Oh, hey Girlfriend. Yeah. We’re all like totally eating at the RoadSide Cafe and then coming home for some Paula Deen hot butter facials.
My Daddy always said that if you’re gonna let your pork hang out in broad daylight, at least make sure it’s clean.
Say the word, and it’s done. Just tell me where and when. Cup-a-Fart or the Scoop-o-Poop. What’s it gonna be?
Smellin’ good like I’m from da hood. Can you handle it? I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly. Or cheese ball belly.
One time I inhaled so much of this s*** that I swear I saw a live rooster dancing in my own damn living room. True story.
Relax, ladies. At only 80 calories and Og trans fat per serving, we shouldn’t feel guilty about getting it on our biscuits…or the cabinets.
Seriously. Could they make these damn numbers any smaller? And what’s that on front of the glass? I don’t even remember eating that. For realz.
What the…l?
Do you smell that? What is that?
Somebody check the ‘fridge. I think something might have gone bad.
It almost smells like Number Two.
Definitely not Number One. Maybe Five, though. Or a bad case of Number Three.
Or maybe it’s just the return of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: Watch ‘N Sniff Edition.
That’s right. Alana, Coupon Queen Mama June and the rest of Georgia’s Finest are all back for another season of hoots and toots, and it all kicked off this week with a potpourri of poo and stew that you could literally smell from across the room.
Thanks to somebody out there in TLC Land who wanted to finally stick something inside a People Magazine that didn’t smell like Kim Kardashian in the hot sun, Honey Boo Boo’s Season Two premiere was a Watch ‘N Sniff event.
Which meant that you had to either fork over $3.99 for the fold-out card, or wait for someone to block a Walgreen’s security camera with their umbrella and then rip it out with your bare hands on a rainy day.
Just kidding. Don’t steal, kids. And stay in school. Because stealing is bad.
That, and the fact that the freakin’ thing was sealed up so tight inside the magazine that there was no way to get it out without going to jail. I guess we can all rest assured knowing that both cockroaches and Honey Boo Boo cards will survive the Apocalypse.
So, yeah. I got my card, but now I also know way more than I wanted to about Matthew Perry’s Life As An Addict.
Stay in school. Don’t steal. And don’t star in an NBC sitcom if you can’t even take an ibuprofen without trippin’. You heard it here first.
But anyway. Boo is back. And I love me some Boo.
So life is good. And loud. And still pretty dirty.
We started right out of the gate with the loud part, as Mama June layed a smack down on her girls.
Nobody had done any of their assigned chores since we saw them last season, mostly due to the distractions of their blinged-out cell phones and the fact that they are basically straight up lazy a** girls, and Mama wasn’t havin’ it no more.
Pumpkin still couldn’t figure out how to use a vacuum, Alana still didn’t feel like cleaning her room, Jessica (…who apparently doesn’t respond to her old nickname “Chubbs” anymore…) still thought that taking a shower counted as a chore and Anna still had a cute but clearly dazed baby with eleven fingers.
(Scratch: New Baby Smell.)
So not much had changed since we all hung out last year.
Except for maybe that live rooster chillin’ out on the top of a full basket of laundry. He was new. And probably rabid. WTF, people? There’s a rooster in yo’ damn house.
Fed up with the whole thing (…and instead of…I don’t know…maybe putting the rooster back in the coop?…) Mama snatched all their cell phones in a fat-slapping, pig pile of an attack and tossed everyone’s electronics into a gigantic empty cheese ball bucket which, conveniently enough, just happened to be laying around between the couch cushions.
They certainly do like their cheese balls in Georgia.
(Scratch: Train Diesel.)
Mama pretended to Lead By Example and let the girls counterattack with a fat-slapping pig pile of their own, digging under all her ample Beautamous-ness (…did I just make up a word?…) until they found another sweaty Sidekick and added it to the bucket.
Or so they thought.
Psych. Mama apparently stashes cell phones like she stashes tasty snacks, because the next thing you knew she was huddled in the bathroom with the door shut like Matthew Perry on a bad day.
Ouch. Too soon?
Before we even had time to fully marvel at everyone’s crash pad skills, Alana explained that wrestling was kind of their thang. They loooooove wrestling at Casa Boo.
Especially Rampage Pro Wrestling…ie…RPW.
Which I guess is something like WWE, except that RPW meets up before each match in the same kind of little room that all the Dance Moms meet up in to do their kids’ makeup. And we know that because the whole family got backstage access, thanks in part to Sugar Bear having done security detail for them all these years.
I know, right? Who knew? June’s Baby Daddy is a Chalk Miner and part time Mall Cop.
But cooler, because it’s wrestling…not Brookstone.
Hanging backstage with the Dudes and Dudettes of RPW we learned the best ways to take down an opponent, which included the Cactus Clothesline, some questionable elbow to the throat moves and Alana’s favorite: Cup-a-Fart.
Yeah. Cup-a-Fart.
If you really need an explanation then you’ve probably been watching the wrong channel all this time. Thanks for playing, but you can flip back to PBS now.
It’s a pretty basic wrestling maneuver that anyone could use in the Ring, the Piggly Wiggly or at the DMV with not much practice at all. Just make a fist like you’re about to make a snowball and then…well…Cup-a-Fart. In yo’ face, bitches.
As everyone inhaled a solid 8 ounces, Anna got a little worked up over a wrestler named Chip, which unfortunately caused her to break into one of those spontaneous “Let’s Go! Let’s Go! Ah Uh. Let’s Go!” horny girl dances that you always see being done at the prom by that one girl who brought her cousin as her date.
And don’t you know all that exercise can make a girl hungry.
Lucky for the Boos, a Costco semi-trailer had just hit a gigantic hog out on the interstate and the Roadkill BatPhone went off to alert everyone that dinner was laying on the side of the road waiting to be picked up, cleaned up and served up.
Chanting the ‘Hog Jowl’ mantra, they squealed off to snag dinner before a pack of wild wolves dragged it into the woods. Mama crossed her fingers in the hope that there was enough dead pork to fill the freezer, because she was going to whip up a big ol’ tub of seductively hand massaged pork and beans and wanted enough leftovers to hold them over until Labor Day.
(Scratch: BBQ Sauce.)
Sidenote: That scratch was directly followed by a Vagisil commercial.
Let’s just say that the irony of that transitional moment didn’t escape me. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to scratch something again or wait for the show to come back on.
Back home, after digesting enough pork cubes to build a duplex igloo, Mama went shopping and the girls got bored without their cell phones. And that’s when the party started.
Since they couldn’t find their library cards, the only other activity the girls could come up with on such short notice was a Redneck Slip ‘N Slide, which was basically just fancy talk for sliding around the floor coated in butter and your own flop sweat.
Yeah. That totally happened.
Think Project Runway meets whatever HGTV show it was that had people trying to rope squealing pigs covered in Wesson Oil during a kitchen remodel.
After making a couple of knockoff Vera Wang dresses out of garbage bags and clear packing tape (…it must have been the Unconventional Materials episode…) the girls slopped themselves up with so much Country Crock and cooking lube that I already knew what the next scratch was gonna smell like before the little orange dot even boinked on the screen.
(Scratch: Buttah. Lots of greasy Buttah.)
There was butter everywhere. Every. Where.
People laying in it. Sliding on it. Sculpting with it. Conditioning their hair with it. Eating it off the floor like they had just gotten out of prison.
Honestly, if a shirtless Billy Dee Williams had walked into that kitchen holding a moist sausage link, I would have sworn I was watching a Paula Deen porno.
(If you’re keeping track, that’s two tasteless Paula Deen jokes in one recap. Tell me where else you can go to get yesterday’s news and still enjoy it so much?)
After calling in the Monsters Inc. HazMat guys to de-butterize the place, the rest of the hour was all about planning Sugar Bear’s birthday party.
It was going to be a Dukes of Hazard theme, because Sugar Bear loved Bo and Duke and the General Lee. But not as much as he loved Daisy Duke.
And her fine Daisy Dukes.
He even had a framed photo of the day he met Catherine Bach in real life, standing all dip-encrusted smiley face next to his celebrity crush. Granted, Daisy looked a little more like you do when you meet a real bear and they tell you not to blink or move and maybe it will just go away, but it was a happy day for Sugar Bear and Mama wanted to recreate the moment.
With a Daisy Duke shorty short piñata, of course.
But not before some Afternoon Delight. Or not.
Now you know I love me some Sugar Bear. I love his innocence and his own sincere love for his family and his chubby woman. He was actually sporting a chubby for his chubby that he proudly proclaimed on national television in case you keep track of that kind of thing, too.
I can live without the teeth and the empty Gatorade bottle full of dip spit, but we love that guy. So you had to feel for the poor guy when he couldn’t even get to First Base.
One…because he forgot to buy June a new crock pot, and that is key to any booty call.
And Two…their bedroom is the crossroads to the bathroom in that house, which means that every clown in the Boo Circus usually walks through to use the powder room right when Sugar Bear is about to get his Luther Vandross on. There was even an issue with at least one of the girls this week not being able to locate an industrial sized vat of Vaseline for her raw dingleberry while Sugar Bear tried to cuddle with Big Boo.
(How is it even possible that any of the dingleberries in that room could be anything but baby soft after being dragged across a floor covered in butter last night? Really?)
Finally, it was Party Time!
The Daisy Duke piñata was a big hit, even though it looked more like the shorts that all the thick girls wear at Burger King whenever they advertise that 50 cent soft serve cone special, but Sugar said that he was still able to imagine Catherine Bach’s butt before he started whacking it.
Bow-Chick-A-Hog-Jowl.
Presents. Cake. Piñata. And it all finished off with a backyard free for all where poor little Baby Kaitlyn took half a can of Silly String directly in the face just like they tell you never to do in all those baby books.
Three thumbs and she still couldn’t cover her eyes quick enough. If you’re gonna survive with this family you better step up your reflex game, peanut.
And as you know, in Georgia the good times never end, so the next stop for the Sugar Bear Party Bus was the local Go-Kart track for one last birthday surprise.
(Scratch: Rubber Tires And Go-Kart Fumes.)
Since Mama June is legally blind (…one of the best qualities for any Nanny to have, correct?…) she wanted to skip the karts and just babysit Baby Kaitlyn, but the girls bullied her into squeezing her junk behind the wheel and going for a Sunday afternoon Old Lady Drive through the neighborhood.
Two hours later she finally made a full loop around the track and everyone headed home for one last attempt at romance.
(Scratch: The Crazy Lady at my Dunkin Donuts. Or maybe it was just Chocolate.)
With kids out of the house, love in his heart and yard work under his nails, Sugar Bear fed June a cupcake and nibbled on some neck crust as the sun set over Georgia.
Trust me. Nothing smells like Redneck Romance after a long day at the track.
Honey Boo Boo and the gang are back.
So either love ‘em…or go scratch.
Because it is what it is.
