smpt:e

What really fucking makes me mad is when guys (white and men of color) date a woc or two and then decide to judge the whole ethnicity/race because of bad experiences with one or couple girlfriends they had, and then even if they date a white girl that was a bad apple they will continue to worship them while shitting on black women, Asian women and latinas. I’m so sick of hearing “man my last girlfriend was Latina and she was full of drama latinas are drama starters so don’t date them”
“I don’t date Asian girls because they’re bitchy and bossy” “black girls are ghetto” but oh no even if they had 10 bad white girlfriends its still like “white women are the best man I love white girls hell they can shit on me and that will be the best thing ever.”

I hate when people are like “I don’t date my own race because it would be like dating my sister/brother.”
how the hell does that make sense? How can you generalize a whole diverse race? So every person looks like your sibling? Everyone all looks the same to you?

I remember I when I was on okcupid and this Filipino guy messaged me saying “hey you’re pretty, blah blah blah” I look on his profile and he basically said he only dates white women (smh) so then I go “well I’m not white am I not pretty now?” And he says something like “oh no it’s not that, I don’t date asians because it’d feel like I would be dating my sister.” Then goes on to say mexicans look like Filipinos which is why he doesn’t date them either and wants someone to look different and I’m like ?? Why did you tell me I’m pretty then??! what is the point of you telling me you’re basically a shitty racist?

4

I don’t think there’s anybody who’s worked with Joaquin who wouldn’t want to do it again. I know that people’s impression of him is that maybe he’s weird and it’s so far from the truth. He’s a little weird but he’s not that fucking weird! He’s very soulful, very compassionate and he’s very committed. He’s so much fun. He can drive you a little crazy but he’s so sweet and so daring, I can’t say enough about all the ways that I love him.— Paul Thomas Anderson

Ormoni da non prendere sul serio.

Il signore dietro al banco degli affettati porta bene le primavere che la sua pelle ha visto passare: alto, di sana e robusta costituzione, occhi azzurri e barba e capello spettinato, il tutto rigorosamente brizzolato.
Ammetto che ogni volta che lo vedo i miei estrogeni fanno “ohhhhh”, i miei neuroni fermano qualunque tipo di connessione e sbattono, ripetutamente, sulle pareti del mio povero cervello, che smette, inesorabilmente, di funzionare.
Potrei comprare etti e etti e etti e etti e etti di prosciutto crudo tagliato a mano, solo per fissarlo.
E io detesto il prosciutto crudo.
Questa notte ho sognato di trovarlo dentro uno strip club e gli ho anche infilato dei soldi dentro gli slip: il mio inconscio cosa avrà voluto dire?
No, perché già una volta volevo lasciargli i 10 euro al bancone.
No, non saltate subito ad ovvie conclusioni, screanzati: andavo di fretta e volevo farmi solo un panino!
Avevo questi 10 euro in mano e li stavo lasciando sul bancone.
Fortuna che una signora anziana, quasi prendendomi a bastonate per la mia distrazione, mi ricordò la collocazione esatta delle casse.
"Ah, non ci sono più i giovani di una volta!"
Ha ragione, signora, anche se, certi giovani di una volta si sono digievoluti proprio bene!

Hey, you can’t call me and tell me that you miss me. I don’t want to have that conversation on the phone. You can’t text me and you can’t email me, and you can’t… write on my wall. If you really miss me, you need to grow up and get in your car and come and see me.
—  No Strings Attached