ov-al:

tropical-cave:

tropical-cave:

brianmchale:

welcometomylifeex3:

raquelsh0lding0ntillmay:

foundmywaywheniwaslost:

alittledoseofsunshine:

sort-of-un-balanced:

I posted this three times tonight and had three people tell me that I helped save their life. Thank you to those people who have decided to struggle through to let us enjoy the gift of one more day of their prescence gracing us all. I hope that you all reblog this, to save another few. Because we all dserve another chance and hope in life. I went to the hospital 6 times before I decided to keep my life but I hope none of you suffer that much. And I hope you all can make that scary, seemingly painful, blind, hoping, wonderful step to live.
I want to help you in any way I can. ANYTHING. I mean it. If I had had someone stay with me and text me or talk to me all night, just one time, it would have changed my life. I know how hard those nights can be.
<3,
Love,
Emily

^I love this girl more than words can express.  

foundmywaywheniwaslost: I am always here if anyone ever needs to talk/vent. You have a purpose, Please Stay Alive. <3

Not just for tonight but for the rest of your life. You have so much to look forward to in the future that if you choose to kill yourself, it will be the biggest mistake of your life. You’re going to miss out on people you’ll never be able to meet, kids you’ll never have, a partner to love or partys to go to. There’s just too much that you’ll miss out on. You deserve and have the right to be here as much as the person next to you does. You’re just a drop in the ocean. You were meant to be here and you have a purpose. Don’t ever forget that. And if you feel like you don’t, just believe in yourself because you do. If you ever feel worthless or like shit, know that I love you and those dicks that tell you shit are jealous that you’re who you are because there’s something about you that they wish they could have. Please stay strong and never give up because things DO GET BETTER.

3rd time I reblog this xx

Keep your self awake, I hope your here to stay. This day is not yet over, let me be your four leaf clover.

Reblogged it and queued it so it’ll post tomorrow too. And the next day and the next so I hope I can save someone. We all love you.

someone messaged me this morning saying it helped and thanked me, so im reblogging this again, and queuing it. stay strong guys. 

reblogging this everyday no matter what

ov-al:

tropical-cave:

tropical-cave:

brianmchale:

welcometomylifeex3:

raquelsh0lding0ntillmay:

foundmywaywheniwaslost:

alittledoseofsunshine:

sort-of-un-balanced:

I posted this three times tonight and had three people tell me that I helped save their life. Thank you to those people who have decided to struggle through to let us enjoy the gift of one more day of their prescence gracing us all. I hope that you all reblog this, to save another few. Because we all dserve another chance and hope in life. I went to the hospital 6 times before I decided to keep my life but I hope none of you suffer that much. And I hope you all can make that scary, seemingly painful, blind, hoping, wonderful step to live.

I want to help you in any way I can. ANYTHING. I mean it. If I had had someone stay with me and text me or talk to me all night, just one time, it would have changed my life. I know how hard those nights can be.

<3,

Love,

Emily

^I love this girl more than words can express.  

foundmywaywheniwaslost: I am always here if anyone ever needs to talk/vent. You have a purpose, Please Stay Alive. <3

Not just for tonight but for the rest of your life. You have so much to look forward to in the future that if you choose to kill yourself, it will be the biggest mistake of your life. You’re going to miss out on people you’ll never be able to meet, kids you’ll never have, a partner to love or partys to go to. There’s just too much that you’ll miss out on. You deserve and have the right to be here as much as the person next to you does. You’re just a drop in the ocean. You were meant to be here and you have a purpose. Don’t ever forget that. And if you feel like you don’t, just believe in yourself because you do. If you ever feel worthless or like shit, know that I love you and those dicks that tell you shit are jealous that you’re who you are because there’s something about you that they wish they could have. Please stay strong and never give up because things DO GET BETTER.

3rd time I reblog this xx

Keep your self awake, I hope your here to stay. This day is not yet over, let me be your four leaf clover.

Reblogged it and queued it so it’ll post tomorrow too. And the next day and the next so I hope I can save someone. We all love you.

someone messaged me this morning saying it helped and thanked me, so im reblogging this again, and queuing it. stay strong guys. 

reblogging this everyday no matter what

(via davemotherfuckinstrider)

Tags: thank you

ATTENTION

madvlogz:

savanaugh:

souleaterunlimited:

savanaugh:

I AM ON A MISSION. I AM GOING TO FOLLOW EVERY BLOG ON THIS SITE. ALL OF THEM. HELP ME ACHIEVE THIS GOAL, INTERNET STRANGERS, BY REBLOGGING THIS POST AND I WILL FOLLOW ALL WHO REBLOG IT. E V E R Y O N E.

I want to call bullshit but I can’t take that chance 

good.

holy shit you’re really doing it

(via dotway)

No clue what happened but Omegle started being a bitch and I couldn&#8217;t get on after a few chats.

No clue what happened but Omegle started being a bitch and I couldn’t get on after a few chats.

Going on omegle as dave! Under some specific tags like thecowsocks and somepersonality

Going on omegle as dave! Under some specific tags like thecowsocks and somepersonality

ok holy shit fucking damn this took a long time to do

so i tried to fit this into an ask for bro-slimshady-strider but of course i’m not patient and i got pissed when i waited for like 5 minutes for it to start to process so yeah here we go lets just hope he reads this

about that asshole anon you should check this out idk if it works because i get like 0 asks but yeah here

http://yamino.tumblr.com/post/18424978483/how-to-track-anonymous-ask-ips

dont kill me if it doesnt work pls

Anonymous said: please elaborate on how you got a substitute teacher to quit within one day. I'm genuinely curious.

mysticmoonhigh:

mamalovebone:

all right everyone sit down, shut up and listen closely because I’m about to tell y’all the tale of Ms. Mormino.

Seventh grade is a time most people don’t look back on fondly. I know I sure don’t—I tend to regard that era as nothing more than an unpleasant, acne-filled haze of fall out boy and poor attempts at pseudo-zooey deschanel fashions. But enough about me. Let’s talk about my math teacher. 

Ms. Isom. Poor old Ms. Isom. Well in her 60’s, always plagued with some illness or injury, she was hardly ever even at school. Since many of her absences were the result of short-notice incidents—“falling down the stairs” was popularly cited— it wasn’t all that uncommon to not have a substitute on hand. Being a smartass honors class, we’d gotten away with several successful evasions of administration, walking cavalierly into class  to pass the next 48 minutes doing just about nothing. Hell, for good measure, we’d sometimes even toss in a friendly “hey, Ms. Isom!” if any administrators were anywhere within earshot. So incredibly anti-establishment, you could basically call it another Project Mayhem, except instead of Brad Pitt and Ed Norton concocting homemade bombs, it was a bunch of tweenyboppers with iPhone 3’s and Justin Bieber 2009 haircuts. 

 We got pretty accustomed to our own little self-governing system that rolled around every second period, so we naturally weren’t exactly thrilled when administration caught on to our little Anarchy Act and strictly enforced the presence of a substitute every day. 

Most of our subs weren’t terrible—most were friendly, gave us participation grades, and didn’t object to the independent attitude of our class (which, mind you, only had about ten students in it) 

That is, until Ms. Mormino came along. 

Four feet, ten inches of raw, undiluted evil, Ms. Mormino walked into class with a scowl on her face and a chip on her shoulder. When the girl behind me sneezed, Ms. Mormino’s immediate response was “NO INAPPROPRIATE NOISES!” 

 Although we all suppressed our laughter, we all knew from that moment on that, try as she might with her despotism and her draconian anti-sneeze policy, Ms. Mormino didn’t stand a chance. 

 The arguable beginning of the end for Ms. Mormino’s all-too-brief reign of terror was the moment I asked for a calculator; mine was broken. Mormino asserted that I could only borrow a calculator if I loaned her something of mine; at that moment, the girl next to me chimed in, saying she, too, needed a calculator. “I have a folder I can give you,” I offered. “I have a highlighter,” added the other girl. 

 At that moment, a puberty-creaking voice from the back of the room piped up. 

Max. 

We all know certain people have certain gifts. Michelangelo saw angels in every block of marble and devoted his life to setting them free; Einstein had a mind which saw the potential of the entire universe; F. Scott Fitzgerald wove intricate tales of decadence and depravity. Max, however, had a different kind of gift: he could make anything—anything at all—into a “that’s what she said” joke. More on that later, though. 

Max pried off a Nike sneaker and held it proudly in the air, like a coveted trophy. 

"I have a shoe." 

Tottering in one-shoe-one-sock, Max dumped the sneaker on Ms. Mormino’s desk, retrieved a calculator, then tottered back to his own desk, a sort of smirk playing on his face. And, as to be expected—the rest of us quickly followed suit. 

 A small pile of shoes on her desk, Ms. Mormino grit her teeth and glared at us as we all sat back down, quietly victorious, a calculator in each of our hands. It wasn’t long, however, until we all began to silently plot our next act of minor mayhem. 

"Can I go to the bathroom?" asked Tyler, who, despite being in seventh grade, was approaching his sixteenth birthday. In a combination of verism and admiration of Tyler’s devil-may-care boldness, we unequivocally accepted him as our leader. For reasons unknown, Ms. Mormino denied his request. Tyler, much like his Fight Club namesake, heeded no rules but his own and left anyway—Ms. Mormino, furious, locked the door behind him and smugly insisted that "administration will take care of him." 

Tyler, however, was not one to be caught, and stayed close by, appearing in the window of the door whenever Ms. Mormino wasn’t looking. Waving, smiling, laughing, making faces and obscene gestures, Tyler had us all in stitches, but cleverly avoided Ms. Mormino’s sight—when she asked us what was so funny, we all refused to give Tyler away. 

A girl asked to go to the bathroom, stating she “really really really” needed to go. Ms. Mormino, again, denied her request. Ms. Mormino, however, seemed to be uninformed about the side door—leading right outside, always locked from the outside but always open from the inside. 

"Well, I’ll go myself," the girl responded, and took off, hurdling three desks and darting out the door. Right behind her, two other students took off, pursuing freedom. The door slammed behind all three students, and they were gone. 

 Six of us were left. Among us, importantly, was Chris. 

Chris was thirteen, but looked half his age; scrawny, wiry, he probably measured in at about four-foot-three, but no taller. “Late Bloomer” are words that come to mind. 

Despite his diminutive size, Chris possessed the gall of someone like Tyler.

"I have to use the bathroom," said Chris, standing. 

 ”Do you think I’m going to allow you to go to the bathroom?” snapped Ms. Mormino. 

 ”It’s an emergency!” Chris pleaded. 

"Sit down," Ms. Mormino growled. 

Meanwhile, the entire class borders on hysteria. We have tears in our eyes, almost suffocating from choking back laughter. 

"It’s an emergency," repeated Chris, but it sounded more like a warning.

"Sit."

Silence. Silence, Silence and more silence, until we all began to notice a dark stain on Chris’s khakis. The stain grew. And grew. And grew.

 Fists at his sides, stoicism in his face, and a cold, proud, triumphant glint in his eye, Chris locked eye contact with Ms. Mormino. 

And pissed right in his pants. 

The entire class erupted into a laugh only comparable to the detonation of a bomb. 

We laughed so hard for the next five, ten, fifteen minutes straight that Ms. Mormino gave up. Surrendering, putting her head on her desk, she waited until the hysteria finally subsided. 

Finally looking up, defeated, pathetic, Ms. Mormino glared at us all and wailed: 

 ”This is too much, this is too hard, too hard, Jesus Christ, this is too much for me!” 

 A lone voice sounded from the back of the room. Guess whose it was.

"That’s what she said."

Ms. Mormino officially retired from teaching that afternoon.

FUCKING READ IT IT’S WORTH IT

Tags: fuck yes

This hurts the grammar slammer in me

This hurts the grammar slammer in me

so im cleaning up my g+ profile

and i just

cant believe what i post

one time i went downstairs to get some water and then i realized that there were people in the house and i silently prayed to god that i remembered to put on pants before i looked down and then i praised the lord because i did

once my friend and i were rping jade and dave and i was dave and she called me gay and i was like jade you have no idea but im actually day???

Can’t tell if that’s my mom screaming or something going wrong with the dishwasher

HOW DRUNK WAS I LAST NIGHT

(Source: sandwichlord, via serrenedy)

jeolheyman:

philmyjacksgap:

hnnnngoverphan:

ok so i made a mashup 

im sorry if this has already been done but everyone makes mashups with radioactive so pls dont kill me i actually made this myself thank

MY JAW JUST DROPPED 

please lord someone send me a download link or a youtube video or something god pls

(via davemotherfuckinstrider)