Posts Tagged ‘Honey Boo Boo Child Sister Jessica (“Chubbs”)’

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo Rewind: Celebrate 2 Billion Gangnam Style Hits With The Redneck Mashed-Up Classic.

Sunday, June 1st, 2014

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Trust me.

Dolla still make me holla.

But 2 billion youtube hits?  That’s Redneckulous.

That’s right.  Park Jae-sangPSY to all us hipsters…and his Gangnam Style dance anthem just crossed the 2 billion views mark.

You heard me.  Billion.  With a ‘B.  Like in ‘Boo Boo.’

Apparently, almost two years later everybody is still doing it Gangnam Style.

So what better excuse to bring back one of the best music video mash-ups evah for your viewing pleasure to celebrate the milestone.

The official Honey Boo Boo Style ReMix.

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You know I still love me some Toddlers & Tiaras.

I miss all that sparkly goodness more every day.  And I’m always up for anything that will help my milkshake bring all the boys to the yard, so to speak.

So naturally, adding some Go-Go Juice to my Gangnam seemed like the next logical step.

Cuz that s*** makes everything even better.

To congratulate Psy, let’s all enjoy another look at Honey Boo Boo Child going Gangnam in the ultimate Korean Redneck ReMix.

It’s like someone took everything inside my brain and made a music video.  Some of my favorite obsessions brilliantly mixed together until they’re smooth as buttah and ketchup.

And, surprisingly, even more tasty the second time they’re served.

It’s like Korean Sketti.  That you can dance to.

And you’re welcome.

Oppa Gangnam Style.

Y’all.

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Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: It’s Time To Jiggle Those Redneck Rolls And Vacuum That Chin. Let’s Get S’mages!

Sunday, August 25th, 2013

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It’s true. My Costco Milkshakes do bring all the boys to the yard. All of them except for that one guy who used to thin out my shrubs.

 

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That’s just nasty.

 

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Seriously. I have no idea what the hell they’re all talkin’ about, but I’ll bet it has something to do with biscuits again.

 

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I love June and the girls, but I dunno know if I love ‘em enough to fish my cufflinks out of a damn public toilet.

 

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Oh. My. Gawd. This is my life? I’ve never actually watched this show before.

 

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French tips ain’t just for glitz pageants anymore. Don’t be hatin’ on my Manly Mani, Bitches.

 

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Phthhhhhhfffffft….. That’s what I think.

 

 

 

 

It is what it is.

And it’s always sumthin.

It looks like somebody is finally trying to put the ‘L’ back in TLC, because so far this season Here Comes Honey Boo Boo has definitely been a learning experience.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve already seen, touched, heard, tasted and smelled more new things than I did in all four years of college.

And trust me…that’ saying something.  (Sorry, Mom.  I told you not to Google my site.)

Seriously.  I freakin’ love every single Boo in BooVille, but they are costing me an arm and a leg in eye drops and hand sanitizer.  Some things just can’t be unseen or hygienically wiped down, no matter how hard you rub your TV screen.

The Countdown to Commitment continued this week as Mama June and Sugar Bear‘s non-wedding grew closer.  The shiz was starting to get real.

While Mama ran (…ok…probably shuffled…) around the house making lists and cooking something with butter, Sugar Bear was outside on the front steps bonding with the girls.

As nice as it was to see Shugie show the love for his family, it was even nicer to see that Nugget the Chicken had finally made it outside and wasn’t rubbing his egg chute all over the kitchen counter again this week.

Don’t get me wrong.  I appreciate a well prepared omelet as much as the next guy, but when your living room couch doubles as a chicken coop…not so much.   On the other hand, it probably is a real timesaver to have your chicken already sitting in a pot when it’s time to leggo my eggo.

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The big question out on the porch was whether or not Sugar Bear would be wearing a fresh pair of tighty whities during the ceremony, or just stick with the undies he’s worn since Nixon resigned.

(Political history reference.  I told you this was a learning experience.)

I’m not sure I really want to know what’s going on down there inside his Carhartts, but whatever it is…he called it a Wedding Surprise.  Lightening Bolt Pumpkin even offered to go commando in a show of solidarity and then Baby Kaitlyn‘s little beanie popped right off her head.

It did.  Check it out.  She dropped her milk, too.

Since the stress of planning a non-wedding can really wear a girl out, everyone decided that they should all head to the park to burn off some steam and shovel down some freshly grilled hot dogs and sausages.

Nobody was allowed to mention the Commitment Ceremony or say the M Word for one afternoon.  This was their time to chillax, snarf down some snacks and watch Mama straddle a chain link fence.

Well…ok.  That last part probably wasn’t on the original itinerary, but when they got to the park and were faced with the barricade, June mounted it like a true Kardashian.

Wasn’t it Brooke Shields who once said that Nothing comes between Me and my discounted Oscar Mayer Wieners?

Bow Chicka Boo Boo.

As Mama set the picnic table with generic Chinet and watched Sugar Bear try to light 3 pounds of charcoal with a convenience store Bic, the older girls prepared for battle.

Because it was Ball Wars.  And it was on, bitches.

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Basically, the game pits two people against each other, each holding a giant inflated bouncy ball.  The goal is to run towards each other like that last scene in Braveheart, screaming some kind of Redneck WarCry until you collide, knock each other down and the balls going flying out into traffic.

If someone blacks out or cracks their head open…bonus points.  And more wieners for the winner.

The showdown was Anna vs. Pumpkin, which Sugar Bear compared to an 18 wheeler running over a 4 wheeler on black ice during a white out blizzard on the highway.

It’s pretty technical, but it’s basically a mathematical equation involving mass, force, velocity, speed and square footage based on cheese ball absorption.

Technical, but not pretty.

After Pumpkin spread Anna out on the turf like Nutella on day old white bread, she explained that her momentus was responsible for the win.

You heard me.  Momentus.  It’s Science.

(TLC.  Never stop learning.)

The next day, Mama was back to stressing out as the girls all took Sugar Bear on the hunt for a tuxedo.  Just because he was going to be wearing dirty undies on the inside didn’t mean that he couldn’t be pretty on the outside, right?

So it was off to the House of Hines to Experience the Elegance of Macon’s premiere destination for wedding and formal wear.  Where their customers are treated like royalty, their employees cater to your every need and their selection is second to none.

And their motto is “You Flush It, You Bought It.”

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What.  The…?

This place has been in business for over 47 years.  They are based out of a refurbished three story plantation house and have basically hogged all the tuxedo business in the middle of Georgia for the last four decades.

But they made Sugar Bear try on his tuxedo in the employee bathroom.  With the lid up.

What.  The…?

Forty seven years later and you haven’t figured out how to turn any of those Civil War Underground Railroad closets into a fitting room?  Really?

(History lesson.  You’re welcome.)

Let’s just say that if you have people trying on clothes in the bathroom, I don’t even want to know what the other guys are doing in the actual fitting rooms.

Somehow Sugar Bear managed to get his tuxedo on without clogging the neighbor’s septic tank and gave an impromptu fashion show for the girls, who all squealed in delight.

He thought he kind of looked like a secret agent guy, so we got to see him pose like he was squirrel huntin’ in a tux.  I’m pretty sure I even heard Adele singing that catchy new James Bond song from somewhere in the building.

She must have been in the other loo trying on Grammy gowns.  She’s British, you know.

Back home again, all the girls pig piled onto the bed and tried to brainstorm how to keep Mama from losing her nutty.  I love when they all plop down like a crime scene and put their feet in each other’s faces.  Because I’m klassy like dat.

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Alana suggested that they all get s’mages, which I thought was a fancier redneck version of s’mores that I had yet to experience.  But it turned out that what she meant was just going for massages.

Spa Day!

Hopefully the Posh Spot strip mall day spa had some specials on chin vacuuming and neck crust removal this week, because the girls totally threw all that nastiness in my face right before I blacked out.

The last thing I remember was a closeup of Mama’s rogue neck hair beckoning me into the moist darkness like some curly finger.  Then everything went black.

When I finally came to, Anna was asking Mama something about ladyscaping her overgrown naughty bits for the Commitment Ceremony and I made myself pass out again by holding my breath under a pillow.

I swear, these Boos are literally gonna be the death of me one day.  Literally.

Spa Day went exactly as you would imagine a Spa Day would go with this crowd.

Alana got her nails did, Mama got her meat tenderized and some poor salon sistah drew the short straw and had to touch Jessica’s feet.

As Mama paid the bill and they all left the salon, I swear I saw at least half a dozen guys in white HazMat suits going in through the back door with hoses.

Not to be outdone, while all the womenfolk were off getting shucked and plucked, Sugar Bear hit the barbershop for his own mini makeover.  A little trim, a quick shave and some deep fingernail excavation and he was gussied up real good and ready to go home and sit by his Burn Barrel.

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Because that’s where real men go to think and do stuff.

The Burn Barrel.

I don’t know what you actually burn in a Burn Barrel, but it was seriously torched up as Sugar Bear kicked back in his lawn chair and attempted to write down some vows for the upcoming ceremony.  He wanted to express his love for June and the girls and got that teary eyed look he always gets when he thinks about Family.

D’oh.  Love that scruffy guy.

Inside, real women don’t need a Burning Barrel.  They just need to be surrounded by the tranquility of 476 rolls of toilet paper and enough liquid detergent to flood the Astrodome to inspire their creative juices to start flowing.

As Sugar Bear scribbled down his thoughts in the backyard, Mama was in her Coupon Cave trying to do the same.

June was struggling a little bit, but Shugie had some help as Alana scooted up and gave him pointers on how an 8 year old puts their feelings into words.

From the mouths of babes, and all.

I mean, c’mon.  It shouldn’t be that difficult if you love someone, right?

Duh.

The Wisdom of Honey Boo Boo Child.

Redneckognize it.

And then go shoot some squirrels like a Boss.

Pull my finger, Goldfinger.

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Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: It’s The Countdown To Commitment. Big Girls Need Love…And Some Veggies…Too.

Sunday, August 18th, 2013

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Dat’s rite, haters. Big Girls wear lace-ups, sleep face up & take all your space up. Word to yo Mama.

 

 

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Eatin’ salads and veggies? Mr. Boo Boo Belly sez Ain’t Nobody Got Time For Dat. OhHellNo.

 

 

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Bitches can’t be this yummy without the Gummy. Honk if you love Big Girls, ‘kay?

 

 

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Whoa. Somebody better get on the horn and dial up the Commissioner, because something ain’t right down in that Batcave.

 

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Cabbage, ya nasty.

 

 

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Fried Food Force Field has been activated. Now none of that healthy stuff can ever harm us.

 

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Cuz I got so sick of everybody asking me about that damn baby’s thumbs that I just carry this stick around. That’s why.

 

 

 

Yowza.

Before we get started, let’s pause once again and give thanks that this was not another Watch ‘N Sniff episode.  Trust me on this one.

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo was back this week with even more redneckulous sensory overload, but luckily this time around we didn’t have to scratch along with People Magazine.

As a matter of fact, some of it we didn’t even get to see first hand and yet I still feel a little traumatized just from hearing about it.

Now you know I love me some Boo.  And all the Boos down in BooVille.  And I need to hang with all of them asap once I learn how to Doorknob on command.

(Safety.)

Love ‘em.  I just don’t need to smell ‘em every week, thank you very much.  I just don’t.

It was getting down to the wire for Mama June and Sugar Bear‘s non-wedding Commitment Ceremony, and the planning process was starting to stress out everyone involved.  Especially when it came to the guest list.

Always the extreme Coupon Queen, Mama was recycling old thank you notes and baby announcements into invitations for the upcoming ceremony.  It wasn’t really clear if that meant she was mailing unused Hallmarks from last Christmas or crossing out “thanks for the pawn shop blender” and regifting someone else’s actual handwritten note after scribbling over any personal stuff.  But either way it was going to be a long process.

Being legally blind certainly wasn’t speeding up the assembly line, either.  Nor were all of Mama’s wet Monster Sneeze seizures as she honked, wheezed and moistened every invite with enough microscopic tongue germs to get her put on that terrorist watch list for people who keep sending ricin envelopes to the White House.

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Cover your mouth, please.  I had to wipe down my screen twice.

Another big concern for the ceremony was facility-related.  As in…the facilities.

As in…where are 500+ people supposed to go when all those spicy wings and BBQ ribs finally kick in?  Casa Boo may pride itself on panoramic views of two converging train tracks and a room stocked with 475 rolls of Brawny paper towels, but it only comes with one bathroom.  Uno cuarto de baño.

And that probably ain’t good planning when you have half the tummy gurgling population of McIntyre, GA impatiently waiting in line to poo the loo redneck style.  So Mama needed to track down some porta-potties.  Stat.

Luckily, June knows her port-potties as she grilled Mr. Porta-Potty on the other end of the phone like they were at some kind of outdoor toilet trade show or something.

How tall are they?  How wide are they?  How many can you deliver?  Are they righties or lefties?  Has anyone ever drowned in one?  Do you do custom colors?

She even asked if there was a weight limit to the hole since the majority of her guests were going to arrive bearing both gifts and girth.

Yeah.  Just let that pants-around-your-ankle visual sink into your brain for a moment and then try to push one over the next time you’re at the County Fair.

Mama explained to those of us who are porta-potty challenged that the structure itself is basically just a 5 gallon bucket with a lid.  Good to know the next time I’m clutching an empty jumbo popcorn at the Multiplex and don’t want to miss any of the action.

Gross.  But thankfully, no Watch ‘N Sniff.

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Moving on to what I assumed would be lighter fare, Mama and the girls…and that little nugget of a baby…hit up the local bridal shop down at the Ingleside strip mall.  Even though it was not officially a wedding, the girls wanted June to have her once in a lifetime Say Yes To The Dress moment and try on a few gowns.  Just for laughs.

And scores.

Armed with what looked like a cross between Dancing With The Stars paddles and numerically ascending fly swatters, the four girls were set to judge each gown as Mama posed and scratched and broke into hives on the viewing platform.  Just like on the TLC show, but without the sassy ghetto bridesmaids going MmmHmmm and OhHellNo.

Little baby Kaitlyn did grab ahold of Chubb‘s hair so hard that I thought fo’ sho’ she was gonna yank out that bitch’s weave, so it was momentarily ghetto.  But not the real thing, unfortunately.

That extra thumb certainly gives you traction, though.  Damn, Girl.

Some other random woman was also there for all the hilarity, but I have no clue who she was or how she got to tag along, so I’m going to assume she won some contest and got to spend the whole day with the Boos just for “liking” them on Facebook or something.

I was totz jealz.

It should also be noted that Mama could save a lot of money on babysitting if she just sat Alana down in front of a mirror before she left for Bingo.  Seriously.  You put Honey Boo Boo Child in front of a mirror and you could leave the country for a week’s vacation and the girl would never know.  Werk that reflection, Girl.

The first dress scored a 2 on the paddle vote, mostly due to a lace-up back that made June look like a trussed up holiday ham served with a side of no underwear.

Yeah.  No undies.  None.  Which she inadvertently flashed to the viewing table as she lumbered off the platform.  After regaining her sight, Pumpkin pointed out to all of America that she had just seen her mother’s BatCave.

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Hey.  If you can sub-title this shiz, you can certainly scroll some kind of warning across the bottom of the screen before exposing all of Gotham City’s secrets.  There’s a reason they never wanted The Joker to see it.  He’s already gone insane once.

Thanks to TLC, I can no longer stick my head inside a jumbo popcorn pail or watch Adam West slide down a pole and disappear into the darkness without trippin’.

That’s two things you’ve already ruined this week.

The second gown was supposed to make Mama look like Kate Middleton and scored a low ball 3, only because the numbers didn’t go any higher.  Not good.

Finally, the last gown came in with a top score, but it was still too fluffy and too prissy and too virginally white.  So no dress was chosen after all that, and the only things that really came out of the whole afternoon together was a lifetime of memories and at least one week before Kaitlyn and I would be able to blink again.

Back home,  it was becoming clear that nobody was going to fit into any dress if they all continued their current dietary habits.

As the girls traded greasy hot fries, chips and gummy worms back and forth with the kind of speed and expertise that up until now had only been seen on CNN’s early morning stock exchange reports, Mama realized that it might be time to sneak some vegetables into their eating routine.

She even went so far as to actually buy some vegetables.  And cut them up for soup.

I know, right?  Craziness.

And again, thank you for no Watch ‘N Sniff as Mama whipped up a crock of cabbage soup.  The girls were horrified that anything healthy had been allowed to cross the threshold of Casa Boo and refused to participate in something that might actually be good for them.

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Especially if it smelled like butt.

Butt inside of wet gym shorts, that is.  That butt.

Needless to say, the laboratory experiment went completely awry and had to be cut short when Pumpkin spit the soup back out and Mama moved faster than I’d ever seen her move towards the indoor potty to recycle some cabbage.

We’re going to have to rethink this whole vegetable thing.

After dance class, of course.

That’s right.  Dance class.

A class that teaches you how to dance.

Mama and Shugie were going to learn how to dance.  Or at least Sugar Bear was going to learn, because June claimed to already know how to bust a move or two.

Newsflash:  Big girls got rhythm.  Just ask any gay guy.

Before hitting up the studio, Mama even demonstrated those mad dancing skills in the living room.  Or at least I think that’s what all that was about as she and Shugie spanked and motorboated in a circle while Alana threw up gangsta deuce fingers.

Dolla Still Make Me Holla At You.

At the studio it was clear that June’s trust issues were second only to Sugar Bear’s awesomely awful T-Rex shuffle.  Evidently, they don’t have a lot of the old Chalk Miner socials down at the Elks Lodge anymore.

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If you’ve ever watched Young Frankenstein, let me just say “Putting on the Ritz.”

If you’ve never watched it, you need to.

Or at least Google it.

And then imagine the monster with a top hat, bum pancreas and juicy dip stuck in his teeth.  That’s our Shugie.

But don’t worry, dude.  People will remember your good heart, not the fact that you dance like you’re waiting for novocaine to wear off.

As the Commitment Ceremony crept closer, Sugar Bear still wasn’t feeling the rhythm or any sense of urgency.  None.

And it was starting to drive Mama completely NutWad.

The back yard was a mess.  The front yard was a mess and needed to be picked up and mowed before it got completely recovered in porta-potties.

Plus there was trash everywhere.  And broken down redneck stuff all over the place.

The Christmas icicle lights could probably stay on the gutters, but all the other crap had to go.  Now.

Or maybe later, after a quick nap.

Dang.  Who knew dancing was such hard work?

And the countdown continues…

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