Toddlers & Tiaras: Hey, Girl. When The Cheetah-licious Pageant Lady Calls, You Better Answer Yo’ Monkey Phone.

 

 

OMG. Why didn’t anyone tell me how hard it is to really converse in a conversational conversation that it’s like so hard.

 

 

 

 

Seriously. If Barbie doesn’t stop talking I’m gonna choke on my Fruit Roll-Up.

 

 

 

 

 

And then, when she’s asleep, I try and claw my way out the window like this without waking her.

 

 

 

 

Check it out. I scored enough cash for an Easy Bake Oven and a bus ticket outta here.

 

 

 

 

 

Wanna know a secret? I’m really a sweetie pie. But being a bitch gets you way more fruit snacks, suckahs.

 

 

 

 

Yeah. It’s me. Bring the gas money around back. I’ll be in the pink corvette. I got the snacks.

 

 

 

Hey, kids!  We’re going on a safari!

Fun, right?

Just a few reminders before we head out into the uncharted Ramada jungle.

Keep all arms and legs inside your Power Wheels Jeep.  Flash photographs are allowed, but please don’t agitate the animals with any unnecessary crazy a** waving or booty poppin’ in your Mom jeans.

Don’t ever try to drag the animals where they don’t want to go.  And whatever you do…do NOT feed them any more sugar.  Please.

If you follow all these safety guidelines, it should be a guaranteed good time.

Dare I say…maybe even Cheetah-licious.

That’s right.  Toddlers & Tiaras unleashed some major Jungle Love in our faces this week when they took us on a safari full of finger kissing wildlife, all in search of the elusive Cheetah Crown.

According to Director Jill Worley, the towering fake crystal crown with the towering fake crystal cheetah face in the middle would go to whatever 4 year old looked the most like a 20 year old by the end of the night.

No lie.  Her words, sorta.  Glitz means Glitz, people.  So start painting.

Jill was nice enough, but barely ticked the Crazy Pageant Director Dial, so I was just meh.  Sorry, but I need my directors to be In.  To.  It.

Our first cheetah hopeful was 2 year old Bella and her Mom Lana.

Bella was a handful.  She liked to say NO.  A lot.  And loudly.  Accompanied by screams and cries and some positively delightful hissy fits.

And she didn’t like pageants.  So naturally, she did pageants.

She was a patootie for sure, and looked like she could have been the laugh-a-minute secretary in some 1950’s sitcom.  You have to kind of squint, and picture her in black & white, but you’ll totally know what I mean.  I don’t know if it was the hair, or the forehead or what, but I felt like sending her out to Staples for supplies.

Miss Bella, can you come in here, please?  And bring your coloring book.

Mom started to say something about how Bella always did well in competitions because she was so poised and elegant, but I missed the end of the sentence when Bella started making fart noises into the camera.  This kid is really quirky cute.

When Lana first found out that she was expecting a girl, she had immediately begun looking for local pageants being held around her due date.

Her due date?  Like the date when you are giving birth?  Remind me to pick up some ice chips before that crowning.  Gross.

As Bella went out to make me some photocopies, we headed off to the town with the best name in the whole world.  Bald Knob.

You heard me.

There’s a place on a map somewhere called Bald Knob.

I can’t stop saying it.

Bald Knob is home to not only what I imagine has to be THE most HIGH-sterical Bald Knob souvenir tee shirts EVER, but also to Bald Knob residents 5 year old Emma Belle and her Mom Angela.

They live in Bald Knob.

Emma was another natural cutie who looked like a cross between one of those spunky kids who always tap danced in Little Rascals movies and Ryan Seacrest‘s girlfriend.

You can tell she is going to be gorgeeeeous when she grows up.  Heartbreaker.

She had bouncy blonde 1920’s curls and a smiley face that could have been permanently etched to her head by the Joker.  She was (…SPOILER alert: almost…) always happy.

Mom ticked up the Crazy Dial a little, so I immediately fell for her sparkly eye shadow and whatever that hat contraption thing was on her head during Emma’s outdoor photo shoot.

Lana had obviously become so enamored with Abby Lee Miller‘s pearlized makeup on Dance Moms that she ran right down to the Bald Knob Mall (…I just can’t…) and bought out the Bare Minerals counter.  By the time she had applied it both above and below her eyes, I knew she was destined for Reality TV greatness.

Seriously.  Mom could go jogging at night with that reflective headgear.  By the time we hit the pageant and she put on her Goldie Hawn Laugh-In dress, I was in love.

Potential Hall of Famer.

Then, kicking and screaming, we had to turn our back on Bald Knob for a few minutes to head down the highway and meet up with 21 month old Brooklyn and her verbally challenged Mom Amy.

I’m not sure what was going on here.

Mom was one of those pretty Barbie doll Moms you see out and about who seem to do better when they don’t try to talk so much at lunch.  You just stay cute, honey.

I’m sure she meant well, but every sentence basically ended the same way it started because she tended to ramble and repeat and forget to use punctuation.

It’s going to be a nice day out today if it doesn’t rain because it’s going to be a nice day out then otherwise.  Like that.  But about pageants.

Her husband Adam was a textbook example of what I like to call the What Have I Gotten Myself Into male, complete with dazed eyeballs and an empty wallet.  He felt that the whole thing was a waste of money.  Talk about shutting the bank door after the horses have already left for the pageant…or however that saying goes.

Because Amy’s job didn’t pay much, mainly due to the fact that it was a made-up one and she didn’t actually have a job and it’s going to be nice out today maybe if it doesn’t rain, Adam was in charge of paying whatever Amy said to pay for pageants.  

He had no idea what was going on.

Their scenes together must have been a sound tech’s nightmare as every sentence just kind of dribbled off into awkward silence while they stared at each other in disbelief.

This is my life?  If you play Adam’s nervous laugh backwards on a cassette deck, it actually sounds like he’s whispering “Help Me.”

As Amy explained it, Adam knew all kinds of words and it made her nervous because she wanted to make certain that she used actual words too, or something.  Because you need words to talk.  And words, and math, are hard sometimes.

Honestly, she made my left eye hurt.

Safari Wear was this week’s Outfit of Choice, and it was exactly what you would expect, but hooched up a little.

Emma’s silver outfit, complete with tear away skirt and provocative animal tail, didn’t really scream Jungle to me, but it’s not like I was mailed a score sheet or anything.

And I quote: “I get to rip off my dress.”

Let’s just get that out of our system now, sweetie, before all those Bald Knob University tuition bills start piling up.  Been there.  Done that.

Bella’s Monkey outfit came complete with what I originally thought was some kind of yellow medical tubing device or something attached to her chest, and for a minute I got really upset thinking that she might be ill.  But then it turned out to just be a banana phone stuck to her belly with velcro.

I know, right?  A banana that’s a phone.  Shut.  Up.

Bella was definitely a bigger fan of her Verizon Planet of the Apes outfit than she was of the spray tanning process as Mom tried to spritz her down with the same art store air brush they use to mist cheeks on Marie Osmond dolls.

Because Bella was terrified of the full size industrial Big Ang spray tanks, Lana had been relegated to using craft store air compression.  She’s only a foot tall, but it must take them all afternoon to get two coats of shellac on this kid.

Since Brooklyn was only 21 months old her pre-game prep wasn’t quite as elaborate as her fellow princesses, but getting her out of the house and into Grandpa’s RV for the trip to the pageant seemed like a lot of work.

It was going to be a family road trip which was almost cut short when Grandpa activated the automatic front door and nearly took her head off.  Luckily though, Dad had found another one of those unexplained random children that I love seeing in T&T scenes and was dangling a new baby upside down in one arm while juggling gigantic Target plastic tubs in the other.

So even if Grandpa had really knocked Brooklyn senseless, they had a  spare in the trunk.

And it’s not like those crowns ever fit your head, anyway.

Everyone did their best Jungle Roooowwwrrrrrr and then it was off to the races.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Now what are the chances that we just mentioned Marie Osmond and then there she was at the podium?  I’m pretty sure she was the emcee.

But it was the Marie that came after the Donny & Marie phase and before the Weight Watchers phase.  The inbetween Marie Osmond.

Director Jill got the party started.  Let the pageant roar!

(By now the whole animal growl, sassy panther clawing the air thang was getting a little played out.  We get it, already.)

For the first time, Mom had brought in a ringer to do Bella’s hair and makeup.  I think it was the same guy who always bugs me in the wallpaper aisle at Home Depot, complete with a Village People cosmetic tool belt and a TMA tee shirt.

Too Much Attitude?  He wishes.

Bella had another fit and said NO a lot.  Again.  Major meltdown.

But this time Mom had figured out that fruit snacks were the magic goo that makes everything all better.  Especially if you cram 12 pieces in your mouth at one time.

Silence.  And a perfect pageant ‘do.

Miss Bella?  Your hair looks faaabulous.  Cancel my appointments.  We’re taking the rest of the day off and going on a safari.  My treat.

Beauty and Jungle Couture were both a blur of hysteria and last minute dramz.

Bella yelled at her Dad from the stage.  Points deducted.  Brooklyn’s dress fell apart on the way down the hall and Mom had to use some of Dad’s big words and more than a few safety pins to pull it together.  I’ll never understand these people who spend half the mortgage on fancy cupcake dresses and then never give them a dry run in the kitchen before they leave for the hotel.

Seriously, lady.  I’m pretty sure Celine isn’t cutting the tags off something in the elevator at Caesars two minutes before the fog machine gets plugged in.  Figure it out.

When Brooklyn and her pins finally went up on stage, there were so many distractions for her little brain that she went into sensory overload and almost blacked out.

Trust me.  One thing I’ve learned from being so famous is that you just can’t wave back to everyone in the crowd.  It’s just not possible.  Or healthy.

And part of that last sentence may have been fabricated.  But only slightly.

While Brooklyn couldn’t keep her dress on, Emma couldn’t take hers off…because unfortunately, she broke her break away snap before she even went on stage.

Minor meltdown.  “I want my rip off skirt!!!!!!”

Girrrl, if I only had a penny for every time I heard that in college.

Bella’s Monkey Phone outfit was the big hit of the evening.  It even rang.  A banana phone that rang.  Only in America.  I’m kind of wishing I’d held off on my iPhone 5 now and gone for the banana.

Little Brooklyn had an elaborate jungle swing prop that looked pretty fly, but did nothing to relieve her sensory overload on Round Two.  Mom was getting frazzled and spent the rest of the episode babbling her way through one long flustered run on sentence.

She was not happy with the judges.  Brooklyn won nothing.  Maybe gas money.

If you don’t want it, then give it to me honey.

Emma won Personality Plus, which I assume is even more cool than just winning for Personality.  She was psyched.  I love seeing kids who really have fun at these things.

Bella won Outfit of Choice and a 3 month window sticker for the Secretarial Pool Parking Spot.  She was psyched, until the fruit snacks wore off and then she just flipped again.

Brooklyn clutched her gas money like I do the day before I write a rent check.  She was pretty psyched, too.

Then suddenly, all the wild animals realized it was way past their bedtimes.

Stampede.

Hold all my banana phone calls, will ya?

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