Posts Tagged ‘Honey Boo Boo Child Sister Lauryn (“Pumpkin”)’

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo Badger: It Takes A Lot Of Cheese Balls & Mud Facials To Be Queen. Alana Don’t Care In This Redneckulous Video Mash-Up.

Friday, September 7th, 2012

 

**UPDATE 9/16/12…Sorry, kids.  It was fun while it lasted.  

The Honey Boo Boo Badger video was yanked by the original Honey Badger due to copyright drama.  Wondered how long it would stay online.  Hope you got a chance to see it before it was removed from Internet Land, because it was a hoot.  

I guess nobody likes to share their toys anymore.  Sorry for getting you all excited for nuthin’.

Just because it’s a slow news day in Reality World doesn’t mean we can’t sneak in a little more Honey Boo Boo Child, right? Because we all know that there’s no such thing as too much smack talkin’, mud boggin’ and cheese ball hoggin’, ya’ll.

Got quite a few requests for the wide-screen version of this bad boy.  And according to Mama June, bigger is always better.

So here you go, kids.

Hyper Vocal just took the best of Alana Thompson and Randall’s Honey Badger and mashed them up fluffier than a southern BBQ potato salad sandwich.

Definitely not work-friendly (…and probably not exceptionally kid-friendly now that you mention it…) but if you love the Boo Boo and the Badger as much as I do, then it’s truly your lucky day.

And if you don’t?  Well, none of us give a s*** anyway.

Enjoy.

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: Umm. News Flash. That Ain’t Her Real Hair. That Shh! It’s A Wig! Lick Your Fingers And Rub Your Belly…It’s Rib Night!

Thursday, September 6th, 2012

 

 

Hell, yeah my family likes to eat. Pixie Stix are for pussies. Gimme some meat.

 

 

 

 

 

The Redneck Prophecy has been fulfilled. If you BBQ it, fry it or just leave it sitting around…they will come.

 

 

 

 

 

Now we know what happens to glitz pigs who don’t pull for a higher title.

 

 

 

 

 

Umm. Yeah. That’s what she said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then more ribs. But instead of forks, can we get more potato salad?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yabba Dabba Boo.

 

 

 

 

Seriously.

How can you not love this family?

We’re already seven episodes into Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, and if you’re still reading this mess I’m going to assume that you’re also in love with them or have way too much time on your hands.

Mama June, toothy Sugar Bear and the whole Boo Boo Clan have captivated the known universe and, like it or not, are here to stay.  They ain’t going anywhere, especially considering that Shugie works 7 days a week at that mystery chalk plantation and Alana has another pageant coming up soon.

Plus they all have way too much on their (dinner) plate right now, so to speak.

They’re here.  They eat deer.  Get used to it.

And all those haters out there who claim this show should come with some kind of warning?  Wrong.

This show should come with Wet-Naps.  The original moist towelette.

There was more food flying through the air and juice leaking out of stuff this week than an Iron Chef weekend marathon.  (“The Secret Ingredient is…..Road Kill!”)

Half way into the episode I literally had to mist my plasma with Windex just to cut down the grease before it congealed.

Them Boo Boos do like to eat.  Redneck Style.  They fully admit it, and this time around they proudly showed off all their culinary warrior skills like a Badge of Honor.

Honestly, it was almost an art form.  Or a food fight.  I couldn’t decide.  But it was one of those two, for sure.  Maybe even both.

But before the gravy train rolled into the backyard station (…I think I finally just figured out the cargo inside all those Amtrak box cars skimming the side of their house every hour…) everyone tried to maintain focus on Alana’s upcoming pageant needs.

After recently realizing that Honey Boo Boo had outgrown her previous pageant dress due in part to Costco cheese balls and genetics, it now seemed that she had also outgrown her little wiglet.  Bigger dresses and bigger heads meant bigger wigs, so the Boo Boos all headed down to Shh! It’s A Wig! to check out the inventory.

Say that name three times really fast and then you’ll discover the hilarity.

(What happens when someone digests too much hair?  Answer: _________!)

After you compose yourself, please do step inside the fine establishment for even more hilarity, because it was a sight to behold.

How, or why, a place like that even existed in Boo Boo Land is beyond me.

If Alana’s family is even a slightly accurate representation of Southern Wildlife, I have no idea what anyone would need with a joint like S***’s A Big Weave in their neighborhood.

Even though it’s a town or two over, I don’t think the Kuntry Stoe considers it big competition.  I’m also fairly certain that any place specializing in wigs that are plopped every which way but straight on styrofoam heads decorated with scented magic marker eyeballs is probably not going to be loaded into Beyoncé‘s GPS.  So I have no clue what was up widdat.

It was part salon, part wig store, part iParty and part RuPaul’s Drag U Lab.  And just getting there was apparently a lot of effort for the Shlep Sister Trio.

Still maintaining their constant state of lethargy, Chubbs, Chickadee and Pumpkin rubbed their eyes, scratched their stuff and sleep walked all the way into the building before crashing in a heap.

Pumpkin sat back and chewed whatever that thing is that’s always in her chompin’ mouth (…is it gum or wha–?…) while Chickadee held a water bottle up to her head like a stranded soldier in the Iraqi desert.  Being the only girl to ever experience pregnancy in the summer months was apparently taking its toll on her, as well as potentially setting her up for the Best Supporting Actress in a Drama Category.

But at least the two of them made it into a chair.  Chubbs was laid out on the floor like a bad mall Glamour Shot while everyone tried to work around, up and over her.

Wig Worker Claudia Marabel, who looked like she had accidentally gotten off that Amtrak at the wrong station on her way to VH1 and didn’t have a ticket back out, was a little horrified by the whole process.  Girlfriend was a awkwardly speechless here and there, and had that nervous sideways mouth thing going on that meant she was totally holding back a really big “Those Crackers Are Craaaay!” but was trying to play nice on television.

All the Boo Boos got in on the game and tried on every wig in the place.  June even worked it in a long, blonde hooker number that got Shugie so horned up he felt the need to let us all know that he was thinking about jumping some bones right there on the floor next to the Chubb rug.

It must have been Role Play night back home, because Sugar Bear either left the place wearing a scruffy mullet wig or they somehow made friends inside with one of the motorcycle lesbians from the front of the Pride Parade.  But I think it was Shugie.  And he looked gosh darn happy to be alive.

Turned out Sugar Bear wasn’t the only thing overheating this week.  The Georgia temperatures were also hitting record high levels, and that was making for some very uncomfortable family members.

June explained that her voluptuousness was not enjoying the current heat wave and by the time she finished completely and descriptively explaining why, I almost gave myself hysterical blindness.

There were only a few weeks left before school and pageant season, so the family really wanted to spend as much time together as possible, but having your naughty bits stick to vinyl beach chairs probably wasn’t what anyone had in mind.

Thankfully, Sugar Bear came to the rescue and brought home one of those big wobbly above ground plastic pools that come all crammed up inside a cardboard box.  Everyone was excited until they realized that they would have to help participate in the actual assembly process.  Just the thought sent June into the shade to restick her naughty bits while the Shlep Sisters grabbed some pvc piping and worked on their acceptance speeches.

Drama, I tell you.  Hot.  Drama.

Part of what makes this show real and, dare I say it, slightly charming at times is the fact that little Alana is still just little Alana.  Her mega celebrity status hasn’t fully registered yet, so at the heart of it all she is still just a kid.  Granted, a kid who does pageants and eats food that the police find on the side of the road.  But still a kid.

A kid who likes to play and get sassy and splash around her new pool like it’s Shark Week.

Hope she had fun, because they all broke the freakin’ water hose seal within the first two hours.  The thing is probably flat and empty by the time you get around to reading this.

Watching Sugar Bear put together the pool really worked up everyone’s appetite, so next they all headed to the local BBQ shack for some ribs.  And some chicken.  And some potatoes.  And some more ribs.

Basically, anything that the kitchen had on the grill came out to the table, conveyor belt style.  Here’s my credit card.  When it’s maxxed out, dinner’s over.

To make the ordering process easier, they pretty much just ordered everything on the menu in no particular sequence.  Gah.  Love them.

The waitresses then dumped the snacks and ran in much the same way you might dump chum into the water when you’re trying to catch a Great White.  You dangle the bait, but you want to be careful you don’t lose a finger.  Because it happens.

I’d love to see a statistical breakdown of how much food actually makes it into their mouths when the Boo Boos eat, because there was a whole lot of face paint at that table.

I would also have liked to have seen one of those CNN tickers running across the bottom of my screen with the quantity and calorie stats rolling out in real time.  That would have been a hoot.

Just like when she was in the wobbly pool, little Alana was just little Alana again and spent the entire evening face down in her plate.  She made potato salad sandwiches and gnawed on ribs like she had just gotten out of prison while everyone grabbed every scrap they could find off each other’s plate when no one was looking.

Some of the dishes coming from the kitchen were piled so high they were gravity defying.  The Boo Boos definitely got their money’s worth, even without any of June’s coupons.

There was even a brief table discussion on why June wouldn’t marry Father Figure Shugie and just make all this dysfunction legit, but it was short lived as Pumpkin and Chubbs decided to unleash their rib-filled tummy rumbles and began tooting on each other.  For realz.

Pthffffft.

Remind me to skip that joint on my Rib Tour 2012.

Back home, after experiencing Pumpkin and Chubbs gastric plumbing, we got to experience the lack thereof in the Boo Boo home.

Who knew that the kitchen sink drained directly into a big plastic pail?  A pail that they have to drudge out the back door every time it gets full.

No pipes = no clogs, I guess, considering that all the woman folk wash their hair in the same spot where they clean and tenderize raw meat.  Personally, I might have held off on the pool until i capped off that gaping hole in the bottom of my sink, but that’s just me.

Or maybe even skipped the weekly 87 rolls of Brawny just once and swung by Home Depot for an elbow joint instead.  But again…

Now that everyone’s hair was squeaky clean and you could see clear down into the bottom of the pail, it was time to go back to Crazy Tony‘s and do some more mud boggin’ and 4 wheelin’.

And shopping.  At the Redneck Department Store.  At the Wilkinson County Dump Mall.

Yeah.  Dumpster Diving, baby.  Hold my feet, I’m going in.

I guess it’s the place to be…and be seen…around town.

All I know is that seeing one of the Shlep Sisters rolled up in a dirty mattress that Tony found in the dumpster kind of skeeved me out.

I mean, who’s gonna want that thing now that it’s covered with cheese ball dust?  What a waste of a perfectly good Sealy.

Mama found a Rowenta iron that they brought home to…I dunno…iron with…even though I’ve never seen any of them wear anything besides cotton t-shirts.

It must be for Alana’s new dress.  Or making waffles.

Finally, it was time to celebrate the Fourth of July like a true Redneck.  Down at the Lake, frying both your skin and your lunch until it’s crispy.

After a little beach time where Mama got to model her Redneck Air Conditioner (…a wet towel wrapped around her head like a fortune teller…) and Shugie got to sit there sweating in his denims jeans (…so as not to risk his pasty white legs causing a Single Ladies flash mob…) everyone got to enjoy the evening’s celebrations.

For the third time this week, little Alana got to be little Alana and showed us all the wonderment of a child watching fireworks with food on their face.

She Oooo’d (…the good kind…not the pig poo kind…) and Aaaahh’d at all the colors and sounds and proclaimed it was the best day ever!!

It was awesome, Mama.

Pthffffft.

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: Put On Your Blue Suede Shoes So You Don’t Stub Your Forklift Toe. It’s Time For Elvis And A Bunch Of Water Wedgies.

Thursday, August 30th, 2012

 

 

I feel like a chunky lemon. And Pamela Anderson, if she had no boobs and a poop in a can tan.

 

 

 

 

 

Not gonna lie. This wedgie probably ain’t coming out until the Holidays.

 

 

 

 

 

Smoochie is one hunka hunka burning redneck love, bitches. You might wanna step aside so you don’t catch on fi-yah.

 

 

 

 

Pardon me. Have you seen a forklift toe sock float by in the last couple of minutes? It has fancy polish on it.

 

 

 

 

If you squint, it kinda looks like a scene from Baywatch.

 

 

 

 

Pull up a chair, pull down your wedgie and let’s get this party started.

America’s most Redneckognizable Redneck family was back for another round of jaw dropping hilarity this week, and they certainly didn’t disappoint.

Love ’em or hate ’em,  Here Comes Honey Boo always delivers.  You can’t deny them that.  And this time around it was no different.

In fact, the only thing Alana and her backyard garage entourage didn’t deliver was a Teen Mom baby, though they tried their darndest to make that one happen as well.  But as the directions on a tube of Pillsbury Crescents clearly state…the biscuits are ready when the biscuits are ready.  And not a minute sooner, or you risk one collapsing after you remove the goods from the oven.

After last week’s soap opera cliffhanger, which left 17 year old Chickadee and Mom June squealing off in an ambulance following the world’s most dramatic false labor contractions television has ever seen (…sorry, Rachel Zoe.  You and your OMG I’m literally dying SuperBaby just lost that crown…) we met up with the gang at the hospital.

Chickadee, who apparently had skipped every filmstrip ever shown in every Health class during her entire school career, seemed to have almost no idea what to expect when it was time to pop out some baby.  And 34 weeks into the process was probably not the time to figure out that sooner or later that thing has to come out of somewhere.

I’d like to personally give a shout-out to Oprah Winfrey and that sling swing thing she was dangling from all those years ago that made her Va Jay Jay tingle, because ever since that fateful day you can’t discuss anything that goes on down there without hearing that catch phrase.  Or thinking of Gail King’s face.  Just saying.

As lethargic and drooly as Chickadee is on a normal day after waking up at noon, multiply that by about a bazillion and then medicate it.  Girlfriend was stoned.

When the doctor sent her home to relax her Oprah stuff under strict bed rest, I wondered how that would actually differ from the day before she had gone to the hospital.  Maybe bed rest is different than her couch rest?  I’m not really sure.  I should Google it, but that seems like a lot of effort right now.

Nice enough girl.  But we’ve never really seen her do anything except snarf down cheese balls now that you mention it.  And Chickadee is definitely not going to be remembered on her tombstone for being a spitfire, or any help around the house at all, for that matter.

Remember, she was the one who milked the pregnancy card during her family’s Christmas in July celebration and had to beach it on the Santa La-Z-Boy because untangling extension cords got her winded.

Originally I assumed that she may have had something to do with why those icicle lights are still hanging up there on the gutter, but I have a pretty good feeling they’ve been there longer than 34 weeks so I’m not going to blame that one on Chickadee.  Squeaked by on that one, honey.

After a grainy, wobbly hand-held home video ride back to Casa Boo, which totally reminded me of some crazy farmhand version of The Blair Witch Project by the way, they tucked stoner Chickadee into bed and covered her head to toe with a blanket.

For a second it reminded me of a pig in a blanket, which made me think of Glitzy and I got sad.  I miss that little thing and it’s only been a week.

Then it just reminded me of a pig in a blanket again.  I think Chickadee figured that if she cut off the entire air supply to the baby it would try to crawl out faster and then this whole thing would finally be over and she could get back to the couch.  The TV is way bigger out there.

Again…stay in school kids.  The More You Know.

While Chickadee was wrapped in her quilted shroud, it was time for the other Boo Boo Girls to have one last final weigh-in.  It was the end of their weight loss challenge and the law of averages had to allow for at least one person in the building to drop a pound, right?

First up was Pumpkin, who I believe actually invented the Five Second Rule.

Needless to say, she gained 6 pounds, which I also believe is the opposite of what you should do during a weight loss challenge.

I’ll say it since no one else will.  If that girl could only absorb water as fast as she absorbs calories, FEMA could airlift her down to New Orleans and drop her behind one of the levees.

Problem solved, Mr. President.

Chubbs lost a few pounds, but clearly not enough to warrant a call to the folks at Guinness.

Mom lost 1.6 pounds, which unfortunately was probably just the Timex she forgot to put on that day, but I’ll give her credit for trying.  At this rate we’ll inhabit Mars before she has to actually buy new pants, but I never give anyone grief if they are trying.  So you go, girl.

You go to the Water Park, is where you go.

As a treat for losing a combined something around 8 pounds,  June treated them all to Splash in the Boro, which I thought was a gay bar outside of New York City but turned out to only be a water slide joint. Which was good considering that everyone is under age.

Alana was quite excited to hit the park, even though it was going to be overflowing with the now infamous Vajiggle Jaggle and wedgies for miles.  I’m thinking Splash probably doesn’t mention either of those in their Summer Coupon Books press releases.

First stop was Lazy River, which was deemed to be the absolute favorite of lazy a** fat people everywhere.  That’s probably not in the Book, either.

You basically just stick your junk in a blue inner tube and and bumper car boink your way down a sloooowly moving stream like you’re on a wet Krispy Kreme conveyor belt.

(And seriously…how good are those donuts if you get there right when they come out of the oven?  Just shut up.)

Since nobody likes dragging the pool for a drowning pageant princess, Alana was strapped into a yellow life jacket just in case she took a dump off her tube.  On the other hand, I don’t believe that June’s inner tube was intentionally planned as an emergency floatation device, but since she got herself completely stuck inside it and could not pull it off without the help of at least three people, she should have felt pretty safe in the water.

I love that lady.  Big and loud and proud.  And you know she totally used some half-price coupon to get into the park that she peeled off one of her 186 cans of condensed milk.

Am I wrong?

Once the Jaws of Life were called in to pry the blue Krispy Kreme off June’s face, she headed up to the Water Slide.  Watching two scrawny lifeguard types try and lift with their knees and figure out how to get June onto the butt pillow was worth a full price admission to the park.  Screw the coupon.

She knew it wasn’t gonna be pretty and took it all in stride.  And in straddle, as she got a little personal with her inflated friend.

After tweaking a sciatic nerve, the boys finally shoved June down the shoot.  It’s too late to do the math, but I’m sure if some scientist out there with time to kill wants to figure out the velocity x volume ratio….well, let’s just say my girl was close to breaking the sound barrier as she hydroplaned down the yellow winding path.

That probably also explains why she sounded like a car alarm as she flew down the slide.  That was the oddest half laugh/half scream/half hiccup I’ve ever heard at any amusement park.  Ever.

And yes…I know that three halves are impossible.

Just because I can’t do velocity x volume doesn’t mean I don’t own a calculator.  There’s one on my phone.  Der.

After June splash landed at the bottom and park security located the two boys thrown from the pool during the storm surge, the Boo Boo Girls tried to bully Mom into doing the Monster Slide.  That’s the one that is half a mile up in the sky where you spend more time getting to the top than enjoying the water part of the process.

June wasn’t playing that game.  No thank you.

But the girls weren’t taking NO for an answer and unless Mom was going to climb 786 stairs for 5 seconds of slide time, they were going to require something else as collateral.

It was the toe.  Or nothing.

That’s right.  The infamous, never before seen Forklift Toe.

The one that was somehow mangled in a tragic forklift accident at some random warehouse many years ago.  It’s the thing of legends, I tell you.  Everyone in town knows about it, but no one has seen it.

Even her own children haven’t been able to penetrate the protective, nail polished athletic sock barrier to see if the toe is as gnarly as Mom claims.

Answer:  No, it’s not.  It’s worse.

After finally caving in to pressure, June slowly revealed the whacked out big toe as the park’s muzac system played some kind of dramatic theme from Jaws remix.

It was pretty gross.  And somehow, the split second she unleashed that raw meat, it was completely covered in gnats.

Gnats.

How is that even possible?  No gnat can get from point A to point B that quickly unless they were already in the sock, which….eewww.  Gross.

Since everything after a gnarly, gnat covered toe would seem anti-climactic, all the Boos headed home to focus on Alana’s upcoming practice pageant.

Fist up was the spray tan, courtesy of either Krylon or that company that makes Thanksgiving gravy.  It was runny and nasty as it drooled down her little pork belly.

Poop In Can, she called it.  Get Madison Avenue on the phone.

The Rock Star Pageant this week was a smaller, test run kind of deal for the Big Dawg Glitz event coming up next month.  Since Alana had been MIA from pageants for a little bit while she played in the mud and outgrew her cupcake dress, June felt it would be good to try out a smaller venue and get feedback for improvement before hitting the circuit hard.

As you’ll recall, Amanda Carter and her chunky skunk striped ‘do had been working with Alana down at the Deevas Dance Studio to create a new Elvis routine.  This would be the first time that Alana would be performing it live, without the assist of Amanda and that brown lipstick on her teeth.  (Honey, please.  Hit the Mall and get your colors done.  Not being mean…just trying to help.)

But first was the Beauty portion, and the unveiling of Alana’s new dress.  Which made me think of the matching tiny version that they had requested for that gay pig, and I got sad again.  Wonder what ever happened to that mini me dress?

Jennifer, who ever that was, was trussing up the back of Alana’s dress like that Giada chick does on the Food Network while June and Honey Boo Boo tried to get in the zone.  The skirt part fell off as soon as Alana started to walk, so they may want to find the directions before they actually throw out the box.

Since we all spent too much time having fun at the water park, we only got about 3 minutes of actual pageant love.

Alana nailed her Beauty walk, despite June bellowing out “Work it, Smoochie!” so loudly it could be heard outside in the parking lot.  If you’ll recall the first time we ever met June back in the Toddlers & Tiaras days (…“Show them yo’ belly, Smoochie!”…) the woman does love to keep it movin’ behind the judges’  table.  I’m all for supportive Pageant Moms, but it tends to distract the kids, and in June’s case probably raises the room temperature a notch or two.

The Elvis routine came complete with a mic stand, electric guitar and that white rhinestone studded outfit he always wore right when he was starting to get fat.  She rocked it.

At the end of the day, Alana took home Queen in her age division, but not the Megatron Ultra Transformer crown.  She was happy, but still a little bummed.  The poor kid still hasn’t taken home the mother load.

But again, she’s got her own show, bitches.

She didn’t lose any of her sass though, even when that big crazy lady in the lobby told them to work on eye contact.

So off they went with a new crown, a sash, some toys and homework for the next pageant.

And probably a lingering wedgie.

Sheeeooot.  Elvis has left the building.


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