185…Over wins. Next week’s O/U is 183.

Actually, I couldn’t believe I lost a pound after last weekend’s bender.

I didn’t realize the voting for the Riverfront Times – Best of St. Louis 2007 ends this Monday, September 10th. It’s probably too little too late, but if you do vote for SOB, remember that you must enter a minimum of six categories for your ballot to be counted.

Hey Braz – I read your comment, and you will not see me inside the dome this weekend. I can’t stand that dungeon, and try to limit my visits to once or twice a year.

It took a lost weekend in a hotel in Amsterdam and double pneumonia in a single room. And the sickest joke was the price of the medicine. Are you laughing at me now? May I please laugh along with you?

Benny

The Cardinals has a day game today which reminded me of an encounter I had a couple of weeks ago during another Business Man’s Special.

I was working downtown, and had ridden the Metrolink to avoid the traffic. I left work early because I also didn’t want to get caught in the mass exodus of train riders leaving the game.

As I approached the train station, I noticed two black men standing next to each other yelling at people walking by. The gentleman on the right shouted, “Who got extra tickets?”

The guy next to him then shouted, “Who need tickets?”

I walked up, pointed to them both, and said, “If you’re buying tickets, and you’re selling tickets, why don’t you just get together and stop yelling at everyone?”

One of them said, “Man, why don’t you get yo’ white ass the hell up on outta herre?”

“Just trying to help,” I replied as I walked down the stairs to the train. And by walked, I mean ran.

Good talk.

Do you know what my ideal job would be? – The guy that sells pizza coupons. That guy has to be rich.

Tom called last night to tell me that he won his credit card dispute with the strip club. I asked if the credit card company had just written-off the charge, or if the strip club had to refund the money.

He said he made sure to ask the question, and was told the strip club refunded the money. Looks like it’s time to get that motorized cooler.

You don’t even know what a write-off is.

Chicks Like Caulk – Thanks, Tom. The only person I know that’s banned from the East Side.

Buy me some peanuts and crack.

Benny

This whole Senator Craig foot tapping story got me to thinking. I’ve never noticed any foot tapping next to me while I was backing one out. But if I ever do, there is going be a story about me kicking someone’s ass.

What if I’m ever seated in a stall next to tap dancer? I guess there aren’t many straight male tap dancers, so a self-defense motive will probably work.

The story reminded me of a foot tapping scheme my buddy Wile E. and I hatched in college to cheat on an exam.

We were in the same communications class and had an exam the next morning. The only problem was that we were playing poker with some buddies, and neither of us had any interest in leaving the table.

We agreed to play a single hand – one on one. The winner stayed and played poker while the loser left to study.

Well, Wile E. lost and headed to the library while I played cards until the sun came up.

He walked in around 8 o’clock; our exam was at nine. We had an hour to go over our plan. He would tap his foot once for “A”, twice for “B”, and so on. After every tenth question, he would clear his throat to make sure we were on the same page, so to speak.

We ran into a little snag when we walked into class. There was no one sitting between us, and we knew the teacher gave odd/even tests. I asked the guy sitting to my right if he minded sitting between us.

“I know what you guys are up to,” he replied.

I gave him a dirty look, and he agreed to move. I had been up all night and lost a hunskie, so I wasn’t in the mood.

Our plan went off without a hitch. That is until I got the results – C minus.

“You studied all night and got a fu-king C-minus?” I asked.

“Hey Einstein, you study next time, and I’ll give the poker lessons.”

“Whatever.”

It was still September when your daddy was quite surprised to find you with the working girls in the county jail.

Benny

The Mizzou/Illinois game on Saturday was a good time considering we had to go into the Edward Jones Dome on a sunny day with temperatures in the mid-80’s. Football should never be played indoors. Period.

Midway through the third quarter, I accidentally spilled a nine-dollar beer from my aisle seat. The guy sitting a few rows in front of me got drenched. He also may have gotten whiplash after snapping his neck around to find out who did it.

He looked up, and I immediately turned around so he wouldn’t think it was me. This went on for a few minutes until I looked at him and shrugged my shoulders in disgust after I couldn’t figure out where it came from either. Psyche.

I ended up taking the Soul Train home because eleven hours of drinking had done me in and my group wasn’t ready to leave. I hopped on a hotel shuttle heading to Westport, and the driver asked, “How long are you in town?”

“Forever”, I replied.

“Huh?”

“I live down the street from your hotel, and want to get home.”

The guy was nice enough to drop me at my front door. Sweet.

Hilarious DWI Stop. This guy needs to use Gold Bond Nut Powder. – Thanks, Tom K.

12 Signs You Had Too Much to Drink – Thanks, Ken B.

Messin’ with Sasquatch – Thanks, King.

Well I went to bed in Memphis. And I woke up in Hollywood. I got a quarter in my pocket. And I’d call you if I could.

Benny