A few years after Barack Obama praised Drake, calling him talented enough to do anything, the rapper was seen partying with Obama’s daughters.
Malia and Sasha Obama were spotted at a Hollywood party with Drake, wearing outfits that showed off their fun and stylish sides. One of them showed her midriff, while the other wore a revealing top.
If you want to know more about the former first daughters, who are now all grown up, keep reading!
Life in the White House wasn’t easy for Malia and Sasha Obama, who just want to enjoy life like everyone else.
On Father’s Day, Michelle Obama shared a sweet message, thanking Barack Obama for being a loving and caring dad to their two girls, Malia and Sasha.
Malia, born on July 4, 1998, and Sasha, born on June 10, 2001, are the daughters of former President Barack Obama and Michelle Obama. From 2009 to 2017, they lived in the White House, one of the most famous homes in the world.
Their mother, Michelle Obama, once said that the girls had to learn how to handle all the attention while staying polite and figuring out how to live their own lives under the public eye. She shared this during an interview on the *Moments that Make Us* podcast with Melinda French Gates.
Michelle Obama shared that her daughters had to be smart, confident, and independent from a young age, even while living in the White House with staff like butlers, maids, and florists. She always reminded them, “You won’t live here with me forever, so I need to help you take charge of your own life.”
In 2014, when Malia was getting ready for prom, it was hard for Barack Obama to see his oldest daughter growing up so fast.
“I think it’s fair to say that the first time you see your daughter in heels is a little bit jarring,” he said on Live with Kelly & Michael. “She’s lovely. She’s beautiful.”
After graduating high school in 2016, the young woman took a gap year before attending Harvard University, where she graduated in 2021.
Malia Obama showed an interest in entertainment and spent her gap year working in the industry. She worked as a production assistant on Halle Berry’s CBS sci-fi show *Extant* and as a writer on the Amazon series *Swarm*.
In 2024, using the name Malia Ann, she made her debut at the Sundance Film Festival with a short film she wrote and directed called *Heart*.
Back in 2008, Barack Obama told *People* that Sasha was full of energy and the comedian of the family.
After Sasha graduated from high school in 2019, she started her first year at the University of Michigan, where she had to learn online because of the COVID pandemic.
At 23, Sasha Obama graduated from the University of Southern California in May 2023 with a degree in sociology.
Now, she and her sister Malia live together in a home in Los Angeles.
Michelle Obama shared how happy it makes her to see her daughters finding comfort in each other’s company, saying, “It’s the one thing you hope for as a parent.”
Malia and Sasha also enjoy having fun together. Recently, they were spotted partying with Canadian rapper Drake at The Bird Streets Club in Los Angeles, dressed in stylish outfits that fit the occasion.
Sasha Obama showed off her belly in a black cropped corset, paired with baggy cargo pants and open-toe shoes. She wore her braids in a high ponytail and added some sparkle with earrings, a necklace, and rings.
Malia matched her sister’s cool style, wearing a sheer lace-up top with high-waisted printed pants that showed off her curves. She completed her look with long brown hair over her shoulders and chunky boots.
The sisters partied at Drake’s event, which must have been wild! Reports say they stayed out until 4 a.m. and left with their friends.
Drake, who has a mutual admiration with the Obama family, was in L.A. for his “It’s All A Blur Big As The What?” tour at the Crypto.com Arena. The Toronto-born rapper once said he’d love to play Barack Obama if a biopic is ever made.
In 2010, Drake said, “I hope someone makes a movie about Obama’s life soon because I could play him.”
In 2020, Barack Obama responded to the idea and praised Drake. “Drake seems to be able to do anything he wants,” the former president said when asked about Drake playing him in a movie. “He’s a talented guy, so if the time comes and he’s ready…”
He adds, “Drake has, more importantly I think, my household’s stamp of approval. I suspect (my daughters) Malia and Sasha would be just fine with it.”
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Neighbors Made Me Put up a Fence to Hide an ‘Ugly’ Car in My Yard – A Week Later, They Begged Me to Remove It
I didn’t quite see my neighbors’ vintage ’67 Chevy Impala the same way, but to me it was more than just a rusty heap. What was supposed to be a fight over a “eyesore” developed into something none of us saw coming. It altered our peaceful suburban street in ways we never would have imagined.
My dad left me an ancient, beat-up 1967 Chevy Impala. I saw it as a project I wanted to restore and a reminder of my father, even though most people just saw it as a rusted automobile. My garage was piled high with tools and spare components, so the automobile sat in my yard. I’d been trying to save money and find time to work on it, but I knew it looked awful.
But my neighbors were far more concerned about this than I was. I was out inspecting the Impala one bright afternoon when I suddenly remembered something. Gus, my dad, was demonstrating how to change the oil. He smiled, his thick mustache twitching. “You see, Nate? It isn’t complicated science. Simply perseverance and hard work,” he had stated. A piercing voice jolted me back to reality as I was lost in thinking as I ran my fingers over the worn paint. A man leaning against a vintage car’s front end.
Please pardon me, Nate. Could we discuss about that? I turned to see my next-door neighbor, Karen, pointing disgustingly at the Impala. Hello, Karen. What’s going on?” Knowing where this was going, I asked.”That vehicle. It is aesthetically offensive. With crossed arms, she remarked, “It’s destroying the appearance of our street.” I exhaled. “I realize it appears rough right now, but I intend to fix it. It was my dad’s, but Karen cut him off, saying, “I don’t care whose it was.” It must be removed. or at the very least remain unseen. She pivoted and marched back to her house before I could reply.
As I watched her leave, I noticed a knot in my stomach. I vented to my girlfriend Heather over dinner later that night. “Do you think she’s real? “It seems as though she is unaware of the significance this car holds for me,” I remarked, picking at my salad. Squeezing my hand, Heather reached across the table. “I understand, sweetie. However, would you try working on it a little bit more quickly? simply to demonstrate to them your progress? I nodded, but I knew in my heart that it wasn’t that easy. Time was of the essence, and parts were costly.
When I returned home a week later, I discovered a notice from the city hidden beneath the wiper on my “offending” car. As I read it, my stomach fell. The general idea was to either remove the car or conceal it behind a fence. I clenched the piece of paper in my hand, feeling a surge of rage within. This was absurd. I required guidance. I picked up my friend Vince, who also loves cars. “Hey, buddy, have a moment? I’d like your opinion on something. Okay, what’s going on? Vince’s voice came across the phone crackling. I described the circumstances, becoming more irritated as I spoke. Before he spoke, Vince was silent for a while.
He spoke carefully and added, “Build the fence, but add a twist.” “What do you mean?” I curiously inquired.”You’ll discover. This weekend, I’ll be here. This will provide for some enjoyable times. Vince arrived that weekend with a truck full of paint and wood. For the next two days, we worked on erecting a towering fence to enclose my front yard. Vince told me about his strategy as we worked together. “We’re going to decorate this fence with a mural of the Impala. Every rust mark, every ding. We’ll make sure they remember the car if they decide to hide it. Loved the idea, I smiled. “Let’s get started.”On Sunday, we painted. Even though none of us was artistic, we were able to replicate the Impala on the fence really well.
For added effect, we even made some of the flaws seem worse. I was satisfied with my work when we took a step back to admire it. I decided to find out what the neighbors thought of this. It didn’t take me long to learn. There came a knock on my door the following afternoon. When I opened it, a cluster of neighbors surrounding Karen as she stood there. Their expressions were a peculiar mix of desperation and rage. “Nate, we need to talk about the fence,” Karen said in a tight voice. Hiding my delight, I leaned against the doorframe. How about it? I followed your instructions.
The automobile is now hidden.An older man called Frank, one of the other neighbors, raised his voice. We understand that we requested you to conceal the car, but this mural is simply too much, son. I arched an eyebrow. “Too much? In what way? Karen let out a deep sigh. “It’s more awful than the car itself. It appears as though you’ve transformed your entire yard into… “A show of art?” Unable to control my sarcasm, I made a suggestion. “A disgrace,” Karen firmly concluded. “We would prefer to see the actual car instead of this… monstrosity.”Maybe a little too much, I enjoyed their anguish as I crossed my arms. Now, allow me to clarify. You made me spend money on a fence after complaining about my automobile, and now you want me to pull it down? They all gave bashful nods.
After giving it some thinking, I decided to remove the fence—but only under one condition. As long as I’m working on fixing the car, you guys promise to quit whining about it. Alright?They glanced at one another before grudgingly agreeing. I could hear them whispering to each other as they left. I started tearing down the fence the following day. Some of my neighbors were seeing me work with interest. Even Tom, one of them, stopped over to talk. “I never really looked at that car before, Nate,” he remarked, pointing to the Impala. However, after getting a closer look, I can see that it has potential. Which year is it?I grinned, always up for a conversation about the car. It’s a 1967. When I was a little child, my dad purchased it. Tom gave a grateful nod. Good. My brother has a thing for vintage autos.
In the event that you require assistance with the restoration, I might contact him. I took aback at the offer. That would be fantastic. Regards, Tom. In the ensuing weeks, word of my initiative grew. To my astonishment, a number of neighborhood auto aficionados began dropping by to examine the Impala and provide guidance or assistance. I was working on the engine one Saturday morning when I heard a familiar voice behind me. “So, this is the well-known vehicle, huh?” I turned to see Karen standing there, intrigued yet seeming uneasy. I wiped my hands with a cloth and remarked, “Yep, this is her.” Karen moved in closer, staring at the motor. “I must admit that my knowledge of autos is quite limited.
How are you spending your time? Startled by her curiosity, I gave the bare outline of the project I was working on. More neighbors flocked around to listen and ask questions while we conversed. My yard quickly became the scene of an unplanned block party. A cooler full of drinks was brought out, and individuals started talking about their early automotive experiences or their recollections of owning vintage automobiles. I was surrounded by my neighbors as the sun was setting, and we were all conversing and laughing. Karen seems to be having fun as well. Looking at the Impala in the lovely evening light, it seemed better than ever, while still being rusty and battered up.
I couldn’t help but think about how much my father would have enjoyed this scene.Speaking to the group, I remarked, “You know, my dad always said a car wasn’t just a machine.” It was a narrative reimagined. Considering how many stories this old girl has brought out today, I believe he would be quite pleased. There were lifted glasses and murmurs of agreement. I noticed something as I turned to face my neighbors, who were now my pals. Despite all of the difficulty it had caused, this car had ultimately brought us all together. Though the restoration was still a long way off, I sensed that the voyage ahead would be much more pleasurable. Who knows?
Perhaps a whole neighborhood full of vintage vehicle lovers would be eager to go for a drive by the time the Impala was ready to hit the road. I lifted my cup. “To wonderful cars and good neighbors,” I uttered. Everyone applauded, and while I was surrounded by smiles and lively chatter, it occurred to me that sometimes the greatest restorations involve more than simply automobiles. They also care about the community. How would you have responded in that situation?
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