Post 4: Losing at Social Media

Hello. Welcome back. If you're reading this, it means you somehow didn't pass out from reading posts 1 thru 3. And, it means you are yearning for marital structure and leadership. You need a friend, nay, a spousal role model, to passionately pave your way to relationship bliss.

Or, maybe you are just stuck inside your house for two months. Either way, welcome, friends. And it's time for us to get tactical.

Because, by now you're like, "just tell me how to be fucking awesome, Cheech, I need some super sweet knowledge bombs. I am four posts into this crap and all you've told me to do is work out. Cut the shit".

Fair point --- but chillax, Goldilocks, you need to calm down. Relax, and open your mouth up wide, because CheechIQ is about to feed you mommy-bird style.

The re-education starts now.

Job #2 for quarantined relationship success: remain socially active

This may sound obvious, but you need to continue convincing your spouse that someone else in the world gives a crap about you. By now you have bad hair, appear mildly homeless and have started signing random tunes like "mamma said knock you out". So you need to demonstrate credible, third party validation that you maintain some sort of value, to your family, and to society as a whole.

But be careful. Being social using text messaging and other message thingys are dangerous substitutes for harmless, drunken chats amongst friends. These types of chats translate exceptionally poorly to the electronic universe.

Case in point: Just this week about 10 of my friends were texting, and one participant decided to, well, send a meme --- a type of meme that starts with the letter D and rhymes with "mick pic". This meme was immediately met with disapproval; which only encouraged worse pictures from the perpetrator. It got to the point that every 30 minutes you would be greeted by the worst thing you've ever seen on a phone, only to be one-upped thirty minutes later.

For three days this went on nonstop. Until someone realized that one phone number had been mistyped.

Yes, that's right, for three days some poor stranger's iPhone was getting absolutely pounded with the world's worst type of skin spam imaginable. And this individual did not dare to respond after he/she saw the wrath that came with the futile resistance from the few sane people on the text chain.

I imagine there are two likely candidates for which poor soul owns this phone number:

1. A 24-year old rising communications major at the University of Tulsa, who was just given cannon fodder for a senior thesis called "Coping strategies for men with early onset degeneration in athletic abilities"

2. A 73-year old stay at home mom with a passion for Linda Ronstadt, who saw the pics and immediately applied for citizenship in Syria...

Yes, a picture used to be worth a thousand words. In quarantine, it's worth just three: F you, neighbor!"

So be careful out there, my little chimichangas, and maybe it's best if you stick with Zoom and Google Hangouts. I'll be back in my next post with a series of guidelines to enable the domination of your virtual social circles on these "platforms". When I'm done with you, dear reader, you'll be the digital equivalent of the hypothetical lovechild of J. Lo and Rick James. I can't wait.

/CheechIQ