Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers recreate a pose from Swing Time (1936), in the 1980’s.

anonymous asked:

It would be hilarious if there was a Worldvision (like Eurovision) where all the other countries but america knew the concept that it was political and silly, so they send Beyonce thinking it's an automatic win but they still get 0 points because most of the world hates the USA anyway or likes others more.


maosstuff asked:

hello can u do 15 things you said with too many miles between us? for aokise? i hope u don't mind h\getting the same ship lol thank youuuuu

I don’t mind getting the same ship, bring me A L L T H E A O K I S E

Send me a number and a ship and I’ll write you a minific

15 things you said with too many miles between us 

“Please, tell me that you’re not having skype sex with right now.”

Aomine, who’s already shirtless, shuts the laptop as fast as it is humanly possible. 

“Damn it, Bakagami, learn to knock, will ya?”

“Yeah, I’ll sure knock to enter my own room.”

Aomine scowls. Sharing a room with Kagami seemed like a good idea at first:  after all they were living now in America and Kagami knew how to speak Japanese and English, and he could cook and play basketball, so he would be useful, among other perks of having a roommate. The bad thing about sharing the dorm with Kagami is that he doesn’t get much time to talk with his boyfriend that is miles away in Japan.

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Whenever I meet someone new, like becoming friends, I like to ask what their ethnicity is. Idk I always felt weird to assume that they’re just white, Hispanic, African American, and so on. Plus it’s really cool to see how interested or their knowledge of where their roots are. I always felt that it was important but wasn’t sure why or how?
Last year at a conference, which was all based on indigenous peoples, in Boulder we broke up in to groups and introduced ourselves. Who we are and where we are from. In my group there were People from all across North America, and we pretty much already knew each other except for one person. When she introduced herself she was nervous and intimidated and said “…I’m just some white girl.” as she nervously laughed. The elder of our group insisted she break it down to answer where she is from and as a result she began to cry. It wasn’t that he was drilling her, but I think it was the first time being around a group of indigenous people so I can understand her feeling out of place and anxious. I feel this way when I go to shows because p much I’m the only native dude in Tucson who goes to hardcore shows (although I haven’t been to one in a while) and always feel out of place. She came out with it and told us her family is from Turkey. Everyone helped fill her with a sense of pride and ownership and that she indeed belonged with us, because she is indeed indigenous from somewhere.
I thought that was so cool. Her face lit and her demeanor was relaxed. It then gave her a ownership to continue in the dialogue.
I feel if people took the time to acknowledge who they are and where they’re from it would make social interactions, even social acceptance much better.
I have a friend who is Native/African American. One of the most sincere and humble dudes I know and it’s always a pleasure to hangout with. His physical features you wouldn’t be able to tell he is indeed Native American, though. He’s shared his struggles of going to the city from the reservation and attending the UofA and it’s really frustrating to hear what it’s like.
I mean, I know others can adapt well, but it seems like they don’t acknowledge their roots. It’s like that “I don’t see color/race/ethnicity” shit. I’m proud of who I am and where I’m from and love sharing stuff with those who want to know. If you can’t or don’t want to see color then wtf? You’re ignorant mindset is not a solution but a plague on society.
So going back to my friend at the UofA. He talked about not feeling too comfortable in the African American crowds because of the machismo competitiveness the is strong there, it goes against how he has been raised. He then tried to go hangout in the Native American crowd (I can’t remember the name of the building where they hangout?) who have their own spot as well. The building has a sign that declares that it is a space for Native Americans only. Which is kind of weird but whatever. So he went there once and one of the students rudely exclaims “Well I guess we gotta talk about the elephant in the room.” That shit got me so heated! If they asked he who is and where he is from I’m sure the girl who said that shit would’ve felt stupid as shit. Feeling ashamed, he walked out of the building.
I have another friend who is Jewish/Hispanic who didn’t know not really cared to find out her roots until recently. She used to to say that she was just some white girl, but after catching up with her at my friends party last night it really felt cool seeing her quest to find out who she is and where she is from.
I can’t really say why I feel it is important to know these things about yourself, but it does help give you a sense of ownership and finding your place in this world. And no this isn’t some Native American perspective because we do have our own shit to workout, too. Like some tribes tend to think they’re better than the other, or so it seems. But I feel that this is a good step in finding acceptance and sensitivity and celebration of everyone around us.

Day 11 of 30. The Holy Bible of how to survive in the brand new world. Information package to all new refugees on how to adjust to life in America. No one knew how it was going to be or if it was really going to be alright #BlackApril #April301975 #FallOfSaigon #VietnamCongHoa #SouthVietnam #SaigonRememberanceProject #VietnamToAmerica

well I have proof now, but of course I knew all. along . the commies take our shit (America ) and sell it for a pittance. and of course they pervert and mock our ideals in the process . here they have Popeye practically having sex with a young ,possibly 17 year old blonde in front of Olive Oyl ,which as we all know , In America ,Popeye would never betray Olibe Oyl in such a disgusting manner

11. Tom Brady Charms His Way Out of Serious SNL Weekend Update Deflating Questions -

Mediaite -

Despite the fact that he received a four-game suspension for maybe deflating a few footballs, New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady (as played by Taram Killam) somehow can get away with anything.

And here he is on SNL’s Weekend Update, turning Colin Jost into a puddle of goo and reminding us all of why we’re supposed to like him: because all he does is “want what’s best for the team and America and all of you.” Also, he knew the question you were about to ask. Because his favorite Make-A-Wish children already asked him about it.

Tom Brady. So charming. So beautiful, so perfect, so charming.

Watch below via NBC:

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Over. Again.

Something strange happened yesterday. I know I’m stubborn and I was having a hard time dealing with all of this, but I somehow managed to deal with it in the wrong way. See, I know that the last thing I should have done after he said it was over was look for him. After our talk on Saturday, I thought that things would be alright. That I would be able to see him, say hi, and quietly drift. That eventually the rift would grow enough that I wouldn’t have to keep looking for him. That slowly, but surely I’d be able to let go.

It didn’t work.

I saw a table of free books at school yesterday. They were all books on Latin America, sus meros moles, just his taste. I knew that he would walk out of class shortly after I stood at the table. I knew that if I looked for him, I would be able to bring him back. I would show him. I would be close to him.


As soon as I saw him step out, I shouted his name. “Jay!” I felt like I had shouted his name, but nobody around me turned or noticed my shout. Maybe all I let out was an inaudible whisper. Before I knew it, my feet were making a dash towards the grey hoodie that was slowly slipping away. That was my first mistake that day - assuming that he was slipping away. He was already gone. He made that abundantly clear. I didn’t want to see it. When I caught up to him I just asked him to follow me and that I thought there was something that he would want to check out. He followed me. I was walking so fast with my thoughts in a flurry my heart beating a mille a minute and my shaky sweaty palms betraying me with every breath I took. I had never felt that around him. These nerves weren’t the good kind. They were telling me that I was going to make another big mistake.

My next mistake was waiting for him. I waited for him to search through the pile of books and hesitantly hovered as he leafed the pages and fingered the spines of each book. When he finished he reluctantly stepped towards me. We walked down one flight of stairs and asked how he was doing. Another flight of stairs and his soft voice says “fine.” Last flight of stairs and he tells me “I thought we weren’t going to talk anymore.”

I knew it was coming. I’ve seen him be annoyed with me before, but this time he was visibly upset. I replied honestly. “I thought you’d like the books.” He thanked me and we made it to the first floor. He then asked if I had something to say. I did. I had a million things to say. I was trying to figure out what he wants. He first said he wanted things to be “light and fun,” but what does that mean!? Of course, my fucking brain just spewed the first thing that it had rationalized that to mean. “Did you just want to be friends with benefits?”

His already stern face shifted slightly as he said, “No.”

He asked me why I didn’t just message him that question, why I felt I had to stop him in person to do it. He was reacting and that’s what I couldn’t see behind messages. I couldn’t get the immediate response that he displayed when I ask him things that throw him off. I told him that it was hard. That I missed him. (Mistake number…I lost count already.) I told him that I could see how annoyed he was with me, that I was making things harder for him and me, and that I understood that we were done. He left and I didn’t go after him.

Twenty minutes later my phone vibrates with a text message alert from him. He asked if what I wanted was to be FWB. It wasn’t. It isn’t “It’s not what you want,” was all I could muster myself to say. That text became another two hour conversation in his car while it rained, thundered, stormed, and hailed outside. Perfect weather and even better for a third breakup. Pseudo breakup? He wasn’t my boyfriend, so not even a breakup. “Zeus is mad.” Yeah, he was upset with me for being so fucking stubborn. All he wanted and is willing to give me is sex. That’s not the problem. The problem is that I actually considered it. I know it’s not what I wanted or something that I could do with him because I so badly want him to be more. I knew that he would never want to be more. And I also knew that he didn’t want to become the type of man that would take advantage of me like that, but he said I was giving him that option. I was making it easy. He was right. The last thing I wanted was to turn someone that I was falling for into something else. I could have loved him. But the version of him that he was giving me wasn’t the man that I wanted.

“Come over.”

That was all that I was getting from him. Nothing more. Just sex.

I wanted more. So much more. I entertained the idea for longer, but I knew that I couldn’t do that. He deserved better and I deserved more. I didn’t go back to his place.

This morning, he asked me again to “come over.”

I’m not going.

It’s over.

At this point, I know that he just wants sex. I know that he doesn’t like himself around me and because I’m so willing to take any little bit of him that he’ll give, I make it hard for him not to just offer sex. But he’s not the victim and I’m not going to feel bad for wanting more nor will I accept responsibility for enabling him. If he’s made the decision to be a nice guy for 32 years, there’s no reason why I should come in and change that. I may be temptation, but he’s responsible enough to know not to play that game. Not to play with my emotions, there is no excuse for that. He became that guy. The one that I’d been avoiding. The one that just wanted sex. I understand that.

I also understand that he’s not one dimensional. That while that dark side of him was introduced to me, in the end, there’s so much more.

I don’t think I conveyed that to him. Yes he was being a dick with me in the end, but he wasn’t always one. He stole kisses from me, held my hand, reassured me, talked with me, sang for me, shared his poetry with me, and tried his hardest not to take advantage of me.

I know that there is darkness within all of us and I’m sorry that I exposed his, but I saw the light within him too. The warm and inviting light that he radiates. Hopefully he understands that the reason why I couldn’t/can’t focus on the darkness is because there was so much light within him.

I see that darkness, Jay, but I’m not going to be your excuse to release it.

I’m not going.

It’s over.

Trying to watch an American film about WWII.

*The justice*

*The heroism*

*The glory*

-The internalized racism and segregation, like what do you mean Tuskegee?-

Then I stare blankly at the screen

Then someone tries to argue, “Well, that’s all they knew back then!! If you hate America so much why don’t you get run over by an F150??!”  :O

“My Ma”

Words can not explain one of the greatest blessings in my family’s life. This is my Ma, Bopha. Both of my parents were children of the genocide of 1975 to 1979. She lived in Battambang and camp in Thailand before coming to America. Staying strong through it all was the only choice she knew she had. That’s why I love this woman to the moon and back. She is the oldest out of four, she had to learn to cook, clean and care for her younger siblings. She has instilled in me to always be a lady, take care of the home, love your family, fight through all odds and always to never forget my roots. Her love is so unconditional that sometimes my brothers and I feel unworthy of it. She is the glue that holds my family together. I am so proud this angel is my mother. My brothers and I love this beautiful Khmer mom of ours! I want to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day not just for one day but for each and every blissful day! Whoever is reading this, Happy Mother’s Day to you and your mom! Love you Ma!

Words by Sophanna Mack