Not gonna lie. I can smell my own breath now and it’s kinda making me hungry.
What the hell? I’m pretty sure Eden Wood isn’t sitting outside hawking Solo cups in the hot sun. I’m Honey Boo Boo Child, bitches.
I know! How about a free roll of Brawny with every glass of lemonade? Unless we get more than 847 customers… Then we’re screwed.
I’m always kind of at a loss right after every episode of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.
It’s not a bad thing. It’s more like that awkward first few moments after you break up with someone and you don’t know what you’re supposed to do next.
Now you know I love me some Boo Boo. Nothing but love.
That’s been well documented over the years. I Redneckishly own that one.
But despite my lifetime charter membership in the Honey Boo Boo Child Fan Club, I still find myself wandering aimlessly in circles around the living room trying to figure out my next move as soon as I turn off the plasma.
I mean, really. Do I wash my hands, take an antacid, open another bag of cheese balls, sterilize the remote, clean up all the soda I spilled during one of my giggle fits, pinch myself to prove it wasn’t all a dream or just have someone pull my finger and call it a night?
I never know.
Tonight, just to be safe, I checked off everything on the list because the show was that Cray Cray.
After the first of numerous near train derailments off to the left side of that wobbly garage (…which we now know storm by like clockwork every 10-15 minutes, thank you Anderson Cooper…) Mama June was trying to gather up all the Boo Boo Girls for a shopping trip.
Naturally, being a city slicker, I assumed that meant they would all grab their cells and their lip gloss and head to the Mall for an afternoon at Abercrombie and that place with the monster cinnamon rolls that you can smell all the way down in the JCPenney wing.
But no.
Who knew they only lived 100 feet from the Flash Foods Convenience Store?
Literally.
Google Maps actually shows a train track, a garage, a house, some year-round Christmas icicle lights, crap in the yard, the other train track, a 25mph road and then a convenience store. All in one corner of a screen shot that doesn’t even require any scrolling. That’s how close everything is to Casa Boo Boo.
You don’t need a coat. Hell, you don’t even need shoes if you’re Pumpkin.
Since we learned a little later in this same episode that Pumpkin doesn’t know how to spell the word “lemonade,” it kind of goes without saying that she probably isn’t any better at sounding out “No Shoes, No Service.”
That quickly became evident as she barreled her way into the 7-11 knock-off with all ten toes slapping the linoleum like Planet of the Apes when they all broke out of that zoo.
Run by Manager/Aspiring Hip Hop Krunker Donta, the store even came complete with a lightening bolt superhero logo and a co-worker who I believe was somehow related to Queen Latifah.
I pretty much grew to love the show even more…Right. About. Now.
Whereas most managers would see them coming across the parking lot and either hit the under-counter panic alarm or lock up early, Snoop Donta Donta welcomed the gang with open arms. He even liked to call Pumpkin’s shoeless style her ‘Bamm Bamm look.’
Like the Flintstones in that episode where they paid a Board of Health fine for not wrapping their feet in wooly mammoth skin before touching open food.
That Bamm Bamm.
As Alana terrorized the store like a low-rent Kardashian, trying on every pair of sunglasses on the spinner, Queen Latifah’s cousin commented on how…umm…how different the Boo Boo Girls were, and how they certainly kept things interesting.
Donta loved them, too. They were unique. Like his Teef.
Big smile. Big gold Flava Flav grill.
That’s right. McIntyre, Georgia. 2010 Census Population: 650.
And at least one of them has gold teeth.
It was definitely right around this point that I grew to love the show even more. I remember now.
After scooping up a few bags of junk food, the girls made the trek back home and then it was time for Alana‘s Date Night with Sugar Bear.
As the entire world wide web has discussed at one point or another, part of the Boo Boo Charm is the fact that they really all love each other and that…well…they’re real.
Since Dad Shugie works seven days a week plowing fields and harvesting chalk (…is anyone ever going tell me how they actually do this?…) he doesn’t get to spend enough time with his daughters. Both the real one(s) and the almost real ones.
So Date Night was a big deal for both Alana and Sugar Bear.
Hearing him recall how Alana had taken his breath away when he first saw her as a baby did give me a slight fuzzy. And luckily he didn’t spit a juicy wad of chew back up into that bottle he has on the dashboard and ruin the mood.
It was Destination: Fun Factory for Dad and Daughter, which was pretty much a Dave & Buster’s knock-off where you could roller-skate, slide, swing, eat and pinball yourself into a prize ticket seizure.
Alana was in Heaven.
Since neither of them are at risk of being drafted onto the Olympic skating team anytime soon, they both needed a little help on the rink. After finally figuring out which foot got which disco roller-skate, Shugie and Alana wobbled out onto the slick floor grasping their training crutches.
Made out of Home Depot PVC piping, the contraptions were basically right angle bumper guards like you’d see in hotels to prevent the Help from plowing laundry carts into the wall as they take sharp turns while texting in a foreign language on the cellphones that they’re not supposed to be carrying in the first place.
But these had little wheels. Like nursing home walkers with axels.
A few face plants and butt plops later, Alana scored a giant inflatable cartoon Thor hammer and they went home like conquering heroes. Best. Day. Ever.
Bonk!
Now I don’t know if there’s a slow gas leak in the house, or it’s related to diesel train emissions, but for whatever reason the oldest girls have the worst time keeping their eyes open during daylight hours.
When they’re not eating, they’re rubbing their eyes or yawning and barely have the strength to break the seal on a fresh jug of cheese balls.
Add to that the seemingly never ending expectant Teen Mom energy drain, and Chickadee was almost catatonic as they all laid around the house discussing child birth.
It has always been pretty clear that Chickadee has no idea what is about to happen to her lady parts in a few weeks. Now I’m really starting to wonder if she even knows how she ended up in this predicament in the first place.
To put it into perspective, Dr. Alana explained that Baby Kaitlyn was getting ready to come out of Chickadee’s Moon Pie. I immediately swore off Moon Pies.
And Whoopie Pies, just to be safe.
Mama June then explained that some Moms uncontrollably Ooooo themselves during childbirth. I immediately crossed “home birthing” off my Bucket List, since witnessing a pocket pig squeeze one out on the dining room table almost did me in last time.
By the time Dr. Alana assumed that you pull both the baby and your biscuit out during delivery, it was clear that nobody in the room actually had a freakin’ clue what was about to go down in Georgia.
So for a distraction, it was time to play “Guess Who’s Breath?”
Trust me. You don’t need to read the rules. The title is the rule.
The next time you’re struggling to keep your guests entertained, simply blindfold them and shoot a blast of yesterday’s warm cheese breath into their open mouth and nose holes and then let the hilarity ensue.
You just need to Hulu that scene, because I can’t do it justice.
Picture that Monday morning when you opened your school locker only to discover that you had left your egg salad sandwich inside a paper bag all weekend. And your locker faces the window. And it’s Springtime.
It was like that. Except somebody ate it and then put their tongue waaaay too close to your front teeth.
There was actually so much hilarity ensuing that before they knew it, Chickadee left a little unintentional wet spot on the that gigantic furniture outlet microfiber couch.
Literally. A spot. And it was wet.
It would have been nice if someone had told June that the game was over before she mauled the animal markings and took a quick hit off her finger tips.
And you wonder why I walk in circles after the show is over. Love. Them.
The rest of the show was all drinkin’ and sellin’ and eatin’.
To raise some additional funds to support Alana’s glitz addiction, the Boo Boos all decided to set up an old skool lemonade stand. Since Alana had outgrown both her cupcake dress and her old hair, this was going to be an expensive venture the next time the pageant bus rolled through town. So every penny counted.
After scribbling out some poster board signing that reminded me of hotel picket lines when half the Help has been fired for laundry cart texting and the front desk guys refuse to pitch in and pick up the slack, June showed Alana how to concoct the ultimate, perfectly toxic Go-Go-Lemonade.
Five pounds of sugar. Five. And then some lemon juice. And then some more sugar.
I know, right?
At 50 cents a cup, it’s definitely cheaper than the street value for pure crack but easily just as addictive. So it was game on for the lemonade stand.
After a whole bunch of screaming and traffic stopping, they made $25 and basically paid for about five pounds of sugar and some lemon juice.
But it was quality time.
To celebrate the unexpected cash flow and a slow Roadkill Season, June whipped up a special treat for everyone.
It was Sketti Night! Which is like Prince Spaghetti Night.
But it’s not. It’s Sketti Night.
Sketti and Butter and Ketchup Night, actually.
It was DIY sauce time as June showed Alana the secret family recipe for seasoning sketti and clogging arteries. Butter and Ketchup. Nuked.
As whacked out as it may sound to some of you, there are actually hardcore Italian restaurants who serve the creation. For real. More people have heard of the recipe than you would imagine. Half of them have probably had at least one surgery to insert a stent, but still…the recipe is popular. And sometimes arteries just clear themselves, right?
Keeping up with those Italian tradition, June and Alana flung wet pasta at the cabinets to see if the meal was done. Stick it and you can lick it.
(That’s what she said. Booyeah!)
Something told me that this was not the first time that the Boo Boo kitchen had witnessed flying food. I just had a feeling.
As of late, the dining room table seems to be reserved for craft projects and pig poo, because the Boo Boo Clan believes in eating their meals in whatever spot their butt happens to land. Being a proud couch eater myself, I bow to their mastery of the craft.
There were plates and food and messes from corner to corner. I’d hazard a guess and say that roughly 60% of Alana’s meal didn’t even make it into her mouth, which prompted June to admit that she isn’t exactly known around town as the Mom who forces proper etiquette on her children.
You think?
But that’s why I love the Boo Boos.
Any family who knows how to have that much fun is ok in my book.
So wash down that nasty Moon Pie with some leftover SugarBuzz lemonade and we’ll see you next time, mmmkay?
Pull my finger.
