There are certain things in life that we should rarely, if ever do. Let’s start with men.
Men, if you suspect a woman is pregnant because you see something that resembles a baby bump in her abdominal region, but you are not sure, NEVER ASK “Are you pregnant?”. Because if you are wrong, you will feel like an ass, and look like an even bigger ass, especially if there are witnesses.
Men, no matter how tough you are, never, ever, pick a fight with a man who is younger than you and you suspect might have some type of professional boxing experience. Unless you have boxing or mixed martial arts experience yourself, a boxer that weighs a mere 160 pounds will easily knock you out. It is what they train to do.
Men, unless it’s of the utmost importance, you should never ask a woman her age, especially if there is the slightest chance she is north of forty. And most definitely, never, ever, try to guess a woman’s age, unless you work at a carnival collecting dollars to guess a person’s weight and age, and hand out teddy bears when you are wrong.
Young men, never text or email to breakup with a woman. That is some punk $h*t. You had the courage to be present in the physical form when your were trying to get smooches and go past first base, now have the gonads to breakup in person.
Ok ladies, hurry up and finish laughing because now it is your turn to get some advice from Healthy “Helpful” Homeboy. Women, if you are going to wear some attractive, high heel, open toe shoes, please get a pedicure. It completes the package. Remember, beauty is a head to tips of the toenails endeavour, and not just head to ankle. Think of it as nice rims and tires on a sleek and sexy Ferrari. I am sure you don’t like raggedy feet on a man. Well, it’s a two-way street.
Next piece of advice for the ladies. If you are one of those women who thinks that the front passenger’s seat of any car substitutes great for a reclining beach chair, and that the dashboard is a footrest, please get a pedicure before you display your feet for all to see on the highway. If you can’t afford a pedicure, I understand, the recession makes us prioritize our expenses, but at least paint your toenails. If you are cheap, I will break the law and steal some nail polish from my wife’s collection and mail it to you. She has all kinds of fancy colors.
The feet above are not my wife’s, and neither is the nail polish below, but you get the picture.
Ladies, listen very closely to this next piece of advice. Never, ever, ever, and I mean EVER, tell a man you love him, unless he tells you first. I am talking about who is the first one to say “I love you” in a relationship. I don’t care if he smells good, doesn’t curse, is highly edge-uhm-icated, and very respectful. Wait until he commits to the L word before you do. Make him prove to you that chivalry is not dead.
Young ladies, never tell a man you like him unless he tells you first. And a text or email telling you that he likes you, does not count. Make him say it in person, and make sure he is looking you in the eyes, without blinking, when he says it.
Over the age of 21 ladies, this is for you. If you want your man to confess feelings, have some adult drinks with him. Make sure his drinks are stronger, like w-a-y stronger, than yours. Liquor works best. Men spill their guts when they are intoxicated, some even cry, but not me of course (wink, wink). I must warn you ladies, if you can’t hold your alcohol, don’t drink with him because then you will be the one telling him that you like him, love him, and want to have his children. That scares many men away.
And finally, some advice for everyone.
If you are trying to lose weight, you shouldn’t eat BoardWalk Fries, or
Have a CheeseCake Factory piece of cheesecake that easily has 600 calories, or
Have a McFlurry with M&Ms that also has about 700 calories.
And last but not least, if you are trying to lose weight, hell, even if you are not trying to lose weight, we as a nation, should rarely, if ever, go to Food Truck festivals.
Calorie carrying delivery trucks can’t be good for us.
Now let me tell you my plans for today. Later this evening I am going to the CheeseCake Factory to have some dinner with mi esposa. I will have some Martinis, get all googly-eyed, and tell my wife how much I love her. The waitress will be a woman in her 40’s with what appears to be a baby bump. I will say in a congratulatory way “That is so awesome, you are pregnant in your 40’s”. With a straight face, and a hand on her hip she will respond “I am not pregnant, and I am only 31 years old”. Oops! Dumb Hector.
I will feel like a dumb-ass and order another Martini to drown my stupidity in. Alcohol alleviates all negative emotions, but just temporarily. Now more buzzed, I will tell my wife that I love her, again, and that if she loves me we should leave because I am s-o-o-o-o embarrassed for offending the waitress and I feel like people are staring.
We leave, and head to a food truck festival in DC. I have some new flip-flops in the trunk of my car. I decide to wear them because the weather is nice and I want my feet to breath. My wife drives because I am not a fan of DUI’s. As we speed down the highway towards DC, I recline back in my seat, and put my bare feet up on the dashboard. A convertible with the top down and four great looking women in it rolls up beside our car, and they are wildly screaming at me. My window is up and I have a strong buzz, so I can’t quite decipher what they are screaming, but I could swear they are screaming “You are so cute” over and over. My sober wife smiles, then laughs and says “Roll down your window and see what they are saying”.
I roll down the window and instead of the women saying “You are so cute” or some other compliment to boost my 41-year-old ego, men need that you know, they say what they were really saying all along; “You so need a pedicure”. My wife laughs uncontrollably, and I do too, falsely.
With a smashed ego I roll up my window as the convertible with its advice screaming passengers speeds off. Now I can’t wait to get to the food truck festival to repair my ego with crap calories. We arrive and I devour a huge bucket of BoardWalk fries that could feed a family of four. The fries in my stomach are immediately accompanied by a slice of cheesecake that could feed a couple. My wife and I hang out for a while, leave, and on the way home I get a McFlurry with M&Ms from McDonald’s. SUGAR RUSH! The McDonald’s worker is younger than me and rude, so I am rude back.
My Martini courage provokes me to provoke him. Like real men do, yeah right, I challenge him to step outside to so I could correct his rudeness and teach him a lesson. Little did I know he is one of those Olympians that Mickey Dee’s employs while they train for the Olympics. Guess what he is training for? Yep, he’s a boxer. He steps outside. I don’t remember the rest because his fiercely trained 160 pounds probably knocked out my 185 pounds of so-called “tough man”.
I wake up on the couch with no black eye or swollen lip. It was all a nightmare, thank God. But still, take my advice. I know I will.