Archive for March, 2009

Matt Leonard

Pictured today is the nephew of cast member Chuck H. He plays high school hockey in Wheeling, West Virginia. Isn’t there a dog track in Wheeling, West Virginia?

Anyway, I’m just happy to be doing my part to educate the next generation.

I have a lot of stories from high school. But since I don’t want to give the youth of American any bad ideas, I’ll share a PG-13 yarn.

One fall afternoon my cross-country team was on a 6-mile run after school. As we crossed the bridge over a busy highway, someone thought it would funny to moon the rush hour traffic. In some cultures, I believe this practice is referred to as “chucking a brown eye”.

Being the only sophomore on the team, I gladly joined in. Man, peer pressure is a bitch.

The following morning, the only person not to participate in the prank (because he was a Mormon), told me that a concerned citizen had called into the school to complain.

I knew what was coming next when someone walked into my class and handed the teacher a note. She read it, looked directly at me, and said, “Benny, the Principal would like to see you.”

“Okee doke.”

I sat through a half hour of intense interrogation – denying every accusation thrown at me.

When I walked into the locker room that afternoon for practice, my teammates seemed kind of down.

“What did you get?” one of them asked a fellow teammate.

“Three weeks of Saturday school and I can’t run in our own invitational,” he responded.

He then looked at me and asked, “How about you, Soph?”

“You guys told the truth?” I asked.

“Yeah, you didn’t?” they all responded together.


“Well, it looks like you’ll be running in the varsity meet next week,” the team captain told me.


I was one of the last runners to finish. But I made out with a hot varsity cheerleader later that night.

– Happy St. Patrick’s Day.

The ice we skate is getting pretty thin. The water’s getting warm so you might as well swim.

Free Shit Sale

It’s moving weekend with Chico (formally known as Doug Wetback). I know this may be hard to believe, but I’ve decided the term ‘Wetback’ is too offensive, even by my standards.

Living together for the year should be fine because I’m managing the McDonalds franchise he just purchased.

And since there are a few things I don’t want to bring with me, I posted a ‘For Sale’ sign in the Melrose Place clubhouse.

You should never argue with a crazy mind. You oughta know by now.

Pee and Poo

I saw a couple of stories on Fox 2 this morning that caught my attention. The first was about some sicko that’s been spreading poop on the walls and light switches in area restaurants. 

I could tell the reporter was a little nervous having to talk about such a disgusting topic. He referred to it as spreading fecal matter.

But let’s call it what it is – some douche bag is rubbing his shit all over the place.

One thing is certain – the po-po will catch his sick ass. And once they do, he should be forced to eat shit for a week.

The other story was about George Clooney being in St. Louis filming a movie. I guess this is a big deal to some people because the Fox 2 website is soliciting comments from those lucky enough to have spotted him.

If I see him, I’m not going to ask for an autograph. I’m going to ask for my $9 back for sitting through Michael Clayton.

I know you’d like to thank your shit don’t stank. But lean a little bit closer see that roses really smell like poo-oo-ooo.

True dat

I was in traffic today behind some guy driving an Orkin truck. He was doing about 20 mph in a 35 mph zone. And I was about ready to give him a Dale Earnhardt bump.

The truck had one of those bumper stickers that read, ‘How’s my driving? Call 1-800-something-something-ORKIN’. 

If they really wanted to help, they would print the cell phone number of the driver.

That way I could call his dumb ass and say, “Hey, Granny. How ’bout picking up the pace a little bit so I can make the first post at Santa Anita.”

Here’s another example of a typical conversation I have with my girlfriend. This one happened on Sunday morning.

Where’s the remote?

Are you saying that because you think I’m fat?

No, Tubby. I just want to watch TV.

     (Hits Benny with the remote)

– A couple of dudes that Mr. O hangs with. Shocker. Thanks, Mrs. O.

– Nike releases a new line of environmentally friendly (green) shoes. Thanks, Mr. O.

– A commercial for Durex condoms. Thanks, Cathy B.

– It looks like the honeymoon is over for Sully. The liberal media must have found out that he’s a Republican. Thanks, Tory K.

– Penn & Teller reveal how it’s done. Thanks, Tom d G.

– NCAA expands March Madness to include 4,096 teams.

– Sony releases new stupid piece of shit that doesn’t fucking work. Thanks, Sheila E. NSFW

– Centrum Silver commercial: Feel young again. Thanks, Cathy G.

– Barbie turns 50. Thanks, Cathy G. and Sheila E.

Blue Kentucky highway, headin’ for the line. She hadn’t said a word all night. But the wheels are turnin’ in her mind.

Turn off the oven

I admit that I’m not the neatest guy around. I mean, I think I’m neat as in ‘neato’, but when it comes to house cleaning, I’ve never been referred to as a neat freak.

The other night, Gina Party needed a wine opener. After I told her there was one in my kitchen, she started going rummaging through my drawers like a crack addict digging through the sofa cushions looking for loose change.

We spent the next few hours drinking at Doug Wetback’s. Afterwards, I decided I wasn’t ready to turn in just yet, so I went to the Melrose Place clubhouse to finish my bottle of Jim Beam.

Who wouldn’t?

I arrived home around 1:30 in the morning to the smell of something burning. After a little research, I discovered that someone (and by someone, I mean probably Gina) had accidentally turned on the stove.

This is where my neatness, or lack thereof, comes into play.

I’ve always considered the top of my stove as an ideal place to keep junk mail, bills and other assorted paper products. But I’ve never thought of it as a potential fire hazard.

I immediately turned off the stove, and removed the smoldering roll of paper towels that was probably minutes from igniting.

I thought about calling Gina to tell her what had happened, but I was too drunk to dial the phone. And she was probably too drunk to answer.

I guess it’s time to either quit drinking or clean my apartment. Oh, wait a minute – I’m moving next week.

Things that make me say WTF?

Have you ever watched The Daily Buzz in the morning? If you’re in St. Louis, it’s on channel 11. This is the stupidest morning show ever.

Watch out you might get what you’re after.

Bad Dog 
Lassie needs a pee pill

Thanks to Slingen for designing the new header. Drink – I said header. He also created the artwork for the new T-shirts and Koozies that should be here next week. 

I’m starting a new feature on the SOB. It’s called “Things that make me say WTF?”

Things that make me say WTF?

– Lil’ Wayne told Jimmy Kimmel that he lost his virginity when he was 11 years old.

If anyone sees Abby, Dan-girl or Maribeth, tell them I said, “What up?”

The Mexican food I ate for lunch today has got me shittin’ like a hack horse.

Tom d G told me that he hurt his back doing squats. I used to date a girl that loved doing squats. But hers were more about balance than barbells.

I got a woman, stay drunk all the time.

Happy Birthday, Mr. O
Happy Birthday, Mr. O (left)

This is by far the gayest picture I’ve ever put on the site. Please understand that Mr. O sent this specifically to be used on his birthday.

Some interesting things you may not know about Mr. O:

– Is married to the luckiest lady in the world (his words; not hers)

– He proposed to his wife at a Chinese restaurant by hiding a ‘Will you marry me?’ message inside a fortune cookie. He then watched in shock as she unknowingly ate the proposal without opening the cookie.

– A neighbor (and by neighbor, I mean me) once taped a note to his door while his parents were in town that read:

Mr. O, 

Where have you’ve been? I haven’t heard from you in so long. I miss you. I need you. I love you.


– His personalized license plate is: ‘ClarkKent’

Actually, that’s not exactly what it says, but I don’t want some skinhead kicking his ass after seeing today’s picture.

– Urinated on my foot at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater during a Tom Petty concert

– Sends so much porn to my email that I created his own folder

He’s tearin you apart. Every day, every day.

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