Hi I'm Mckayla I support 710 and EDM
I am a work in progress
Hoop Lovin'

Bf's Bhomb Blog


a threesome would be fun.

tho ive never been very good at sharing things i like….

so i feel like it would have to be with 2 people i hate hahahahahahha

but then why would i be fucking them?

i wouldnt.

im alone.


Literally my feels like
I want to have a three some
But what if they like each other more than they like me u kno



Admiring beautiful girls is my best skill


Saw this tip jar at my Dairy Queen today and lost it at tipiosa.


"Haha that’s some mad weed bro"

I say as the weed begins to punch you. It is in fact, some very angry weed

(via indica-illusions)


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Some people just really don’t understand what the fuck edm feels like

I’m so drunk I’m drooling

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means: Take a look at this. That right there is the mail. Now let’s talk about the mail. Can we talk about the mail, please, Mac? I’ve been dying to talk about the mail with you all day, OK? “Pepe Silvia,” this name keeps coming up over and over again. Every day Pepe’s mail is getting sent back to me. Pepe Silvia! Pepe Silvia! I look in the mail, and this whole box is Pepe Silvia! So I say to myself, “I gotta find this guy! I gotta go up to his office and put his mail in the guy’s goddamn hands! Otherwise, he’s never going to get it and he’s going to keep coming back down here.” So I go up to Pepe’s office and what do I find out, Mac? What do I find out?! There is no Pepe Silvia. The man does not exist, okay? So I decide, “Oh shit, buddy, I gotta dig a little deeper.” There’s no Pepe Silvia? You gotta be kidding me! I got boxes full of Pepe! All right. So I start marchin’ my way down to Carol in HR and I knock on her door and I say, “CAAAAROL! CAAROOOLLLL! I gotta talk to you about Pepe.” And when I open the door what do I find? There’s not a single goddamn desk in that office! There…is…no…Carol in HR. Mac, half the employees in this building have been made up. This office is a goddamn ghost town.

Breaking in my cat tile that I bought at the thrift store sale yesterday
I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was - I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.”
Jack Kerouac, On the Road (via observando)

(via weed-smokin)