Looks
Looks

Looks

Caking
Caking

Caking

Questionable
Questionable

Questionable

Plans
Plans

Plans

How Much
How Much

How Much

Grumpy Cats
Grumpy Cats

Grumpy Cats

Thinked
Thinked

Thinked

Dont Like It
Dont Like It

Dont Like It

grumpy
grumpy

grumpy

i dont like it
 i dont like it

i dont like it

🔥 | Latest

Apparently, Bad, and Fucking: My Chemical Romace ..usually burn... My Chemical Romance are goniuses. I will say it go) on any givan "roality TV show, which again: geniuses! They wrote this catchy song about one would it be and why? not being okay. Can you imagine anything striking a FRANK: GROWING UP GOTTI, cause I'm a quar- deeper chord with the key high-school-aged record- ter Polish and three-quarters mobster. buying demographic? I swear, they must be managed by Steve Forbes or something. I'm not dissin'-I'm SKRATCH: Does anyone in the band have just jealous! Do you realize how many underage an obnoxious girlfriend? What makes her girls these guys must have swarming around their so lame? tour bus?! It boggles the mind. Anyway, I had a really FRANK: What, are you kidding me? You're gonna great e-mail exchange with guitarist Frank Lero. He's get me into trouble with this one. Fine: Mikey's girl- got a great sense of humor and he believes in evolu- friend. Ha ha, l'm callin' you out, Jeanna bait! Yeah, tion-so, as far as l'm concerned, he deserves to live that's right-I went there. a happy, normal life. Judge for yourself, though. SKRATCH: If you had to wear either high SKRATCH: Late at night when you think heels or a bra on a regular basis, which of the Warped Tour, what do you think of? would you pick, and why? FRANK: The lack of showering, rad Porta-Potties, FRANK: Dang. Neither, really. I have bad ankles, and friendship. so the heels are not even a question; and bras just seem like a hassle, SKRATCH: You guys are kinda pale. Are you worried about sunburn on the SKRATCH: Do you believe in evolution? Warped Tour? What will you do to prevent FRANK: Yes, because it happened. Next it? Or are you looking for a little color? FRANK: Um, I don't know It's really not something SKRATCH: If you killed someone, where I'm too concerned about...butI do usually burn, would you hide the body? Do you think especially on my face, and that's never any fun...so you'd get away with it? maybe I should come up with some sort of a plan. FRANK: I would hide the body in a voting booth. Apparently, intelligent people haven't stepped foot in those things for years. SKRATCH:I love the way your music video looks like a film trailer. If they were to ac- tually make the film being "advertised," what would the plot be? What character And that way, if Ashcroft is running for any sort of office, the body can do a little last-minute campaign FRANK: There would be absolutely no plot whatso- ing! Ha ha ha. Oh, man, I'm fucking funny. Is that too ever. It would be lots of close-ups of Gerard, some heady a reference for a Warped Tour guide? Well, more of Mikey, a car would blow up, and it would be take your mind off it by checking out My Chemical Romance all summer long on this year's Warped Tour! And throw my man Frank some sunscreen when you see him. I worry about hirm, you know? would each member of the band play? over. I would audition for the part of Godzilla. SKRATCH: Man, didn't high school suck? FRANK: [Tou hit the] nail on the head, sister. SKRATCH: If you could go (or had to www.skratchmagazine.com By Jeff Penalty /Photo by Derrick Santini playing 6/18-8/1S www.theimmortalityproject.com callmeblake: mcrmyhollywoodscans: JUNE 2004 - SKRATCH Photo Credit: Derrick Santini
Apparently, Bad, and Fucking: My Chemical Romace
 ..usually burn...
 My Chemical Romance are goniuses. I will say it go) on any givan "roality TV show, which
 again: geniuses! They wrote this catchy song about one would it be and why?
 not being okay. Can you imagine anything striking a FRANK: GROWING UP GOTTI, cause I'm a quar-
 deeper chord with the key high-school-aged record- ter Polish and three-quarters mobster.
 buying demographic? I swear, they must be managed
 by Steve Forbes or something. I'm not dissin'-I'm SKRATCH: Does anyone in the band have
 just jealous! Do you realize how many underage an obnoxious girlfriend? What makes her
 girls these guys must have swarming around their so lame?
 tour bus?! It boggles the mind. Anyway, I had a really FRANK: What, are you kidding me? You're gonna
 great e-mail exchange with guitarist Frank Lero. He's get me into trouble with this one. Fine: Mikey's girl-
 got a great sense of humor and he believes in evolu- friend. Ha ha, l'm callin' you out, Jeanna bait! Yeah,
 tion-so, as far as l'm concerned, he deserves to live that's right-I went there.
 a happy, normal life. Judge for yourself, though.
 SKRATCH: If you had to wear either high
 SKRATCH: Late at night when you think heels or a bra on a regular basis, which
 of the Warped Tour, what do you think of? would you pick, and why?
 FRANK: The lack of showering, rad Porta-Potties, FRANK: Dang. Neither, really. I have bad ankles,
 and friendship.
 so the heels are not even a question; and bras just
 seem like a hassle,
 SKRATCH: You guys are kinda pale.
 Are you worried about sunburn on the SKRATCH: Do you believe in evolution?
 Warped Tour? What will you do to prevent FRANK: Yes, because it happened. Next
 it? Or are you looking for a little color?
 FRANK: Um, I don't know It's really not something SKRATCH: If you killed someone, where
 I'm too concerned about...butI do usually burn, would you hide the body? Do you think
 especially on my face, and that's never any fun...so you'd get away with it?
 maybe I should come up with some sort of a plan.
 FRANK: I would hide the body in a voting booth.
 Apparently, intelligent people haven't stepped foot
 in those things for years.
 SKRATCH:I love the way your music video
 looks like a film trailer. If they were to ac-
 tually make the film being "advertised,"
 what would the plot be? What character And that way, if Ashcroft is running for any sort of
 office, the body can do a little last-minute campaign
 FRANK: There would be absolutely no plot whatso- ing! Ha ha ha. Oh, man, I'm fucking funny. Is that too
 ever. It would be lots of close-ups of Gerard, some heady a reference for a Warped Tour guide? Well,
 more of Mikey, a car would blow up, and it would be take your mind off it by checking out My Chemical
 Romance all summer long on this year's Warped
 Tour! And throw my man Frank some sunscreen
 when you see him. I worry about hirm, you know?
 would each member of the band play?
 over. I would audition for the part of Godzilla.
 SKRATCH: Man, didn't high school suck?
 FRANK: [Tou hit the] nail on the head, sister.
 SKRATCH: If you could go (or had to
 www.skratchmagazine.com
 By Jeff Penalty /Photo by Derrick Santini
 playing 6/18-8/1S
 www.theimmortalityproject.com
callmeblake:
mcrmyhollywoodscans:
JUNE 2004 - SKRATCH
Photo Credit: Derrick Santini

callmeblake: mcrmyhollywoodscans: JUNE 2004 - SKRATCH Photo Credit: Derrick Santini

Church, Google, and Love: Reese St Dearing St Waddell St Waddell St Tree That Owns Itself Directions Write a review The Tree That Owns Itself is a white oak tree, widely assumed to have legal ownership of itself and of all land within eight feet of its base. Wikipedia Address: South Finley Street, Athens, GA 30605, United States Reviews 4.3 6 Google reviews otteroftheworld My parents live in this town and the city legally can't tear the tree down to build or anything because the tree has its own legal rights and they can't do anything about it. vnicent how does. how does this happen. how DID this happen giraffepoliceforce love this story because this guy in the early 1800's had so many great childhood memories of this tree and wanted to make sure it was protected no matter what. So he deeded the ownership of the tree to itself and everyone just went with it. Then in 1942 this intense windstorm came and knocked the tree over. And people were bummed. But someone had saved an acorn from the original tree, so they planted that and now Son of the Tree That Owns Itself is over 50 feet tall. And since this new tree is technically the offspring of the original tree it's considered to have legally inherited the plot of land it's inhabiting Two generations of trees owning land is amazing and if you don't think this is the coolest thing get right out of my face. S Hull St S Hu Florida Ave N Newton St S Finley St pe St S Pope St N Church St S Harris St Wholesome treeeeeeeeeeee
Church, Google, and Love: Reese St
 Dearing St
 Waddell St
 Waddell St
 Tree That Owns Itself
 Directions
 Write a review
 The Tree That Owns Itself is a white oak tree, widely assumed to have
 legal ownership of itself and of all land within eight feet of its base.
 Wikipedia
 Address: South Finley Street, Athens, GA 30605, United States
 Reviews
 4.3
 6 Google reviews
 otteroftheworld
 My parents live in this town and the city legally
 can't tear the tree down to build or anything
 because the tree has its own legal rights and
 they can't do anything about it.
 vnicent
 how does. how does this happen. how DID this happen
 giraffepoliceforce
 love this story because this guy in the early 1800's had so
 many great childhood memories of this tree and wanted to
 make sure it was protected no matter what. So he deeded
 the ownership of the tree to itself and everyone just went
 with it.
 Then in 1942 this intense windstorm came and knocked
 the tree over. And people were bummed. But someone had
 saved an acorn from the original tree, so they planted that
 and now Son of the Tree That Owns Itself is over 50 feet
 tall.
 And since this new tree is technically the offspring of the
 original tree it's considered to have legally inherited the
 plot of land it's inhabiting
 Two generations of trees owning land is amazing and if
 you don't think this is the coolest thing get right out of my
 face.
 S Hull St
 S Hu
 Florida Ave
 N Newton St
 S Finley St
 pe St
 S Pope St
 N Church St
 S Harris St
Wholesome treeeeeeeeeeee

Wholesome treeeeeeeeeeee

Being Alone, Crying, and Dude: thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie: gucciballs: thejorie: peble: thejorie: My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed. do they smoke weed? Yes, actually. you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,) They don’t look like they smoke weed. Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad. Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle. I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING  Well that escalated quickly…… What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body* haha oh my god who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes. love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”. and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”. “the goo pile that is now your body” i’m dying over here, jesus please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun. *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.* this dude playin omg  Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
Being Alone, Crying, and Dude: thejorie:

xilast-zurvifferman:

thejorie:

jackbecq:

thejorie:

19leahjade96:

thejorie:

madamekagamine:

thejorie:

gccgrimm:

thejorie:

gucciballs:

thejorie:

peble:

thejorie:

My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed.

do they smoke weed?

Yes, actually.

you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? 

It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)

They don’t look like they smoke weed.

Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad.

Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.

I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING 

Well that escalated quickly……

What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*

haha oh my god

who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.

love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.

and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.

“the goo pile that is now your body”

i’m dying over here, jesus

please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun.

*shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*

this dude playin omg 

Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*

thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie:...