Archive for October, 2006

Chuck H. informed that the Embry-Riddle boys were unhappy with the lack of new photos.  They weren’t too thrilled with the latest reading material either.

Well, things are going to change.  Chuck H., The Embry-Riddle Crew, Vance, TJ, and Justin are what The Summer of Benny is all about.  Not to mention they donated to the cause.

First, let me address the reading material.  I am currently posting the blog in three places which has gotten out of hand.  The goal is to make the blog The Summer of Benny homepage.  This will take a few weeks because I have to copy and paste every entry from the beginning.  This includes uploading all of the pictures.

I’m not sure how that relates to my writing, other than to make the point that I have been busy trying to update the site.

Now, let’s talk about the photos which I know have been lacking.  I have several photos to upload, but have been researching the best solution.  The way they are currently presented on the website is a pain in the ass to maintain. 

Also, a new reader to The Summer of Benny donated a digital camera!  How sweet is that? 

I’ll keep working on the updates, and write a more acceptable post tomorrow.

Benny

Happy Birthday, Dani-girl.

Some stories you can’t make up.  This past weekend generated not one, but several.

On Saturday, we met at George Brett’s bar in Kansas City around 4:30.  After dinner and drinks, we went over to Kelly’s which is supposedly the oldest bar west of the Mississippi.

Within a few minutes of arriving, I was approached by two young women who asked me to autograph their chests.  I took the Sharpie they handed me, and signed both sets as “Drew Carey.”

I also talked one of them into flashing her boobs.  Actually, Drew Carey talked one of them into flashing her boobs.  We talked for a while and then they returned to their table with their boyfriends. 

Sunday morning, I was lying naked on the bed in my hotel room and the maid walked in; finally. 

It was a beautiful autumn day at Arrowhead on Sunday for tailgating.  We watched a great game which was made even better by the Chiefs win.

On the flight home, I overheard the flight attendants talking about a drunk passenger who had been caught eating chicken nuggets from one of their personal bags. 

I didn’t think much of it, and found a row of seats that contained a computer bag, but no passenger.  I sat down in the aisle seat but had to get up when the owner of the computer bag returned.  She was an attractive woman in her mid-30’s, I guessed. 

As we watched the flight attendants demonstrate how to buckle seat belts, the window seat lady started talking to me.  She said that she had just been caught eating a chicken nugget from one of the attendant’s bags.  I said, “You’re the nugget lady?”

“How do you know the story?” she replied. 

I explained what I had heard and she became concerned that she may be removed from the flight.  She was trying to get back home to Birmingham, AL from L.A.  She had just broken up with her boyfriend whom she had recently met at a gas station.  This will make more sense if you continue reading.

For some reason, she wanted to show me her psychiatric files.  The two folders were over an inch thick, and I browsed through them.  They contained letters from judges and doctors who stated that she had every mental illness known to man.  Schizophrenia, depression, bipolar disorder; the list was endless.

She also had a plastic bag full of prescription drugs.  There must have been ten bottles in the bag.  I took three valiums, slipped them into my pocket, and continued listening to her story.

At times, she would cry, especially when talking about her 15-year old son.  At others, she would be smiling and laughing.  She took our picture and asked a peculiar question during our final descent into St. Louis.

“Can I go home with you tonight?” she asked.

“I thought you were going to Birmingham,” I replied.

“I’ve been on this plane since this morning, and I’m tired of flying,” she said.

Thinking quickly, I explained that my girlfriend was picking me up at the airport, and probably wouldn’t be too happy if I brought home a girl I had met on the plane. 

Undeterred by my comment, she asked me to call my girlfriend and run the idea by her.  I told her that probably wouldn’t be acceptable, but wished her well in her travels. 

She wrote a short note and her phone number on the outside of a miniature soap she had taken from her hotel.  I stuck it in my pocket, and left the airplane faster than Ted Kennedy leaving a car accident.

Strange days indeed.

Benny

Matt M. called me today and told me that he was all for human cloning and I should be too.  He said, “Think about it, Benny.  You would always have someone to drink beer with.”  The man’s got a point.

Madonna and The Dixie Chicks appeared on Oprah this week.  I just puked in my mouth.

Last night, Glenn Beck asked all of his viewers to tell everyone they know about this video, so that’s what I’m doing.

The two words you always like to hear from a girl – “I’m drunk.”  In sales, this is known as a buying signal.

I found another video of Crowe Dog’s Grandma.

And the home of the Chiefs.

Benny

Tonight’s post will be short as I’ve spent most of the evening un-f– the hatchet job perpetrated by my web hosting company.  Oh, and I took a Xanax about an hour ago.

If you read my blog at the Summer of Benny website, you probably got forwarded to my Blogger account.  This should be the case for a week or so while it’s being updated.

Here’s the best girlfriend ever.  Click on Windows Media player, and you should be able to see it fine.  Sorry for the popup ad.

What’s the difference between a hot dog at Shea Stadium and a hot dog at Busch Stadium?  You can still buy a hot dog at Busch.

Not to jinx the Cardinals, but October 26th marks the 21st anniversary of the infamous Don Denkinger call that gave the Royals the win in Game 6 of the 1985 World Series.  It’s weird to think that people born on that day can legally drink alcohol today. 

I’m not 100% certain, but I think I was drinking beer in college while watching that game; and tripping on mushrooms. 

She told me to come but I was already there.

Benny

I think this guy lost his security deposit.  Thanks for the email, Mike K.

A new study implies that your weight affects your car’s gas mileage.  The more you weigh, the less miles per gallon your car will get.  If this is true, I need to seriously consider a diet; or buy a moped.

You got junk in yo’ trunk.

TMZ has a list of celebrities who claim they’re environmentally friendly for driving hybrid cars, but waste thousands of gallons of fuel by taking private jets.

Could there be any more political ads on TV?  I’m starting to miss the drug company commercials.  It seems like months since I’ve heard a reference to anal leakage as a possible side effect.

St. Louis has a unique tradition on Halloween.  Before you give the little runts candy, they have to tell you a joke.  In honor of this tradition, I now give you my favorite dirty joke of all-time. 

(Please stop reading if you find dirty jokes offensive).

Pierre is a French painter with a skinny moustache and wears a beret.  One day, he is painting a nude woman.  When he gets to her breasts, he says, “Madame, you have such beautiful tits.  I would love to suck them.”

The lady says, “C’mon over.” 

Pierre puts down the paintbrush and proceeds to suck her tits.

He returns to painting, but stops when he gets to her belly button.  He says, “Madame, you have such a wonderful navel.  I would love to run my tongue in-and-out of it.”

She says, “C’mon over.”

Pierre walks over, and runs his tongue in-and-out of her belly button.

Once again, he returns to the canvass, but stops painting when he gets to her vagina.  He says, “Madame, you have such a lovely pussy.  I would love to eat it.”

Again, she says, “C’mon over.”

Pierre drops the paintbrush, pins her legs behind her ears, and begins to eat her out. 

All of a sudden, she releases an incredibly loud fart.  Pierre looks down and says, “Don’t fret little fellar.  You’re next.”

I know a little ’bout love.  And baby I can guess the rest.

Benny

Let’s recap the weekend and see if we learned anything…

Friday Night
We picked up Janae from the airport and made it to Nino’s in Westport by 9:45.  Doug O. had met a new lady friend who obviously didn’t dig our sense of humor. 

I didn’t ask, but I’m sure she hated the television show, “Seinfeld” and the movie, “Dumb and Dumber”; two signs that you are dealing with an empty personality plate.

She decided to call it an early night (shocker), and left with Doug around 10:30.  I talked Dena and Janae into going over to the Trainwreck and catch the live band.  Talking these two into going to another bar is like asking a hillbilly if they want to go to Wal-Mart.

We met a girl who was sitting at the bar by herself.  She was in town on business and thought it was appropriate to put our drinks on her expense account.  I’ve never taken advantage of expense reports, but who am I to judge?  I ordered a couple of Bud Lights, a shot of Cuervo, and took the seat next to her.

The bar closed, and we made our way home to get some rest before the winery trip.

Saturday
The bus departed for the winery at 10:00 AM.  The hour and a half ride was extended by 45 minutes due to a Map Quest error.  At least, this was the bus driver’s excuse.  I’ve never fancied myself as an explorer, but turning a large coach bus onto a gravel road with nothing in sight seemed to be the wrong move.

For some, the longer ride meant more time to enjoy the beautiful views of the fall foliage.  For others, it meant an opportunity to drink cold beer before being forced to drink nothing but Missouri wine for the rest of the day.

The afternoon is still a little hazy, but I do remember making out with a cute girl in the vineyard.  I will not divulge her name, age, or any description that might help identify her.  She seems like a sweet girl that probably doesn’t need to be associated with the knucklehead who runs this website.  And by knucklehead, I mean me.  I will say that I had fun.

The ride home seemed like minutes instead of hours.  This is probably because I was either asleep or still trying to talk the cute girl into coming over to my place for a nightcap. 

Sunday
I woke up with the television tuned to Cinemax, and it didn’t take long to figure out how the previous night had ended; home alone, watching soft porn.

I also discovered that I was missing my cell phone and sunglasses.  Somehow, I managed to leave them on the bus, but the cooler of beer made it home.  Priorities…

Anyway, I went to Dena’s because I thought she might have a clue on the whereabouts of my lost items.  Luckily, she did.  However, I was forced to endure a 15-minute lecture on how I shouldn’t take advantage of drunk girls.  I didn’t get her point, but was able to recover my cell phone and glasses.

A few of us went to Ozzie’s to watch football in the afternoon.   By the end of the early games, it was time to go home and take a nap.  Besides, the World Series was on later that night, and we all needed a little rest before partying again.

I am not drinking any f — Merlot!

Benny

Nothing will help you lose your inhibitions like a day at the winery.  On Saturday, we made our annual pilgrimage to the vineyards.  Almost everyone got drunk, a few hooked up, and some even got sick.  I was able to accomplish all three, but I’ll write about that later.

Have you ever told a girl to kiss you because your lips are buttery soft?

Me neither.  But, Issac has.

I will recap the rest of the weekend today at lunch or later tonight.  I’ve had guests in from out of town, which has limited my time.  We’ll get back on a regular schedule today.

You make me feel so fine.

Benny

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