The Top 20 Excuses Why New Year's Resolutions to Lose Weight End in Failure

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January is New Year's Resolution time. Lose weight, gain weight, quit smoking, start smoking, get rich, spend more time working and less time with their families...you name it, people resolve to do it.

Yet how many people actually succeed with their resolutions?

According to a statistic I just made up, 75% of people fail to keep their New Year's Resolutions. That number is even higher with weight loss resolutions.

Why, you ask?

Well, here are my Top 20 Excuses Why New Year's Resolutions to Lose Weight End in Failure...

20. I wasn't getting enough to eat on ONE diet so I had to go on THREE.

19. Its winter and I need the extra insulation to keep me warm.

18. I went to the gym and somebody was on my machine so I realized everything happens for a reason and it wasn't meant to be.

17. I went to the gym and there was no lifeguard on duty in case the rowing machine sank. I complained to the manager but they threw me out.

16. Turns out I didn't really mean it.

15. My other resolution to quit being a cranky jerk all the time wasn't compatible with my low-carb diet.

14. There was a big game on...Wheel of Fortune is a game, right?

13. My DVR broke so I couldn't fast-forward past all the food commercials.

12. I figured since rice cakes don't have many calories, the same was true of other cakes. Like fudge cake. And pancakes. With syrup. And fudge.

11. My personal trainer called and said if I didn't show up for my session on Friday, don't bother showing up on Monday. Woohoo! 4 day weekend!

10. No ashtrays on the treadmills at the gym. How do they expect me stay on that thing for an hour without a cigarette break? It's not like that little TV can keep my mind off how painful and boring it is to hammer away on that thing at 1.2 mph for 60 minutes.

9. Krispy Kreme hasn't come out with an Olestra-filled donut (that they've told us, at least...I have my suspicions).

8. Billy Mays (that bearded infomercial guy) hasn't come out with a Mighty Putty strong enough to keep my mouth shut at the all-you-can-eat buffet.

7. The economy is in such rough shape, it's hard to afford the new clothes I'll have to buy as I get smaller so it'll have to wait until I get a bailout.

6. I have to buy junk foods "for the kids" even though they don't really need that stuff either and I don't actually HAVE any kids or KNOW any kids.

5. I messed up and ate a chip on Day 2 so I gave up until next January's resolution season.

4. I need to get in better shape before I can join a gym...to get in better shape.

3. I made a resolution to give up drinking so I could lose weight but I did it while I was drunk so I forgot.

2. I don't want to insult my co-workers by not eating birthday cake at the office every single day, even when I have to bring it myself.

1. I'm waiting for President Obama to lose the weight for me.

Nick Nilsson is Vice-President of BetterU, Inc. and has been inventing new training techniques and exercises for 17+ years. Nick has written many training books including "Muscle Explosion! 28 Days To Maximum Mass" & "Metabolic Surge - Rapid Fat Loss" - http://www.fitness-ebooks.com

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The Humor of the Gold Rush (Part I)

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The gold rush days of California were not without their humor, and some of the stories are funny enough that they are well worth repeating. Now the rush for wealth in those days brought out both the good and the bad, the honest and the deceitful. Not all pioneers were hard working and honest. Because it was (and still is) hard to find a deposit of gold, there was a demand for good gold mines. A sharp trade was driven in mining claims, with a thousand dollars being frequently paid for a piece of ground only thirty feet square, and this at a time when gold sold for only about $20 per ounce.

One claims broker, Moore Lerty, was particularly successful in selling his claims. His operations were bold, and perhaps for that time, original. He would stake a claim on unclaimed ground within the vicinity of some other mines, digging it down to the layers of good-looking dirt, and then, when no one was watching, he would load an old musket with gold-dust purchased from another miner, and shoot the ground full of gold. It is said that he had been known to punish a claim with two or three hundred dollars worth of gold in this way. If he did not sell the claim, he could wash the dirt, and recover the dust he had salted the claim with. He sold a claim for one thousand dollars in this way to Henry Jones, then considered the sharpest mining man in the old town of Volcano. Jones was very careful not to be taken, and tested the claim for a day or two before purchasing, it is said, even going into the hole at night to get the dirt, so as to be sure that he was not imposed on. He found that all of the dirt was rich in nuggets, so he went ahead and bought it.

With cash in hand, Lerty figured he had really pulled on over on Jones, in spite of Jones' reputation for knowledge about mining properties. The fun of the matter was in the fact that at the end, the place proved to be really rich, one of the best in the camp, and Jones had the last laugh, as he later extracted many thousands of dollars in gold from it. Another of Lerty's salted claims, this one located in China gulch, also proved good, but for Lerty's mining claim sales, rich claims were very much the exception and not the rule. Most buyers got little more than the gold he salted onto his claims. With several of his swindles coming to light and angry miners right on his heels, he fled the California gold country before the wrath of the law began to manifest itself, leaving the country for good. Meanwhile old Henry Jones, with a sack full of gold nuggets was laughing all the way to the bank.

For more tales of the life, hopes and the humor of California's Gold Rush, see California Gold Rush

Basic information on Prospecting for gold, including how to get started, can be found at: Gold Prospecting

Chris Ralph writes on small scale mining and prospecting for the ICMJ Mining Journal. He has a degree in Mining Engineering from the Mackay School of Mines in Reno, and has worked for precious metal mining companies conducting both surface and underground operations. After working in the mining industry, he has continued his interest in mining as an individual prospector. His information page on prospecting for gold can be viewed at the website noted above.

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The Humor of the Gold Rush (Part II)

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In 1850, during the pioneer days of the California gold rush, grizzly bears were occasionally met with, and they hardly ever gave space on the road, though they were not apt to attack a man unless provoked. In the early days, these giant bears were very numerous, and at the time of that first wave of gold rush pioneers there were many desperate fights between the grizzly and hunters. Their great size, strength, and vicious nature rendered them a most formidable enemy to the hunter, prospector and pioneer.

At that time, it was one Mr. Spaulding's good fortune to have one of the most thrilling adventures with one that has ever been recorded. In those days he was in charge of a saw-mill, and at one particular time had occasion to visit the gold mining camp of Mokelumne Hill late in the day. The trail led through a deep, shadowy glen, which the fearsome bears sometimes visited, trampling down the brush and leaving tracks twice as large as a Hoosier's. As a matter of prudence he took his rifle promising himself to "fight it out on that line" if he ever met up with one. The day light trip was well enough, no bears putting in an appearance, but on his return after night-fall, as he descended into the cool, shadowy part of the glen, he heard the ominous cracking of the brush, and the sound of footfalls along the trail. Nearer and nearer he came toward the vicious animal that was never known to give way on the road. To turn back was contrary to our hero's principles. Pierpont's words echoed in his ears: "Stand! The ground's your own, my braves. Will ye give it up to slaves? Look ye for greener graves?"

The story from his old school reader flashed through his mind, and he stood his ground! With gun cocked and his hair on end, he waited the onset of the fight. As the outline of the animal came dimly into view he took as good aim as possible and fired his rifle. An unearthly growling was succeeded by the monster's tumbling, rolling, and tearing down the trail to the bottom of the deep ravine below the road. It was evident the animal was severely wounded, and like all grizzlies, would be then most dangerous, even if the wound was mortal. To go down into the dark and thick woods and fight the grizzly alone, would be dangerous, perhaps fatal to him, for had not the grizzly proved a match for many men even when fatally wounded? His life was bright before him in his mind; future hopes of meeting well, no matter whom, and renewing the tender relations; hopes of wealth, of political success, and of honor he expected were in his future. Were not these worth more than the chance of killing a grizzly? He went back on the trail, and making a wide circuit, reached the camp at a late hour, exhausted with the excitement and his long walk.

After hearing his adventures, the men made up a company to visit the ravine the next morning and finish the monster, as a wounded bear is quite dangerous. All the guns were heavily loaded, and plans laid for approaching the animal with the least danger. The most vulnerable parts of the grizzly were duly discussed, some contending for an eye shot, others a side shot, at the heart, etc. Cautiously they descended into the deep ravine, avoiding clumps of trees or chaparral. At the bottom they found signs of the conflict: blood and broken brush. One, bolder than the rest, one of them followed the trail down the hill. After a short pause, he cried out with a great roar of laughter, and yelled out to the rest: "Darned if it ain't Dr. Herschner's old jackass".

This quickly changed the sentiment of the party. The poor, patient old donkey had packed many a load of grub over the hills to the miners, and would, when relieved of his burden, return home alone, but he had now made his last trip. Forty dollars was paid to the owner for the loss of the animal, but for many years afterward a simple mention of hunting grizzlies in his presence would lead to would lead to plenty of liquors and cigars purchased at Spaulding's expense when he was in town.

For more tales of the life, hopes and the humor of California's Gold Rush, see California Gold Rush

Basic information on Prospecting for gold, including how to get started, can be found at: Gold Prospecting

Chris Ralph writes on small scale mining and prospecting for the ICMJ Mining Journal. He has a degree in Mining Engineering from the Mackay School of Mines in Reno, and has worked for precious metal mining companies conducting both surface and underground operations. After working in the mining industry, he has continued his interest in mining as an individual prospector. His information page on prospecting for gold can be viewed at the website noted above.

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He Was Like Wyatt Earp

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"Just leave them alone and they'll leave you alone." Those words were pearls of wisdom from my old man. They work, too. Over the years I've crossed paths with many wasps-or hornets, or yellow jackets, or, heck, I don't know what they're called - but I know they sting! Unless, as Dad taught, you just leave them alone. Then they'll go away soon enough.

I was thirteen years old. We were working on the car together-replacing worn out universal joints in a drive shaft. That's an important part of the story because you need a fair amount of lubrication to press out worn u-joints. WD-40, and lots of it.

About Dad, there's something else you should know. One indelible memory each of his kids has is a picture of him hard at work with a cigarette dangling from his lower lip like it was fixed there in epoxy-with gnarly long ashes, as if screaming to be flicked, hanging on for dear life.

Picture it: drive shaft in the vice on the workbench, the stubborn u-joint, sweat beading on his brow, his cigarette-you get the picture-and a can of WD-40 in his hand. Enter a wasp, yellow jacket, hornet, or whatever in the heck it was. It arrived and began making a nuisance of itself. It buzzed around his hands as he worked. It rose up and butted repeatedly into the fluorescent light above us. It dove to the side of the old man's face, as if it were inspecting the perspiration there. It darted about, causing me great anxiety. Not Dad. He paid the bug no mind. The old man was cool.

But there was a limit to his patience.

The wasp continued its circuits: hands, light, face, bench, and back again, over and over. His rule notwithstanding, eventually my old man had enough. "Pain in the ass," he quipped, his cigarette riding the movement of his lips like a surfer on a wave. What happened next was one of the most memorable sights a thirteen year old boy could ever hope to see.

He was as smooth and as deadly-fast as a wild-west gunfighter. In one perfect fluid motion, the old man whisked the cigarette out of his mouth with his left hand, masterfully flicked its ashes with his thumb en route, raising the cigarette just a few inches before his face, while at precisely the same time grabbing the can of WD-40 from the bench with his right hand, spinning it in his palm to line up the spray nozzle, the cigarette and the hovering menace a mere foot in front of him.

Whoosh! In a flash, it was over. A burst of WD-40 over the top of his makeshift tobacco-stick igniter, the resulting bolt of fire caught the unsuspecting bug mid-flight, scorched its wings, and sent it crashing down to the workbench, quivering its last. Then, just as fluidly, the spray petroleum was returned to the bench, the cigarette to his lip, and the old man took a deliberate, long drag on that cigarette like an actor in a movie after the sex scene. Like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, he was back to work wrestling with the u-joint.

One problem with Dad's flame-throwing, insect-repelling display: It apparently never crossed his mind that the next chance his thirteen year old son had, he would be out there with his friends, retrieving a cigarette butt from of the ashtray, WD-40 in hand, and asking, "Now, where do you suppose we can find a wasp?"

Darin Michael Shaw is both a writer and serves as the Senior Pastor at Christ's Church in Amherst, New Hampshire. He's considered by many to be an expert on big buts... of the bible. You can read more at http://www.darinmichaelshaw.com and http://www.interactivesermon.com

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