Archive for January, 2008

prosperity or clinton sign 

I could never run for President. Not because I wasn’t born a citizen of the United States. I was. And I’m over the minimum age requirement. But the things uncovered in a candidate’s past can be brutal.

In April 2002, Bill Clinton revealed that he tried marijuana when he was a college student, but “never inhaled.” Whatever…

Days before the 2000 election, reports surfaced that George W. Bush had been arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol in 1976.

Hell, I would be blackballed for the things I did last week.

The Clinton not inhaling story still makes me laugh. I mean who smokes weed and doesn’t enjoy it?

If someone ever made a recruitment video for smoking pot, their pitch might be, “Take a few puffs, and the three-day old pizza sitting in your fridge will taste like lobster.”

– Residents of a small village in Austria are not happy with the British. Thanks, Lil’ Bro.

– The answer is….Yes. Thanks, Sheila E.

– Richard Simmons on Whose Line Is It Anyway? Thanks, Red.

– The worst Spiderman, ever. Thanks, Ike.

– Little boy slips and falls in his own pee. I’ve been there before.

Feigning interest on a date. NSFW

Yeah, the world would swing if I were king.

view drunk 

How did I celebrate my birthday last weekend?

My buddies took me to a strip club? Hardly.

A trip to the track? I wish

Nope, I spent the day at a pet parade. I got to see dogs prancing around in costumes while trying to avoid stepping in their shit.

Man’s best friend, my ass…

I gave Tom a lift to pick up his car the other day. He had left it at a bar after a hard night of drinking. Shocker. My car was making an awful noise when he said, “Last night I had her squealing like an old power steer’n pump.”

WTF does that mean?” I asked.

“It means your car needs power steering fluid.”

Thanks to Tom’s collection of clichés and/or his ability to make to make women squeal, the Saab is now fixed.

– Be careful when ordering a cake from Wal-Mart. Thanks, Sheila E.

Another reason not to leave teenagers home alone while you’re on vacation. – Thanks, Leo K.

– PETA’s 2008 State of the Union Undress. I’m still eating meat.

– Sure Lock: A True Poo Story. Thanks, Tom K. and whoever else sent me this video that I accidentally deleted.

– This will get me back to the gym.

I’m feeling thankful for the small things, today.

goof off cleaner 

After putting it off all week, I decided to clean the puke out of my carpet. Normally I would have used something mild like Woolite. But this was a dirty job, so I brought out the big gun: Goof Off – The Ultimate Remover.

This stuff is advertised to easily remove everything from dried paint chips to grease & tar. Well, it got the stain out alright. But now my place smells like a meth lab. I wanted to light a scented candle but was afraid it might cause an explosion.

This Day in Benny History

1935: First canned beer goes on sale

1998: John Mellencamp concert at Hard Rock Cafe in Vegas. ‘Twas the night before the Super Bowl…

2001: Played golf in Maui on Kapalua Plantation Course. Drank beer and shot 112.

2002: (AM) 20 min. bike, 20 min. Stairmaster, crunches & dips (PM) Crashed Chevy Blazer into pole in Chevy’s Fresh Mex parking lot.

A bird poops in a reporter’s mouth.

– “High as Fu-k” music video. NSFW

– The fat kid on The Man Show sells Girl Scout Cookies. Thanks, Leo K.

– There is a right way and a wrong way to pronounce Oklahoma. The Proper Way is: ‘Okla . . Homa’ (There’s a pause between the ‘a’ and the ‘h’.) Here’s the proof. Thanks, Mr. O.

Wanna tell you a story…’bout a woman I know.

 

I ran into someone today I haven’t seen in a while. The encounter happened as I was walking out of a bathroom. Thankfully I had just washed my hands, so I didn’t feel bad when he extended his hand to greet me.

But I’m always running into people as I leave a bathroom. The problem is that I rarely wash my hands if I only peed. In fact, the only time I do is when others are around, and I feel the need to show a “good faith” rinse.

I understand that you need to wash after you back one out. But why pee? My wiener is probably the cleanest part of my body. I certainly soap it enough.

Lil’ Bro is in Vegas this week, and he called me tonight for my NBA selections. I gave him three. As of this writing, he’s 0-2. Why is he calling me for picks anyway? That’s like asking Britney for parenting advice.

Have you ever been kicked out of a casino for referring to the blackjack dealer as, “The Black Widow?”

Me neither.

– The government issued a warning against swallowing gum. Thanks, Ken B. 

– Four of these five people are Republicans, the other is a Democrat. Can you guess which? Thanks, Doug O.

Floyd’s Barber Shop has a unique ad. Thanks, Tom.

– Hitler was a ruthless killer, and apparently a huge Cowboys fan. Thanks, Mike W.

– A week in the life of Dave Chappelle after knocking up Oprah. Thanks, Mike L.

What about the time you were fallin’ over? Fell on your face. You must be having fun.

trent tucker 

I didn’t write yesterday because I was sick. A bunch of us thought it would be a good idea to have a party at Tom’s on Sunday, and yada, yada, yada, I got home at midnight and threw up. That reminds me…I need to call the carpet cleaners.

Every MLK Holiday, I am reminded of a bad beat. The day was January 15, 1990. I had a losing weekend betting football, and decided to “double-up” on the NBA contest between the Chicago Bulls and New York Knicks on Monday.

I bet the “Over” which was 217. The game was tied at 106 with one-tenth of a second left in regulation, and the Knicks had the ball. That’s :00.1! I fart longer than that.

During a time-out, everyone prepared for what was seen as the only possible outcome – Overtime. With the total resting at 212, all I needed was six points in OT to win.

When play resumed, the Knicks’ Mark Jackson threw the ball inbounds to Trent Tucker. Tucker then turned around, and hit a three pointer before the buzzer, giving the Knicks the win, 109-106.

The following season the NBA implemented what is known as “The Trent Tucker” rule. It states, “NO LESS THAN :00.3 must expire on the game clock when a player secures possession of an inbounds pass and then attempts a field goal.”

The Bulls filed an official protest with the NBA about the play, but it was disallowed. I also filed an official protest with my bookie, but he told me to pay up.

Stupidity Tax Offense: Pronouncing the word “Ask” as “Ax.” Cha Ching! $10.

– Bill Clinton has a dream.

– Hillary Clinton has a new fragrance as heard on the Bob and Tom Show.

Hello. Hello. Hello.

rudy hillary subway 

Warning: Some of the links below contain nudity and profanity. Viewer discretion is advised. In other words, don’t look at this crap at work unless you’re really good friends with the IT guy.

– Be careful if you ever order a blow-up doll on the internet. Thanks, Tory K.

– I thought this was a fairly honest beer ad. Thanks, Lil’ Bro. 

Everyday Normal Guy lays down his 2nd track.

– You sick little monkey.

– I’m thinking Burger King rejected this Whopper Freakout commercial. Thanks, Freddie R.

– An NHL player gets taunted by a fan.

Speedy Gonzales is on drugs.

– Peter Griffin finds the path to enlightenment on The Family Guy.

– Use of ‘N-Word’ may end porn star’s career.

– I stared at the crotch shot like it was 3-D art. Ya’ ever dream in 3-D? It’s like the boogeyman is comin’ right at you.

Then I saw her face.

reefer madness 

Vile weed…

The spring semester had just ended during my freshman year of college. My first year away at school had been everything I had hoped for. Except I rarely went to class.

My dad called me the night before I was coming home with some good news. He had gotten me a job for the summer working at his plant. For reasons you’ll soon discover, his place of employment will only be referred to as the plant

Knowing that I had completed my second semester with a solid 2.0 GPA was reason enough to celebrate. Now I just found out I shagged a high-paying gig for the summer. Party time…

One of my roommates had a two-foot bong. Another had the necessary ingredient to fill it. We sat there for hours, smoking and laughing the night away.

Back home the following day…

My dad told me to be at the plant at 9AM sharp. When I arrived, the security guard called his office, and he came down to meet me. We walked through the various departments as he introduced me to his co-workers.

“My boy is going to be working here this summer,” he would proudly announce.

The last stop on our tour was the company physician. My dad said, “This is Dr. [can’t remember his name], and he is going to give you a physical.”

I got a lump in my throat because I knew what a physical meant. It meant a drug test.

Three days had passed when I got the call. My dad was on the other end and said, “Put your mother on the phone.”

“She’s not here right now,” I replied.

“Put your mother on the phone.”

“I said she’s not here right now. What’s wrong?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

“Well, it seems that a certain son of mine has been spending his time at college going to pot parties.”

“Pot parties?” I started to ask, but stopped. A million funny lines went through my head, but this wasn’t the time for humor.

Needless to say, I didn’t get the job. Even worse, I had embarrassed my dad. He told me to find another job while he figured something out.

I got a job driving an ice cream truck for few days; the perfect job for a pot smoking college student. A typical stop on my route would involve a screaming kid chasing me down the street.

“How much is a Push-Up?” they would ask in between breaths.

“How much you got?” was my usual answer.

The following Monday, my dad told me that he had gotten another job for me at the plant – a dishwasher in the cafeteria. The job paid half as much as the other one. And, as my dad sternly put it, I would most likely be working with other potheads.

I’ll never forget my first night. I had to wear those black and grey checkered pants with a white shirt. I was just getting ready to clock-in when one of the cooks arrived for his shift. He noticed a pan of food on the counter and scooped a handful into his mouth.

“Cool. It’s shrimp night,” he said.

Frickin’ pothead.

Sittin’ downtown in a railway station.

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