Toddlers & Tiaras: International Fresh Faces Salutes The Kentucky Derby. Put Down Your Bets For Win, Place And Sparkle. Let’s Go To The Races!

 

 

Time Out’s suck. One more of these and I’ll show them what a Hot Mess really looks like.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because I’m a Fierce Miss Thang and I’m All That and We Run The World, bitches. That’s why…’kay?

 

 

 

 

 

Is it just me, or does Beyoncé look taller in her videos?

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Mama can’t do eyeliner without her cocktail.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I mean, seriously. Look at this head. This head is made for a tiara. I’ll show those little sparklers how it’s done.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh. Hell. Yeah. Ten more hits and Sasha Fierce is gonna be hitting the track with Secretariat. Bazinga.

 

 

 

 

No fair.

Kentucky is hoggin’ all the good pageant stuff.

I mean, really.  Last week the circus came to town and the Bluegrass State got clowns, magicians in diapers and that Coach from Hell Nikki lady.  And now this time the Kentucky Derby is front and center?  Whaddup wid dat?

Toddlers & Tiaras must know a good thing when they see it, because everyone extended their Ramada reservations another seven days just to ensure that we all experience everything that Kentucky has to offer, and it was totally worth the room change fee that they probably got stuck with at the front desk.

As Director Michael Booth and his faaaabulous Barry Manilow hair explained it, the International Fresh Faces Pageant was all about big hats, big hair, big personalities, big flippers (…but not too big, please…) and little jockeys.

The horse riding kind, not the underwear kind.  Don’t be gross.

Mr. Michael was definitely into it.  Big time.  So much so that you kind of wondered if he might secretly want to swap places with one or two of the contestants for a night, just so he could wear a big Joan Collins hat and finger kiss an adult audience without getting bitch slapped by Linda Evans delivering a restraining order.

As he liked to say…it’s all about the sparkle and the magic, because everyone enjoys a little dress up time.

Yeah.  Words to live by.  I guess in the world of pageant directing, it’s better to have someone who is too into it vs. someone who just shows up for the free tan, right?

Mr. Michael, I bow to your awesome sauce fabulosity.

The first little princess we met was truly little.  Like 18 months little.

Mom Jessica happily showed off Baby Kendyl‘s wobbly head, crowns, sashes, glitz photos and punching skills as they prepared for the Kentucky competition.  At 18 months old, Kendyl was still more noggin than body, but she was a cute little off-balanced thing with a drooly smile and a wicked left hook.

Million Dollar Baby liked to box a few rounds with Mom…and Mom’s face…whenever they got in the ring together.  Cute at 18 months maybe, but somebody might want to try and break her of that habit before the first day of school or it’s not gonna be pretty on the playground.

Mom’s boyfriend, and Kendyl’s Baby Daddy, mechanic/needle artist Matt was a classic example of Don’t Judge A Book By Its Cover…or its neck ink.

Covered in tattoos and wearing one of those Diesel brand knit hats that the guys on CSI always wear when a drug deal goes bad, Matt looked like he would cut you for your lunch money and then go back to the auto shop to shave off his own eyebrows.

But don’t you be judging that book.

He was the nicest, smiliest, squishiest little Daddy’s Girl Daddy that has ever been on this show.  Little Kendyl owned him from the minute she was born, and he proudly bragged about crying for 45 minutes when he first saw all her wobbliness in the delivery room.

Not sure if that was before or after he tattooed all that stuff over each eyeball, but it didn’t really matter.  He loved his baby.  So we loved him.  Wasn’t necessarily loving his glow in the dark pageant tribute neck tattoo, but the guy’s gotta have a pair somewhere in his low riders to permanently memorialize a TLC show.

Trying to top all that was 6 year old Alanna and Mom Yolonda.

(Another Alana?  Is the world big enough?  Look out, Honey Boo Boo Child.)

Alanna with two N’s was yet another in the seemingly never ending supply of miniaturized Sasha Fierce YouGoGirls that seem to have taken over the airwaves.  I don’t know where they all came from so fast.  There’s at least one on every show nowadays, and yet it still amazes me that anyone that young can be so sassy.

How dey do dat?  Trust me, when I was 6 years old I was not sitting on the teeter totter doing two snaps up and a circle at recess.

Bitch, please.  I could have totally rocked it out.  I just chose not to.  Snap.  Snap.  Circle.

Even though she was only 6 years old, Alanna was already rehearsing for her Comeback Tour.  It had been four long years since her last performance, and it was time.  Her public demanded her return.

At the ripe old age of 2, Alanna and Yolonda had to temporarily put their pretty feet career on hold due to Dad Jeffery‘s military commitments.  Traveling around the country from base to base made it hard to work the circuit, so they all took some time off until Dad could settle down and start bleeding cash again for a new pageant.

So Sasha Fierce was back.  And ready to put a crown…and a ring…on it.

Speaking of…before we meet our final contestant.  Can I just go on record as saying that I am more than willing to pay an additional couple of dollars towards my basic cable subscription if TLC will finally cough up the revenue to pay for the rights to at least one freakin’ Beyoncé song?  A real one?

Please?

If I have to hear that bootleg karaoke “Songs Made Famous By–” fake Single Ladies shizzle one mo’ time playing in the background when they show the exterior of some sassy kid’s house, I swear I’m gonna have Matt cut somebody.

S’rsly.

Anyway.  Glitz Girl #3 was a Hot Mess.

Mom Charlotte said it, not me.  Permanently adhered to her Disney Princess Time Out Chair was 3 year old Jozy, a high pitched, static haired little blonde thing who could vocally shatter glass if she tried.

Mom had that constant glazed-over smile that you get after three years of adhering your child to a Time Out Chair while your husband is downstairs on his Playstation.

Yes, I said Playstation.  Dad Dennis even gave himself the anonymous online moniker “Pageant Dad” since he’s so into the whole thing.

So the next time you’re killing gnomes in Lordaeron while shielded by your Cloak of Invisibility, keep in mind that you might actually be sticking your crackling dragon fire dagger into the head of a 45 year old man wearing a Sparkle, Baby tank top.

Let that one sink in for a few.  Just saying.

But right now, everyone needed to put down their joy sticks and rehearse for the pageant.  Time is money, people.

Jessica took Baby Kendyl over to the local restaurant so she could practice falling down on a bunch of tables pushed together into an impromptu stage.  As added incentive, she even laid out a dollar bill to entice Kendyl to head towards the “X” made out of electrical tape.  Kendyl likes to be bribed with cold, hard cash.

One.  When I was 18 months old, I didn’t even know what my own boy parts were, much less a dollar bill.  (…TMI?…)

Two.  Remind me never to eat at that restaurant if they allow babies to come in off the street and booty pop their diaper loads all over the table.

Since this was Hot Mess Jozy’s first Glitz Pageant, Mom took her to the local department store for a dry run on the makeup.

One.  I’m sure that the PR people from Clinique really appreciated the consultant doing Jozy’s makeup at the Elizabeth Arden counter.  WTF?  Take your lab coat off honey, or stay in your own sandbox.

Two.  Those same PR people were also probably not doing handstands when their Clinique girl referred to half of the Summer 2013 eye shadow palette as “colors that trashy girls wear.”  I can hardly wait for next month’s Cosmo photo shoot.

By the time they finished up with Jozy, she had smeared enough sample foundation all over her body to sneak through Ellis Island’s immigration check point.  Hot.  Mess.

More than likely there is a Help Wanted sign at the cash register by now, so it’s probably pointless to dwell on this one anymore.

Since 18 month old babies don’t have the luxury of wearing trashy girl makeup, Kendyl had to settle for Tan in a Can, which Mom swore was safe and even delightfully moisturizing.  Maybe.  But I’m not so certain how healthy all that overspray was that spooged up the dining room table.  Baby Daddy couldn’t have scored a drop cloth down at the shop?

I know, right?  What is it with that baby and table tops?  Now I can’t go to that restaurant OR go over to their house for dinner.  And I really wanted to hang with my boy Matt and get some Batman ink.  I can totally see us becoming buds.

I also can’t afford to go shopping with Alanna and her parents apparently, as they hit up the Ruby Blue pageant store.

One.  Alanna got a dress.

Two.  Sasha Fierce got a dress.

Three.  Mom got a dress.  She wanted to make sure she had enough options when they got to the competition, and the manager agreed that you can’t put a price on beauty.

Four.  Dad wished he was back on duty taking shrapnel in the head.

Kendyl’s dress didn’t require another mortgage like Alanna’s, but it was just as important to Mom and Dad.  So when it showed up ten sizes too large and damaged they were not happy.  Matt did something with his eyebrows, but it was hard to tell what was going on since…well…they’re not really eyebrows.  But you could tell he was peeved.

Finally, it was Showtime!

A My Little Pony On Acid Showtime!

You had to see that stage to fully appreciate all of Mr. Michael’s fabulishious input on decor and design.  Or you could just go to Toys ‘R Us and drop some acid in the stockroom.  Same diff.

Instead of the usual expanse of empty stage and iParty props, this time all the little tykes got was one tight little front to back red carpet runway due to the rest of the venue being cluttered with theater draping and sparkly horse stuff as far as the eye could see.  And it was a pretty short landing strip, with a pretty sharp drop off, considering that most of the contestants weren’t over 3 feet tall.

You know those air craft carriers that all the jets land on at 200 mph, and they have to be caught by a gigantic bungee cord or they’ll fly off into the ocean?

That’s what it felt like.

Kendyl managed to swap out her oversized mess of a dress with a neighbor, so she was good to go in something that actually fit her jelly bean body.  I love when they’re still so little that Mom or Dad has to go on stage and just swing them around like a Pee Wee Herman puppet.  Being 90% head myself, I love that kid.

Jozy got some Survivor music when she came onstage for her Beauty, which meant that she forgot something or just stood around in a daze.  Judges hate that.

Alanna sucked down enough Pixie Stix to fuel a 747 transatlantic flight before she even left the hotel room.  One right after the other.  I lost count after they flashed #14 on the screen.  But she still got her karaoke Beyoncé on and worked that stage.

The Fashion Model portion was a Kentucky Derby themed Outfit of Choice, so I’m not really sure why they didn’t just call it that and make it less confusing on the entry form.

But whatev.

Kendyl was a little Pee Wee Herman Jockey.  Mom hoisted her all around the room while Dad got so stressed out that I was afraid he’d pop one of his glow in the dark veins.  Matt was on Pageant Dad overload.

Jozy wore a hat that was bigger than her body and all you could see were her feet sticking out underneath.  Judges hate that.

Alanna worked the stage in the same dress you’d expect to see the wife of the man who owned the winning Kentucky Derby horse to wear.  But in a shrinky dink size.  Covered in Pixie Stix dust.  Girlfriend was wasted by the time the show wrapped up.

If you like it then you better put some sugar in it, mmmkay?

Then some kids won some stuff.

Matt went Mosh Pit Spaz when Kendyl scored a Novice Supreme.  Aerosmith rockstar fingers and all.

Jozy won enough to keep her busy in her Time Out Chair, and gave Dad some bragging rights back on Middle Earth.

Sasha Fierce didn’t win the Ultimate Über title, and Mama Fierce was not happy.

Just another day at the Derby.  And then it was over.

Mr. Michael, you can take off your hat now.

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