Archive for September, 2009

Shot of tequila
Here’s looking up your old address

The SOB was shunned again by the Riverfront Times. I’m becoming the Susan Lucci of blogs.

This year’s winner was UrbanReviewSTL. Last year the title went to AngryBlackBitch. I can’t prove this, but I think Issac has been stuffing the ballot box.

I submitted a comment congratulating the winners, and to announce I won’t be entering for best blog next year. I give up. Hey, wait a minute…maybe I can get Kanye West involved.

I have a day off tomorrow, so I made a “to-do” list. I know a lot of you think I’m somewhat of a slacker. But I have responsibilities just like you.

– Handicap football games for Lil’ Bro
– Drive to Illinois to buy ticket for Halloween Millionaire Raffle
– Spray sofa with Febreze
– Call credit card company to get “over-the-limit” charges reversed
– Call IRS to see if they have an “opt-out” program
– Go on spankwire.com (5-10 minutes)
– Sell KC Chiefs shit on eBay

I ain’t got me nobody. I don’t carry me no load.

Issac at Ozzie's
Don’t trust whitey

The website in Argentina is still hotlinking to my server. I thought replacing the picture with a big set of boobs would solve the problem. But the hits have actually increased.

Well laugh it up, Amigos, because Thursday is going to be the day of dick. And you’re going to have to splain to la madre why her little muchacho was subjected to gay porn.

That reminds me – Happy Birthday, Gina Party.

FYE – Don’t ever drink red wine after it’s been sitting uncorked for a couple of nights. I’m going to lay down now.

It’s no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy. Cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me.

Dentist with a Guinness
The Dentist with a Guinness

I met some buddies at Trainwreck last week, and ran into JR – Dentist to the Stars (of Branson).

I think being a dentist in the Ozarks would be a pretty sweet gig. I mean, most of your patients only have a few teeth, so cleanings would be a breeze. And you might get paid in moonshine on occasion. Sweet.

There was another guy there I see about once a year. For his safety, let’s just call him Bob.

You see, years ago, I was on the way to bet the Kentucky Derby. I knew Bob went to school about 45 minutes off the beaten path, so I stopped by campus.

After looking for almost an hour, I found his dorm and called his room from the lobby.

“WTF are you doing?” he asked.

“We’re going to bet the derby,” I replied.

We’re not going anywhere. I’m hungover. But have fun.”

Long story short – we left about fifteen minutes later.

We never made it to the horse races because the dog track had a matinee card – Hello – and was a lot closer.

Don’t worry about the derby. I called my bookie, and bet $20 across the board on the eventual winner.

Anyway, we were over-served at the dog track, and made a foolish decision to drive home. Actually, that decision was made by me.

I got pulled over by the po-po on the way home. Now let me say here, I don’t condone drinking and driving. I was young and stupid back then. But the lure of cheap beer and trifecta boxes had clouded my judgment.

The state trooper asked me to get out of the car, and put me through some field sobriety tests.

“You seem intoxicated to me,” he said.

“Well, that can’t be good,” I responded.

“Has your buddy been drinking?”

I looked at Bob sitting shit-faced in the passenger seat, and said, “No.”

“Why are you driving if you’ve been drinking, and he hasn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, I’ll let you guys go if he drives.”

“Thanks.”

I walked back to the car and said, “Don’t say a word. Just get in the driver’s seat, and we’re out of here.”

“I’m not driving,” he replied.

The trooper was staring at us. I just smiled and waved.

“He doesn’t think you’ve been drinking.”

“You are unbelievable.”

Bob walked around the front of the car, and also waved to the cop. The cop waved back, and off we went.

Apparently Bob didn’t have much experience driving a fine automobile like a 5-speed Ford Escort. He had a little trouble getting her out of 1st and 2nd gear, but we were mobile.

He pulled off at the next exit after watching the patrol car turn around in the rear-view mirror.

“You take it from here.”

“Okee dokee.”

Here’s where the story gets a little fuzzy. I don’t remember this – shocker – but we went to a party on campus when we got back. Bob was dating this cute little redhead, who was with us.

I swear I could pass a polygraph, but he claims I was hitting on her. To make matters worse, I allegedly told her that our romantic tryst came with Bob’s blessing.

“Did you say it was okay if Benny slept with me?”

This story seems a little far-fetched to me. But, hey, like I said, I was young and stupid back then.

And if I remember correctly, she was pretty hot.

I . . . Who took the money? Who took the money away? I . . . It’s always show time. Here at the edge of the stage.

Dr. Marc Wallach DDS
I was spitting out and rinsing like there was no tomorrow

I got my last filling today at the office of Dr. Marc Wallach DDS – the official dentist of The Summer of Benny.

That’s him with Phyllis, about to take a drill to my molar.

These guys are great. They follow the SOB. And they let me watch episodes of Seinfeld while I’m sitting in the chair.

Jerry: You find you need to use a lot of obscenities at the dentist?

Kramer: When they pull that needle out, I let the expletives fly.

My buddy Red is in town tonight, and we’re meeting for a few beers at the Trainwreck. I was telling Matt M about my teeth being sensitive to cold temperatures after a visit to the dentist.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to drink beer,” I explained.

“I’m going on a hunch here, but I think you’ll make it happen,” he replied.

“You’re probably right.”

There must be some way out of here. Said the joker to the thief. There’s too much confusion here. I can’t get no relief.

Monkey shooting a gun

I’ve mentioned this problem before, but I’m fed up with people hotlinking to images on my server. The main culprit is some ass stain virtual community website in Argentina.

Hotlinking is when a person links directly to an image on another person’s web server, and uses their bandwidth to display the image on another site.

Hotlinking is stealing.

Example HTML Code: <img scr=”http://www.summerofbenny.com/images/2009/02/justin.tv_logo.jpg”>

The end result is that the actual image gets displayed (embedded) directly into another website.

Sure, I admit I did this a time or two before I knew better. But this site is notorious for letting their users get away with it.

“But Benny, what’s the difference between hotlinking & linking to a website like you do below?”

I’m glad you asked that question.

When someone links to a website, the content is shown in the form the designer (and copyright holder) wished, and they may be able to cover costs by displaying advertising on the page.

“What have these people been linking to on your site?”

A logo for Justin.TV.

“Why does this piss you off so much?”

Because all they have to do is upload the image to their own server. Then they won’t be using my bandwidth, and costing me money.

“What can you do about it?”

Good question. I can do one of the following.

  1. Rename the file, so the hotlinker has a broken file.
  2. Replace it with pornography.
  3. Replace it with a notice that hotlinking is not allowed and an advertisement for The Summer of Benny.
  4. Contact the hotlinker’s website host and submit a copyright infringement report.

I prefer #2.

#1 is no fun. There’s too much work involved with #3. And #4 is out because I don’t speak Spanish.

“This has really been informative. But can you show us how #2 would work in the real world?”

Sure, I would love to show you how it works.

Go to Google, and click on “Images” in the upper left. Copy and paste the following text into the search box, and click the search button: justin.tv logo

Do you notice something that seems out of place? A big set of boobies perhaps? Good. Because that’s what these stupid fucks have displayed on their family-oriented webcam tutorial site.

And they have until the end of the month to cease and desist. Or I’m replacing it with an image of gay butt sex.

 – An unfortunate name.

Baby dances to the best video of the year.

– News Anchor: “Keep fucking that chicken.” NSFW

Slap Chop spoof. NSFW

Mama’s Got Her Boobs Out

Wrong hole. NSFW

Shock! – watch the monkey get hurt, monkey.

Nice Tight Shirt

I saw a bumper sticker today that read “9/11 was an inside job!” My first reaction was to run the fucker off the road, and take a tire iron to his rusted out piece of shit Toyota. But this is America, and even douche bags enjoy freedom of speech.

I bet his buddies never ask to borrow his car.

Hey, maybe I should make some crazy ass bumper stickers. Oh, wait, no one ever asks to drive one of my cars. If they did, I would change the insurance policy to full coverage, and bleed the brake lines.

Don’t worry. I don’t even know where the brake lines are.

If you follow the SOB on Facebook or Twitter, you know I’ve confirmed the girl I see everyday is a former booty call girl. I haven’t said anything to her, but she wears a wedding ring.

Maybe I can count on her for a few references, though. I mean, I doubt chicks would ever recommend me as a Life Coach to their friends. But I might get some props when it comes to banging the headboard.

The SOB Cast Party got moved to Ozzie’s because of the weather. I saw something on Sunday I thought I would never see – guys applauding when Abby put her clothes on. Then I figured out the jacket was covering a Cubs jersey.

Thanks to MB for the new cologne. I’ve got a lot of compliments already. But whenever a girl asks what I’m wearing, it turns into some kind of Abbott and Costello routine.

“You smell good. What is it?”

“Guess.”

“I don’t know. Eternity?”

“No. Guess.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You free for happy hour?”

Jane says, “I’ve never been in love” – no – she don’t know what it is. She only knows if someone wants her.

Benny's Refrigerator
My refrigerator…Yeah, I’m a grown up

Some things on Facebook make me laugh – people that say how happy they are the weekend is finally here – tagging someone in a  photo – and I found a new one – Relationship Status.

Below are the current choices for your Relationship Status on Facebook:

– Single
– In a Relationship
– Engaged
– Married
– It’s Complicated
– In an Open Relationship
– Widowed

I guess my status should have been In an Open Relationship. I was just the last one to know it.

But another choice caught my attention – It’s Complicated. No shit? Relationships are always complicated.

If this is your status, maybe you should buy your significant other a Mizpah necklace. That way, you can wear half, and they can wear the other half. And when you’re away from each other, your little pooh bear will always be close to your heart.

I got one of these for a girlfriend in junior high, and she loved it. Two weeks later –  BAM! – she was wearing my ID bracelet.

Yeah, that girl was mine. And everybody knew it.

Here are some more choices they should add:

– In a Relationship, but Only When I’m Sober
– Looking for someone to go in halfsies on a bastard
– Engaged, but Not Ready to Settle Down
– It’s Complicated Because I Don’t Trust the Bitch
– It’s Complicated Because I Don’t Trust the Dick Head
– Meet Me in the Bathroom

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night. I’m not sure all these people understand.

©2014 The Summer Of Benny, All Rights Reserved