Toddlers & Tiaras: Who’s Saree Now? It’s Time To Pop In Your Flipper And Sing A Glitzy Hurray For Bollywood.

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Seriously, people? It’s Bollywood, not the Lone Ranger. How ’bout you all Google it before you show up on a damn horse next time?

 

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Bitch, I know you’re not tugging on my weave while I’m choking to death on this plastic tooth.

 

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Lawd, I’m tired. Last night I had a dream I was named after some really thick Kardashian girl.

 

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What The Hell am I supposed to do with this piece of tin?

 

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Soldier Down in the lobby. I repeat: We have a blue Persian Parrot Down in the lobby. Send backup.

 

 

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Don’t look at me. They wouldn’t even let me bring my rifle inside. But hunting’s pretty sweet, Bro.

 

 

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I swear I’m either gonna break some water or some gawd dang diva skulls in about two minutes.

 

 

 

Here we go again.

Pageant Time.

Time for Toddlers & Tiaras to check off another chunk of crazy on that BeDazzled Bucket List.  But what could they possibly come up with next?

The new season has only been around for about three weeks and we’ve already come face to face with fierce drag queen judges, lesbians and non-lesbians throwing down in hotel lobbies…and the mother of all Hood Rat muthas.  (Shout out to Englewood!)

Is nothing sacred?

Not really.  Except maybe the cows in India.

Oooh.  Good idea, dude.

And that’s probably pretty much how the Glitter Girls Bollywood Pageant was born.

After a quick introduction, Pageant Directah (…that’s how she said it…) Tasha Land explained how this whole Indian themed thing was going to go play out this week.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember seeing Tasha on T&T before now.

I’m not saying she’s never been on the show.  I just don’t remember.  I’m pretty sure that I do remember seeing her slap a bitch down on Oxygen’s Bad Girl’s Club and throw another bitch’s suitcase over a balcony railing while screaming something that got (bleeped) out on the audio track.  I could be mistaken.  But I doubt it.

Regardless of where I’ve seen her, Tasha was a hoot.

She was totally the kind of brassy sassy girl that you always hear on the midtown bus screaming into her blinged out cellphone, starting and ending every sentence with “Gurrrl.  Just.  Shut.  Up.” and then laughing so hard that one Sephora eyelash falls off and her purse dumps upside down on the floor.

She needs to go on the Wendy Williams Show asap.

Two minutes into the episode and Tasha already knew that she was in over her head since not one Pageant Mom had taken the time to read her Facebook explanation of what the word Bollywood actually meant, and now they were all rushing to iParty to buy the wrong costumes.

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Indian doesn’t always mean we’re having guests over for Thanksgiving, people.

Without crossing into Paula Deen territory, Tasha delicately tried to explain the difference between feathers on your head and that movie where the kid won a buttload of money on Who Wants To Be  A Millionaire?  She had absolutely no idea what to expect at her pageant, so it was easier to just laugh really loudly and flip her weave.

She’s a hoot, and is now officially invited to join Annette Hill and me when we book that T&T party bus and get kicked out of a Texas bar.

Gurrrl.  Just.  Shut.  Up.

Our first little contestant this week was 2 year old Khloe and Mom Abby.

Holy crap can Abby smile.  Like all the time.  Even when she’s a stress bag.

She reminded me of those bubbly bank tellers who always get reprimanded for holding up their line by chit chatting and giggling with every customer instead of just giving them their balance and sending them on their way.  I like happy people, so she scored some bonus points right away.

Which I immediately took back, because Mom had named her precious little squirt of a baby after Khloe Kardashian.

Yeah.  That Khloe.  Let that one sink in for a minute.

Hi, Grandma.  Here’s my new baby girl that I named after some big, loud coat tail riding fame whore who is only famous because her big, loud fame whore sister has a big a** and got caught doing a sex tape and has a baby out of wedlock with a Dbag rapper and now somehow makes a katrillion dollars selling hoochie dresses at Sears.

Wanna hold her?

Mom then listed all the Supreme titles that Khloe (…the little one, not the big one…) had won up to this point.  All of them.

Mega Supreme.  Ultra Supreme.  Face Supreme.  Super Über Supreme.  Mega Ultra Super Über Face Supreme.  Diana Ross & The Supremes.

All of them.  She didn’t miss one.

And to make it even more entertaining, Khloe was a screamer.  Not a scaredy cat screamer.  Or Boogie Man under the bed screamer.  Just a screamer.

Question: How old are you?  Answer:  AAAAAAAUUUGGGHHH!

That kid was so cute.

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The second princess was 6 year old Ma’Leeh and Mom Garriel.  And they came packaged with a bonus gift with purchase princess, tiny 2 year old sister Nadia.

Mom was about 23 months pregnant and not moving too quickly.  Ma’Leeh was dramatically laying face down on the teeter totter with no friends while Nadia dingle dangled aimlessly on a swing set.

This family is clearly not known for their speed or sense of urgency.

Mom fessed up to being the Lazy Queen and to blatantly playing favorites with her daughters.  Nadia was her favorite.  The other one, What’sHerName, not so much.

If Nadia was crying or pouting, Mom explained that she would drop everything and run to her rescue.

If Ma’Leeh was crying or pouting, Mom would just drop her.  On her head, probably.

When an army guy in fatigues came out of nowhere and swooped in to snatch up one of the kids, I thought it was some kind of Child Services military training but it turned out to just be Dad Marcus in his uniform.

False alarm.

And finally, we met Honey Boo Boo Child 2.0…the Glitzy Hillbilly known as 4 year old Brooklyn and her Mom Sabrina.

It was like someone had come in and cleaned up Alana and her family just enough so they could go to fancier restaurants.  Mom had some of last year’s streaky highlights in her hair and Brooklyn had a stupidly cute face which she used to her full advantage.

Because only a cutie patootie face lets you get away with cutie patootie tooties in the middle of a television interview.

Toots.  Honks.  Farts.  Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?

Get it out of your (…intestinal…) system before high school or it ain’t gonna be pretty at the prom, sister.  But for right now, as long as I’m not the one driving her to preschool in a car with the windows rolled up, I guess we’ll cut her a little slack.

But just one.  Cut one, so to speak.  See how I did that?

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Brooklyn had been retired for a whopping four months, basically because she started losing pageant and decided to bail.  Mom called it retiring.  My Mom called it quitting.

Tomato.  Tomahhhhto.  Whatev.

Dad Kyle thought the whole pageant thing was a waste of time, and was way more interested in the dead hog laying in the back of the pickup truck.  Somebody’s having bacon with their eggs tomorrow.

He also randomly picked the age of 24 for the day when you kill your first grizzly or deer or elusive sasquatch and bring it home and your ex-pageant wife just sits there watching The Chew instead of offering to help hoist it up onto the garage door and slit its throat.

Because that’s what happens when you do pageants.  You wear makeup and watch TV all day.  Kyle said it, so it must be gospel.

Back at Ma’Leeh’s (…that’s a lot of apostrophes…) house, Mom was laying on the couch rubbing her SuperPregger belly and freaking out that Ma’Leeh had a loose tooth that was going to cost her the crown.  Even in Bollywood you either need two front teeth or a flipper.  And Ma’Leeh was at risk of having neither at the moment.

Luckily, Dad came to the rescue.  If you can pull a piece of shrapnel out of your buddy inside a moving tank with just your bare hands and a paper clip, I guess ripping a tooth right out of your daughter’s skull isn’t really much of a challenge.

Close your eyes.  Think about unicorns.  Boom.  Done.  Now go stick it under your pillow.  Daddy loves you.

While Ma’Leeh was bleeding out, Brooklyn was back at the lodge trying to learn how to do that Indian dance they do every season on So You Think You Can Dance.  As Coach Lindsay Ray Wright tried to bluff her way through some finger snaps, Mom voiced her concern that every girl was going to look the same at the pageant because they would all be wearing Sorries.  Or Saris.  Or what are they called again?

And then she just blankly looked back and forth as if some Indian woman was suddenly going to randomly pass through the living room on her way to Kala Ghoda.

(Google it.  I had to.)

Khloe was going to be dressed as a persian parrot for the Bollywood Outfit portion of the pageant because I guess they have a lot of persian parrots in India.  Who knew?  But she was too tired to care.  All that screaming wears a girl out.

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Poor thing barely had the strength to blow enough baby snot out of her baby nose to patch all the sheet rock in the nursery before she konked out for the night.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Tasha still had no idea what was going to happen and instead chose to just flip dat weave one mo’ time and prepare herself for the most ridiculous thing ever, which may be the tag line for Glitter Girls Pageants for all I know.

Love.  Her.

For the Beauty portion, the little Kardashian Kid had a meltdown.  She was tired.  Lawd, she was tired.  And cranky.  Brooklyn chose to shake her tootie booty at the judges and then just sulk on stage with her arms crossed like something was wrong in her dressing room.  Divas to the Dance Floor.

Favorite daughter Nadia took up all of Mom’s time in hair and makeup, so Dad had to go up on stage with her while Ma’Leeh got 30 seconds of attention in their hotel room.  As Mom raced through the process with a scalding curling iron, Ma’Leeh almost gagged herself unconscious with her snazzy new one tooth flipper until Grandma let her spit it out all covered in what looked like more of Khloe’s nose goo.

Gross.  I know it wasn’t, but it totally could have been.  That was at 10:26am if anyone is keeping track, because Mom said so.

After racing to the stage, Ma’Leeh rushed through her beauty walk and got scolded by Mom, who was now 36 months pregnant and not in the mood.  She could have cared less how her daughter felt.  She even said that.

Dad said that Mom should criticize the kids in a productive way, which I guess is different than a constructive way…and then it was Bollywood Time!

Khloe was now officially exhausted, and slipped out of Mom’s grip like a Slinky going down a flight of stairs and fell asleep on the lobby floor.  I mean, fell asleep in less than one second. Like a Spring Break blackout or something.  For realz.  I was kind of jealous.

Trust me, Girlfriend.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been face down in a hotel lobby wearing sequins and smeared lipstick.  Been there.  Done that.  But I’ve never been able to fall asleep with all those people checking in and rolling luggage over my head.

Totz jealz.

And that was a joke, by the way.

Maybe.

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Abby managed to shake Khloe awake long enough to carry her up on stage so she could act like a baby who had just been shaken awake.  NASA, we have lift off.  And simultaneous meltdown off all our protective shields.  This flight is so over.

Brooklyn looked like a gypsy prostitute.  Mom’s words, not mine.  Ma’Leeh werked the stage like Beyoncé on some kind of curry high and then ignored Mom by sitting alone in front of the stage.

Mom cried when she realized her least favorite daughter didn’t need her anymore.

Totally unrelated to the story was this random tiny potato sack of a baby dressed in Indian clothes that some Dad was boinging around the stage like she was on a yo-yo string until he finally sat her down on the cutest stuffed elephant pull toy evah.  I don’t even know who that was, but it was a scream.  Five point bonus.

Then some kids won some stuff.  None of our three won the Big Dawg though, and for the most part it didn’t go over very well.

Brooklyn was happy enough with Mini Grand Supreme, and actually seemed more concerned about leaving to go eat freshly slaughtered bacon with Daddy and throw that freaked out cat of hers down the play slide one more time.

Seriously.  Did you see that at the beginning of the show?  PETA on line 2 for Brooklyn.

Khloe had meltdown #786 while Ma’Leeh walked away to the accompaniment of the saddest guitar music every played on Lifetime TV.  And that includes all the Jane Seymour movies on the normal channel and the movie channel.

She was jealous of the winner.  She was jealous of her sister.  She was jealous of everything.  And she was missing a tooth on top of it.  Sucks.

And then it was over.

Say goodbye to Bollywood, little Kardashian.

And gesundheit.

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2 Responses to “Toddlers & Tiaras: Who’s Saree Now? It’s Time To Pop In Your Flipper And Sing A Glitzy Hurray For Bollywood.”

  1. sandy bailey Says:

    I opted for Master Chef … what was I thinkin’ ???

  2. sandy bailey Says:

    Hint to MaLeeh’sMa; you can’t reject a person for twenty-three hours, and in the twenty-fourth be sobbing because they don’t need you anymore; tried it with my ex’s; never worked…

    K, so I finally caught the episode on the rewind, and I just want to know which lame TnT producer has decreed to these WannaBooBoo’s that emitting enough methane to light the Sears tower is adorable…sick o’ it!

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