Archive for March, 2009

Yak Shirt

For Sale: SOB long sleeve T-shirt, size XL, worn only once to happy hour, covered in yak

I had to sit through an entire afternoon of Diversity Training on Monday. We were taught what constitutes sexism, sexual discrimination and sexual harassment.

Also provided were examples of discrimination based on race, religion, and sexual orientation.

I sat there for nearly four hours thinking, “Man, this is so gay.”

I’m going to start sending updates to Twitter from my mobile phone. I invite everyone to follow the SOB on Twitter.

If you’re not familiar with Twitter, it allows people to send quick 140 character messages from the internet or mobile phone.

You can ‘follow’ any Twitter user, such as The SOB, and receive a text message whenever there is an update.

For example, let’s say I just had a confrontation with some bitch at the DMV. As I’m walking out the door, I can send an update to Twitter using my cell phone.

You can then go The SOB website that night to view the video of me giving her the finger.

Of course, this service will unavailable during alcohol-induced blackouts.

Here’s a couple of links if you want to follow the updates:

The SOB on Twitter

Twitter Support – What is following?

You can also access Twitter using your Facebook account.

I’m in the process of updating my Facebook account, but there are only so many sober hours in the day.

Go ahead and get an account setup because it might be a day or two before I start updating via text. The new age touch phone I just bought flickers like a video game when I turn it on.

Drink – I said turn it on.

And don’t forget to order your SOB shirts before they’re either sold out or soiled.

If you walkaway, walkaway. I walkaway, walkaway.

Pee Couch
The end of an era

Chico laid down only one rule when we agreed to be roommates – nothing that had been peed on could be moved into the new place.

The good news is that reduced the things I had to move. The bad news is my sofa is in the dumpster. She was laid to rest yesterday next to my futon and recliner.

Chico was out of town last night, so he’s in for a rude awakening when he gets home tomorrow and discovers my shit all over the place.

I felt the ticking of the clock after a few beers on Sunday, and decided that I better get some things moved.

Based on past history, I should have almost everything put away by mid-July.

But I promise you this – I am going to make a video of his bedroom. This thing is like some kind of Mexican shrine.

I mean, God forbid that something would ever happen to him, but we could have the visitation in his room. I told him that we’d prop him up in the recliner underneath the painting of The Last Supper, and people could pay their respects to his Taco Bell Chihuahua collection.

Actually, I could be the one meeting an early demise. After he walks into the place tomorrow, he might grab an 8-iron and start pulling a Chi Chi Rodriguez on my ass.

It’s better to burn out, than to fade away.

Old Living Room 

This is a picture of my old living room taken this morning. I got the keys to my new place on March 14th, and have until the end of the month to get out of the old one.

And yes, that’s a Bay City Rollers album in the box. Don’t judge – I was in junior high.

Here’s a chronological look at the move:

March 14th: Get keys to new place and move heavy stuff

March 15th – 26th: Watch basketball and drink beer

March 26th: Take picture of old place for the SOB

March 27th – 30th: Watch basketball and drink beer

March 31st: Down energy drinks and clean out old place

– Chinese recall breast implants. Thanks, Doug O. NSFW

– Finally, some good economic news. Thanks, Mr. O. NSFW

When in doubt, I whip it out. I got me a rock ‘n’ roll band.

You see kids, before there were TV programs like Survivor and American Idol, there used to be something called sitcoms. Families would gather around the television and spend an entire evening laughing together.

Chico and the Man is an example of a sitcom. It wasn’t the funniest show around, but the theme song fits nicely today.

Living with Chico has been a new experience. His mom came over last weekend to help hang pictures. She asked me if it was okay to hang a velvet painting of a bull fighter in the living room.

I politely told her that it would probably look better in his bedroom.

He said it was painted by his great-great-grandfather. I mean, I get the whole sentimental thing. I still have pictures of the Tri Sig me and a fraternity brother double-teamed after a sorority mixer.

But I don’t care if the thing was painted by Picasso, the only pictures I want hanging in the living room are of my favorite sports teams and dogs playing poker.

Call me old-fashioned.

I’m probably still bitter that he got the master bedroom. I thought it would be a good idea to bet on basketball games to determine who got the bigger room. What I failed to take into consideration was the massive difference in the floor and closet space. Not to mention my luck at picking winners.

My room is so small that I have to crawl over my bed to grab a shirt. And I’m pretty sure Chico just booked his for a gymnastics meet.

By the way, I now despise Villanova.

Here’s a conversation I had recently with my buddy, Red. He has lived with me before, so he was being quite sincere.

Does this Chico guy have any idea what he’s getting himself into?

Probably not.

Why don’t you move in with your girlfriend?

Because she does.

Chico, don’t be discouraged. The Man, he ain’t so hard to understand.

Gina Party markets SOB products in Columbia

This is what happens when you give Gina Party a bunch of SOB products, and then send her into a bar. This was taken in Columbia, MO last week. I’m still not sure she what she had the guy doing in this picture.

I have to take another drug test today. I should just hire an on-call nurse and send her some kind of Bat Signal after I’ve been drinking. Then she could rush to my bedside and hold a cup next to my penis while I sleep.

Better yet, I’m just going to bring my sheets in today, toss them on the counter and say, “Send these to the lab. I’m in a hurry.”

I really enjoy completing online applications for employment. And that concludes today’s lesson in sarcasm.

Things that make me say WTF? 

Why do companies ask for your ethnicity background on an application when the law prohibits them from discriminating against your answer?

I just select ‘Other’ and then write ‘Black, Jewish, Indian (customer support; not casino), with a hint of Southeast Asian’.

An update on my weight loss efforts: I’m still a fat ass, and pool season is six weeks away. But keep the faith. I’m a closer.

On the day I was born, the nurses all gathered ’round. And they gazed in wide wonder, at the joy they had found.

Cock Soup

It’s Saturday Night – 11:29 to be exact – the 12 beers I consumed earlier in the day have apparently worn off after a little nap – so I might as well say what’s on my mind.

I’m wide awake now, and more excited than Nancy Pelosi speaking at an illegal immigrant rally.

How about enforcing the laws on the books, Madam Speaker?

Here’s my take on the current TV viewing habits of American voters:

– Republicans watch cable news.
– Democrats watch American Idol.
– Independents watch Jack Ass.

If I was a small business owner, and was forced to layoff employees because of Obama’s proposed tax hikes, my solution would be simple. I would walk through the parking lot looking for ‘Obama’ bumper stickers on cars. I would then call each of those employees into my office and tell them they no longer have a job. I can’t think of a more fair way to handle it.

I mean, Obama makes a joke about The Special Olympics on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, and the liberal media totally ignores it. What would have happened if a Republican would have said the same thing?

I don’t know why I’m in such a political mood tonight. Maybe it’s because I’m horny, the fresh beer I’m drinking tastes good, and I just took a Xanax.

Good night. I’m going to see how my NCAA bracket picks fared against Obama’s.

Dont save a prayer for me now. Save it ’til the morning after.

Weather Woody
My boner is moving across the Ohio Valley

I somehow contacted a case of the stomach flu, so I’m going to make this short before I shit my pants.

Here’s how I can tell when I’m sick.

Benny, do you want a beer?

No thanks.

What are you – sick?


The new T-shirts and Koozies have arrived, so be sure to check out the SOB Shop.

I had a barbeque stain on my white tee shirt. She was killing me in that miniskirt.

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