In my ongoing effort to avoid listening to political rants and to take my mind off the fact that Texas Tech basketball continues to break my heart, I watched a video on clever tips for cleaning every day messes. While I can see how some of this information might possibly be valuable if you live in a Barbie Dream House, I just couldn’t see how any of it would apply in real life.
Let’s start with dried Play-dough in the carpet. The way to clean that up is to never allow Play-dough in your house. Hospitals should give new parents a handout before they ever let them assume total responsibility for a baby. Number one on the handout should be: Do Not allow Play-dough in or near your house. If you can choose between Play-dough and cockroaches, go with the roaches. At least they’ll go hide and won’t become a permanent, rock-hard reminder of your bad decisions stuck in your carpet for all eternity.
The next problem was red wine spilled on the carpet. Again, prevention seems to be the obvious solution. Do not invite people to your house who get sloppy drunk. For the sake of argument, though, we’ll assume the wine was spilled because someone inadvertently had a massive seizure (probably from watching Texas Tech basketball lose AGAIN in overtime by one stinking point). Video stain-remover girl suggests using equal parts hydrogen peroxide mixed with dish soap. Forget that. Open a bottle of white wine, pour some on a rag and blot up the red wine. Then finish drinking the white wine. Of course if you can just spill the red wine on the part of the carpet where the Play-dough has calcified, then you can just centralize your problems and put the couch on top of it.
The video continued with getting crayon marks off furniture. My tip on that: Keep them. Those sweet-faced, innocent angels grow up and trade crayons for car keys. At which point, you treasure those crayon marks. Instead of wasting your time cleaning those up, sit on the couch with that open bottle of white wine and watch a few games of college basketball. Maybe cheer for a team that doesn’t choke in overtime which would pretty much be anyone playing Texas Tech. If I could only figure out how to clean up that hot mess!
I didn’t play the Powerball. Who am I kidding? I don’t have that kind of luck. The Angel of Good Fortune is kind enough to provide me with front row parking anywhere, any time. And, if she’s paying attention, she usually turns traffic lights green for me, too. I’m extremely grateful for these generosities and don’t wish for things I’m not destine to have like a checkout line that moves quickly or winning the Powerball. However, if I had won, I would have put the bazillions of dollars to good use in order to better the world as a whole. No, really. I would have.
First thing I’d have sat down with the nice people at the Blue Bell Creamery and found out exactly how much money they need to clean up the whole listeria mess and get all systems running at full tilt again. Not that I don’t thank the good Lord and every saint in heaven for the fact that chocolate and vanilla are back on the freezer shelves, but let’s get ‘er done and put caramel turtle fudge back in the line up! Truly, I see that as a service to all humanity and don’t know anyone who would argue.
My next stop would be the front office of the Houston Texans. For goodness sakes, someone has to buy them a quarterback. I’d have had endless cash; how much does a quarterback cost these days? I don’t mean the schlock they’ve been stuffing into a jersey the past couple of seasons (okay, pretty much since they started – I still have David Carr nightmares), but a real quarterback that can actually throw a pass to his own team and win a game. While I’m writing checks over there, I’d have thrown in a few more million on JJ Watt’s contract just to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere else. Ever.
Then with what was left, and honestly I don’t care how much it would cost, I’d have spent whatever it takes to make the Kardashians, plus anyone and anything associated with the Kardashians, go away. Additionally, I’d have taken part of my money and bought a pair of Levi’s for every woman who hasn’t gotten the message that pajamas and leggings are not pants. Then they’ll have no excuse. Seriously, ladies, for the sake of everything holy, stop it. Just stop. For my dad who has always been there for me, I’d have bought him something sporty and blue with bucket seats. Or sporty and blue with a button collar. Whichever he prefers. Because I’m good like that.
With a plan like that, I’m surprised they didn’t just call and give me the money! Not that they still can’t. Those other people who actually won will understand, of course, because how could they disagree with a plan like this?!