Are you paying someone to clean your house and to let you exercise at their gym? Why not pay me instead and combine the two bills? I will come over to your home and yell at you to clean your filthy house. Look at those baseboards! What the heck is that under the bed? Have you moved this rug…ever? That box collecting dust in the corner…tear it up with your bare hands for a “cross” fit work out in your own back yard!
Do you really need all that stuff under your sink in the bathroom? When was the last time you bothered to clean the grout?
In the old days, why were our ancestors so skinny when they pretty much fried everything they ate? I’m glad you asked. It was thanks to old fashioned labor! Why pay a maid to clean your house? Don’t have the time? But you have the time to change clothes, drive to the gym, park, work out, shower, and drive home?
Don’t bother buying specialty equipment…unless it’s a mop.
Forget the leaf blower. Use an old fashioned rake to get an upper arm work out.
How did I come up with the CH Method of exercise? For the past three days, I’ve been cleaning out my house to prepare to move out. My mom asked me when was the last time I dusted the baseboards. Um, never? While I was tearing up a box that my HDTV came in…4 years ago, it hit me. I can lose weight and get strong simply by doing house work and yard work! It’s genius!
Now, if you still feel the need to have someone yell at you for motivation, feel free to contact me and you can pay me a gazillion dollars to “coach” you while you “work out”.
>Sacramento…you see that red triangle shape on the console or dashboard of your car? That’s the button for your hazard lights.
I’m pretty sure most of you think that if you push that red button, something awful is going to happen to your car. Here’s the thing…it’s not.
It’s a warning to other drivers that you are about to do something stupid. Yes, it’s also good for when your car breaks down, but that’s not its only use.
Let’s say you are driving down Capitol Mall and want to double park to pick up your wife at some random high rise building. As a courtesy to the innocent people behind you, you are supposed to turn on your hazard lights BEFORE you need to stop in the middle of the street. That way you give everyone fair warning that you are going to do something stupid…so they can go around you and not want to curse your name.
Please, for the sake of everyone’s sanity, use your hazard lights!! I don’t have a problem with you double parking as long as you give me a heads up so I can get out of the way before I get to the anger point.
Don’t be afraid…just push it!!
Note to self, never ask married women for dating advice. It’s like them asking me for child-rearing advice. The only thing either of us are able to do is spit platitudes and cliches at each other.
When you enter the “epically single” category, people stop being able to help you. You’ve tried it all. Playing games and being yourself. You’ve been the simpering female and the strong woman. You’ve tried being friends first. Here’s the thing with that…I don’t want to have sex with my friends. I hate it when guys put that in their profiles. Yeah, sorry. I don’t buy that crap. My friends don’t want to stick their tongues down my throat.
Back to the fundamental problem with advice: If you are in the middle of said epically single stage, you are in crisis mode and cannot think clearly. Handing out advice is moot. No one trusts that you know what you are doing because you are obviously failing at the dating thing.
If you are in a relationship, you forgot or don’t know what it’s like to be frustrated and confused because a guy went out with you once and disappeared into the ether….and then have that happen to you 13 times in a row. OK maybe not in a row, but only 3 non-disapparances out of 16 tries is pretty awful on the ego over the course of two years.
For the record, I’m still in, “I give the hell up” mode. I haven’t been actively messaging guys and haven’t been impressed with the few I have received. My next experiment might involve fibbing my age.
I have a theory. Guys get stuck on a number. People don’t walk around with their ages tattooed to their foreheads like they do online. I think I would get more action if men only knew the decade of my age instead of my number. I look 10 years younger than my age. And why men are hesitant to date a woman even 3 years older than themselves confuses the hell out of me. What’s 3 years? You’d date a chick 3 years younger than you…why not older?
Did I reel you in with my slick title? Prepare to be disappointed. I only have four tips to offer.
- Handles – Be sure whatever sack type you use to collect your hoard of candy has sturdy handles. No one wants accidental bloody hands on Halloween. Nor do you want your cheap paper bag splitting open like a pinata only to have passersby steal your hard earned free candy.
- Flashlight – Let’s face it, the good candy is handed out after the sun goes down. But safety is always first, so carry a flashlight. Otherwise those supposed vans that truck in children from the poorer areas of town might not see you in that ninja outfit.
- GPS Child Finder – Seriously, why do these exist? Are you in charge of so many children that you can’t keep an eye on them without the aid of a piece of technology? Our parents never lost a soldier (witch or ghoul) and didn’t need a homing beacon to do it…plus, odds are they did it with an adult beverage in their hand…and no one batted an eye. Come on, people, either calm down or pay attention. I can’t figure out what your problem might be, but whatever it is, quit it.
- Porch light – If the light is on, ring the bell. If the light is off, move along. The folks with the light off ran out of candy 2 hours ago when the tide of masked children superseded last year’s demands….that or they just hate your kids.