Posted in Humor, Life, Satire

3 Ways To Let Down That Man At The Gas Station

How to let him know you can’t love him like he deserves

A man smiling at a woman at a gas station.

I am a creature of routine. Every morning, I stop at the same gas station on the way to work to get my coffee or snacks or gas. Yes, I know this is a frivolous expense. I decided to cut corners elsewhere, OK? Back off.

Anyway, let’s get back on point. At the same gas station, there’s a man who thinks I am the love of his life. Well, he thinks I am and every other woman that comes in there is, too.

I’m not sure if he’s drunk or on crack or just extremely horny. Regardless, he doesn’t seem to want to take no as an answer. I have tried letting him down gently and I have tried telling him to f**k off. Nothing will throw this man off of his intense mission to find a mate at the Circle K.

My first attempt to shake him off went like this. He moseyed up behind me as I waited in line at the gas station, Cheezy Puffs in hand. He got extremely close to me standing in line and I could smell his beer breath on my neck. Every woman’s favorite.

He put his ice cold, forty ounce Natural Ice on my back, which was showing at the top of my dress, causing me to jump and yell, “Fucktard!” He then proceeded to apologize and segued straight into asking me if I wanted to fornicate behind the dumpster. Has there ever been a more beautiful moment?

But, alas, I was/am married. I just asked him, “Who the hell do you think you are?” Before he could answer, I scurried off to my job as this happened at 7:30 in the morning.

Take 2

He tried again a week later. This time, it was right after work. I popped in to buy a bottle of wine and a lottery ticket. I finished my transaction and was about to walk out the door when I heard him slur, “Hey, girl! You want to give Daddy a dollar?”

I looked around, but saw no one who seemed to be his father. At this point, I started to get annoyed. I mean, who pretends to beg for his father? Still, being the southern lady that I am, I just told him to fuck off and went about my day.

Take 3

About a month later, I popped into my gas station and this time I was in a bad mood. Picture the witch song from The Wizard of Oz playing as I walked in. It was definitely playing in my head. I was in a straight bitch mood. Which kind of excuses me from my behavior when Dingleberry hits on me again.

This time I can’t remember what he said exactly. I do remember he smelled like beer, pork rinds, and body odor. I just brushed past him, saying, “I’m married, but I’m only attracted to turtles anyway so you will never have a chance.”

I was such a bitch.

Take 4

The next day. I was back and I felt bad. I also felt disgusted. This guy was starting to get on my nerves. I told him I was married, but he didn’t care. I didn’t go to the gas station to get harassed.

I walked in and got my coffee. I stood in a small line waiting my turn to check out. I checked out.

Looking around, I didn’t see him, hear him, or smell him. Growing concerned, I looked around and left.


I have been back for thirteen days straight trying to find this drunk lunatic. I would like to tell him he doesn’t have a chance with me. I would also like to slap him for making me worry. Where is he? Is he okay? Is he thinking about me?


Posted in Death, Life

How Tragedy Turned My Life Around Positively

My sister’s death from cancer opened my eyes to life

A victorious woman holds her arm up in the air with a closed fist.
The hardest times always show us something.

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” — T.S. Elliot

My sister’s death from sudden, aggressive lung cancer changed who I am as a person forever. I know, without a doubt, that I will never be the same Kylie again.

We all are aware that death is inevitable. But, it still hurts in a way unlike any other pain when it happens, especially sudden and tragic deaths. Healing does happen and I know this. Her loss was not my first just my most sudden and tragic. I have buried a husband and my father, but this death just hit me differently and out of nowhere.

I woke up the day after her death, expecting to feel the heaviness of grief. And I did. But I also realized immediately that I was a changed person who, going forward, would be living life differently. I suddenly understood I had been holding myself back in almost all areas of my entire life. I was living my life by trying to avoid attention. I was not being who I really wanted to be. Life was suddenly an extremely fragile thing that I had been wasting for years on mediocrity. I would no longer waste a second that was given to me.

Nothing could be worse than the fear that one had given up too soon, and left one unexpended effort that might have saved the world.

Jane Addams

What stops us from trying new things? In my opinion, it is due to the opinion’s of our peers or the people we consider to be the closest to us. Why? Because we know the masses are uncomfortable with being different than the rest and with change of any kind. A lot of conformists want everyone around them to be leery and rejecting of anything different than the status quo. I refuse, adamantly, to live my life like that going forward.

The masses have always viewed anyone who does, looks, or acts differently than the rest of society as odd or outcasts. I find that herd mentally extremely disturbing. Why can’t the different personalities be beautiful or brave instead of outcasts or troublemakers? Personally, I find bland and normal people to be boring as hell and shallow.

What would our lives look like if we took chances, fought back or rocked the boat sometimes instead of cowering? Is the fear of failure or embarrassment really that big of a deal? I don’t understand, because I do not care if people like me or not. What if we had taken more chances? What could we have accomplished by now? Would cancer be cured? Would my sister be alive?

So, I decided in my grief that I would live my life without fear holding me back from anything. I owe this to her beautiful soul. I will never take my life for granted again. She did not want to die. I will live for her now. I will keep her memory alive in her granddaughter, Piper, that she never knew was coming or got to see.

My main goal is to go sliding feet first into my grave. I want the gossips to keep busy by talking about me. I want to have lived a large, exciting, meaningful life filled with amazing moments and memories astounding enough to be talked about in my family for generations to come. I will not accept my fate as being one of the other sheep in this world.

I started my new found way of living by deciding to follow my dream of writing. This was a huge deal to me because I had always let the opinions of others hold me back in this regard. The value of other’s opinions died along with my sister. I started writing and I have not stopped since. Much to my family’s chagrin. I have a lot I still need to get out.

I write more humor pieces than anything. I do this because I have used humor as a coping mechanism my whole existence. There is nothing that I can not twist and mold to turn into a laughable situation. I am comforted in my grief by the memory of her laughing at my antics.

Just trust yourself, then you will know how to live.

Goethe

I have started a website, started blogging, joined Medium, and haven’t looked back. Am I a huge success? No. However, success is subjective. Writing makes me happy. That makes it a success in my eyes. And, going forward, my opinion is the only one that I will validate.

From now until the end of my days, if I want to do something or experience life, I’m going to do it. Haters riding on my life train can get off at any time. I sincerely hope they do. I am not blind to a few of my friends and the fickleness they show with their support. The time has come for fake friends or people with less than pure intentions to exit my life. That way, I will have room for more supportive people to enter my life. I am definitely ready for some new passengers on my figurative life train.

I will no longer make any apologies or explanations for anything I do. I am different and I am loud. I am too much of a woman for some and too little of a woman to others. I am not here to follow. I am here to lead. I am me. I am proud of who I am and I am free for the first time in my forty one years. And it feels amazing.

I have the full love, support, and acceptance of my husband. He has embraced every change that I have made and fully supported every shenanigan and/or scheme that I have ever come up with. Whether it ends up being successful or not in the end.

I also have the support of my other sister who is my best friend in this world and has been since I was born. Even if my writing is terrible, she knows it is a healing process for me and builds me up every chance she gets. I also support her in how she expresses her own grief which is in a very different and private way.

Let us resolve to be masters, not the victims, of our history, controlling our own destiny without giving way to blind suspicions and emotions.

John Kennedy

As far as the memory of my lost sister goes, I can still hear her sweet voice when I close my eyes. I know she would be supportive of me. I miss her everyday and I am prepared to live the remainder of my life missing her. But, instead of focusing on all that I have lost and my sadness, I am going to focus on living and making myself, and her, proud.

Posted in Death, Friendships, Grief, Life

The Startling Death Of My Son’s Best Friend

My beautiful ocean scene with the words an unexpected death
Canva

Sometimes, we just don’t have any good answers for our children, especially when death is concerned. Sometimes, we just cannot make the pain go away. I had to fight myself against issuing generic platitudes to my grieving son because no answers were sufficient for the questions that he had when he lost his best friend suddenly.

Don’t be dismayed by good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.

Richard Bach

I have four kids and two stepchildren that are the center of my universe. My youngest son, and third child, has suffered a tremendous loss at only the tender age of 13. His best friend and sidekick died. For the sake of his family’s privacy, I will call this young man Daryl in this article. Daryl will be remembered by more than his family. My son is going to make sure of that.

Daryl was a bright thirteen year old boy that liked to play video games online and basketball outside of my house with the local neighborhood boys. My son, Nolan bonded with him quickly over their mutual love for Kobe Bryant, dark humor, video games, and attitudes.

Daryl had fought and overcome cancer three times in his short little life. He had most recently gotten the stats to indicate he was beating it again.

You never heard him complain, but he had a life filled with pain. He would be missing in action during the worst parts, but continually stayed in contact with my son via online messaging. My son was not one to talk about it. Like many boys are apt to be when it comes to emotions, he dealt with it in his own way and still does.

When COVID came around, Daryl was confined to his room. His immune system was already battered so his parents weren’t taking any chances by not issuing a strict quarantine. They spent the summer playing video games online and plaguing each other with dark jokes and pranks. They were showing their love as boys will.

School

Three days before school was to be let back in session, Daryl’s mom went to wake him and found that he had passed away in his bed. Though he was beating the cancer, he had passed away from a sudden aneurism.

Nolan found out later on that day and came to tell me right away. They had played on the X-box the night before and he seemed fine, my son told me in shock.

As grief tends to do, it had a delayed reaction on Nolan. He would forget for a moment and then he would go to text him and remember. He would get online and remember.

I believe the grief took a toll on his immune system because within days he was fighting a huge swollen gland from a sudden bout of mono and strep throat. Days after getting on antibiotics, he developed a mono rash. He ended up missing the first two weeks back to school.

I didn’t realize how deep the friendship had gone until I took him to school on his first day. Signing him in, the office staff all gathered around and hugged him and told him how sorry they were. It seemed that the boys were something of a duo at the school.

A beautiful art general

Art

A few weeks later, I came home from work and went to greet all of the kids, which is my routine when I come in the door. After I greet the animals, of course.

I found Nolan in his room thumbing through a journal. He told me that for art class they all had to keep an art journal with drawings, thoughts, and the such. He said that after class the art teacher had given Daryl’s art journal to him.

Without me even telling him, he told me that he wanted to make a copy for himself and carry the original to Daryl’s mother. The image of the young boy’s self painted image in the journal made tears well up in my own eyes. Not to mention the fact that my teenager, famous for no empathy towards anyone but himself within our household, was showing empathy towards Daryl’s family.

I took the journal to work and made the copy. It was filled with what you would expect from a thirteen year old boy being forced to journal, but I knew the gift would be a priceless artifact given to a grieving mother. Another link to a love like no other.

This will not be the last time my son experiences a tragedy. I am proud of the way he has handled this loss and the way he continues to keep Daryl’s memory alive by talking about him. All too often, people try and drown pain away by ignoring it. Only by dealing with our emotions will we ever truly heal from any heartbreak or pain.

There is no explanation for a life cut that short. I won’t lie and say it’s part of a plan I’m not privy to. The only thing I can say for sure is that where he went has to be so much better than what he went through here during his short, pain filled existence.

Hold your loved ones tight. We never know when a moment will be the last.


I know this was a depressing article so if you would like to laugh now, here is a link to my latest Medium article about being a Golddigger!


Posted in Art, Health, Ideas, Life

Finding Peace In Art

As I am going through some health/mental issues, I have been surprised with how much art has helped me.

I have never been very good at it, but it can be learned just as any other skill. for the time being, I am just using art to cope with all the changes in my life.

Achicken painted with acrylic paint
A chicken
A heart shaped mosaic  To help my friend with the passing of her mother
Mosaic heart made for my friend
Digital art
A flower made with digital art on an app
Digital Art from Author

I have every faith that I will be OK, but when I get nervous I will continue to use this as an outlet. I also welcome any other suggestions!


Posted in Humor, Ideas, Life

A List Of My Lists For The List Addict

A listicle of lists

A graphic stating A List Of My Lists in bright colors for the list addict.
Made With Canva

My name is Kylie and I am a list addict. No, I didn’t misspell lust. I really am that boring.

Don’t worry though, it’s not the only thing I’m addicted to. Just the only one I’ll be writing about today.

The list

Daily To Do

Weekly To Do

Yearly To Do

My Enemies

Birthdays

People with STDs

My Misdemeanors

Presents

Groceries

Things I f**ked up

Checking Accounts/Balances

Places I’m Banned From

Stocks/EFTs

Summer Vacation Ideas

Winter Vacation Ideas

Plastic Surgery I Want

Plastic Surgery I Need

Ways To Get Health Insurance

The Worst Kissers

Active Restraining Orders

Restraining Orders About To Expire

Articles to Write

Publications to Submit To

People That Have Pissed Me Off, Volumes 1–78

Chores

Chores For My Husband To Never Complete

Yearly Home Maintenance

Car Maintenance Checklist

Yearly Self Care

Daily Self Care

Mosaic Projects

Website To Do

WTF Is SEO?

Cats I Don’t Like

Revenge Tactics — Legal


I could go on for hours, but I feel like I should ease you into this for multiple reasons.

I hope you found some use out of my list of lists. My lists have served me well and are the main reason that I am the mediocre success that I am today. If I spent half as much energy accomplishing goals in lieu of listing them, I could probably be a lot more successful.


Posted in Humor, Life, parenting, Teenager

4 Fun Ways To Embarrass Your Children

Therapy is unavoidable, so you might as well have fun

A child dressed in winter clothing is embarrassed
Made With Canva

One of the least talked about benefits, in normal circles anyway, of having children is the ability to be able to make fun of them and humiliate them ever so gently.

You have countless opportunities over the years to embarrass them in many, many ways. Do not let this go to waste. You’re going to be paying for therapy anyway. You might as well make the most of it.

PDA

Otherwise known as a public display of affection, this act will mortify for years on end. A good way to do this is to maybe hug your husband or, if you are really feeling spicy, performing a huge make out session right in front of the school.

If you’re a single parent, as I have been often, just grab someone nearby. Sometimes, jail is worth it if you succeed in your goals. Make sure you use tongue.

Try to dance or be cool in any capacity

My kids absolutely hate it when I “dab.” They also hate it when I use their lingo. I will throw in words like fye and lit during our conversations. Especially if their friends are around. That way they know I’m trying to understand and relate to them.

My fourteen year old son loves to call me bro. Once I started beating him to it and calling him bro first, he cut it out.

The kitty game

I don’t like to remember this dark period in my life. For it is when my parents dealt an embarrassing blow so devastating that only now, many decades later, can I laugh about it.

It was the evening of my first date and the day after my sixteenth birthday. The doorbell rang as all gentlemen must come to the door to pick a lady up, according to my mother.

I thought it was odd that my stepfather didn’t want to answer the door and made me do it instead.I answered the door and escorted my date into the living room where my parents were watching television on the couch.

They were not on the couch anymore when I came in to introduce my date to them. I felt all of my blood rush to my face as I realized what they were doing to embarrass me.

Once again, I had underestimated them. They were on all fours. They were playing the kitty game.

The kitty game is much like it sounds. You crawl around and act like a cat. This includes purring, meowing, and rubbing against people’s legs. To date, I have never been more embarrassed.

Clothing

Take it from me, kids don’t appreciate it when you wear their names on your shirt to celebrate them at a sporting event or even just Applebee’s. They want you to show up to their games. But they don’t want you to cheer for them, make eye contact with them, talk to their friend’s parents, or wear a shirt with their name on it.

Kids also want you to dress your age. Which means they think, at age 41, I should be wearing cat sweaters and elastic band pants. I’ve got the elastic band pants down pat so I’m holding off on the cat sweater.

Conclusion

Have fun with parenting. They are only young once and what doesn’t kill them, or you, will make you stronger. Within reason, of course.