Tag Archives: Springer!

Gimme a “W”

Finally got time to watch the new season premiere of “Jersey Shore” (DON’T JUDGE ME!) and Oh. Mah. GAWD.

Snooki, honey?  Your friend Ryder is NOT your friend, she’s the world’s biggest whore.  She allegedly comes to visit YOU, but always finds time to fuck at least one of your friends?  Girl, you aren’t her friend, you’re her PIMP.  Make that bitch slip you a hundo.

I’m not saying, in my own misspent youth, that I didn’t occasionally bang the friends-of-friends… or, okay, the boyfriends-of-friends… and yeah, occasionally, the friends-of-boyfriends (that’s what you get when you invite me up then get drunk and pass out, pussy!).  But SERIOUSLY?  That girl is her very own disease-cluster!  She’s the Kevin Bacon of STD’s!

Little sisters, remember — BOYS. TALK.  Like on “JS” where they were all asking each other if they had their MetroCard (because, like the bus, everybody gets to Ryder, get it?).  Y’all don’t want to be THAT girl, you can’t afford the ointment.

And also — when the girls were all chatting in the ladies’ room and the Scary Titty one made them turn on the water so people wouldn’t hear her pee?  Baby girl, we SAW you pee a couple seasons ago!  In the FLOOR.  At a BAR.  I think we can hear a little tinkle without losing our shit!



Filed under I'm Confused, La Vida Loca, My Secret Shame(s), Weep for Humanity, WTF???

The Talking Cure, Pt. 2

Good news, I’m not crazy!  Well, not BAD crazy, just regular.  The therapist lady said “mild” depression and anxiety, so the Prozac and the Xanax should be fine.  Also, I actually enjoyed talking to her — the only other therapist type I ever talked to before was when I was a kid, and she just jumped to the “your parents are divorced, that’s why you’re depressed!” diagnosis without even LISTENING to me.  This one seems a LOT better.

I promise a longer post on Monday… when PEOPLE COME BACK TO FUCKING WORK!

Love, HH


Filed under La Vida Loca, Random Thoughts, White Man's Medicine

You Can Pick Your Nose…

or whatever that saying is… I generally stop listening to any conversation that involves boogers.  Anyhoo, we all know it — The Saga That Is the Family Vacation.  Allow me to set out our cast of characters:

HoodyHoo:  Our intrepid heroine

Dear Sweet Mama:  Best supporting actress as long as she plays her cards right

Dear Sweet Mama’s Concubine:  Unfortunately raised by wolves (i.e., above the Mason-Dixon line), she is guaranteed to piss off at least one of us G.R.I.T.S. (Girls Raised in the South) through simple cultural misunderstanding.  Examples:  Tarzan, Jodie Foster as “Nell,” Mowgli the Jungle Boy.

East Coast Aunt:  As opposed to West Coast Aunt, who lives in Oregon, ECA lives in Charlotte along with her husband, my cousin and his wife, and the cousins’ 2 kids.  This is generally considered proof that she is dangerously insane.

East Coast Aunt’s Backup:  ECA’s best friend who travels everywhere with her… probably because she is in charge of the tranquilizer darts.

Cousin’s Wife:  She is either the smartest person I know, having convinced ECA to take over a majority of her childcare duties… or she’s on A LOT of Xanax.

Tiny Second Cousin (C2) :  6-years-old and raised in the longstanding Hoo Family tradition that children should be treated like small adults until they prove otherwise (and terribly spoiled by ECA, as grandmothers are wont to do), all one can really say is… she runnin’ this bitch.

Detailed incident reports to follow… but for now, a brief plot synopsis:

Hoody annoys the Concubine, the Concubine annoys East Coast Aunt (usually by not showing proper worshipful attitude toward Tiny Second Cousin) and C2 annoys EVERYBODY, generally by being six years old.  Hoody finds this hilarious, because C2 is not Hoody’s actual responsibility, so the cycle resumes again by Hoody annoying the Concubine in the hopes of deflecting her attention onto ECA by way of C2.

Now, some ground rules in case you ever find yourself tricked into invited on one of these excursions:

1.  Always volunteer to take out the trash.  This guarantees you will be able to get away from the drama AT LEAST once a day.  If you go with me, you can be my assistant and we can bitch about everyone else.

2.  Start drinking beer (or weak liquor) no later than 11:30am.  You’re not after drunk here, you’re looking for a steady intake that will allow you to view the madness from a comfrtable fuzziness.

3.  Kick in the hard liquor just before or during dinner.  It’s about to get worse.

4.  Your cousin’s wife for some reason becomes your responsibility when he is not present.  She wants onion dip and chocolate sauce, and you will get these for her despite the fact that she trapped you into sharing a room with ECA’s Backup who snores like a lumberjack.  Refrain from gluing the legholes in Cousin’s Wife’s underwear together… you’re bigger than that, Hoody.

5.  Being sweet to Tiny Second Cousin costs you nothing… but pays big dividends when you’re the only one who can get her to do what she’s told.

BONUS:  The beer-before-liquor rule?  Is BULLSHIT.

BONUS BONUS:  When you finally do snap (and you will), remember:  Yelling does no good unless you say your piece and WALK AWAY.  If you stay there, the yell-ee is guaranteed to say something ELSE that will force you to yell some more.

More to come, same Batshit Time, same Batshit Channel!


Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, Just Call Me Beavis, La Vida Loca, On the Road Again, WTF???

To Each His Own…

… to a point. 

Now, I’m all for living and letting live, and do what thou will an ye harm none, and do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and all that.  But some people?  Are WEIRD. 

I was watching a marathon of “Taboo” on the National Geographic Channel (Toldja, total geek) and there are some crazy damn white people out there.  I say white people, because you very seldom see any African American or Hispanic crazy people on these shows — I’m not saying they don’t have them, they just keep theirs hid a lot better.  And while you do see Asians, they’re usually Japanese, and Japan’s entire culture is vaguely pornographic and… sticky… so that doesn’t count.

There’s the lady who can’t have a real baby so she makes creepy life-like looking dolls… and CARRIES THEM AROUND TOWN WITH HER.  Like, you’re sitting at the Denny’s eating your Grand Slam, and you see this creepy-looking baby at the next table… who’s not moving… or blinking… or breathingOHMYGODTHATWOMANISEATINGWITHADEADBABY!

Then there’s the “Adult Baby” dude — yes, he’s a grown ass man who sleeps in a crib and wears a diaper, but it’s not a sex thing!  No, it’s not!  It’s a stress reliever… I guess to relieve the stress of being such a fucking wackjob.

Basically, I will fight for your right to “do you” as they say on “Jersey Shore,” but could you please do it in your house where other people don’t have to know about it?  In the words of Queen Victoria, “You’re scaring the motherfucking horses.”

Now some updates:

The rheumatologist went well, she’s doing more bloodwork to determine just how fucked I am.  And apparently my hips are what’s causing the problems in my knees — when she pushed on my knees it was just unpleasant, but when she pushed on my hips I like to decked her one.  She’s got me on an antiinflammatory called Mobic right now, we’ll see how it flies.

The kittens are settling in a little more… Mina actually got brave enough to tap Callie Jean on the nose last time CJ hissed at her!  Then she ran away, of course.  I think the babies really want to play with Callie, but she’s still confused by mice that talk!

Dear Sweet Mama is out west taking care of her ailing sister again… and Chuckweasel’s mama AND daddy are in the hospital, so send all the good vibes you got! 

Love and kisses, HH


Filed under Calpurnia Jean, I'm Confused, Kittehs!, My Secret Shame(s), Random Thoughts, Weep for Humanity, White Man's Medicine, WTF???

Tales of Woe… um, Wee

You know “Jersey Shore” is getting even more fucked-up when the Trollkin-Weeble hybrid getting arrested is NOT the most white-trash part of the episode!  The Scary-Titty One PEED in the FLOOR?  SERIOUSLY???

(BTW, I do know their names, I just think my names for them are better)

WHAT THE HELL, MAN?  I mean, I have peed in a lot of places — as a small child, I was forever embarrassing Dear Sweet Mama by walking into a business and announcing, “Hey, I’ve peed here!”  What can I say, I’m a fan of the public restroom, yo.  And back in my “drankin'” days — you know, as opposed to “drinking” which is concerned with being social, whereas “drankin'” is entirely based on quantity… anyhoo, one time back in college when I had gotten my “drank” on, I did indeed pee in a Bob Evans parking lot (in my defense, it was located between the bar and my car and EVERYTHING WAS CLOSED, MAN! I had no choice!).  I will even admit, one time after I fell in the creek while canoeing and my jeans got too wet and shrinky to get off… I may have indeed peed the jeans (I was probably CWI — Canoeing While Intoxicated — which is really the only way to avoid the great black-hole of suck that canoeing entails).

But STILL?  In the FLOOR??? OF THE BAR??? Seriously, Scary-Titty-Girl, somebody has to clean that up!

Oh, wait.  You sprayed it with seltzer.  Yeah, that makes it fine.


Filed under I'm Confused, La Vida Loca, My Secret Shame(s), Random Thoughts, Weep for Humanity, WTF???

Sympathy for NO ONE!

I know you’ve all been sitting there, all of you, thinking “I wonder, oh how I wonder, is HoodyHoo watching that new ‘My Secret Addiction’ show?”  Rest assured, my darlings.  Of course she is.  And here is what she thinks so far:

As we all know, I am hideously filled with snot and unable to function, so I thought I’d make myself feel better by laughing at the trials and tribulations of others (like ya do).  So I went to the trusty old DVR and pulled up the latest episodes of “My Secret Addiction.”  They were “Hair-Eating Girl and Strongman Dude” and “Tasty Detergent Chick and Too Many Shoes Ho.”  So, by the numbers:

1) Hair-Eating Girl:  Sheee-yit.  Damn, girl, you crazy AND gross.  You’re like the human-being version of Arby’s.

2) Strongman Dude:  I don’t know if going to a lot of weightlifting competitions makes you an addict or just a douche.  I’m leaning towards douche, though, and you can’t be addicted to being a douche.  And you keep getting hurt, but you still keep doing it, so you’re a STUPID douche.  Fucking address that.

3) Detergent Chick:  Seriously?  You’re eating Tide?  And now you don’t understand why your family and friends want you to stop?  I hate to tell you, this may be Darwin’s problem…

4)  Shoe Ho:  Oh, you stupid, stupid girl.  I was all up on your side and shit, making excuses for you TALKING TO YOUR SHOES with your cute little Hispanic accent… and you totally fucking blew it when you kept making a big point out of the fact that you wear a size 5.  Fuck you, you tiny-footed tramp.  Your shoes called and told me they hate you.

So yeah, I’m watching the hell out of this show, of course I am.  It falls into the category of “Shit That Makes Me Look Normal” and we all know there ain’t a lot of that!  I spent the rest of the evening watching “Intervention” and a bunch of hoarding shows — I especially like it when they swear and cuss at the people trying to help them in true white-trash fashion!

Now, some updates:

Callie Jean:  Still farty.

Chuckweasel:  Still fired.

Dear Sweet Mama:  Still insane… and jealous of my steak sandwich!

Redneck Hillfolk Neighbors:  Still jobless.

My Own Self:  Still snotty and nauseous, but feeling better thanks to the judicious application of a steak sandwich and a plate of fried mushrooms with honey mustard sauce… all washed down with Dramamine and ginger ale.  Also, have learned about myself that prison bitches are kiiiiiiinda hot… and I wanna be on “Beyond Scared Straight” so I can yell at teenagers.  That seems like a good perk.

That’s all for now, my darlings.  Back to making trombone noises with my nostrils! (Sexy, no?).


Filed under My Secret Shame(s), Random Thoughts, Weep for Humanity, WTF???

It Might Be a Good Idea If…

1.  …my computer was blocked from accessing WebMD.

2.  …someone set my cable controls to block “1000 Ways to Die,” “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” and all the shows about weird diseases and parasites and how you can get them and not know it til they kill you… yeah, I shouldn’t be allowed to see that.

3.  …the neighbors pitched in to buy soundproofing for my apartment so they could stop hearing me yell “You stupid whore!” at the girls who don’t know they’re pregnant and “That’s why I stay the fuck home!” at the people who get weird foreign parasites.

Actually, I might make a good reality show myself… what with all the yelling at the TV and weird cleaning behavior.  At least other crazy people could watch me and feel a little better about themselves… kind of like I do with the weird parasite people.

Also, should I feel bad about myself that I will immediately watch any show about strange medical conditions/addictions/what-have-you?  Isn’t this just as sick as going to a freak show at the carnival?  But at least these freaks are presumably getting paid in money to be on the TV, not like the old days when they got paid in live chickens or something…

I really should have gone to sleep yesterday instead of watching TV all night.



Filed under La Vida Loca, My Secret Shame(s), Random Thoughts, Reality Bites, Weep for Humanity