and twins Knox and Vivienne, who all had matching haircuts to their dad, stayed close to their parents.
Brad and Angelina’s children certianly have grown.
Pax waves to the waiting crowd.
Brad holds on tight to daughter Shiloh and son Knox.
Attractive people earn more, have better jobs and live happier lives. So, if beauty is such an asset, can we fake it? Jordan Baker investigates.
Beautiful people don’t know how good they’ve got it. In their world, strangers give flowers, compliments flow like water and there’s always a taxi available.
Not only do they sail through life with fewer of the irritations that plague the rest of us, but they also earn more, get better deals on mortgages and rise up the job ranks faster. What’s more, they’re happier.
In terms of economics and evolution, the benefits of beauty are beyond doubt. So, academics are now debating whether we can improve our ride through life by making ourselves appear prettier, or are we stuck with the face we were dealt.
The key to beauty is facial structure, scientists have found. We subconsciously link symmetrical faces with strong immune systems and respiratory health — qualities we want to pass to our offspring.
In a group of 100 people, we may disagree about who is prettiest, but we’ll tend to agree on the most attractive 10 per cent, who will all have even features.
Symmetry helps attract a more appealing mate, but its benefits don’t stop there. Professor Daniel Hamermesh, an economist at the University of Texas, has investigated the financial benefits of beauty and found that looks have a bigger impact on our lifetime earning power than education.
In his book, Beauty Pays, he says beautiful people are more likely to get jobs, raises and promotions, and suggests that, over a lifetime, the best-looking workers will earn about 10-15 per cent more per year than the ugliest.
We’re all to blame for that inequality because we prefer attractive sales assistants, good-looking politicians and handsome teachers. Interestingly, the ugliest men have a harder time in the workforce than the worst-looking women.
Controversially, Professor Hamermesh doesn’t believe confidence or weight influence someone’s beauty. Only age and obvious obesity have any impact on your God-given genes.
Plastic surgery doesn’t help, either. “It is not worth the money,” he tells The Weekly. “It doesn’t change your beauty very much, as a lot of it is due to facial structure and it’s hard to change that.”
Professor Hamermesh believes there’s nothing we can do about our levels of beauty — not even choosing a flattering frock or getting a professional blow-dry.
Professor Hamermesh is so concerned about the disadvantages ugly people must suffer in the workplace that he has called for their rights to be protected under law, in the same way we protect people with disabilities.
He admits, however, that identifying ugly people who need protection might be hard, not least because of the difficulty in choosing those ugly enough to need it.
Sociologist Catherine Hakim agrees with the perks of beauty, but disagrees with Professor Hamermesh’s belief that we’re stuck with what we’ve got.
In her new book, Honey Money, she argues that women have a complex power of attraction at their disposal, which they seldom use and perhaps don’t even know exists — the power of erotic capital.
Erotic capital is not, as the name suggests, just about sexual power — sex appeal is just one component. It also includes beauty, self-presentation, social skills and confidence.
Her theory is that a woman can immediately lift her attractiveness by improving her grooming, slimming down, working on her manners and how she carries herself, and learning the arts of flirting and charm.
“To some extent, beauty seems to be an attitude of mind,” she says. “The French have a concept of ‘beautiful ugly’ or ‘handsome ugly’. Self-presentation skills trump genetics.”
Even when it comes to erotic capital, beautiful people still have the advantage. If they grow up in a world in which people consistently respond warmly to them — “the bubble”, as comedian Tina Fey once described it — they’re likely to be more confident and have a rosier view of life.
Read more of this story in the November issue of The Australian Women’s Weekly.
Your say: Do you think beautiful people have easier lives?
Deborra-lee Furness headed a star-studded guest list at a breakfast launching National Adoption Awareness week in Sydney on Monday.
She was joined by Rebecca Gibney, Sandra Sully, Layne Beachley, Professor Kerryn Phelps and MP Bronwyn Bishop, as well as actor Jack Thompson, who gave a passionate speech about the opportunities and love he was given by his adopted family.
Deborra-lee talked about the live-changing nature of adoption, and asked the Australian government to take the issue more seriously.
Deborra-lee Furness at the National Adoption Awareness week breakfast.
Deborra-lee spoke passionately about adoption at the event.
Deborra-lee and Rebecca Gibney.
*The Weekly’s* editor-in-chief Helen McCabe with Rebecca Gibney.
The Weekly’s editor-in-chief Helen McCabe with Rebecca Gibney.
Deborra-lee, Bronwyn Bishop and Professor Kerryn Phelps.
Layne Beachley said she would not be a professional surfer if she had not been adopted.
Jack Thompson, an adoptee, described himself as “a child of the community”.
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