Archive for January, 2010

Kosher Ham

Terrible Marketing

Let me recap a shitty day.

- Cell phone went dead because I brought the wrong cord

- Started to leave work at 6:00, and found out I was scheduled to stay until 7:30.

- 7:35: Discovered car battery was dead

- 7:36: Discovered cable to open hood was broken

- 7:37: Realized I was fucked – and cold

- 7:38: Walked back into office

I asked the security guard if he had any jumper cables. He said, “No” like I had just asked to borrow a hundred dollars.

Jack-off.

At this point I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had no cell phone, which meant I had no phone numbers.

But then something happened that restored my faith in humanity.

“You need a jump start?” the guy asked as I walked down the hallway.

“Yeah, but I can’t get the hood open,” I replied.

“Let me grab my coat, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was driving home with the heater cranked.

I thought about making a beer stop, but didn’t want to risk the car not starting. That turned out to be a good move, because it sure as shit didn’t start back up when I got home.

Now I can add buying a new battery to my to-do list this weekend. Oh, and my cell phone isn’t turning on after charging for over an hour. So I’ll probably spend a few hours at the Sprint store.

That’s okay. I really didn’t have any other plans this weekend – except moving.

There is no other place I want to be.

Empty Pizza Boxes

Why is America so fat?

I used my cell phone to record and upload my first video on YouTube. I call it The Summer of Benny – Cribs.

It’s my birthday, so I’m getting drunk tonight. Here’s how I spent some previous ones.

This Day in Benny History

1996: Flew to Honolulu with “Doggie-Style”

1997: Ice and snow storm – watched “Nutty Professor”

1998: Flew home from Vegas after Super Bowl

1999: Met Lil’ Bro at DFW Airport Hyatt

2001: Maui – Lunch at Hula Grill in Lahina, whale watching cruise, drinks at Cheeseburger in Paradise, dinner at Bubba Gumps (crab legs), drinks at Maui Brew House – bought weed from some dude on a bridge – drinks at Kimos – stopped at convenience store on cab ride back to hotel to get rolling papers – watched two chicks get it on in hot tub outside by pool

2002: Watched football – ate crab legs and filet mignon with “Drunkie-Drunk”

2003: Drinks after work with Jane

2005: Trainwreck and Margarita Mama’s with Jane, Nancy and others

2007: Fast Eddies – OTB at Mac’s Time Out Lounge

2008: Dog Parade in Soulard – Melrose Place pool after with Sheila and Cathy G. 59 degrees high temp

2009: Dinner and drinks at Ozzie’s with Chico and Maribeth – Snowed 6″.

Did you have a good world when you died? Enough to base a movie on?

Saints Fan

Hello, Saints Fan!

For the next week and a half we’re going to be subjected to experts handicapping the Super Bowl.

“For the Saints to win, they’re going to have to get to Peyton Manning.”

Really?

“For the Colts to win, they’re going to have to have to control the line of scrimmage.”

Wow, that’s some hard-hitting shit.

How about this? – The team that wins the Super Bowl will be the one that can best handle the night life in South Beach.

Peyton Manning and Drew Brees are good family men, so they don’t count.

So now you’re left to figure out what players are going to be able to chase tail and down Jaeger shots on Saturday night – and still show up to play a football game the next day.

There’s your edge.

Ask yourself this – who has home field advantage when it comes to partying – Broad Ripple or Bourbon Street?

Exactly.

Saints by a field goal.

You brought me fame and fortune and everything that goes with it. I thank you all.

Pizza Stone

That’s the last time I fall asleep with the oven on

The one-year roommate experiment has ended, and I’m moving back to my own place at the end of the month.

There are several empty boxes in my living room, and a lot of shit around them. It just seems like a lot of work to pick up the shit and put it in a box.

I want to thank Sheila E for delivering the boxes a couple of weeks ago. She called yesterday and said, “I’ll bet they’re still sitting in the living room where I left them.”

Ha ha. I have funny friends.

Tom d G helped move the heavy stuff yesterday. “I can’t believe I’m touching this mattress,” he said.

Oh, grab my side because we have another wisecracker.

“No offense, T, but I wouldn’t touch your mattress with a forklift,” I shot back.

“None taken.”

– How To Instantly Fail A Breathalyzer.

– DEA Recruits Lil Wayne To Use Up All Drugs In Mexico. NSFW

– Jaime Pressly Knows How To Clean Your Balls. NSFW

When I tried to step inside, I moved to where they hoped I’d be.

A True Friend

True Friendship

There’s a certain “guy code” that says you don’t fool around with a buddy’s girlfriend or wife. And it doesn’t matter if they’re still together, or not. It’s just a common courtesy we extend to each other.

Note: This rule does not apply if your buddy says, “I don’t care what you do with the bitch.”

I had no idea women lived by the same rule.

I mean, what if your relationship with a woman has run its course because she turned out to be a whack job. Then you realize you have a lot more in common with her friend than you ever did with Miss Nut Bag.

Yep, you just have to forget about the sexy friend that could be the woman of your dreams – one that won’t call you a slob – or shout obscenities when you leave the toilet seat up – or turn off a football game so she can watch The Holiday for the 20th fucking time.

And women take it a step further. The object of your affection doesn’t have to be a close friend to be off limits.

Oh, no.

Your ex could have met her at a friend of a friend of a friend’s candle party two years ago – and your lovecicle still ain’t getting wet.

So pick your girls carefully, guys. Otherwise, you’ll end up in a drunken stupor at last call looking for a slump buster.

I saw her today at the reception. A glass of wine in her hand.

Street Sign

I heard comedian Henry Phillips on The Bob & Tom Show a few weeks back. He created his own sex act by using his hometown followed by his favorite candy.

Mine is the St. Louis Payday.

I’ve been trying to come up with the actual move itself. I think it’s going to involve doggie-style, the word “Pujols” and a wad of monopoly money.

Drink – I said wad.

I recently called a girl I was dating, but got her voice mail. I received the following text message a few minutes later:

I’m giving myself a facial and can’t move my mouth. I’ll call you later.

Talk about your softballs.

Seriously.

She called me later, alright – and wanted to know what was so fucking funny.

“You don’t know what a facial is?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s when you use a facial cream to deep cleanse your pores,” she replied. “It looks like you’re wearing a mask.”

“Google it.”

So…I’m single again.

Now, when I was just a little boy, standin’ to my Daddy’s knee. My poppa said, “Son, don’t let the man get you do what he done to me.”

Convenience Center in the Men's Room

Can I get $4.00 in quarters, please?

I’ve never been a big fan of Hooters. I’m talking about the restaurant here. You know I’m a boob man.

As sports bars go, they’re over-rated, over-priced, and apparently over-sensitive these days.

Case in point – me and a couple of buddies went there on Sunday to watch the early NFL game. Our waitress couldn’t have been friendlier and provided great service.

We noticed another waitress wearing a t-shirt instead of the official Hooters tank top. And she was obviously what the owners had in mind when they came up with the name for their restaurant.

We waved her over to ask what was going. She stormed over to our table, and already had an attitude.

“What were you looking at?” she asked my buddy.

“Well, it’s a sports bar, and you were standing under a TV,” he replied.

“Why did you wave me over here then?”

“We were just wondering why you’re not wearing a tank top, when it’s quite obvious you wouldn’t have a problem filling it out,” I said.

“I’m (expletive) pregnant. And I hope you enjoy getting kicked out of here because I’m going to tell my manager.”

And then she stormed off.

“She seems pleasant,” I said.

We sat there trying to figure out what just happened. I mean, she didn’t look pregnant, and it wasn’t like we were being perverts, or anything. I’m sure she’s heard things a thousand times worse than that.

Before we left, I handed her a Summer of Benny card.

“Check out my website,” I said. “I’ll refer to you as Miss Personality.”

Well, that wasn’t a good move either because she started shouting at us again as we walked towards the door.

That’s probably my last visit to Hooters. I need to start eating healthier, anyway.

We always wish for money. We always wish for fame.

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