There has NEVER been anything more true than this.
“Be my Sergio Ramos, I’ll be your yellow card”
“Be my Kaka,I’ll be your bench”
“Be my Di Maria, I’ll be your injuries”
”Be my pipita, i’ll be your offside”
“Be my Cristiano, I’ll be your goal”
"be my Bale, I’ll be your record breaking transfer fee”
“My mother is Muslim, and my father is Hindu. At the time they got together, it was sort of a forbidden love. So that’s my thing now—being open-minded about all sorts of people and places because you never know who you will fall in love with.”
"did somebody say thayir sadham? hope we still have mango thokku"
"what is this pants shants business? BRING ME MY VESHTI"
"one maami told me to watch neethane en ponvasantham. it is now in my kuppai thotti"
RAJNIKANTH THALAIVAKKU ORU O PODUNGA!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rajnikanth was bragging to Amitabh Bachan one day, “You know, I know everyone. Just name someone, anyone, and I know them. Tired of his boasting, Amitabh Bachan called his bluff, “OK, Rajini how about Tom Cruise?”
"Sure, yes, Tom and I are old friends, and I can prove it" Rajini said. So Rajini and Amitabh Bachan fly out to Hollywood and knock on Tom Cruise’s door,
And sure enough, Tom Cruise shouts : “Thalaiva! Great to see you! You And your friends come right in and join me for lunch!”
Well, Amitabh Bachan is much shaken by now, but still not totally convinced. He implores him to name anyone else.
"The Pope," Amitabh Bachan replies
…”Sure!” says Rajini, “My folks are from Italy and I’ve known the Pope a long time”.
Rajini and Amitabh Bachan are assembled with the masses in Vatican Square when Rajini says, “This will never work. I can’t catch the Pope’s eye among all these people. Tell you what, I know all the guards so let me just go upstairs and I’ll come out on the balcony with the Pope.”
And he disappears into the crowd headed toward the Vatican.. Sure enough, half an hour later Rajini emerges with the Pope on the balcony.
But by the time Rajini returns, he finds that Amitabh Bachan has had a heart attack and is surrounded by paramedics.
Working his way to Amitabh Bachan’s side, Rajini asks him, “What happened?”
Amitabh Bachan looks up and says, “I was doing fine until u and the pope came out on the balcony and the Italian man next to me said,
"Who’s that on the balcony with Rajini?"
Pharrell and Oprah in tears after showing a video of the world dancing to his hit success ” Happy ” . ♥
i pray i marry a man as humble as Pharrell i swear i do
Precious lil one
i want this feeling
Oprah has superpowers!!!!!!!!!! She made like 4 black men cry in like the past year….
"why am i crying on Oprah"
White people get mad over things like the picture of one direction walking on abbey road, or wearing a band t shirt when you don’t listen to the music, calling it “disrespectful” but when it comes to cultural appropriation and stealing marginalized people’s most sacred traditions, they’re like “oh, we’re just appreciating your culture, stop getting so angry” while throwing paint at each other and prancing around in cheap, craft store, feather headdresses
As a little girl, I loved getting ready for Indian weddings. It was one of the few occasions my mom would let me wear her red lipstick. Right before we would leave she would call me into her room and let me pick out a bindi to wear to go along with my colorful lengha. Back then I only understood bindis as pretty sparkly celebratory stickers that would eventually slide around my sweaty forehead on the dance floor.
As I grew up more and more people informed me I was not really American, I was Indian, and not just Indian, I was “dot-not-feather-Indian.” I was mocked for that dot. People would put stickers on their foreheads, chant fake prayers, roll their eyes back and bobble their heads. “Look, I am Indian too.” Their ignorant fallacy of Indians was boiled down into that dot and burned into my skin.
One halloween my Mom and older brother were sweet enough to take me trick-or-treating around the neighborhood. I wore fairy wings and my brother had a Scream mask on. I remember my brother being embarrassed my Mom was wearing traditional Indian clothes, but I didn’t understand. Why were we allowed to wear silly costumes, but my Mom was not allowed to wear her real clothes? It started to get dark out and my Mom was worried, but I begged to stay out a little longer. As we rounded a neatly trimmed cul-de-sac a group of white boys on bikes slowed down. They began shouting things at us. Then they started pelting eggs at us. My brother ran after them and they took off. Later, he explained that they had been yelling at us for being Indian. For simply being. My Mom was silent the entire walk home.
In college, my first American boyfriend told me that when his friends found out I was dot-Indian they asked if my pussy tasted like gross curry. It made my face burn red and my eyes well up as I finally came to the understanding that despite being born and raised in New York I would forever be considered a foreigner to these people. It didn’t matter if I wore clothes like them or spoke like them. I will always be a dot.
If I were the same little girl who was just excited to wear lipstick to weddings I wouldn’t care about you wearing a studded bindi to your EDM concert, but being called shitskin really changes things. I have been branded with this dot since I was born, along with every stereotype it holds. My dot is not a fad for you to wipe off when you are done with it. You cannot pick and choose with parts of my culture you will welcome into America with open arms for fashion’s sake while still barricading my family out.