First off, this fun story about Ben Roethlisberger from our new friend Ken Dynamo (edited slightly for spelling and clarity, because most of our readers are only semi-literate, which is totally fine with us).

Big Ben at the Grammys in 2006. Overdressed as usual.

My friend is in Vegas by the craps table when he runs into Ben Roethlisberger, a few other Steelers, and their entourage. (This is after Roethlisberger’s rookie year before the motorcycle accident, so he’s still being treated like the man.) My friend is completely shitfaced and stays to watch Roesthlisberger throw dice. Everybody is cheering Ben on like it’s the Super Bowl until he craps out, at which point the table goes silent. My drunk friend then interjects “Roethlisberger? More like… CRAPSlisberger!”

The silence continues until Roethlisberger finally says, “You know what man, people have been kissing my ass all night, and I did crap out. Let’s get a drink.” So my friend stays and raps with Roethlisberger for a few drinks, and the conversation turns to, as you would assume, stuffing sorority chicks at Miami, Ohio. Roethlisberger claimed that he would pick a sorority and then try to plow every single member. My friend then asked, “Even the fat ones?” To which Roethlisberger replied, “Well, that’s part of the challenge.” “It’s a matter of principle.”

I can’t attest to the veracity of the story, but I want it to be true, which is good enough for me.

Next up, a Kyle Orton Story that DOESN’T have drunk photos to go with it, courtesy of Chicagoland reader Mike:

Back in 2005, I happened to stop at a Dick’s Sporting Goods when Kyle Fucking Orton was doing an autograph signing. I actually waited in line for over an hour to get his autograph because my dad is his #1 fan and I am mildly retarded. When I was up, I had no idea if I was supposed to say thanks or whatever, so I told him he had an awesome neck beard (he does). To this he replied “blow me shithead” and I was escorted out of the store. Three days later, he got his ass handed to him by the Steelers and began his downward spiral into obscurity. All me.

Guy in the Middle: “Blow me, shithead.”

Excellent work, Mike. But c’mon — give Jack Daniel’s a little bit of credit.

Finally, we got this email from a reader I’ll only call “Jeff W.” No, that’s too obvious — make it “J. Wimer”.

go fuck yourselves, that’s my application. and btw, not one of you idiots could get laid in a womens prison with a fist full of pardons, no wonder you post drag queen pics.

Thanks for your input, Jeff! Of course we wouldn’t get laid in a women’s prison — we’re the Gay Mafia. Anyway, that’s not quite what we’re looking for, but we wish you well in your own fantasy league, where we’re sure you’re very well-liked.

Oh, and one final note on the juicy NFL player stories: people, we shouldn’t have to hold an idiotic contest to get these kinds of tips. We ALWAYS want to hear about your experiences with NFL players. Especially if it’s gay sex!