moose....mooses?? moosen?? meece?

A moose is a moose, correct? yes, it is correct. i know this. but what is a herd of these adorable brown creatures called?? Yesterday as I sat in my leaky cardboard box chewing on a piece of pork jerky, i spotted a moose. And then another. And another. AND, being the obsessive, compulsive hobo that i am, i HAD to name them. So it was Nosy, and Mooo and Moosey and Charger. After the naming, i could be found atop a tall tree, fore as i tried to introduce myself to the last nameless moose, he decided that it was time to act like a grocery-store teller and charge me. I would have preferred a bill....anyway. These are my....um...mooses? M....Moosen? Seriously, what is the plural of moose? Well....Moose ryhmes with Goose, and the plural of Goose is Geese, so perhaps it is Meese. my herd of meese. No, that does not sound right. But i like it. So Meese it is!! haha. you may tell me that my grasp of the english language is so weak that I could be considered an iliterate fool. Congradulations, you are right. but I am a Hobo and that is my escuse for somethings most things everything. EVERYTHING. DON'T argue with me, i will sic my meese on you!! ha, ha....meese. its fun to say. So now i feel accomplished. I have a herd of meese. That wasn't on my bucket list before but it now is....with a checkmark next to it. Ohhhh how i love to feel accomplished. I may trim my beard just to fuel more of this delightful feeling.....nah. i hear the forecast calls for snow this weekend and i need to be ready.
Well, nowwwww, I am going to go play with my meese. perhaps Charger is feeling more friendly...or perhaps i will be spending the night in the tree. I don't mind. I like trees. And meese.
The end
Bebo

The Hobo's Un-Hobo, Hobo Mother

Hello, dear reader. Even though I have close to nothing to write about, I feel compelled to, because far be it from me to write a blog post more than a day after my comrades!

            The first order of business is to make you aware that I have, in fact, started a new blog. “Waiting for the Green Horizon.” It’s about the more serious matters and opinions in my life. Here’s the link: http://waitingforthegreenhorizon.blogspot.com/ 

            As of now, I am surrounded by merely two cats. Usually, it is closer to four. I am a devoted cat person. Plus, they flock around me, silly things. Don’t they realize I’ve almost killed them all with my clumsiness? Apparently not.

            My wonderful, un-hobo mother was walking around a soccer field the other night, in a giant, squashy coat, her hair (which, if you have seen it in all its mess of curls, you would understand), a beanie, and she was carrying a flute case. Needless to say, she got quite a lot of stares from the team practicing there, as they thought she was, in fact, a hobo.

            I find that while school is out for me, I am getting less sleep, and fewer things done. Yes, I have all the time I could want, but I still manage to procrastinate for days in taking a plate out of my whirl winded room. (Yes, my cardboard box is rather exquisite.) I seem to be a master in procrastination, unless I feel the overwhelming urge to do something. I can even procrastinate when I’m starving. I’ve been hungry for thirteen hours now. I should probably do something about that…

            As soon as I finish writing this, I am handing my laptop to my sister to lock away from me for the majority of the day. Hopefully, it will be an incentive to make me do something. But I have all these books! This will be a challenge.

            I feel the need to stalk someone, someone I have never stalked before. Oh! Wait, no, I’ve stalked all of my cats before. They never really recovered from that. Ugh. I have no ideas. Hmm. Maybe I should stalk myself… But, shush! Don’t tell me!

            Joe

Dark Clouds and Early Hours

    Hello!  Today is a special day.  I spent the night in Bebo's cardboard box last night, as mine was flooded in the torrential downpour.  I  will be forced to steal a new one now, which is sad, because I was very fond of the dear old thing.  Ah, well.  In Bebo's drafty little abode, we huddled on the floor, wrapped in cozy old newspapers with facebooks in hand, and ate pork jerky while listening to the pleasant sound of rain pattering on the cardboard roof of our haven; that is, until the cardboard gave way and we were drenched through with rainwater and soggy bits of box.  We ended up spending the small hours of the morning (until we had to get up at six o' clock) in Razzle, Bebo's car.  Needless to say, we are both extremely tired, so if this blog makes even less sense than usual, do not be surprised or vexed, gentle reader. 
    I'm not entirely certain why today is special; perhaps it seems so because the sun is shining, and I actually ate breakfast this morning.  That must be it.  Breakfast is a wonderful thing, and rather novel.  Usually, if I get any at all, it is some moldy tomatoes and a lump of stale bread that I have scavenged out of a soggy dumpster, but today Bebo and I actually ate scrumpitous waffles with butter and syrup, and I had a lovely eggnog latte!  It was a meal worth dying for!
    Today, we (Bebo and I and a good friend who intends to join our merry academic band next quarter) were driving to the college (for the last time this quarter!!!!!  Yay!!) at seven-thirty in the morning.  It was still mostly dark outside, and rain was lashing the earth in buckets and sheets and waterfalls.  The sky was a deep, murky grey, and the horizon was green.  It was a smidgeon spooky, though very beautiful.  I still, however, say that it is immoral to be awake before the sun is.  I mean, if God really wanted us to be out of bed, he would have roused the sun, right?  Therefore, it must not be God's will for people to be up before eight o'clock in the winter time.  It is simply unglodly to arise sooner...
    Yesterday, Bebo and I had our math finals.  Bebo is convinced that he crashed and burned and died, which is a sure sign that he passed with flying colors and will get an A in his class.  Bebo is always freaking out about something, which is detrimental for a hobo, considering that we live a life of constant danger and derring-do.  I sometimes think that Bebo will die of heart failure while pilfering a dumpster one of these days.  He is very similar to Joe; no one shoot a fake gun at Bebo, either, okay?  I'd hate to be left alone without my two whiskery hobo friends...
    Recently, I decorated my (now flooded) cardboard box with a Christmas tree, complete with lights and shatter-proof bulbs and everything.  No star, though; I ran out of money before I could get one.  At any rate, this Christmas tree is simply irresistable to Fiend, my kitten-companion (she likes to chew on my facebook.  Poor Thumpity-Thump).  Fiend loooooooves to climb into, bat at, sniff, shew on, and hide under the Christmas tree, because she knows that she is not allowed to and it makes me frantic when she does (I have this horrible fear that she will hang or electricute herself, or burn the box down).  That kitten is truly a horrendous Fiend.
    Well, Bebo wants to read the nonsense that I have written, so I will post it to oblige him. 

~Hugo

Of facebooks and dumpsters....

Today I overheard a fellow student talk about something....foreign. At least it sounded that way to me. Something about "The Internet" and "Facebook".....hmmmm... I wonder what those are. Well though I have NO GUESS AT ALL as to what the "internet" is, I will attempt to discover what this "Facebook" truly is. 

     Perhaps its is a book of a face. Perhaps the most evil of all faces dwells within that book. Or perhaps that book is FULL of faces, faces staring at you, watching you, looking at you.....I know this sounds like something extremely creepy, but people seem drawn to creepy is this world (If you don't believe me, read twilight) 

    OR perhaps it is the "proper" name for the eyeshade that Hugo the Horrible sleeps with at night. Every night, he lays down on his newspaper mattress and pulls his newspaper coverlet over his filthy hobo clothes. Then he reaches for the old, worn manuscript of Thumpity-Thump Gets dressed. He then places the volume over his hobo eyes and floats off into the happy hobo land of dreams. THIS, dear readers, is a MUCH MORE acurate description of this "Facebook", and I am determined to stick with it. 

    And so, in order to keep up with the times, I shall be acquiring a "facebook" of my own, shortly. I should like that the book be large, but not too large. And old, but not musty. It should have thin pages to conform to the in-congruent features of my face and it should be a comfortable color, particularly the color of hobo soup.....

     I should like that this "facebook" be named Frank. And that frequently we would go on long walks through the litter-strewn streets of Bremerton. Frank will be my ever-present companion when I go dumpster-diving for dinner, and when an unusually kind person drops a coin into my coffee cup, I should like Frank to be there as well.  When I shall "pass away" as all good hobos do, I should like for Frank to be present when my cardboard box is thrown into the garbage truck by the sanitation workers. I expect Hugo and Joe to take care of Frank when I am gone, cleaning him now and then, or buying him a new bookmark to decorate his pages. I think that Frank shall be terrible sad and mournful when I am gone and I expect that he should enter a severe depression at the time of my death and not recover until some ten or thirteen years later. Upon his recovering, he shall be free to become another fashion-forward hobo's "facebook" and serve him well until Frank's pages be ripped and torn and his binding be loose and threadbare. At this times, i should expect Hugo and Joe to take Frank to the dumpster that we shared so many meals in and leave him there to rest.....He should be happy there....

    Yes, I believe that I LIKE this idea of a "facebook", I commend Hugo for being the first to purchase of of these stylish eye-coverings, and I am sure that Joe and I shall be soon joining him in the land of the trendy.....
     Bebo the Hobo

Voldemort’s Nose and Other Uncomfortable Subjects

Hello, reader. Are you procrastinating on something? Whenever I go on Facebook, a blog, YouTube, Netflix, MLIA, etc…, I am procrastinating. When the power is out, there are books. Of course, I use books without power… Am I right in assuming you are procrastinating? (Right now, I’m not (very much). I finished my homework for tomorrow! Aren’t you proud?)

I have decided that, since Bebo and Hugo, who may actually beat me in the art of procrastination, are always busy, that while I wait to post my next blog, each day I will (shortly) write about a few things. Let’s see how long this gets!

11-28-10

1.     Today, while I was washing my face, I saw my nose (without use of a mirror). I’m glad my nose isn’t huge. It’s… medium-average-kinda large. Not giant. It would obscure my vision otherwise! Wouldn’t it? And what about the people with minute noses, such as my sister and mom? What about those with even smaller sniffers? Can they see the outline of their noses? This inevitably led to me thinking about this as it applies to You-Know-Who (AKA, the future Tom Riddle). Yes, I’m a dork.

2.     My sister and I had to wash the cat today. She walked and rolled in something (Heh, sounds like rock ‘n’ roll…). It was a challenge. She’s still younger. She’s feisty. I have battle scars.

11-30-10

1.     If you’re like me, you know that No-Shave-November ends tomorrow. My manly legs have been disturbing my sister, Hugo, and Bebo. Of course, it’s not like I have any reason to dull my razor blade when I haven’t been wearing shorts, skirts, etc… in public (because I may just be wearing shorts now…). Since I still have no need to shave, and I do love to see disturbed faces, I’m not sure if I’ll kill my manliness tomorrow. Hmm…

2.     Yesterday was Switch-shoes-with-someone day! How did you celebrate? Hugo the Horrible was horrible and didn’t participate. I traded shoes with the hobo. We didn’t get to see each other again until this morning, so while his slippers spent the night at my house, they may have had their insides invaded and sneezed on by a cat.

3.     My day was awkward. I scared creepily into three classrooms, walked around campus in the rain, Bebo’s umbrella fell onto my head while I used it, completely failing its duties, breaking at the same time (I’m innocent I tell you, innocent!), silently barged into a class I’m not in right after I covered the outside of my right leg in mud when I slipped while jumping in the unsatisfyingly uncrunchy leaves, and accidentally stalked people, again…

4.     Yesterday, I went to a music store. The man working there was dreadfully friendly, and I’m-so-comfortable-in-my-skin-ish. Somehow, it got to the subject of my writing (Thank you, mother). He inevitably asked the most heinous question he could think of: “What do you write?” I was thinking of the most recent novel I’ve started for NaNoWriMo (Stands for National Novel Writing Month), which contains the unromantic story of a man and woman who accidentally stalk each other, a murder takes place, there are mud fights, spilled food, blood, and loud arguments all in the name of comedy (and adventure mystery). It will, of course, end in the most unexpected way (Hahaha!). And this is the simplified version. My previous work has consisted of almost every genre (I have many incomplete stories, most of which I am still devoted to). I even have one (complete) children’s book. None of these are published. But what should I have done! I told the blasted man that I wrote a variety. He kept prodding me, the insolent man. In the end, I looked like a psychopath. Why, you ask? Well, it ended up with me talking about my more tragic, adventurous, interesting stories where someone always dies. Death, and in diverse and multitudinous ways.

12-01-10

1.     Hugo escaped from school today. She was last seen fleeing to her horse. As such, I had to rely on Bebo to be smart all on his own, along with a friend of ours. I took a test, they held my bag. Once I was done, they had disappeared! They stole my bag. I had to badger the poor receptionist, who turned out to be not so poor, since she took delight in the fact that my friends stole my backpack! After at least fifteen minutes (I’m really not sure how long. They had my cell phone.) I went to class (late), leaving a note with the receptionist. My friends, Hugo aside (for now), are true blondes. They repeatedly called my phone, trying to reach me! Put it together! ‘Tis simple! Then I went to ANOTHER class, leaving ANOTHER note with the amused receptionist. Finally, right as I headed to my last class, I found Bebo. It was about time. I was pretty hungry.

2.     NaNoWriMo ended yesterday. I failed, miserably. I knew I would, but it’s still a sad feeling. If I had done this last year, when I had no life, I’m sure it would have been easy.

12-02-10

1.     I’m a horribly impatient person. Bebo and Hugo have a life, which is why they take their time, and I post my two cents within a day later. Grr. I need a life (even though right now I may be procrastinating in homework, cleaning, reading, and writing for fun. Hmm…).

2.     #1Leads me to #2: I am thinking of starting another blog. Would you follow me, you few readers? This one would mostly be the more serious things that don’t include Bebo and Hugo, those busy hobo friends of mine. The idea is still in the making.

3.     Cheese waffles are amazing. Yum!

4.     Why is cheese a constant thing in my life, either as a writing theme, common ingredient, or way of luring me?

5.     Now I want cheese… But I just had a cheese waffle. Oh, life’s debates.

12-03-10

1.     I am so happy! I could almost sing! But I won’t. I can’t disturb my sleeping cat.

2.     I forgot to bring my cheese to school today. It was a startling realization.

3.     Hugo (bless his ignorant soul) forgot to say that one of us has two days left of school, another one, and the last, zero! Starting with the former, the name equivalent is Bebo, Hugo, and Joe. HAHA! I have triumphed over them. But I should not have said so. Throughout the quarter, I routinely received the cold glares of those hobos. I even got an end-of-the-quarter party in one of them. Of course, they benifitted, as they came in at the end to steal food (It is supposed to be a cold winter this year).

4.     I did end up killing my manliness yesterday (See 11-30-10, #1.). I fell somewhat disappointed, in an odd sort of way.

5.     I’m going somewhere with Hugo tonight. I’m worried because he said that no one, once they have gone there before, ever wants to go again. But I was there two weeks ago. Should I be concerned?

6.     Last night, I was a part of the game Cutthroat Mafia (The Mafia’s randomly selected. You walk around in the dark. If the mafia runs their finger across your neck, you die.). Someone killed me. Later, when I was in the “graveyard,” I asked each Mafia member, as they died, if they had killed me. Every single one said no. I’m on to you, you secret, murderous townsperson!  I will be avenged for this horrid false death of mine. And… please don’t ever fire a fake gun in my direction, ‘kay?

Joe

The Post Belatedly Titled

    Well, the grouchiest of the Desperadoes is back!  And I am just as grouchy as ever, though not quite as bloodthirstily as Bebo seems to believe, as in his last blog he said that I am only taking History next quarter to study gruesome battle scenes.  That is untrue, because, one, I am taking History so that I can laugh at all of the stupid people who have "gone on before" and, two, I only enjoy carnage if I am the one creating it (preferably with a backpack or an umbrella).  Bebo oughtta just play his oboe, that's what he oughtta do.
    At Olympic College, we are on the last day of the last week of the quarter.  This means that a lot of people who have treated attendance rather casually all quarter long have started mysteriously reappearing.  It's funny how proficient college students seem to be at the fine art of playing "now-you-see-me-now-you-don't."  It may be that we are educating our next generation of spies, snipers, and men's bathroom cleaners here at OC.  Who knows?
    Joe, Bebo, and I, of course, have been faithful to arrive here dark and early in rain and hail, tempest and unmanageable traffic, ice and slush, unfinished homework, forgotten breakfasts, suspected appendicitis, fiendish kittens, and other natural catastrophes.  We are very proud of ourselves.  In fact, the only days that Bebo and I have missed have been horse-related: Bebo was off tormenting himself and his lovely equine at some exhibition on the first day of classes, and on this last Wednesday I hauled my Delicate Flower, Hamlet, off to his new Mommy somewhere far to the south of the state.  I'm not sure about particulars, having spent the entire trip either bickering with my parents about horse poop or reading a translation of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. 
    All in all, it has been a fairly, umm, salubrious quarter.  We can now consider ourselves to be veteran college students (as well as veteran commuters!!)  We have attended classes, scraped by, and are now moving on to our second quarter, filled with the trepidation that experience engenders.  Wish us luck! Not that I believe in luck, but it sounds like a nice, cliche thing to say.


~Hugo the Horrible

Of theme songs and full moons...

      If you happened to be in the downtown Bremerton area last Thursday afternoon, you MIGHT have seen a carful of hobos, minus Joe. Perhaps the absence of Joe only fuels our weirdness, but for some reason or another, we are ALWAYS crazier on days that Joe does not attend. This day was no different. Every good sitcom needs a theme song, and yesterday we finally found ours. Of COURSE I am the main character in the song. This ALWAYS happens... so the song. would you like to hear it?? WELL TOO BAD!! because We only sing it on nights when the sky is clear and the moon is full and we are all safely huddled in our cardboard box with an open bag of pork jerky. ONLY THEN, if you were listening, would you hear the faint strains of our stupendous theme song. The tune is a popular tune that we stole from some dude named Yankee Doodle Dandy. Who knows who he is?? (None of us as of yet taken a history course and Hugo is only studying it next quarter to hear of the gruesome battle tales.) I think that Dandy is a weird last name. Perhaps this was not his REAL last name and he only used this name so people wouldn't know he was the main character of a ridiculous song. (Come to think of it, this could be a good idea...) so do you know the song?? OF COURSE YOU DO!! everyone does...So hum the song softly to yourself. Yes. Right here, right now. (But SOFTLY so the person next to you doesn't think you are a complete freak.) humming? good. now repeat after me:


Hobo Bebo plays the oboe
And he plays it well!
Hobo Bebo plays the oboe
Boy, he sure does smell!!


Hobo Bebo keep it up
Hobo Bebo dandy!
Hobo Bebo play that oboe
You sure play it handy!!


Now repeat this 5 times and you will have recreated our stupendous hobo theme song.
congratulations to you.
~BEBO