DO YOU EVEN LIFT, BRO?
Because I’m looking for a few strong dudes, you know the type…
dads needing beer money, former football players, blue collar warlords, or 54-year-old men with terrifying “dad strength” where they shake your hand and you immediately understand why drywall fears them.
Again- You know the type.
Can deadlift a riding mower but groans getting out of a recliner.
Lower back held together by black coffee, resentment, and 40 years of “I’ll just do it myself.”
Carries refrigerators while explaining interest rates and how music died after 1987.
Old man strength is real.
Science still doesn’t understand it.
Neither do chiropractors.
I need help moving my entire house into 4 POD containers in Brackenridge near Sheetz.
This is not one of those fake moving jobs where you carry a lamp and somebody’s Etsy candles.
This is:
• 2 king beds
• Dressers dense enough to affect gravity
• A freezer big enough to hide Jimmy Hoffa, Bigfoot, and several bad decisions
• TV stands
• 2 futons that LOOK trendy but sit like interrogation room furniture
• Massage chair heavier than my future
• Kitchen hutch
• Standing mirror absolutely haunted
• Desk
• Random bins full of mystery cables from electronics last seen during the Obama administration
The house is 3 stories so two sets of steps plus a basement with some treasures as well because apparently younger me thought stairs built character.
Some stuff is in the attic (it’s where I stored the teenager) where the oxygen gets thin and your knees start making sounds usually associated with opening glow sticks.
I’d help more myself but I got run over by an Uber driver awhile back and now my knee sounds like someone stirring macaroni salad in a wet boot every time I touch stairs.
An honest day’s work deserves an honest day’s pay.
Cash paid.
Cold drinks provided.
Pizza likely.
Free cardio guaranteed.
Possibility of seeing God while carrying the freezer down stairs is non-zero.
BONUS POINTS if you wanna caravan an hour over to Bloomingdale, Ohio and help unload too.
And before anyone gets dramatic, Bloomingdale isn’t THAT far. It’s not like you gotta tell your family “if I don’t return by nightfall, release the hounds.”
Also…
I’m not OPPOSED to child labor in the old-timey 1930s coal miner sense.
Does the Highlands wrestling team need summer money?
Any farm kids built like oak trees wanna earn cash and throw furniture around like Viking apprentices?
Hit me up.
Message me if interested.
Especially if your hobbies include:
• lifting heavy things
• saying “that ain’t going nowhere” while slapping straps
• carrying appliances with one hand
• or making younger men question their genetics
This dispatch appears in What The F(arm): Sixty Dispatches from an Unqualified Ohio Farmer — $40, half of which turns straight into hay for the horses, the mini donkey, and the baby goats. The presses roll when 100 people pre-order.