Category Archives: Youse Guys

I Rule You

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

onelovelyblog

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…

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

I Am a Liar

It’s not my fault, but I must admit:  I lied to the entire state of New Jersey.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

You see, I went to work yesterday, under orders from The Bosses to lead with weather – even though, as they admitted themselves, it “wasn’t going to be a big deal.”  The National Weather Service was advising “little precipitation, snow changing to rain by afternoon.”

Then this happened.

IMG_20131208_160053_535

Mother. Fucker.

So basically, I told an ENTIRE STATE full of easily-terrified senior citizens that there was nothing to fear… when I should have been issuing a bread-and-milk alert.  Credibility.  I hazn’t got it.

Allow me to once again reiterate for those of you who have not been following along in class:  I AM NOT A METEOROLOGIST.  I was once a “weather girl” very briefly, but that was basically tits-and-ass with a blue screen.  I HAVE NO DOCUMENTED SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE OF THIS SUBJECT.

This is why, when I worked at the TV station, I used to rail and fight so hard AGAINST leading with weather (ask Gilbert, he was present for many of the Attempted Firings of Hoody that resulted from my stand on the subject).  Weather is NOT my business, and I prefer to leave the lying to the professionals.

Thanks for listening to my rant.  I love you fuckers.

HH

P.S.  And don’t worry about me during this unexpected Snowpocalypse.  I have my trusty survival tool:

IMG_20131208_164545_091

Yeah, BUDDY!

6 Comments

Filed under Gilbert, Reality Bites, SCIENCE!, Weep for Humanity, WTF???, Youse Guys, ZOMBIES!!!

Canna Hoody Getta Ho?

(Yeah, I know it’s been awhile, but I’m back now, bitches!  I can’t promise posts every day just yet, but how about we go for 3 times a week and see how she flies?  You know I love all y’all!)

Catching up with Almost Human, and I can’t believe – of all the euphemisms for “android you have sex with,” they use “sex-bot,” “bang-bot,” and “sexual-this-and-that-android” — but they DON’T use “ho-bot?”  COME ON!!! “Ho-bot” is PERFECT!

Maybe you can’t say “ho” on network TV… although one a’them FLDS ho’s said “bitch” on TLC…

Anyhoo, it got me thinking (always dangerous), so I present:

THE ABC’S OF AI

A:  I got nothing.

B:  Bo-bot – drives the General Lee (General Lee sold separately)

C:  Co-bot – works only in pairs

D:  Doh!-bot – Homer Simpson android

E:  Still nothing.

F:  Foe-bot – helps you learn combat skills

G:  Go-bot – duh, an obnoxious Transformers knockoff

H:  Ho-bot – we covered this

I:  Nothing.  Vowels are hard, yo.

J:  Joe-bot – brings you coffee

K:  KO-bot – brings you a Coke (look it up)

L:  Lo-bot – smaller than usual

M:   Mo-bot – pokes you in the eyes and calls you a numbskull

N:  No-bot – acts like your wife OR:  No-No-bot – rips out all your hair

O:  Oh-OOOOH-bot – an homage to Sam Kinnison (RIP)

P:  Po-bot – a homeless android

Q:  Quo-bot – keeps things the same

R:  Row-bot – works in Venice

S:  Sew-bot – Mends your clothes OR: So-So-bot – not really the best available version

T:  Tow-bot – works for the traffic cops

U:  We’re back to nothing.

V:  V.O.-bot – narrator android, possibly sounds like Morgan Freeman

W:  WHOA!-bot – very surprising android

X:  XO-bot – gives you hugs and kisses (cheaper but less satisfying than the ho-bot)

Y:  Yo!-bot – Sylvester Stallone android OR: Yo-Yo-bot – plays the cello

Z:  Best I can do is the Zoe-bot, which is a smokin’-hot African American android that can kick your ass and knows Nathan Fillion

Your turn, Hooligans – fill in the vowels for me or add your own!

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Filed under GENIUS!, Random Thoughts, WTF???, Youse Guys

Money for Nothin’

And if you’re not singing the Dire Straits song right now, I don’t know if we can still be friends… although that song uses the word “faggot” and I try not to use hurtful words like “faggot”… you motherfuckers…

So if you’ve been keeping up with the rest of the class, you’ll remember that Hoody is currently a wicked drain on your tax dollars unemployed.  But I can’t find me no job, and here’s why — everything I wanna be just won’t work.  Let’s examine our choices, shall we?

1.  Pirate

DUH, of course I wanna be a pirate, of the Captain Jack Sparrow variety, not the Somali kind (which is good, ’cause I’m not Somalian).  On the plus side — I have my own swords and I have no problem with holding knives in my teeth.  Also, I like rum and hush puppies, which according to this placemat I got from a seafood restaurant is all pirates eat.  I even know all the words to the Jimmy Buffett song about being a pirate.  But you know there’s gotta be some…

CONS

A.  As previously mentioned, not Somalian, which is really the only type of pirate you hear about nowadays.

B.  Startup costs appear to be pretty fucking high.  Apparently I would need a pirate ship, some poofy pants, and at least 2 or 3 “scurvy dogs” to act as crew, and that’s the bare minimum.  And I can’t get an estimate on a ship because the Chris-Craft guy had my number blocked, the scurvy dog.  I know where you live, Eugene.

2.  Dian Fossey for Squirrels

Dear Sweet Mama;s neighborhood has A LOT of squirrels, so I figured this one would be a cinch.  I started out by naming all the squirrels:  Too Fat, Gretzky (who knocks the other squirrels over), Tebow (who is most often the victim of the knocking over), Lucky (who has a bald patch on his tail where he got away from some other critter), and Other One.  Then I realized it was not to be, all because of one insurmountable

CON

A.  I have no tail.  And it seems that more than half of squirrel communication (Squirrelese) involves twitching or shaking the tail.  So I could not communicate with my subjects, making the experiment invalid (and earning me the name “Enormous Retarded Hairless Squirrel Who Gives Us Nuts”).

3.  Stephen King

Yeah, that job’s already taken.  Scurvy dog.

So I’m open to y’all’s suggestions as to how I should get off my lazy ass become a productive member of society.  But remember my handicaps:  Not Somalian, got no money, got no tail, and am not Stephen King.  Go from there.

 

 

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Filed under Random Thoughts, Wild Kingdom, WTF???, Youse Guys

Just In Case

Although a very dear friend in Singapore tells me it’s End of the World Day there already and… well, they’re still there, there are also people saying the Mayan ‘Pocolypse isn’t scheduled until around 6:20 am EST… So, in case we all die, I leave you with some wisdom.  ‘Cause I’m all like Yoda n’ shit.

1.  Dear Sweet Mama and I have half-assedly made up through our own stupidity DISCOVERED a brand new word.

“Alacricity” <Ah-lah-KRISS-uh-tee>. Noun.  1.  The instant of intense pain and shock you feel when your Crocs completely acceptable shoes (for douchebags) set off the static electricity while you are fondling price tags at TJ Maxx trying to cure cancer.  2.  The exact moment at which a food becomes manky (i.e., unfit to eat).  Example:  “I threw out those glazed donuts due to the alacricity of their icing.”

2.  When I first moved in with DSM and The Concubine, I pissed and moaned expressed my concern over their habit of leaving the blinds open during the day, due to my own habit of being without pants.  DSM said I would “get used to it.”  I have not, but I presume the neighbors have “gotten used to” not looking in this direction.

3.  I am considering making the infamous Broccoli Stuff to take to our friends’ house for Christmas dinner.  My conundrum is this:  Given the potentially-deadly nature of Broccoli Stuff, is giving it to other people an act of friendship or an offense outlawed by the Geneva Convention?  Discuss.

Love to y’all, and if the End Times ARE upon us, remember, the new East Coast rally point is Joisey!

HH

16 Comments

Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, GENIUS!, Getchore LEARN on!, I'm Confused, Random Thoughts, Things I Don't Know, Youse Guys

Drink Your Juice and Tip Your Stylist

AAAAARGH, so I’m back from Hospital Part Deux, and I have to sincerely thank all of you for worrying about me so much!  Plus, I know you’re just dying to know what I did to my fool self this time.  So here ’tis:

Friday before last (May 4) , I went to get my hairs cut in preparation for going to a Kentucky Derby Party with the lovely and talented Cinema Sugar (who seems to have deleted her blog for some reason and can expect an ass-kicking).  Anyhoo, the little hair gal had just washed my hair and I was sitting in the chair chit-chatting… when I started to get that feeling… that feeling that I was gonna pass out…

Now, I am very familiar with that feeling, since as a child I would faint at the drop of a… well, a small child.  Everything got fuzzy and far away, there was a roaring in my ears, and when I tried to say something to the stylist, I couldn’t talk.  Next thing I remember, she and Chuckweasel were standing over me (still in the chair, thank goodness!) discussing whether or not they should call 911.

Yes, Hooligans.  I had my very own Steel Magnolias moment.

So, Shelby drank her juice and all was as well as one can expect.  I went home with my partial haircut and promised to eat something to steady out my blood sugar (no, I’m not diabetic, but I do drop like a rock if you let me get too hungry).  Next day, still feeling shitty, but less clammy and sweaty, so I continued to eat even though I wasn’t hungry because I didn’t want to faint again.

AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I EAT.

By Tuesday night, the pancreas was fucking KILLING me, so I made Chuckweasel take me to the ER Wednesday morning.  The pain wasn’t EXACTLY the same as before, and I didn’t want to be that asshole who ignores the symptoms of a heart attack until she just keels over flat dead.

Fun Fact:  excruciating chest pain gets you back to be seen at the ER in nothing flat!

So I spent Wednesday night, all of Thursday and Friday morning  in the hospital, having every test known to man to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me.  I didn’t care what they did, as long as the morphine kept a-comin’.

Final decision — heart and lungs are fine, brain is fine (HA!), but pancreas is very angry.  So I have yet another kind of pill I have to take when I eat, and the rest of it is pretty much a low-fat-low-salt-no-booze diet plus pain management (which is an important part that was MISSING from their previous plans, tyvm!).

So, in the words of the Great Sage Granny Weatherwax, “I aten’t dead.”  Get your filthy paws off my stuff.

PS:  Part 2 of this post tomorrow — in which I will reveal a little known facet of the haircutting industry!

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Filed under Chuckweasel, Getchore LEARN on!, La Vida Loca, Reality Bites, White Man's Medicine, Youse Guys

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