Category Archives: The Royal Court

I Rule You

Aaaaaaaw, yeeeah, boys and girls, lookie what Joeyfullystated done give me:


And since we all know awards are high on the list of Gifts Hoody Will Always Accept (another one is diamonds, but in that case I do mostly always give them back – just ask my multiple ex-fiances!), I have no choice but to comply with the rules.

1.  Thank the blogger who gave you this award:  Thank you thank you thank you, Joey!  This act of ass-kissing undying and completely deserved love and admiration has earned you a place on the Royal Court.  Pending further review, your probationary title is Executive Awarder in Charge of Awards.

2.  Share 7 things about yourself:  Well, hell, I’m the Queen of Oversharing (among many other things), so I’m running out of shit y’all don’t know.  Lessee…

  1. I am currently re-watching the new (well, 2005) version of Battlestar Galactica thanks to the magic of OnDemand, and I have to say, I love it just as much now as I did when it first came out.
  2. I have an irrational love for Lee Adama.
  3. I have been known to make an entire meal out of nothing but appetizers.  Many, many appetizers.
  4. As a working journalist in New Jersey, I am taking entirely too much pleasure in the scandal surrounding Governor Christie.
  5. I took one… yes, ONE… cheerleading class when I was a wee child.  Needless to say, it didn’t take.
  6. I have bitten my nails my whole life.  At present, I have exactly two nails past my fingertips – both the pinky nails.  Yes, I look like a cokehead.
  7. I could give absolutely two shits about who wins this year’s Super Bowl… as long as it’s the Broncos.

3/4.  Nominate 15 bloggers/Notify the nominees.  Well, this one’s easy – Royal Court, you’re up.  Voices, now’s your chance for a possible promotion.  Consider this your notification, since if you’re not reading my posts you don’t deserve an award anyway!

5.   Put the logo of the award on your blog.  Sure will, just gimme a second to remember how…


Filed under I Rule You, My Secret Shame(s), The Royal Court, Youse Guys

I Still Rule You


Another day, another argument with “George” —

Hoody Hoo:  I’m actually kinda pissed the ‘Pocolypse didn’t happen… now I can’t use all my skills.

“George”:  Oh, like what?  Like you’re gonna be Mad Max or something?  Like all those fuckin’ Goth kids who think the End of The World is gonna be your ticket to the big time.

HH:  Fuck you, do not!  I don’t wanna be Mad Max, anyway, I wanna be Norman Arminger.

G:  But what I’m saying is, you won’t.  All you people think you’re gonna be in charge, you’re gonna be dead in a ditch.

HH:  Will NOT!

G:  Will TOO.  Once the whole End of the World thing happens, there’s gonna be motherfuckers MUCH crazier than you —

HH:  Not THAT much crazier —

G:  Point being, there’s no way you’re gonna be the boss.  To be the boss, you’d have to be all like Humongous and like eat a baby or something, and you won’t do that.

HH:  Might.  Might eat a baby.

G:  Won’t.

HH:  Fine, then I’m not saving your ass.  You were on the ass-saving list, but you’re not anymore.

G:  I don’t want to be in a group anyway.  Not until it gets big.  Small groups get you killed.

HH:  But where’s the tipping point?  You have to be in a small group before it becomes a large group…

G:  I only wanna be in a small group if it’s way outta the way.  Or a large group that’s right on the main throughfare, but too big to fuck with.

HH:  But before that you’d be by yourself.  You haven’t got the skills to live in the woods all by yourself for like months.

G:  I have skills.

HH:  Not those skills.  Like, you need your small group to have a hunter, a nurse… you ain’t got all those skills.

G:  I have a lot of skills.

HH:  You’re gonna die in the woods.

G:  You’re gonna die in a ditch.






Filed under "George", At the Movies, C'est Vrai You Suck, Getchore LEARN on!, I Rule You, The Royal Court, Weep for Humanity

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)


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!


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.


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

Apparently I’m “It”

Thanks so much for all the love, support, and offers of ass-kickin’ assistance yesterday, now let’s get to the good part:


The lovely and talented and utterly-unafraid-of-getting-her-ass-kicked-for-taking-pictures-of-weirdos-in-the-street Misty passed along “Tag!  You’re It!” to myself and several other wonderful blog artistes.  That means I have to answer some questions… ’cause she’s a lawyer and she scares me.    ; )

1.  Book or movie and why?

Book.  Number one, I read pretty much CONSTANTLY (yes, even on the toilet), and number two, I often find my own imagination is better than the screenwriter/director/whatever’s.  Not to say I WON’T see the movie, but I generally like to have read the book first.  And if I find out I’m watching a movie that’s based on a book and I didn’t know it, I will immediately go out and find that book and read it.  Because I’m a nerd and a film major, and that’s how we roll.

2.  Real book or e-book?

Real.  Can’t beat the smell of the paper, the feel of turning the pages with my actual fingers.  I’m like Admiral Kirk in that way.  Plus, I think the whole Kindle thing is a trick.

3. Funniest thing you’ve done in the last 5 years?

I’m assuming this means funny to others, because I amuse the fuck out of myself pretty much all the time.  And I really don’t know for sure… but it probably involved me doing something stupid and proceeding to injure myself.  I’m good at that.  Oh, and there’s also this.

4.  Do you put yourself in the books you read/movies you watch?

Not… really.  I empathize with the characters, of course, but mostly I’m just along for the ride.  There HAVE been some very fucked up dreams, though.

5. How would your best friend describe you?

Well, it’s you guys, so I hope it’s “one funny motherfucker.”

6.  Favorite kind of car and why?

One that runs.  That is all.

7.  Would your choice of party be a catered meal or a barbecue out back?

As long as I’m not RESPONSIBLE for the party, either is good.  If I’m in charge, catered meal:  Hoody can’t take that kind of pressure!

8.  What’s your favorite season and why?

Hmmm… I really love fall, the way the air smells and the changing leaves.  But I also hate it a little because I know it means winter’s coming.

9.  What important lessons have you learned?  Spiritual, educational, and occupational?

Spiritual:  There is no one “right” way.  You gotta do what feels best for you.

Educational:  Virtually everything I learned in college is now obsolete, but I still think everyone should have to go for the mind-broadening.

Occupational:  The people I work with/for are fucking rock stars.  I would not have made it through all the drama I’ve dealt with without their understanding and support (or y’all’s, either!).

10.  Besides writing, what’s your favorite thing to do when you get some extra time?

I don’t know what this “extra time” thing is, I feel like all I do is work and sleep!  I really need to spend MORE time writing, but there’s that whole “sleeping” problem…  I do like to dick around on the internet and read, but I’m usually doing those things while doing something else at the same time.

11.  What’s one place you can be found at least one time every week?

*sigh*… Walmart.  I grocery shop once a week and that’s where I do most of it.  They carry my basic staples:  catfood, Sprite, booze and refried beans.


Whew, that’s done.  Now I’m supposed to pass this on to 11 other people, but Hoody don’t do rules.  So I’m passing it along to ALL the members of the Royal Court.  That’s right, bitches.  YOU’RE “it.”


Filed under Aw, Getchore LEARN on!, I Rule You, La Vida Loca, My Secret Shame(s), The Royal Court, Youse Guys

Back to Bidness

Ah, taxes are done and paid and probably wrong, but I don’t care anymore, I just don’t.  Too many maths make Hoody something…something…

Anyhoo, back before Uncle Sam and Step-Daddy Earl Ray got their hands in my pockets, I was actually GIVEN something:

I's Is Kreativ!

That there award comes to me courtesy of the amazing bluzdude, who is being rewarded for his generosity by promotion to the Royal Court as my “Official Mirror Spirit” (you know, as in “mirror, mirror, on the wall…”).  Thanks, hon! Never let it be said that I cannot be bought!

Now, the rules are thusly:  Post the picture, thank the sender, then list seven (YIKES!) interesting facts about myself.  Now, I don’t know that there’s much left I haven’t shared about myself, but I’ll do my best:  Let’s talk about scars, shall we?  Chicks dig scars, right?

  1. I was never in a street gang, but I have in fact been “jumped out.”  For some reason, the twin girls who lived down the street from me growing up decided to celebrate my move from grade school to junior high (they were a little younger) by beating the fuck outta me with baseball bats.  Fortunately for me, they chose ALUMINUM bats, and the recoil time gave me room to run before they’d got more than a couple licks in.  Stupid bitches.  WOODEN bats are the way to go.
  2. No scars from that particular incident, but my lower back is a veritable palette of bad decisions.  First, there was the huge bite mark from my uncle’s miniature Shetland Pony (twice as mean as catshit, that little fucker was).  For some unknown reason, he decided to chase me down one day and bite the fuck outta my back — I sweartaGAWD, it felt like he hit spine!  This is the origin of my theory that miniaturized animals are proportionately meaner than full-sized ones.
  3. Once that healed, I somehow managed to get a Brown Recluse Spider to decide that my bedroom window was an excellent place to have her little spider babies.  Yes, I know we’re not supposed to have them here in Wes’BYGAWD, but believe me, we do.  As you may know, brown recluse venom makes your skin… kinda… melt…. yeah, it’s really gross.  Thank Goddess it was just the babies or my ass might have completely disappeared!
  4. And as a final insult, I had a wireless microphone battery pack pretty well catch fire with me wearing it… causing the finishing touches to, you guessed it, the small of my back.  I don’t need a tramp stamp, I EARNED this shit!
  5. But wait, there’s more:  I had to wear an eyepatch through part of kindergarten because I fell on my fool head and bashed myself in the eye on the edge of my Dear Sweet Grandparents’ (DSM’s folks) coffee table.  There’s still a little dent if you look close.
  6. Same kindergarten, I had a nosebleed so bad they had to cauterize (yes, burn) it shut… resulting in an enormous black booger THAT I WAS NOT ALLOWED TO PICK AT.  Dammit, I wanted to pick it!
  7. The latest really good ones are the ones I got when a horse threw me through a barbed wire fence — it wasn’t her fault, she was in heat and no one had thought to inform me of that — but they’ve almost faded off my shoulder.  I was the most badass girl at church camp after that, though.

So there’s my seven things you may not have known (or wanted to).  This particular award doesn’t come with pass-along directions, so I’m throwing it open to all of y’all:  What’s your best scar/wound story?


Filed under Getchore LEARN on!, I Rule You, La Vida Loca, The Royal Court, Youse Guys

As Seen… In the Garbage (Pt. 2)

Getting back to our regularly scheduled program, we were discussing the horrible crap I have bought off the TV because I can’t seem to stop myself.  Let’s run down the list, shall we?

Fuckin’ Eggies.  And we all know how that turned out

The Infamous Slap-Chop:  Interesting fact, when that extremely annoying dude on the commercial says it’s a great stress reliever, he has no comprehension of just how much stress I apparently have.  Yeah, I broke that fucker the first time I used it.

Red Devil Grill & Picnic Set:  This one I actually did end up sending back — because by the time I received my portable grill and folding picnic table, I had remembered an important fact.  That being, that I don’t go anywhere and I hate the outside.

Tae Bo:  Hurt myself. Duh.  Also did myself a damage trying to learn Celtic Dance from a VHS tape.

Real Minerals Makeup:  It does indeed give your skin a healthy “glow,” but that glow is orange.  Like Snooki-eating-Cheetos-orange.  Not a good look.

And my latest foray (no, I have NOT learned my lesson): Sift and Toss Cat Litter Liners.  I still maintain that this SHOULD work; it’s basically a disposable sieve that you put under the litter, then you just lift it up, sift, and toss.  Unfortunately, the Horde didn’t read the directions on the box.  They proceeded to dig up the sievey-part and fold the plastic liner into a kind of a tent… which they then peed on.  FAIL.

It hasn’t been all bad, I have had success with at least a couple of the ridiculous things I have wasted money on — stay tuned for that on Monday!

Also, be sure to check out the recent additions to the Royal Court!  Remember, YOUR name could be up there someday — ahnd may the ahds be evah in youwuh favuh!


Filed under Getchore LEARN on!, I'm Confused, Kittehs!, La Vida Loca, My Secret Shame(s), The Royal Court, WTF???, Youse Guys

We Interrupt This Important Message

As promised, I have plenty of other tales to relate of my strained relationship with “As Seen on TV” products… but Dear Sweet Mama reminded me of my very first foray into the world of retail lies… the 100 Little Dolls.

Imagine, if you will, Little Hoody (maybe 10 or so?), sitting in her room, reading her comic books.  Now, back in the day, the very back page of comic books was always a veritable cornucopia of crap you could get through the mail: X-ray Specs, Postage Stamps of the World, Cigar Loads, etc… and one day, 100 Little Dolls.

100… Little… Dolls…



“Can I have $14.95 for 100 Little Dolls?”

And so, despite DSM’s desperate attempts to convince me that “you get what you pay for,” and “if it sounds too good to be true, it usually is,” I diligently filled out the little card and sent in $14.95 (plus shipping and handling) of my hard-earned allowance money (and remember, this is back in the days when your allowance MIGHT get as high as $5 a week if you were especially useful and good) and sat down to await the arrival of my 100 Little Dolls.

Six to Eight Weeks Later…

A tiny box arrives on the porch, addressed to me.  It’s about the size of the box you would use to wrap a coffee mug as a present, so I’m perplexed.  What could it possibly be?  I haven’t ordered anything except my 100 Little Dolls, and the box is FAR too small to contain them!

It did.

My $15 worth of 100 Little Dolls was, in fact, 100 little plastic figures (like little green army men, but not as high-quality).  They were dressed in what I assume were meant to be “costumes of all nations,” but you couldn’t really tell, because they were all unpainted Dollar-Store-Barbie-doll pink.  AND while there were indeed 100, some of them were DOUBLES!  I’d been TRICKED!

That’s when DSM imparted to me the great P.T. Barnum’s theory regarding suckers and the rate at which they are born, and a family legend began.  Now, whenever one of us is considering an unwise purchase, all the other has to say is… “One HUN-dred Little Dolls…” and order is restored.

Still pissed about those dolls, though.

UPDATE:  There have been some additions to the Royal Court!  See, kids, dreams CAN come true!


Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, I'm Confused, My Secret Shame(s), The Royal Court, WTF???, Youse Guys

Dear Sweet Mama Lays Down the Law

As y’all know, Dear Sweet Mama has graciously been acting as my home health aide while I recuperate from my pancreas deciding to kill me (It’s okay, she’s a retired nurse, so MOST of what she says is not bullshit!).  Anyhoo, this resulted in her living in my apartment for the 2 weeks I was in the hospital, and now that I’m back home, I have seen the results.

The cats… are somewhat… BEHAVED.

Now, don’t get excited, they’re still bad mamma-jammas, but they have a healthy respect for Dear Sweet Mama’s authoritah that fair staggers the mind.  Like, they stay off the countertops when cooking is going on, they steal things A LOT less frequently, and they will actually let you eat your food before they demand some of it.

Callie Jean is the main holdout, though — she bit DSM through the finger when DSM tried to give her a pill, so she’s keeping up the good fight!  She may also have some residual anger that my no-fat nothing-good diet resulted in her not being able to eat her weight in Paula Deen ham this Thanksgiving — just wait until Christmas, CJ!

PS  There have been some promotions and/or title changes in the Royal Court, so be sure to check it out!  Also, keep fighting amongst yourselves for my favor… it amuses me.


Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, Calpurnia Jean, Kittehs!, La Vida Loca, The Royal Court, Youse Guys

Lookie There!

The Versatile Blogger Award!

You see what that is?  That’s my very very first blogger award from one of my very favorite bloggy babes, Tazer Warrior Princess!  What a great “Get Well Soon!” present!

So first (because I’m a terrible attention-whore), let’s see what the Heir Apparent had to say about ol’ Hoody:

“Hoody, of Hoodyhoo, is my sister from another mister. I swear we need to get the fuck out of each other’s heads. Her tales of Chuckweasel, Dear Sweet Mama, and the randimosities of life make me laugh every stinking time. Without rhyme or reason, Hoody delivers a zinger every time she deigns to post for us. For example, a line from her last post that had me howling: “All religions, everywhere, come down to one single Commandment: DON’T BE A DICK

Visit and see, and I dare you to tell me she’s not hilarious!”

Gosh, I don’t know what to say, I’m actually getting a little choked up here!  But the rules say I HAVE to say something — here they are:

Once awarded, the recipient must a) compose a short dedication to the person who awarded them the award, b) write a list for their readers detailing things about themselves their readers don’t know, and then c) pass the love forward to five.

Okay, first things first — Tazer is one of the funniest motherfuckers I know, in addition to being a serious menace with a spork!  She’s the daughter I never had the patience to raise, that’s why she’s the official Heir Apparent of Hoody’s Hooligans.

Number 2:  Hmmm… I don’t really keep a lot of secrets from you folks, but let’s see… Okay.  I have weird little holes in the side of my ears (like where the top of your ear connects to your head?) that seem to serve no purpose whatsover.  Dear Sweet Mama says they’re usually the sign of a terrible birth defect that kills you when you’re a baby, but so far as I know, I ain’t kilt.  My Poor Ol’ Dad has the same ears, and he ain’t been kilt for longer than I ain’t been kilt.  So I think we’re cool.

Also, I have a third nipple.  Yes, go get the kindling and a duck.

Now, onto the sharing the love part.  I can’t possibly name just 5 of y’all to honor on here, so we’re gonna shake it up a bit.  If you’re in the “Voices in My Head” list or if you comment fairly regularly, answer question #2 in the comments.  If you’ve made it to the Royal Court, you also have to give your job description and tell us all why you’re good at it (Court nobility WITHOUT a job title must present one for my approval).

Love and kisses, bitches!


PS — Any “Voices” looking to move up to the Court can present their qualifications in the comments… and any commenters and/or lurkers looking to become “Voices” can do the same!  It’s THUNDERDOME, y’all!


Filed under Aw, I Rule You, The Royal Court, Youse Guys