HOLY SHIT???
God I love it when people mash classic arts and modern art together, it creates the most incredible things
Now with her name
Pretty sure this is Sean Nos, traditional Irish dance, and this person is a sheer badass at it. (Incidentally, combining Irish and African dance traditions is how Black Americans came to invent Tap Dance to go with another of their best inventions, Jazz music, so this particular cross cultural connection is a very cool echo of history in that way itself.)
Also, DANG
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.*
i don't WANT to drink water I WANT a bard to draft a eulogy for me to criticise!!!!!!!
HOBBES vs. TIGGER cage match TO THE DEATH say goodbye to your childhood because ONE! WILL!! DIE!!!!
Picturing two tiger plushies just kind of sitting there facing each other in Thunderdome
i am picturing it
Hobbes and Tigger would find some aspect of tigerhood to bond over, but Calvin would put Christopher Robin in the ground.
When I get low, I get high 🪄
was testing something out for an animation project. check out this thing
baby need smoko
I have another dog to put on this theoretical show. The original story can be found at this link. If the link breaks, it's a story on NotAlwaysRight called "Absolutely The Goodest Boy"
I love it when service dogs do some freelance consulting, it's so cool
WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT YUGIOH UWU DAY SHIT
HAPPY BIRTHDAY UWU
Actually cannot stop watching this
Good news the full version actually is on spotify!
Extra good news the entire album is a banger
Source: I bought it and you could too
logging into tumblr.com really is our daily dose of recess huh. i take a stroll down my dash and people are playing make-believe with cursed amulets, pondering their orbs, playing with jpegs like dolls. some of us are pretending to be wizards and villains and evil advisors and blob monsters (my preference). there's always a group playing Animals (wolf is very popular). the main topic of conversation is tv shows and cartoon characters, which we enjoy arguing about. recently there's been a juggling craze
but beware! there are roving gangs of bullies
No shade to the stuff that’s currently trending at this very moment or the people posting the things. But. Today is an anniversary of a variety of major world events and NONE of them are trending.
For those who are unaware:
It’s literally autism day in every way yet it’s not trending
now she’s all ready for spooky season—are you? 🌕🐺
in honour of halloween behold the four horsemen of the apocalypse
skateboard will be so fictionalized that people forget we all have one inside of us. like the war of course but like they arent just fantasy creatures.... its just In There
hey. So skeletons may have autocorrected to skateboard,
gotta lie down every time I remember this recording and the post about it
