Category Archives: SCIENCE!

Dear Sweet Mama Never Learns

Our lovely and talented Minister of Finance, LeeAnn, recently regaled us with the tale of her heroic rescue of one of the inbred waterhead kittens she has living under her house.  So I have no choice but to relate…

The Legend(s) of Dear Sweet Mama

vs. the Snapping Turtle(s)

PART I.

We begin our tale long ago (shut up!) when Hoody was but a wee slip of a lass (shut UP!) still living in her Childhood Home with Dear Sweet Mama (yes, the same Childhood Home with the bottomless bucket of poop in the yard).  DSM and Young Hoody were going out somewhere, and as they passed the fence post that butted up against the side of the house, they beheld a strange sight:

A snapping turtle, apparently emerging from hibernation in the mud, had somehow managed to get itself wedged between the fence and the house.  Vertically, so it was a-waving all its little legs helplessly.  And DSM and Hoody swung into action.

Now, a brief note for those of you who do NOT hail from out the holler, a snapping turtle looks like this:

And yes, if he appears angry to you, imagine how angry he would be if he was covered in mud and trapped between the fence and the house, balanced upright on his wee turtle tail.  And hissing.  And snapping.  But DSM and Hoody were undeterred in their mission of mercy.

So they got a stick.

And they tried to use the stick to poke the turtle sideways so that he would slide out of the gap he was stuck in and go upon his way.

Turtle don’t play dat.

That damn thing whipped his big ol’ angry head around on his freakishly long neck… AND BIT THE STICK IN HALF.

So DSM and Hoody repaired to the house to find something more durable to poke the turtle with (i.e., something a turtle could not, at least theoretically, bite through)… but when they emerged a short time later, the turtle appeared to have solved his own problems and gotten free on his own.

So DSM and Hoody repaired back into the house again… because that meant the turtle was LOOSE.  And they had POKED it.

You’d think that would be enough to teach DSM that snapping turtles do not appreciate the kindness of strangers.  But no!  Stay tuned for Part II tomorrow!

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Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, Getchore LEARN on!, La Vida Loca, Only in Wes' BYGAWD Virginny, Reality Bites, SCIENCE!, The Royal Court, Youse Guys

Problem Solved Part II

I can’t believe I spent yesterday’s post outlining my marvelous plan for saving the economy AND the planet by employing hobos to push me around in their shopping carts, yet somehow FORGOT this happened:

Scene:  Hoody is on the phone to Dear Sweet Mama

DSM:  Hello?

HH:  I’mma go down the hill and round me up a passel o’ ho’s.

DSM:  Ummmm… why?

HH:  I’mma make them bitches clean this house.

DSM: Oh, okay then. (see where I get it???)

HH:  See I figure the ho’s would prolly rather not ho, but they ain’t got no other skills.  So, I can pay them to clean the house, so I won’t have to clean and they won’t have to ho.  Win-win.

DSM:  You’d probably have to train ’em…

HH:  I figure ho’s are pretty good at learning new things.

DSM:  And they’d probably try to steal your stuff…

HH:  I ain’t really got all that much worth stealing.  Them ho’s prolly ALREADY got a better TV than I got.

DSM:  Sounds like a plan, then.

(Editor’s note:  Yes, my accent did get that bad… I had been cleaning house all day with a kerchief on my head and I was channeling Prissy from Gone with the Wind.)

Then, just when I thought the plan was perfect, Jana suggested we get the tweakers and other assorted speed freaks to clean the windows since they’re all jumping around anyway (for which she has earned a promotion to the Royal Court as Official Tweaker Wrangler).  I am also going to train them to get the dust bunnies out of the corners of the ceiling, because the ho’s probably can’t do that.

Ho’s tend to have back problems, you know.

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Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, GENIUS!, Getchore LEARN on!, I Rule You, La Vida Loca, SCIENCE!, The Royal Court

Problem Solved

I am all crippled-up from my fit of house-cleaning yesterday (yeah, I let it get AWFUL and then basically murder myself in a big long marathon of cleaning — I feel better when I can see results, I guess!).  So anyhoo, I was commenting to Chuckweasel that I was glad my therapy appointment is on Thursday instead of Tuesday this week, since I don’t think I’d be able to hobble my busted ass around downtown.  Then it hit me:

MISS HOODY’S PLAN FOR SAVING

THE ECONOMY

I said to CW, “If I had to go today, I’d have to pay a hobo to roll me around in his cart.”  Then we fell to discussing how that’s probably okay, since hobos need money for booze and…. well, booze.  So, the benefits of my plan are as follows:

  • By paying a hobo $5 to push me around in a cart, I am providing gainful employment for hobos — job creation, bitches!
  • This of course will stimulate spending, especially in the Mad Dog and Baked Beans sectors
  • It will also keep hobos outta trouble, thereby freeing up police resources previously dedicated to breaking up Hobo Fights
  • If the hobos DO fight, they will be in better shape from pushing me around in the cart and will therefore be less likely to be injured
  • And best of all — IT’S GREEN.  A hobo pushing me in a shopping cart produces MUCH less greenhouse gas than a car… mostly the only gas is bean-related

I’m awaiting my call from the Democratic National Committee.  Hoody Hoo in 2012!

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Filed under Chuckweasel, GENIUS!, I Rule You, La Vida Loca, SCIENCE!

Even a Stopped Clock…

…is right twice a day, and even I cannot find fault with ALL my As-Seen-on-TV purchases.  I can think of, well, two, that have not been a horrible disappointment and/or tragedy waiting to happen.

The Easy Feet.  I actually love this fuckin’ thing.  It suction cups to your shower floor so you can scrub your feet without bending over, which sounds terribly lazy, but remember, I have one of those horrible stall-type showers, so bending over is a difficulty.  Also, I’m so damn graceful, it’s best for me not to move around much, especially when wet.

The Turbo Cooker. I’ve had this one for so long I actually had to look it up to see if they still made it (they do).  Now, I’m not a scientist except of the stick variety, but I think this thing has something to do with using steam to cook your food faster.  Anyhoo, it works, and the best part is you can make salmon and pasta in it AT THE SAME TIME, because it has a little grill-type thing that holds the salmon above the pasta.  Shut up, you only have to wash one pot that way.

This is making me look lazy again…

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Filed under Getchore LEARN on!, I Rule You, La Vida Loca, My Secret Shame(s), SCIENCE!

The White Man’s Medicine

Y’all may have picked up what I’m putting down already… to be on as many drugs as I am, I’m really not a huge fan of what Dear Sweet Mama and I like to call “The White Man’s Medicine.”  Being of Indian extraction (feather, not dot), and being somewhat of amateur herbalists to boot, both of us would rather fix ourselves with tea and a compress than a mess o’ pills… but sometimes, tea don’t cut it.

BUT… Neither does the white devil!

Remember when Chuckweasel’s mama had the stroke and had to be in the hospital for awhile?  Luckily, she made a really good recovery, the only trouble being that her blood pressure stayed way too high, which they kinda figured caused the stroke in the first place.  So Dr. Custer fills her full of blood-pressure pills (5 kinds. FIVE!) and sends her on her way.

Cut to yesterday, when poor Chuckweasel’s mama had to have surgery to remove a nodule on her adrenal gland… which they think may be the reason her blood pressure was so out of wack in the first place, and taking it off may fix that.

REALLY?

It’s been MONTHS of Dr. Feelgood prescribing all sorts of medications to treat her SYMPTOMS, but no one ever thought to look for the CAUSE?  My guess is they just looked at her age and figured, “Well, a lot of people get high blood pressure as they get older” and called it a day.  The same way doctors REPEATEDLY told my own Dear Sweet Mama that her chest pain was “just gas” because “women your age don’t have heart attacks.”  Well, now we know she’s got a birth defect in her heart… where’s your gas now, DOC?

All in all, I am all in favor of the pills the pills the marvelous pills that keep me from shooting people and enable me to eat, well, food, but treating the symptoms is not enough.  Fucking make it better, or pass the peyote.

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Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, Chuckweasel, I'm Confused, La Vida Loca, SCIENCE!, White Man's Medicine, WTF???

Fun With White-Out

With almost everything being done on computers nowadays, I often worry about the good folks at the White-Out factory (I really do, I worry about some really strange shit).  I’m sure there’s had to be some belt-tightening around White-Out, Inc., but I’m here to tell you — it’s still a very valuable product!

Case in point:

Shut up, it worked, didn't it?

Even though I write for a living, I am not what you’d call a “good” typist.  I type fast, but I only use 2 fingers and the occasional thumb, and I MUST MUST MUST look at the keys.  So when the “N” and the “M” wore off the keyboard at work, I was in a pickle.  And I got tired of writing scripts about people getting arrested for selling “marcotics” or being  on trial for “nurder.” Enter:  White-Out.

Also, I remain childishly fascinated by that White-Out Correction Tape stuff — I always have to put my finger on it and be amazed that it’s instantly dry.  Plus, it makes an excellent scuff-and-nail-hole cover-upper if your landlord is not too observant and you’re too cheap to buy spackle.  Toothpaste also works, but only the white kind.

Unless your paint color is Minty Fresh, I guess…

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Happy HOlidays!

No, that isn’t a case of stupid-finger-syndrome (SFS) up there… I really do mean to emphasize the “HO’ part.  Here’s why:

One of the clans of Redneck Hillfolk up at Ye Olde Apartment Complex has put a red light bulb in their porch light.  And I think they mean it as a Christmas decoration, but I’m not sure.  Let’s apply some Non-Stick Science, shall we?

OBSERVATIONS

1.  There are no OTHER decorations visible.  This would seem to indicate either it’s NOT for Christmas or these particular Hillfolk are unusually lazy.

2.  The porch itself is home to a disproportionately large number of chairs.  Like, I live alone, so I have one chair and a little patio bench on my porch.  This particular batch of Hillfolk (whose apartment is exactly the same size as mine, remember) have at least 7 or 8 of those cheap-ass white plastic chairs.  And no tables.  This leads me to believe the light means what I always THOUGHT red lights meant and they’re using their porch as a waiting room.

(Wait.  Do hookers have waiting rooms?  That’s gotta be uncomfortable.  And sticky.)

3.  Hookers operating out of Ye Olde Apartment Complex wouldn’t even be all that illegal by the current standards of illegal immigrants and drug deals.  In fact, it wouldn’t even be the most illegal thing I’ve seen this WEEK.

So, what do y’all think?  Hookers or lazy trash? Or both, don’t wanna exclude the most likely possibility!

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Filed under GENIUS!, I'm Confused, La Vida Loca, Only in Wes' BYGAWD Virginny, SCIENCE!, Ye Olde Apartment Complex