Why raincoats are yellow

Okay, so I might have done something to Chico’s sofa last night. Actually, I think it’s my sofa, now.

I’m not making light of the situation, but he was well aware of my ‘problem’ long before we moved in together. So this can’t come as a huge surprise.

That’s like leaving your sack of weed with a pothead. And then coming home and saying, “Dude, what happened to my weed?”

I’m happy to report that the covers are off the sofa cushions and in the wash. They’ll be as good as new tomorrow. They always are.

My girlfriend made a suggestion – whenever I drink too much, I have to sleep in the bathtub.

That seems a little excessive.

- Headline that got my attention.

I never meant to cause you any sorrow. I never meant to cause you any pain.

I probably won’t post for a few days. Parties in the Plaza is tonight. And, well, then it’s the weekend. I’ll be sending updates to Facebook and Twitter from the cell phone.

I forgot to mention the conversation I had at the post office yesterday. I didn’t have any stamps, so I had to wait in line. When it was my turn, I told the lady I needed to mail my tax return.

“Do you want this to go express mail?” she asked.

“No, no, no. I need it postmarked today, and then sent the slowest way possible. Do you still have Pony Express service?”

People in line laughed, but I wasn’t joking. I need time to cover the check.

Who has to know?

 
Bouncy, Bouncy

It’s out of my hands now.

When I saved my tax return to the hard drive last night, the file was named ‘2008 Federal Personal’. But for a second, I swore it read ‘2008 Federal Prison’.

If there is a significant amount of time between posts down the road, there’s a chance I’ve gone away for a while.

Thousands of American citizens gathered across the country today, and threw tea parties to protest the way our tax dollars are spent. I agree with them. I mean, I get pretty upset when I have to hit a 5-team parlay to pay my tax bill, and Congress earmarks $1.7 million to study pig odor.

Pigs stink because they roll around in shit.

Pay me, bitches.

I’m thinking about throwing a protest of my own – the Benny Pee Party.

The concept is pretty simple. I’ll drink myself into oblivion. And then pass out on top of my tax returns that have been spread across the bed.

I probably don’t need to explain what happens next.

I’ll YouTube the son-of-a-bitch, make a million dollars in promotions, and then get in trouble for putting it on the internet.

Tax-dodging liberal Congressmen will hold televised hearings to discuss how disgusting I am. 

Meanwhile, their constituents can watch the whole thing unravel from their subsidized housing, eating chips and dip courtesy of the government’s Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (food stamps).

And, in an ironic twist of fate, the housing and food were provided from the taxes I paid on the million dollars.

Is this a great country, or what?

- Weird Google search result

One more card and it’s 22. Unlucky 4 him again.

 
The Perfect Storm

One last night to get my taxes done, and I’ve turned TurboTax into a video game.

Right now my score is -$759, but I was down over a grand. I’m thinking two more charitable donations and 1 dependent to win.

Lottery update: -$8/+0

That’s debit to the left, credit to the right.

Headline on the Drudge Report that made me laugh: GM – Government Motors 

- One way to get Crowe Dog back to the gym.

- Obama says, “Fuck you.” NSFW 

- Turn off the lights and close the blinds.

- My new home page.

- I’m now a big fan of Japanese baseball.

It’s just a kiss away.

 
D: Final Answer

Everything was going fine with my taxes last night. I entered my lone W-2, and TurboTax was displaying a modest refund. Then I entered a 1099, and watched the refund disappear faster than a Bernie Madoff hedge fund.

I did a little math this morning, and calculated that I need to sell 1,100 SOB Koozies to cover the amount I owe to the IRS.

Get yours today!

Seriously, I’m not that worried. I still have a bottle of Jim Beam – and two days for my lottery numbers to hit.

If you follow The Summer of Benny on Twitter or Facebook, I’ll send the following secret phrase if my numbers come in: Giddy up.

Things that make me say WTF?

Sending text messages to an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend after your relationship has run its course.

I don’t think there’s ever been a technology that’s caused more problems in relationships than text messages.

Just ask Chris Brown.

My advice is this: You had your chance. You probably fucked up. So, move on.

Some folks are born silver spoon in hand. Lord, don’t they help themselves. But when the tax man comes to the door. Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale.

Alright, so it’s not Sunday School material. But it’s timely and funny. Happy Easter. NSFW

Have you ever been approached by a cab driver inside QuikTrip, and asked if you remember the time he drove your drunk ass to the racetrack?

Me neither.

SOB reader, John M, moved to South Korea for a year to teach English. It probably wouldn’t hurt to give a few driving lessons while he’s there.

Go home into your blue jeans. Have some chicken and some baked beans.

Why didn’t I think of that?

Lent ends this weekend, and I gave up only one thing – carbs. That hasn’t gone so well. I’ve gained ten pounds over the last 40 days.

The good news is I hit my high weight of 196 last Friday. Of course, this was after eating Taco Bell the night before.

I’m not a nutritionist, but I’m sure gobbling down three tacos before going to sleep isn’t recommended.

That was then. This is now. Tomorrow is another weigh-in day, and I’ve barely nibbled a carbohydrate all week. If I’m not down five pounds, I’m tossing the scale into the river.

I got a haircut today, and finally – finally – I got a chick that didn’t annoy the piss out of me. In fact, this one I would have to label as a MILF. But I only say this because she gave me a scalp massage during the shampoo.

Good thing I was wearing that plastic cape. Wink.

I need to be careful what I write. My girlfriend is going to read this, and she’s liable to give me stern kick to the nuts.

- Hey, all you Facebook users – become a fan of The Summer of Benny on Facebook. I send stupid updates from my cell phone throughout the day.

She don’t eat meat. But she sure like the bone.