June 2012
Bad Girls
M.I.A. ft. Azealia Banks & Missy Elliott
Bad Girls (Remix) - M.I.A. ft. Azealia Banks & Missy Elliott
This is so fucking hot n’ nasty.
M.I.A.? Bad Girls? Azealia? Oops, instant reblog.
♬ ♪♩♬ ♪: elesheva: two bros got on the train at the ravinia stop (which, for... →
technicoloring.tumblr.com
two bros got on the train at the ravinia stop (which, for those of you who don’t know, ravinia is a concert venue where you can get lawn drunk on fancy wine) and one of them was clearly drunk to the point of being sick and the other spent the entire train ride keeping him awake and rubbing his back gently. at one point, sober bro was like “hey buddy, who loves you?” and drunk bro nodded “you do” and promptly vomited into his cooler, and that’s when i realized i was actually jealous of a dude in boat shoes and cargo shorts puking on the metra
“So it seems time to pronounce a rule about American popular culture: the Golden Forty-Year Rule. The prime site of nostalgia is always whatever happened, or is thought to have happened, in the decade between forty and fifty years past… And so, if we can hang on, it will be in the twenty-fifties that the manners and meanings of the Obama era will be truly revealed: only then will we know our own essence. A small, attentive child, in a stroller on some Brooklyn playground or Minneapolis street, is already recording the stray images and sounds of this era: Michelle’s upper arms, the baritone crooning sound of NPR, people sipping lattes (which a later decade will know as poison) at 10 A.M.—manners as strange and beautiful as smoking in restaurants and drinking Scotch at 3 P.M. seem to us. A series or a movie must already be simmering in her head, with its characters showing off their iPads and staring at their flat screens: absurdly antiquated and dated, they will seem, but so touching in their aspiration to the absolutely modern. Forty years from now, we’ll know, at last, how we looked and sounded and made love, and who we really were.”
—What “Mad Men” Shows About American Pop Culture | The New Yorker (via kateoplis)
