I saw a couple of kids riding their bikes last weekend. Both were wearing helmets. One looked like he was ready for a motocross race.

We didn’t wear bike helmets when I was a kid. I don’t even think they made them back then. If they did, nobody I knew had one.

Shit, I remember building a takeoff and landing ramp. And then making Lil’ Bro and his buddy lay between them while I jumped over their dumb asses like I was Evil Knievel.

I only made three successful jumps before mom ran out and asked what the hell I was doing.

There really isn’t a good way to explain why you put your brother in harm’s way because it made you laugh.

That story reminded me of a few others from that era. 

One day, I got me and my two younger brothers kicked out of the YMCA day camp. Some little dweeb was crying, and I “allegedly” made the situation worse.

My parents were pissed because mom worked days, and dad worked nights.

So, we ended up being on our own during the day while he slept.

I was at the age where I was probably old enough to babysit the little turds. But age doesn’t always translate into maturity.

Really?

Here are a few highlights from that summer:

1. The Prank Call
   The police called my mom at work because I had been making prank calls to the bitch that kicked us out of day camp. I wish I had her number right now. 
2. The Toaster
   I convinced Middle Bro to keep pushing the toast down until it caught on fire. He used a glass of water to put it out. Thankfully, the glass didn’t touch the toaster.
3. The Suntan Lotion
   The three of us chased each other around the house playing “Suntan Lotion Tag”. Instead of using our hands, we shot suntan lotion out of the bottles. Unfortunately, some (and by some, I mean a lot) got on the new wallpaper. My parents garnished our allowances for a year.
4. The Snowfall
   Rainy days were the worst because we became bored pretty quickly. The only video game at our disposable was Pong. But one day we made our own fun by throwing flour into the air and pretended like it was snowing. We tried cleaning up the mess, but flour leaves a nasty residue on appliances. Boy, you learn something new every day.

- Whack-A-Kitty 

- I want that.

- A sad story from the world of sports.

- WTF is this? NSFW

- Reno 911! Lotto winner NSFW

Back when a screw was a screw. The wind was all that blew. And when you said I’m down with that. Well it meant you had the flu.

God bless prom season

If you’re not following the SOB on Facebook or Twitter, you’re missing out on important updates like this.

No more nachos before bedtime. I could wipe my butt with a snow cone right now.

I think I’m slowly adapting to this whole clean thing. Yeah, I’ve cleaned my place in the past. I’m not Ted Kaczynski for crap’s sake.

You see, kids, Ted Kaczynski was the Unabomber. He lived in a remote cabin in Montana. It didn’t have electricity or running water. Never mind. Just Google it.

But last Thursday could prove to be a turning point.

When I woke up on Friday morning, I started looking for the shorts I wore the night before. This is a common occurrence after a happy hour. And the search usually doesn’t take long. I just reach down to the floor next to the bed until I feel something wet.

But last week was different. Sure, the bed was wet (wink), but my shorts were nowhere to be found. I looked in the normal spots – by the front door, next to the sofa, in the dishwasher.

Nothing.

On a hunch, I looked in my dresser, and there they were – neatly folded. Even my belt was rolled up and put away.

If I cut out the drinking, get married, and wash my clothes on a regular basis, I’ve got a shot at becoming a normal adult.

But who would want to read stories about how I spent the weekend doing laundry and playing Jenga with the neighbors?

Well I never lived the dreams of the prom kings and the drama queens. I’d like to think the best of me is still hiding up my sleeve.

 
Exacta box?

I invented another drinking game over the weekend – Countdown.

The rules are pretty simple. Get together with three friends, and assign each player a number between 1 and 4. Then turn on Countdown with Keith Olbermann on MSNBC.

A player will drink a shot of beer every time he says the words that correspond to the player’s number.

1. Rush Limbaugh
2. Republican Party
3. Fox News
4. Right Wing Conspiracy

For added fun, keep a shot of vodka in front of each player, and drink a “Social” whenever he says ” The Bush Administration.”

When the hour is over, you and your friends will be drunker than Boris Yeltsin.

Stupidity Tax Offense: Making people wait in line at the bank while you spend 20 minutes asking the teller to look up foreign currency exchange rates. Cha Ching! – $10.

I mean 6.7 euros.

Whoa, thought it was a nightmare. Lo, it’s all so true. They told me, “Don’t go walking slow ‘Cause Devil’s on the loose.”

It looks like the dental industry has come up with another way to scare us into their evil chairs.

First, it was cavities. Adding fluoride to the water supply took care of that problem.

Later, they tossed gingivitis at us. I’m not sure what that is but I don’t think I ever got it.

Now, they unveil acid erosion.

I knew a dude in college that had acid erosion. But it had nothing to do with his teeth.

I’ve got the afternoon off, and plan on spending it drinking cold ones next the pool.

Really?

Parties in the Plaza later this afternoon…

It’s not my thing, so let it go.

Benny Blocker

“What the hell is that?” you ask.

It’s the ingenious plan I came up with to prevent myself from peeing on the couch when I come home in a drunken stupor. I figured if I put a couple of things on it, I wouldn’t bother removing them.

The plan worked like a charm. Saturday night I stumbled right past the couch - and peed in my bed.

WTF is wrong with me? Seriously.

I think God is sending me a message. For the last several weeks, I’ve been taking advantage of my temporary handicap sticker, which expires at midnight.

This morning, I woke up with a painful case of gout and can barely walk.

Some dude saw me limping into QuikTrip and said, “Beer will numb that pain.”

“I think that’s what caused it,” I replied.

And then I grabbed a 12-pack of Bud Light.

Today marks the third anniversary of the first post on the Summer of Benny.

So, what’s changed during these last three years? Not much. My pick didn’t win the Preakness, I drank beer at the pool, and complained about democrats.

One thing has changed – we have T-shirts and Koozies. And to celebrate the occasion, everything will be marked down 20% for the next three weeks.

Nothing says Happy Father’s Day like an “I’m going to my pants – need anything?” T-shirt from the SOB.

You always won every time you placed a bet.

There’s nothing like following the weekend with a 12-hour workday.

Sweet.

I watched the Preakness on Saturday with Tim F and TMShay. I call her that because she would rather spot celebrities than the only speed in a five furlong claiming race at Evangeline.

My record for picking winners in Triple Crown races isn’t exactly stellar.

Really?

I mean, I had Big Brown in last year’s Preakness. He paid $2.40 to win. 

Wow, nice pick. 

And I had Rags to Riches in the 2007 Belmont. She paid $10.60.

Call me Butter because I’m on a roll.

Here are my picks for this year’s Belmont on June 6th.

Exacta Wheel – All/All

Grab a cold one and hope that long shots finish first and second.

Joe Biden is the best. Sure, he’s against using waterboarding as a technique to obtain secrets. And why not? All he needs is a dinner and an audience to give it up.

Drink – I said give it up.

Things that make me say WTF? 

I don’t mean for this to sound racist. But have you ever seen a group of Mexican men hovered around an ATM?

They stand there watching their buddy withdrawal money like he’s playing a video game.

And it takes him 10 minutes to complete the transaction, even when the language is in Spanish.

I feel a hot wind on my shoulder. And the touch of a world that is older.

I saw this magazine at 7-Eleven this morning. I didn’t buy a copy, but it gave me an idea on how to handle kids that sell subscriptions door-to-door.

                         Kid
Hi, my name is DeAndre, and I’m selling magazine subscriptions. If I sell 400, I get to go to summer camp in Idaho.

                         Benny
I’d be happy to help you. Do you have Urban Ink?

                         Kid
(scans through list) No.

                         Benny
Can’t help you, kid.

Preakness Picks

1. Papa Clem
2. Musket Man
3. Pioneerof The Nile
4. General Quarters

How can you say that you’re not responsible? What does it have to do with me?