I don’t care if my butthole color offends anyone. You read that correctly. Bleaching one’s butthole, aka spinchter, is now a thing.
Now, not only do we have to groom ourselves meticulously in our nether regions but we also are being pressured to bleach our anuses. Well, I guess we don’t have to. Because I’m not going to. There is no beauty standard or ideal worth much pain or effort for me at this point in my life. Much less a sudden standard about my butthole color.
What is anal bleaching?
I am so glad you asked. Butthole bleaching is the process of dying your asshole so it is lighter than the color you were born with.
Why bleach your anus?
I don’t know. You tell me. I guess there’s also self-esteem issues regarding the color of one’s sphincter. Your guess is as good as mine.
I would love to be informed if this is somehow deemed medically necessary. If I find out anyone’s insurance actually covers this, I quit. I quit everything.
I am not ashamed to tell you that I researched this vigorously. You can buy a cream to do this yourself or you can go professional and get it done at a place that actually does sphincter bleaching. Either way, you will use a cream that is most likely cancer-causing just to make your butthole blend in with the rest of your skin.
I just want to know why this is not a disorder of some kind. Are mental health professionals not concerned?
So, if you, or someone you know, actually plans to spend their hard earned money to have their butthole bleached, please email me. I will give you my cash app info. At least that way your money will be going towards a good cause. The good cause being anything other than a butthole bleaching.
Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, if you or anyone you know, enjoys a butt bleaching, please do not let me know. That’s weird AF.
I’m not here to repeat the same stuff you read in every other article regarding writing. I’m also not going to guarantee that these will work for you as they do for me. Writing is an extremely personal endeavor and each person is stimulated creatively by something different.
My dreams inspire me so I keep a journal beside my bed to jot down my dream inspired ideas right when I wake up and before they disappear into Neverland.
I also literally write in my sleep sometimes. It’s a lot like sleep talking, but it’s sleep writing. Also, it’s completely illegible.
If I did such, which I don’t, I would definitely be inspired with tons of ideas. Ideas from the mundane to the potentially award-winning and possibly even worthy of a Nobel Peace Prize. But, it is illegal in Georgia, so I cannot partake in that yet.
That’s right. Just read and keep up with the news. Write about it and create your own spin on it. Just like FOX and CNN does. Make people see it your way! Your propaganda, I mean opinion, matters too! Such is the power of the word.
The media is a very powerful force and to underestimate that is to your own folly.
I like to write my first drafts in the one note app. Not only because I can use the voice mode to dictate my extremely fast thoughts, but because the font is beautiful. I know that’s silly, but I like a nice, girly font.
If you look around, inspiration can be found everywhere. You just have to live with your eyes open.
What are your favorite writing tips and/or prompts?
Articles are meant to share information, tips, and opinions. This one is important to my heart. It is a list of the items I think should be made to be common sense knowledge at a minimum.
Teach it in school, teach it at home, blare it from loudspeakers in North Korea, and replace all media ads with it. I don’t anyone to be able to claim ignorance anymore. We are all put on this Earth for a reason and I know what mine is.
Best case scenario, this would become criminal activity. I have about 18 laws I will recommend we take off the books if we can have these in their stead.
Kylie’s Public Service Announcements
1st offense — Warning
2nd offense — Life in prison
You, good sir, are not a backpack. So, kindly remove yourself from being one millimeter from me while we are standing in line at the gas station. Standing closer to me won’t get me done with my transaction any faster.
I do not like feeling your breath on my shoulder. “I beg your pardon, Sir. Please remove your breath from my neck and fuck off a few feet back.”
Even with the pandemic and the six feet away rule in place, it does not stop some people. These people are primarily at the gas station and Wal-Mart for some reason.
Holding The Door
Look, I am from Georgia and no one appreciates a gentleman more than us. But if I’m 500 yards away in the gas station parking lot, please do not hold the door for me. I do not want to do an awkward run/walk across the parking lot. Then you will not be standing there holding the door for five minutes straight.
We all appreciate what you’re trying to do. God sees you and we all see you. Just cut it out, though. I am not trying to run.
For god’s sake, please brush your teeth and bathe. Dousing yourself in cologne does not count as bathing.
Some of us can still smell so please have pity. If you are not sure if you smell or not, ask yourself when was the last good scrubbing you had. Or ask a friend or a family member to tell you.
Just because I like to wear a cardigan does not mean I am a librarian. I work on the south side of my town and apparently they equate every white person in a sweater as a librarian. Make no mistake, my street CRED is unparalleled.
Cardigans are amazing. If you are hot, you can take it off. If you are cold, you can put it on. You can buy one in every color to go with every shirt that you own. Stop the hate against cardigans.
And also, calling someone a librarian is not an insult. There’s no shame in being smart or appearing to be smart. I just don’t like the ignorance of cardigan shaming.
For the love of all that is holy, please play your damn lottery during working hours. Not right before work starts or right after work ends. We have jobs to get to and don’t have time for you to pick eight number sevens, five number threes, and eight number twos.
And please tell me how the hell you manage to have the money to play the lottery every day when you don’t, apparently, go to work. I’m talking to you, weird creepy guy that hits on me every day at the gas station.
Get a job. The chance of you getting rich is much higher that way. The chance of you scoring at the gas station is much higher that way as well.
I have touched on this before. It’s still an issue. Facebook messenger was not invented for the sole purpose of harassing women on the internet. At least I don’t think it was.
Regardless, it is absolutely the most annoying thing that has ever happened. Even though I find some small pleasure in rebutting the advances of said weirdos, I wish they would just stop already.
I’m sure there are women that have used this for that as well, but I have never heard of one in my life or from someone I know. Just last week I had a man asking me to use him financially, no strings attached. Now if I was a younger, dumber version of myself, I might’ve fallen for that.
I’m 41. I know there’s no such thing as no strings attached. So, sorry Buddy, you’ll have to spend your paycheck on yourself or some other lady that believes you will leave her alone and just hand her the money.
These are just some of the most urgent items I must fix as your new leader. I mean, someone should do something about these issues.
So call upon Congress or write me in for the next election. The choice is yours.
As much as I hate the articles that everyone writes on the same topic, I feel like no one is using the tools that I use to increase creativity and productivity. So, I have come to save the day. I’m gifting you with a list of the tools I use to be creative and productive.
The tipsier I am, the more enjoyable I am. To others and to myself. Having a slight buzz also makes me really good at pool/billiards. That is in addition to evolving into a content ideas machine. If it makes sense to me, then it’s done it’s job. Also, I am a lot nicer after a glass or two at the end of a long day. Or 10:30 am, if that day is particularly stressful.
Every story I have that nobody believes is a result of my children. The impossible can and will happen as a result of their malarkey. My constant inability to know what the hell to do is a never-ending abyss of article topics.
Don’t judge me. How do you think I have parented all these kids by myself? Or mostly by myself, until I got remarried recently.
Celexa is amazing in my opinion. I’m pretty sure I would not be who I am today without it. Alive, that is.
Music is life and gets me all up in my feels. I use these emotions and images that they invoke to stimulate ideas. For example, when I listen to that Adam Levine song, I imagine what my life would be like now if I had met him when I was 20. Then, suddenly an article on why men should have tattoos forms in my mind.
I lurk and I hide behind my phone screen while scrolling the comments on social media. I have Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, and Facebook. Facebook is where I really get a good view of drama. Twitter provides me with comic relief and surprise at the sheer venom of strangers towards one another. They all provide me with content.
I am a property manager of many rental houses in every socio-economic class in my city. This provides me with a plethora of stories, excess stress, sometimes bruises, and dumba** stunts to use in my content.
I hope that my tools will prove to be invaluable to you. But, if they aren’t, please don’t leave rude comments like my first experience with a troll this week. She left a rude comment and then immediately blocked me so I couldn’t respond. She obviously has issues.
His audacity shocked me. Sweat glistened on his face in his profile picture. His 1970’s era thick mustache was clearly something he was proud of while the toothpaste splattered mirror in his picture’s background had not been cleaned very recently, if ever.
I stared at him and read his message forty-three times back to back, trying to figure out if this was real. Was my wildest fantasy finally coming to fruition?Not two minutes later, but before I could respond, he messaged again. This time it was a GIF with a rose, heart, and a teddy bear. All the things every woman on the face of the earth loves according to every man. It was at that pivotal moment when I made the decision to break the bond I had with my husband and message back this studly speciman. Trying to resist this kind of obviously fated connection was just ludicrous and pointless.
I was beginning to type out my erotic, but love filled, response to him when his third message came through. I opened it, scanned it, and I knew that I had to have my tubes untied as soon as humanly possible so I could carry his child. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and the only thing I have ever wanted. It was a dick pic from a stranger. That’s right. Every woman’s dream
Sweating profusely now, I started typing. I put a lot of thought in my response so he would know how much I appreciated every one of his messages. But before I could hit send, I got another message notification.
This time it just said, “Bitch.” I quickly finished my heartfelt message and pressed send. Half a second later, it gave me an indication that I had been blocked and my message did not go through to him.
Well, crap. I lost Prince Charming. Let this be a lesson to us all. I made the decision to stay with the amazing husband that I had.
Public Service Announcement: This is purely satirical and for fun. No one likes that, Randy. Cut it out. Go clean your bathroom mirror.
Before this woman, the attention you try and spark will never ignite — Kylie
Talk first, think later. I have always had this habit and it has gotten me into trouble more times than I care to admit. I’ve been called bold, brazen, and unfiltered when in reality, I am just missing the part of the brain that makes one give two shits about the opinions of others. I also believe creativity is at its best when it is uncensored. I realize the reader may not believe that but, reminder, I am the one writing this article.
I have many unappreciated talents which include mockery, random statistic formulations, extreme sarcasm, and the uncanny ability to say anything with enough confidence and a straight face cool enough to get anyone to believe anything. I am also great at twisting or making up quotes to suit my current agenda. Basically, what I’m saying is I should definitely be President.
I think of myself as being somewhat creative and a self-diagnosed genius, so I am constantly on the lookout for new marketing strategies for my work and my blog. In addition to writing a blog, I am writing a novel and an e-book. This is after I get done with my day jobs which include managing over one hundred and eighty rental properties, listing houses, financial consulting, and credit repair.
I am also a mother to six children, two dogs, two birds, and a turtle. Mosaic making is a hobby of mine I plan to dominate when I’m done with that one guy who writes on Medium.
I won’t lie. I’ve had more great ideas that got shot down than approved by the powers that be. Apparently, risk takers are not appreciated by everyone. Luckily, I believe in myself enough for all of us. I’m not at Trump level, but close.
A Hard No Is Like a Regular No, but Harder
Picture an online advertisement for my credit repair services. The quote I suggested was, “Your face is not the only thing that needs filtering. See Kylie about giving your credit a new look too!” You see the image of someone that is truly terrible looking, but could be fixed with some filtering or plastic surgery. That was a hard no from my broker. It was one of many over the years
Imagine calling somewhere to conduct business or to make an appointment and being put on hold. Instead of hearing the soothing sounds of soft jazz, you are pleasantly surprised with the motivational sounds of hardcore rap encouraging you to be the best murdering drug dealer you can be. This was also a hard no. We are missing an entire demographic here!
Trying to sell metal detectors with the new name of Corona Detector. My husband did not approve and neither did the people I pitched it on in the elevator that day.
I have a tenant whose first name is General. I thought this was one of the most unbelievably genius names I have ever heard. I immediately approached my husband about getting my first name changed to Doctor. Just as fast, I was once again shut down.
These are just a few of the millions of unbelievably amazing ideas I have had throughout the years. I’m not resentful, but I can’t believe my ideas were trashed when a man made millions of dollars by inventing a pool noodle.
We have become ingrained in our over-sensitive, politically correct culture and I don’t like it one bit. You have to do something different if you want to be different. The definition of insanity — according to Einstein in one article and definitely not him according to some others — is to do the same thing over and over but expect a different result.
I always tell this to my friends who get in relationships constantly with the same types of crappy men. Think outside of the box. Try something different. It may be the best thing you ever did.
Optimism still seeps out of me alongside every great idea and I just know my time to shine is coming soon.
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