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my three weed smoking girlfriends

My Three Weed Smoking Girlfriends

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About

My Three Weed Smoking Girlfriends refers to a popular Tumblr post in which user thejorie posted a picture of three women sharing a marijuana cigarette while dressed in cannabis-related clothing and wrote, “My three girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.” thejorie appeared to be trolling, but as people who weren’t in on the joke reblogged the thread mocking his post, thejorie wrote escalating, elaborate threats and roleplay scenarios defending his “girlfriends” and writing how he’d attack people in the thread, going overboard as an Internet Tough Guy. The entire thread spread outside of Tumblr and inspired comics and videos in which the dialogue was played out by different characters.

Origin

Tumblr user thejorie first posted an image with three women, likely models in a cannabis-related photoshoot, calling them his “girlfriends” sometime in 2015. Thejorie’s Tumblr account has been deleted, but the earliest extant reblog of the post was made by user madamekagamine [1] on November 30th, 2015.

Over the course of several reblogs, other users teased thejorie along with the apparent joke that he was lying about his girlfriends, saying things like, “you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette?”, to which thejorie responded with “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,).” As users reblogged the post who didn’t seem to be in on the joke, thejorie wrote elaborate threats, culminating with:

bq.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.

Spread

The post became widely known on Tumblr, gaining over 145,000 notes as of October 27th, 2020. [2] On January 16th, 2019, user toesucker [3] posted a comic based on the post, gaining over 109,000 notes (example panels shown below).

The post saw spread outside of Tumblr as well. On January 16th, 2019 and November 11th, 2019, the post was added to /r/tumblr, [4] [5] gaining over 200 and 600 points, respectively. On March 27th, 2019, YouTuber chaloloo posted a reading of the comic, gaining over 30,000 views (shown below). On February 1st, 2020, YouTuber ChucketNucket007 posted a reading of the post, gaining over 2,000 views (shown below, right).

My Three Weed Smoking Girlfriends refers to a popular Tumblr post in which user thejorie posted a picture of three women sharing a marijuana cigarette while dressed in cannabis-related clothing and wrote, “My three girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.” thejorie appeared to be trolling, but as people who weren't in on the joke reblogged the thread mocking his post, thejorie wrote escalating, elaborate threats and roleplay scenarios defending his “girlfriends” and writing how he'd attack people in the thread, going overboard as an Internet Tough Guy. The entire thread spread outside of Tumblr and inspired comics and videos in which the dialogue was played out by different characters.

My three weed smoking girlfriends

My three girlfriends.
And yes, they smoke weed.

do they smoke weed?

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*

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: “ gucciballs: “ thejorie: “ peble: “ thejorie: “…