Word has reached my
ears eyes via Popwatch that Rosie O’Donnell wants to buy Honey Boo Boo a house. Understanding that such an edifice would cost approximately $20,000 in that part of Georgia, it’s a sub-par gesture to say the least. It’s my opinion that Rosie is just trying to get in on the bedazzle-gold digging train of Honey Boo Boo’s next pageant dress and try to get back in the spot light.
The only way I will watch Rosie O’Donnell on tv is if she joins the cast and shacks up with the rest of the family in the “House-That-Rosie-Built”. She’s a hillbilly at heart and I know deep down she dreams of extreme couponing.
DListed: On Wednesday night’s episode of Masterpiece Theater Presents The Diary of America’s Favorite Family, Sugar Bear’s brother Uncle Poodle, who’s got a little fruit in his tank (copyright: Mama June), came over to the house to work with Honey Boo Boo Chile on her pageant sway and to get into a grass fight with the other members of the Country Bear Jamboree.
Our nation’s sweetheart Honey Boo Boo calls her uncle Uncle Poodle, because she calls all gay dudes poodles. (For the record, I am so not a poodle. I’m more like a cockapoo who has to go to the vet every other week for raisin tongue because I won’t stop licking my own ass.) Honey Boo Boo took some time out from launching grass bombs at Uncle Poodle to share some words of wisdom on being gay and she did it without murdering gnats or snorting out nose jelly, so you know it’s important!
Jezebel: Holler for a dollar! RuPaul wants to do a duet with Honey Boo Boo Child “because she understands what drag is.”
So I’m sitting on the couch at the end of a long arduous day trying to figure out what to eat for dinner. My girlfriend is at a really upscale Chinese restaurant getting wined and dined by Pharmaceutical companies and me and the animals are stuck at home. Getting out a pan and heating up something seems like way too much trouble, so I open a can of Bush’s grillin’ beans and eat them out of a can with a spoon. I wash it all down with a Mike’s hard cranberry lemonade (lite). Remember, I’m a princess and beer does not touch my lips. As I pretend I’m a princess/cowboy living off ranch beans in the wild frontier I turn on the TV. Yes, my campfire has cable.
My new favorite show, Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, is just starting and I sit there in awe. Here I am working my ass off, going to the gym to work what hasn’t been worked at a desk job, and I have to ask for what? So I can brush up against Charlize Theron in the organic produce isle? No. I’m happy here eating out of a can with my pants unbuttoned. I’m happy and content, but I can show this to no one because it is forbidden. I sit there watching the starlet, Honey Boo Boo and all her antics and I get a soft warm glow in my heart. It is possibly from eating beans cold out of a can, but I embrace it non the less.
Just then Honey Boo Boo speaks to me, and with subtitles at the bottom of my brain ’cause I don’t speak hillbilly Georgian, I hear, “Honey, you is what you is…embrace it.” And this picture flashes before my eyes…
…and I am reborn! Now I know that alot of people are going to persecute me for my new-found religion and I don’t care. Face it. You’re just jealous. Your lightly veiled arguments of fetal alcohol syndrome, some people should not procreate and this kid’s gonna really be fucked up later don’t matter. The fact is that that kid is fucking happy. Loopy happy. “The village idiot is always smiling happy” and I want that. This family embraces three chins, junk food, and the redneck labels and they have their own fucking show. They are laughing all the way to the
bank bed mattress and I want in on the rapture! Haters gonna hate and my faith will see me thru. That and my new tshirt: