Tag Archives: C’est Vrai You Suck

Twilight Zone

So, here’s the Mike Sorrentino, Hooligans:


Dear Sweet Mama:  Hey, Hoody, could you get my clothes out of the dryer?

Hoody:  Sure, no problem.  Are they dry now?

DSM:  Yeah.


Hoody is folding clothes.  DSM walks by.

DSM:  You don’t have to fold them!

HH:  Of course I do, that’s part of “getting them out of the dryer.”  It’s no biggie.


The Concubine walks past the door, sees Hoody folding clothes.

TC:  I had things in there!

HH:  Yeah, I know, I was just folding –

TC:  Are they dry?  Okay.

The Concubine then proceeds to gather up the clothes Hoody has not yet folded, and storm off into her bedroom.


Seriously, bitch?  I’m not allowed to FOLD YOUR CLOTHES??? Get the fuck over yourself, hon.  It’s called doing you a favor.  And don’t look now, I also switched your wet clothes from the washer to the dryer.  Yeah, I’m such a cunt like that.

Okay, kids:  Discuss.




Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, C'est Vrai You Suck, I'm Confused, La Vida Loca, Reality Bites, WTF???

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

Mystery Solved!

As we have previously discussed, Chuckweasel talks weird.  Of course, HE says I’M the one who talks weird, but I think we all know who’s right, don’t we?  And now I have PROOF — because I know WHY!

We DJ’d a Winter Formal for Chuckweasel’s old high school this weekend, and they did that hokey thing where they announce each couple as they come in.  You know, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Hoody Hoo and Mister Chuck Weasel.”  Which I hate, for one thing, ’cause I was always the nerdy girl without a date, and for two, because if you’re going to do the announcing yourself, WHY DID YOU HIRE DJ’S???  But I digress.

Anyhoo, the lady they had doing the announcing was Chuckweasel’s old English teacher.  And at first I thought our wireless mic was fucked up, because I couldn’t understand a damn thing she said.  Then Chuckweasel informed me:





Yes, Hooligans, one of the people responsible for the way Chuckweasel talks… can’t talk right.  Thank GAWD she was his HIGH SCHOOL English teacher, so at least he’d had some training before she got her lisping hands on him!  Only in Wes’BYGAWD Virginny does this shit happen — I wonder if his gym teacher was a paraplegic?

This weekend also taught us that high school children know very well that the words to the CeeLo Green song are not really “Forget You,” because even when you play the clean version they still sing the dirty version and give their mean-ass assistant principal a coronary. (We thought it was funny, and seriously, my own position is I’d rather they said it than did it!)  I was also witness to the largest single incidence of “Cotton Eye Joe” that I have ever seen in my life — which to me is proof the lil’ bassurds snuck in liquor!

And on a completely unrelated note, my latest inappropriate TV crush is the fae detective on “Lost Girl” (the white one, not the black one, ’cause I think the black one is a satyr and they’re hell on the carpets).  Here’s the inappropriate part:  I really only think he’s cute when he’s doing the “supernatural creature gonna eat your face off” snarl.  So, we’re up to a Viking vampire, a snarky midget, and now a faery cop.  Chuckweasel can rest easy!


Filed under C'est Vrai You Suck, Chuckweasel, He's the DJ I'm the Rapper, My Secret Shame(s), Only in Wes' BYGAWD Virginny, Twu Wuuv, WTF???

Again With This?

Okay, so it turns out there are STILL MORE words that I do not pronounce to Chuckweasel’s satisfaction… so, another installment of C’est Vrai, You Suck.

 The word in question is “house.”  Specifically, the plural form.

POSITION ONE:   You pronounce the “s” in “house,” therefore you should also pronounce the “s” in “houses.”

POSITION TWO:  The “s” becomes a “z” sound when you add another ending.  It’s the “How-zing” Authority, not the “How-SING” Authority.  Unless you’re being German or just plain difficult.

This all started because we were driving to the World’s Most Awesome Pizza Lunch Buffet place which happens to be just down the street from where I grew up.  And Chuckweasel says to me “should I take this exit or get off at Montrose?” AND PRONOUNCES THE “S” LIKE AN “S” INSTEAD OF A “Z!”  So I said, “Get off here, but what did you just say?  It’s Mont-ROHZ, like a ‘z.'”  Did I mention that I grew up in this town?  But he still wants to argue with me about it.  I think I finally shut him down by pointing out that you do not buy a dozen “roh-ses,” you buy “roh-ZEZ,” but that’s when he started on the house thing, so it’s a Pyrrhic victory at best. 

Gotta go now, my radio station appears to be giving away a 50 dollar gift certificate for mayonaisse and you just can’t make that shit up!


Filed under C'est Vrai You Suck, I'm Confused, WTF???

C’est Vrai, You Suck

First off, a tip o’ the mouse to Marinka for getting this whole idea started with her always-hilarious “I’m Right, You’re Wrong!” — without which we never would have thought of turning conflict mediation over to the vagaries of blog comments.  And now, for our first dilemma…

THE SITUATION: Here’s roughly what happened (identifying details omitted):  Someone called to complain and got all motherfucker at Chuckweasel, so Chuckweasel got all motherfucker back.  Fast forward a few hours later, the phone rings, Chuckweasel is fired.

POSITION THE FIRST: You don’t have to take that kind of crap and you should stand up for yourself.

POSITION THE SECOND: Sometimes you have to eat a little shit so you will still be able to afford to eat other things.

So, what do you think?  Dear Sweet Mama and Chuckweasel are, of course, disqualified from playing since I already know what they think (because I told them!).  We’ll break down the results later.


Filed under C'est Vrai You Suck, La Vida Loca, Reality Bites