Fucked up Fridays

Horribly Hooched on Hooching Horribly

Just what the saucy fuck is Horribly Hooched?

WHY is Horribly Hooched?

Well, it starts with a brotherhood soaked in booze and long, late nights.

Bacchus and Romulus met in the dingy basement of a major video game company, testing games and bonding over beers and BBQ. Soon after becoming room mates, it was evident right from the get go these two punks would get up to something epic, something spoken of in hushed circles and screamed about in noisy bars, something so legen-fuckin-dary scholars would shit their stuffy britches.

One horribly hooched night, as the brothers sifted through hundreds and hundreds of horror films they’d already seen, it occurred to Bacchus –

“We should write this shit down.”

And so he did.

What began as an excuse to continue doing what they already were (drinkin and watchin) has since grown to mammoth fuck mountain proportions, larger and more important than either of them could EVER have imagined. The whiskey laden dream was coming into reality – in between jugs of scorpion wine and powerlifting cases of schlitz people started reading, and soon the beast consumed them.

The mission? To fuck shit up in the horror realm, dominate the scene, and raise up the champions of indie horror- inspiring by example. If one pissant author, actor, director, fuckin BOOT LICKER read or listened to something of ours and thought ‘shit snacks, I can do that’, we’ve already won. This train is only gaining momentum, so strap in and gird your loins – its going to be one HELL of a ride, and you’ve got first class seats.

Still, its not just Bacchus and Romulus drivin this hell hound. A few other brave souls hitched a ride and fed fuel to the fire, kickin out some of the tastiest word jams your blood shot eyes can handle.

Now, in their own words:


Slash on Saturdays

I have only been contributing to HH for a couple of months now, but suffice
it to say, it has been a life altering experience. My personal history as Actor,
Teacher, Poet, & Pottymouth has served me well. My life-long love of movies,
my years of writing movie reviews for the Tacoma Film Club, Amazon, with
guest spots in local NW rags & arts mags, has barely primed me for the
shock of finding myself in the intense presence of the HH staff, & the
breakneck flow of reviews & interviews that are created there daily.
Retired for a couple of years now, I had settled in to a quiet life of writing
poetry, helping to manage the film club, & social networking. Then an
old pal of mine, an actor without peer, hooked me up with his son–who
just happens to be the Bacchus of this outrageous film review site. I sent
him one of my old reviews on SPIDER BABY, & he liked it enough to rope
me into a staff commitment. 
I must say that to be able to write about films in such an unfettered, 
spontaneous, get-down, bitch-slap manner is very habit-forming. So
much so that I have to rein myself in when being involved in my other
writing endeavors. These folks at HH do not fuck around. They are very
fond of playing tennis with the net down, of infusing their reviews, comments,
& interviews with an honesty that defies belief; especially for an old bastard
like me who has found such attractive compeers so late in life. You will
find that my output is only a fraction of theirs, but the content, perspective,
scintillating data, writing style, & film facts run deep & true, like a porcupine
quill working through your finger. I do not write for those with poor concentration
skills, or short attention spans, so perhaps I am an acquired taste. 
Acquired taste indeed, but like a fine fuckin wine, Slash goes down SMOOOTH baby

Sweaty’s Salacious Sundays (Demonsweat)

It began as most sordid things do, with alcohol.

There I was, milling about my duties in a lesser level of domestic hell, sweating over those mundane tasks, my days steeped in mediocrity and tiresome tranquility.  It was a dismal, suburbanite future I envisioned, one steeped in endless PTA meetings and bake sales.  I yawned, contemplating whether or not to stab myself in the eye, when who should descend but Bacchus, adorned in a stained toga, hair mashed against one side of his face.  “Hey lady, you wanna worrrk f’me,” he slurred. 

“Huh?” I said. 

“I got booze,” he said with a toothy smile.  And behold, he did pull from his folds the most divine of images, a flask of sweet, golden scotch.  It whispered to my parched lips: aged eighteen years. 

“Move over.”  I leapt into his chariot and cranked up the stereo, Foreigner’s Double Vision.  It seemed like a sign.  As we swerved into the night sky, the planets themselves did align (or so our addled minds believed) and as the saying goes, the rest was inebriated history. 

Congrats to Horribly Hooched for making it to one hundred posts!  It’s been a blast and an honor working with the HH team.  Cheers fellas – the next round’s on me. 

Careful, Sweaty, you know we’ll take you up on that.


As part of this 100th post celebration, the wonderful word smith extraordinaire Lisa Fremont (a great friend of the HH crew) agreed to interview Bacchus about HH, and what it took to get where we are today.

Bacchus Interview, Part 1

Bacchus Interview, Part 2

Bacchus Interview, Part 3


If you made it through all three of those I applaud you.

We’re always busy here at HH, but we always have fun, and we have absolutely NO intentions of stopping.

So, subscribe to our YouTube channel

Follow us on Facebook and Twitter

and we’ll see you sexy beasts in another 100 posts!!


If you have an indie project you’d like us to look at, drop me a line on Facebook, Twitter, or email, and I’ll be sure to check it out!


Check out Lisa Fremont’s work! http://www.horror-writers.net/


6 replies »

  1. Well, this self-congratulatory piece of multi-media blew what little mind I have left tonight, dragging in from performing my play earlier. I was impressed, no bullshit, with the depth of the interviews, & the genuine peek into the layers of butt fudge that you cart around; that is to say less adroitly, you allowed, however inadvertently, some real insight into the HH process & history, filling in the potholes of ignorance I have been hopscotching over for months. I expected just fun-slathered babbling, greasy giggling, horse-laughing, farting, burping, & spontaneous swallowing of several kinds of hooch, & what was delivered was a in-depth astute, albeit beer-sipping, revelation regarding the genesis of HH, & the history of an impressionable pre-adolescent Bacchus whose young mind, bright eyes, & developing genitals were all enhanced by copious amounts of tits & gore Indie Horror/Whore. I would like to lay claim, by the way, to the handle of Horror/Whoremaster; SLASH PHUQUE: HORRORMASTER; has both a ring & a sting to it.

    But how dare you declare publicly that I probably don’t offend anyone. In one of the first of Sweaty’s reviews I read she wrote, “I just want to fuck this movie.” From that moment on, I realized I had stumbled into a nest of incredible wing-nuts who spoke my language, and vibrated on my fucking wave length. I’m positive that I offend herds of people, gaggles of assholes, who do not have the attention span, intellect, or stamina to tackle one of my For Adults Only reviews.

    Seriously, Boss, I managed through this piece to garner a better sense of the tone & mission of HH, as you conceived it; but it does not necessarily follow that I will chisel my creativity into carved soap sculpture clones of what others are doing. It has taken me 70 fucking years to arrive at the place where I’m at now, & you should know, & fucking appreciate that (older) people do not respond to change as easily as younger HH compeers. At some point, writing another huge review on SAW III, I expected you to call me on my pedantic long-winded bullshit, to rein me in, to explain to me, in a nice way, that I did not have the full run of the HH domain, & that I needed to bounce more of my shit off you, & perhaps accept criticism with a modicum of accommodation. As to Lisa’s comment about people challenging our credibility, our credentials for reviewing, our experience with filmmaking, remind some of those nay-saying bastards, that you have at least one staff member who has been a professional actor, writer, photographer & all around putz who knows his way around a movie set & a fucking film review. I’m just saying.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I expected nothing fucking less. You bring a level of class, experience, and ‘long winded bullshit’ we require. If you EVER chisel yourself in MY mold I’ll be fucking pissed. As I said, we all bring something unique to the table at HH, and I bow in the presence of supreme knowledge and ability.

      Take that rein motherfucker and RUN. I’m not holding your ass back any more than i’m jumping in front of steam roller and taking a nap. Roll on baby.

      We need ya.


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