Gas Station Guilty Pleasures

Have I ever mentioned my fear of convenience stores? Dumpsters, yes; convenience stores, maybe not. Perhaps I watched too many nightly news broadcasts as a child where so-and-so was killed during an armed robbery at a corner convenience store, blah blah blah. My overworked imagination is a bit much at times. Even for me. Maybe it’s the fact there’s typically so many posters, flyers, window paraphanelia covering every square inch of glass where one would/could see out. Or maybe it’s the one way in, one way out design. It may even be the fact many people pay cash instead of using their debit cards. That makes no sense, Kel. Which is exactly my point. My fear makes zero sense. Nothing bad has ever happened to me inside a convenience store. And I won’t be patronizing any to test my luck.

I have seriously digressed. IF I was to frequent convenience store establishments, my guilty pleasure would be peach rings. Affectionately called “peachies”, I would most likely purchase them each time. Soft yet chewy and reminiscent of a sweet, summery peach, these sugar-laden treats beg me to sample twenty. On a related note, a whole group of kids played a game at Halloween which consisted of inserting a large popsicle stick (or tongue depressor, if you want to be specific) inside their mouth and seeing how many gummy orange slices each could stack on their stick. Since I did not play, but am a huge kid at heart, I sneakily ate 4 gummy orange slices when the game had commenced. I had forgotten how much I love those things!! Pretty sure my blood sugar went into outer space. But what a way to go!!


You know what else they sell at convenience stores? Lottery tickets. Or as mini calls them – scratcher offers. My parents love receiving lotto tickets. To my knowledge, they’ve never won anything big (unless they kept it to themselves which is exactly what I would do haha) so I guess it’s the possibility of winning a huge payout that keeps people addicted. On the radio show I most often listen to, one of the co-hosts spends upwards of $200 each paycheck buying lottery tickets. I don’t recall if he said he buys the scratch-off kind or plays the actual lottery, but $400/month is still $400/month on gambling. Perhaps since I’ve never been a gambler do I not understand this fascination. To each his own.

this is the only lotto I’m winning

And, on that note, my mother’s birthday is coming soon. Let me find someone to stop at that store on the corner to get her lottery tickets. Because it’s not gonna be me!


I ask you –

What is your gas station guilty pleasure?

What do you call lottery tickets? I’ve heard the term “scratchers” before.

Name something you are unjustly terrified of.

10 thoughts on “Gas Station Guilty Pleasures

  1. 1. Hostess pies
    2. Pittsburgh people say, “scratch offs”, which sounds a little dirty.
    3. Door-to-door salespeople. I hate the awkward interaction with them. Can’t they just send me some mail that I will ignore?


  2. The peach ring thingys is my hubby’s go-to candy.

    What is your gas station guilty pleasure?
    -Not sure if I have one. I guess a Slurpie if I’m in a 7/11. Since we do not have too many gas stations in NYC, I’ll use a bodega as a guilty pleasure. That would be a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich with cheddar AND swiss.

    What do you call lottery tickets? I’ve heard the term “scratchers” before.
    -scratch offs

    Name something you are unjustly terrified of.
    -walking under scaffolding


  3. I love this! A very enjoyable and entertaining read. I still occasionally indulge in the peach gummies for nostalgic purposes.
    1. Flirting with the cashier. That doesn’t count? Alright, the 7 dollar Wonder Bread.
    2. My dad calls them “a tax on the poor,” and he sometimes gives scratch tickets to me on my birthday. Does he think I’m poor? He’s the one paying.
    3. Pterodactyls. They don’t exist. But imagine one swooping down and viciously snapping your body in half with its sharp, giant beak in a hellish, prehistoric nightmare. Damn.


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