“Can I be candid? I don’t like all of Tyler Perry’s films. Yes, I did work with Tyler for ‘Daddy’s Little Girls’ because it portrayed a positive image of a black father. I am happy for Tyler’s success…we need Tyler Perry…by going to support his movies, we need to show economic strength. But we are also responsible for elevating film. I’m not with buffoonish characters like Madea or Big Momma.”— Idris Elba, YET ANOTHER FUCKING REASON TO LOVE HIM (via femmenoire)
i'm so mad that has so many notes now. i be working with blood sweat and tears on my luther gifs and shit and the dude doing the power rangers body roll is winning
Here’s my rule for making graphics: They should never take more than fifteen minutes to make. I abide by that rule because I’m lazy as fuck and sometimes, dragging my finger across that mouse square on my laptop is emotionally exhausting.
Sometimes you just have to say fuck it and make quick/dirty gifs. However, I am fond of your Luther gifs (and all of the other ones you make) but I don’t reblog because I still haven’t finished Series 1. I need to get on that but I don’t too much care for Alice and her crazy.
“And if you look here,” said Firefox, gesturing to a red bar graph illuminated by a state of the art flatscreen “you’ll see how much traffic this cute panda on our download page has generated.” He turned to face the table around which Facebook, Google, LiveJournal, Tumblr, and the smoking remains of MySpace were seated, before adding, “In conclusion, users love fluffy animals.”
Facebook yawned and slumped back in his chair. He couldn’t help it—hadn’t his owner, Mark Zuckerberg, just proven the exact same thing with that fanpage for his puppy? Firefox was stating what everyone already knew. When he opened his eyes, every website in the room was staring back at him. Firefox had gone from his normal, orange shade, to a red brighter than the Last.fm logo, and Google’s lips were pursed in that oh so condescending I’m-the-most-popular-search-engine-of-all-time look that just made Facebook want to scream.
“I’m sorry, Firefox,” said Google “but I think I need to speak to Facebook alone.” All of the other websites bowed their heads in silent deference to her unspoken authority (except MySpace, whom Facebook thought might have flashed him a sympathetic half-smile, but it was hard to tell beneath the carnage that had become the older website’s face during the Great User Exodus of 2007 to 2010), while Google led Facebook to the adjacent hallway, dragging him by a shiny blue tie.
“Facebook,” she sighed “you can’t just—mock Firefox like that. It’s cruel.”
Facebook cocked an eyebrow. “But Firefox sucks. He’s like a popular kid who’s just experienced a downfall and doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s depressing. You know that just as well as I do.”
“Of course I do,” said Google firmly “but I’m nice to him because I at least have some pity for lesser creatures. That’s my motto, remember? Don’t be evil—unlike some people I know.” Her rainbow-colored skirt swished with each cock of her head, allowing Facebook a glimpse of milky-white thigh. Desire surged through his veins like data through a network.
“But am I really so bad?” he whispered, voice thick with desire and mouth turned upward in a flirtatious grin. “I seem to recall you pressed the ‘Like’ button on our last sexual encounter.”
Google spun around and caught Facebook’s lips in her own. Facebook sighed with pleasure. This was the side of Google no one else ever got to see—the side that wasn’t so friendly or mature, but licked, sucked, and moaned into his mouth with all the passion of a hot-blooded teenager and unbridled ferocity of a Napster lawyer. The two kissed for what felt like hours, until finally Google pulled away.
“What are we doing,” she breathed, less a question than a statement—an acknowledgment that for once, each was as clueless as the other, ahead of the curve in neither love nor tech.
“I don’t know,” said Facebook, nuzzling the search bar she wore around her neck “but I think it’s time to update my relationship status.”
Does everyone dream in color or am I a special snowflake?
I’m being 100% super serious with this question.
My Prince themed water park dreams are always in color. (they are about a water park that has a Prince theme. Also, Prince is hidden somewhere inside the park and you win a special prize if you find him. It seems to be a reoccurring dream and I have yet to find him. I’m kind of weary of the Freudian meaning of them.)
Do you dream in color or black and white? Or am I super special?
Are we supposed to be surprised and/or disappointed because she fancies herself a “role model” for young women?
Lawd hammercy. If you looked up to Amber Rose in the first place….stop it. Stop it right now. I always saw her as a human accessory because she has the personality of a bag (designer or paper, your pick). I don’t see how anyone could derive likeability from that. All she does is be a bald blonde wearing leggings and hanging from some dude’s arm. Oh and sometimes she wears fancy tacky glasses.
But this once again proves my point that one should not dabble in nudes or one should be more careful of the method of nudes distribution.