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

January 4th, 2013

 

 

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.

Dance Moms: It Was The Beginning Of The End. Time For Rocky Mountain Highs…And Lows…As Abby And The ALDC Take Over Denver.

January 2nd, 2013

 

 

So you girls need to figure out what you want to do with your life, and what the f*** Mommy’s gonna do with her hair today.

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously. And they talk about mine?

 

 

 

 

 

OMG. Dying. There’s a cute boy in the room. Please tell me I don’t have Cheez Whiz on my face.

 

 

 

 

 

So you’re saying I either dance, or stay home and eat ice cream and tacos all day? I’m gonna have to get back atchoo on that one.

 

 

 

 

Ok. “Crazy” doesn’t even cover it. I should have read the contract.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, don’t you worry. I still got it, bitches.

 

 

 

 

 

Take a deep breath, sew your damn headpiece into your skull and get ready to Jazz Hand and Bitch Slap your way up the Pyramid to Nationals again, people.

Because it is on.

Dance Moms is back.  And in your face.

We barely had time to unpack our rolling zebra print luggage from that exhausting trip to LA for Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition, and now it’s already time for another season of Pennsylvania Mama Drama.

Abby Lee Miller and her crew returned this week after a break in the competition season, a little rusty in the choreography department, but totally en pointe when it came to talking smack and teasing hair.

The new season kicked off with a prequel of sorts; an odd little pre-game show that was half Real Housewives of Pittsburgh and half community access Star Search.

I really don’t know what was going on with that first hour.  But it needs to be addressed.

Now I love me some crazy Dance Moms (…the more cray cray the better, thank you…) and I love my BFF producer Jeff Collins.

Yes…in the BlogWorld, in case you’re wondering, if someone emails you (…even one time…) you are now legally allowed to reference them as BFFs in all future conversations.  I read that somewhere on the internet, so you know it’s gospel.

But even with all that love…seriously, dude?

It’s 2013, so I’ll start the New Year off on a positive and give them all the benefit of the doubt with this pre-premiere special.

Maybe they maxxed out Lifetime’s AmEx on that Phantom of the Opera-ish AUDC Los Angeles venue.  It was pretty fancy, after all.  And I’m sure that having to pay for the rights to mention The Pussycat Dolls every time Robin Antin opened her mouth on screen for ten weeks didn’t come cheap.  Miss Thang does love her PCDs.

Have you ever watched one of those national telethons where they cut back to the local network feed after a commercial, just long enough to count the dimes some kid collected in a jar and then have the announcer’s daughter’s grade school tap class perform something that doesn’t even remotely resemble a tap dance?

It was like that.

I’m pretty sure they just pushed the phone banks off to the side and let the audience use the same chairs.  And don’t even get me started on the two lonely teenage boys in the audience, clearly attending only in the hopes of scoring a prom date later in the school year, as they chewed on their wristbands and watched their youth slip away.

Yolo, as the kids like to say nowadays.

It was just whacked.  Every time I looked up from my snacks there was either a giant camera or a piece of equipment unintentionally in the shot, with some random dude holding a clipboard running in a circle trying to avoid colliding into all that machinery.

Coming off the elaborate Ultimate Dance Competition, it was just odd.  Even the rented trade show backdrop looked like it was hiding a weatherman’s green screen.

Like I said, it just needed to be addressed.

But back to Pittsburgh.

As the tiny dancers and their Moms all marched into the studio for the first Pyramid of the season, it was glaringly obvious that Kelly, her crazy Mom hair and her two daughters were MIA from the festivities.

The last time we had seen the three of them was at Nationals, when Kelly finished off the episode with a cliff hanger of a meltdown that left the entire world wondering Who Shot J.R.? and if Team Hyland would ever return to the ALDC.  It didn’t look good so far.

The combination of California jet lag and being down two dancers a week before the first competition clearly pushed all of Abby’s buttons as she tore every head shot off the mirror and proclaimed it No Pyramid Day in the Kingdom.

Dat’s rite.  No Pyramid.  Just mind games this week.

Turns out that while Abby had been schmoozing her way around LA, she had planted some spies/guest choreographers strategically throughout the ALDC to keep the girls busy and get them up to snuff for the new season.

The idea looked good on paper, anyway.

Unfortunately, it turned out that family trips and suburban strip mall Meet & Greets had distracted most of them from attending a majority of the rehearsals.  New found television fame can do that, I guess.  And that made Abby cranky.

Having a group number that consisted of four clearly out of practice young girls wasn’t helping, either.  So nobody was finding out much about who got what and when and where until Abby was in the mood.

This week they were headed to Denver for the In10sity Dance Competition, and seeing as how she had no idea whether they were ever coming back to the studio or not, Abby needed to find replacements for Brooke and Paige.

Abby needed new dancers, asap, and apparently setting up massive open cattle call auditions via cell phone while you are filming a show in Los Angeles was easier than just shooting Kelly an email asking if she would be there on opening day.  Whatever, Abby.

Naturally, the audition turned into the Million Mom March meets American Idol as everyone weaved their way around the parking lot potholes (…seriously?  You have TWO cable network shows and you still can’t get those things filled in?…) and into the cattle call holding pen.  Even the Mom Perch was so overloaded that it looked like the last day of the month at the DMV as some no name woman went off on looney tunes “Suck It Up” Mom Leslie.

When it was all said and done, New Orleans newbie Ally was chosen and matriarch Shelly couldn’t have been any happier.  Ally was a tall drink of water, at least when stacked up against the current roster, and all the other Moms had immediate Payton flashbacks before any solos were even announced.  I guess in the Dance World height is more important than seniority, at least in Pittsburgh and at the Radio City Christmas Show.

Abby immediately shifted Ally into the group number’s lead position, thereby knocking Chloe back into the chorus line and tightening another screw in Christi‘s carotid artery.  Poor Shelly didn’t stand a chance in her first attempt at the Mom Perch, and ended up running out of the room to take iPhone movies of her kid stealing Chloe’s routine which someday will probably be entered into evidence at some harassment lawsuit somewhere.

Shelly seemed nice enough, and I could totally picture her playing piano for the New Orleans Junior High Choral Ensemble at next year’s Food Court Christmas Concert.  But she was outnumbered in the Dance Mom Jungle.  Don’t put your N’awlins house on the market just yet, honey.

We also jumped over to Kelly’s house for a few minutes as Brooke and Paige tried to decide what to do with their lives.  The only thing that really got accomplished in that scene was that we got a chance to take inventory of all the new clutter that Kelly picked up at HomeGoods over the summer.  Lord, Girlfriend does love that accessory aisle.

Then it was time to rehearse, kiddos.

The Bump-It-less (…I think I just invented another new word…) Jill had some major issues with both her hair and with Abby this week, which resulted in Kendall ending up awkwardly plopped on Mom’s lap, hysterically sobbing while everyone looked around at each other uncomfortably.

I’ll say it.  The kid’s getting a little too old for these Mackenzie meltdowns, and it made me feel like I do when 9 year olds are still allowed to sleep in their parent’s bed.  Of all times for Leslie to be at Walmart when we need her.

Suck it up.

And speaking of.  Tiny space shot Vivi-Anne was having no problem whatsoever sucking down a monster bowl of Ohio ice cream as everyone’s favorite evil villainess Chaos Cathy Nesbitt tried to get her daughter all sugar buzzed before cutting her from her own dance company.

After two full seasons of sequined airport baggage handlers tossing Vivi-Anne around the stage at every competition, even Cathy realized that it was time for a change.  And maybe even some actual dancing.  Abby had been wiping the floors with the Candy Apples Dance Center at every award ceremony, and it was time for revenge.

Cathy’s Secret Weapon, spastically red haired Justice, was no longer at the studio so she needed to get back to the War Room/Jerky Cooler and devise a new plan to conquer the ALDC.  And it was going to be filled pre-teen testosterone, if there is such a thing.  The Apples were going Boy Band this year.

I’m sad that our little ginger nugget won’t be back, only because that means his bad a** red haired Mom won’t be back either.  And I was totally planning on a biker bar chick fight this season.  Cuz you know that Bitch can throw down if you cut her off at the light.  I loved her, and miss her already.  Call me, maybe?

Since Abby was down to almost no dancers, everyone but Sasha Nia got a solo, and I was all like Laquifa WTF?  But her time will come.  She is Diva Fierce, and pretty much the only one who finally has her hair under control this season.  Yikes.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Rangeview High in beautiful downtown Denver was the host and they finally  hooked up the ALDC with a prep area that was actually large enough to…I dunno…prep in, for a change.  Abby was psyched.

They also had an odd security system in place to prevent unwanted intruders from barging into a rehearsal.  Tell me you saw that note on the door?  Go back and check if you missed it.

Attached to the door that everyone kept slamming was a hand written construction paper note that said something like “If someone knocks, tell me.  Do NOT answer the door.”  Yeah, it was even underlined.

Tell who?  Now we’ll never know if this was a secret After Hours club run by that Home Ec teacher who seemed so innocent.  Damn.

Luckily, Abby disregarded all security measures and allowed some ManCandy to enter the Girl’s Club when her former school crush Mark showed up out of the blue.

El Scandalo!  This Mark was the Mark that Kelly had (…allegedly…) stolen from Abby back in the day when they were all at some one room school house on the prairie.

Christi swore that Abby had slashed his tires in a fit of Taylor Swift heartbreak, but Abby claimed that Kelly was only 12 years old at the time and made the whole story up for TMZ.

And you thought the Dance World couldn’t get any creepier?  Please tell me the tires in question were attached to a banana bike with baseball cards on the spokes, or that whole 12 year old thing just turned into an undercover Dateline story.

Anyone care for any iced tea or potato chips?

Moving on.

Abby tripped all over herself whenever Mark was in the room, and ended up shoving somebody out of their seat in the auditorium to make room for her man during the competition.  She even dragged him out for snacks after the show was over.

Oh yeah.  Mama likes.

Then some kids did some dancing.  I know you aren’t here for the cultural aspects of the evening.  That’s what Google is for.

It’s going to take a few weeks for me to completely shake off the LA show, because after that expensive extravaganza the In10sity stage looked like a basement comedy club.  If the technical people are still online…a few more spotlights wouldn’t hurt.

Chloe, MackAttack and Kendall all did their solos without forgetting too many moves.

Maddie was Maddie, of course.  The only thing Nia had to do this week was participate in the group number, but Diva werked that bitch until it hurt.

Even the judges looked like they might have to excuse themselves and have a cigarette after the routine was over, the way they were grinding in their seats and tossing their heads back like Meg Ryan.

If Kendall had been available to sit on their laps, the Awkward Fest would have been complete.

During crowning (…sorry, wrong show…) the ALDC scored again and took first place with their Angels & Demons group dance.  They won some other spots as well, but I was so distracted by the judges screwing off in the background that I couldn’t pay attention.

Seriously.  How much chewing gum do they give those people?  I know they wanted to go home, but they may want to try Leading By Example the next time they find themselves surrounded by the youth of America.

The return of Dance Moms ended with yet another backstage screaming match.

Christi and Abby went at it, Holly scrunched up a few Real Housewives of Atlanta OhNoSheDin’t faces and a horrified Shelly just sat back and wet herself before anyone really had time to notice her new blazer.

Abby even swore in front of the girls, which is second only to sickle feet on the infamous Never Do List.  Fix your feet, and then watch your mouth.

Because everybody’s replaceable.

Yup.  They’re back.

Toddlers & Tiaras: Step Right Up And See The Coach Nikki Sideshow! The Southern Elite Cirque Is A Heaping Helping Of Kentucky Fried Glitz.

December 28th, 2012

 

 

Nana nana bo bana. Banana fana fo fana. Fe fi fo fanna… Nana’s broke.

 

 

 

 

She ain’t seen the White Trash Mafia until she’s seen it from the inside of a Dodge Ram trunk. It’s on, bitch.

 

 

 

 

Ssshhh. Be veeewy quiet. I’m hunting wabbits and winning pageants, Silly.

 

 

 

 

So you either win this (bleepin’) thing you little (bleep) or I take you back to Hell with me. Got it?

 

 

 

 

Bleep Bleep Bleep Trash Trash Trash Bleep Bleep Bleep Trash Trash Trash

 

 

 

 

Not gonna lie. A parking lot chick fight would really up my street cred with the other Directors. Annette would be so freakin’ jealz.

 

 

 

Don’t look now, but I’m about to crown somebody before this circus even gets started. Watch my purse, will ya?

 

 

And you thought clowns were scary?

You ain’t seen nothing yet.

Brace yourself, because the Southern Elite Pageants circus just rolled into town…and it’s at least three full rings of crazy.  Guaranteed.

Toddlers & Tiaras brought the Carnival to Kentucky this week, and according to one Mom it was going to be On Like Donkey Kong before the kids even hit the stage.

Pageant Director Dorothy Poteat broke it down for us before we met the latest pack of princesses.  It was all about the Glitz and the Sparkle and that Kentucky intensity that the locals are apparently well known for around these parts.

And Dorothy doesn’t lie from what I could tell, because she had that former Sorority Girl face that made you not only believe whatever she told you, but also made you feel sad that she didn’t end up with the football jock that she secretly crushed on for four years.  That kind of face.

We liked her, but she definitely needs to ramp up the Krazy factor if she wants to make it into my Top Ten Hall of Fame.

Our first contestant was 7 year old Gracie along with four of the cutest puppies I’ve ever seen, all going totally bazoinkers in the front yard.

With Real Mom Shannon and Fake Mom Kacie both watching over her, little Gracie looked like that afternoon fabric softener commercial where the baby is pig piled by a litter of puppies who are almost as warm and fuzzy as freshly laundered bath towels.

Fake Mom turned out to be the pageant authority in the family, as well as Gracie’s Aunt.

Mom needed some help (…and SPOILER ALERT: a tag team partner for a little upcoming throw down at the pageant…) and as Fate would have it, Aunt Kacie was more than happy to help out with both assignments.  So bring it on.

Next up was 6 year old Ashley and Mom Christie.

Oh, Ashley.  Let’s just say that if there were ever an Ultimate Grand Supreme crown for Most Words Spoken Without Ever Taking A Single Breath, little Miss Ashley would definitely be wearing that shizzle on her head because she didn’t shut up once for the entire episode.  Not once.

If kiddie pageantry doesn’t turn out to be her thing, Ashley certainly has a future in deep sea fishing or scuba diving, because her body does not seem to require the intake of any oxygen whatsoever as she rambled on and on about every crown and every title and every sash and every trophy and every Beanie Baby and every My Little Pony and every glitter sticker currently in her possession without skipping a beat.

Luckily, as with other chatterboxes that we have met in recent episodes, Ashley is still young enough where the precocious factor outweighs the urge to pull your own ears off with your bare hand just to make it all stop.  Being only 6 years old, she still has a few more good years left before someone completely loses their nutty on her in a slow moving elevator.  But right now, she is cute as a button and needs to have her cheeks squeezed by Grandma at least twice a day.

And speaking of.  Since the whole pageant thing is a little pricey if you’re really in it to win it, Mom had turned to Nana Kathy for funding, and quickly realized that taking money from the Family is just like taking money from the Mob.

They own you.

Nana was more than happy to pay for everything necessary to keep Ashley in crowns, with the stipulation that whatever she says…goes.  Like in The Godfather.

Or Seabiscuit.

Because if Nana was going to financially back this race horse, it was only fair that she have final say on everything coming into the barn, so to speak.

And you know I loved me some Nana.  Between that Walmart cashier sassiness, a hair style that you know requires at least five hours in a JCPenney salon chair because she pisses away so much time gossiping about her stories and whether or not Jessica Simpson is really pregnant again, and lips that looked like she just finished off a fruit punch Juice Box, Girlfriend just made me smile.

If I ever need an extra Nana, I’m hitting her up at Bingo Night.  Nana Realness.

Love.  Her.

And finally, a moment of silence for our third contestant.

More than a moment, actually.  Waaaay more.  Do not adjust your television sets.

Painfully shy, yet ridiculously cute, 6 year old Jersie tip toed onto the screen and basically stood in one spot so quietly that I had to check my remote just to confirm that I hadn’t accidentally sat on the volume button when I reached for my cheese balls.

Mom Danielle had entered Jersie into her first pageant hoping that it might help bring her out of her shell and prove to the world, once and for all, that this cutie patootie was indeed born with functioning vocal chords.

After listening to Ashley take a verbal inventory of every piece of pageant paraphernalia in her house…twice…it was kind of refreshing to just watch a little kid stand there in dead silence until pigeons landed on her head.  Almost statuesque, I tell you.

But the silence didn’t last very long as Nana and Mom and Ashley hit the nail salon for some pre-pageant pink glitter polish.

Ashley said yes.  Mom said no.  Nana said yes.  Ashley really OMG totally wanted the pink glitter polish.  Mom left her cash in her other pants.  Nana paid the salon bill.

Who do you think won that one?

Then it was off to rehearse with Jersie and her new coach Madison, who appeared to have taken a leave of absence from a part-time gig at Hot Topics in order to teach The Shy One the Ways of the Pageant.

After boosting everyone’s confidence by admitting that she had no freaking clue what she was doing and that all her pageant coach training had come from watching past episodes of Toddlers & Tiaras, Madison tried to show Jersie how they finger kissed last season while Mom sat back and chewed her nails.

Inspired by Madison’s story, I also have decided to use the knowledge gained by watching past Discovery Channel documentaries  and go work on the International Space Station with the Russians.  It could happen.

Sometimes it’s better to not even try to make sense of things and just move on…

Ashley got her time to ramble on…and on…and on…and practice for the competition, accompanied by a few of those random, nameless children that I always love seeing magically appear in the background.  The nameless boy seemed to be into it, but the nameless girl seemed to be having a rough time coming down from an earlier background Pixie Stix guzzle.

Locating all these stray, random children who keep showing up in living rooms and back porches is really turning into a kind of Where’s Waldo? game that I like to play in my head when the storyline doesn’t keep my attention.  You should totally try it sometime.

And then the s*** got real.

Mom Shannon mentioned that Gracie’s only real competition in the upcoming pageant was going to be a little scamp named Faithlyn.  And then I heard thunder outside my window and one of my action figures fell off the shelf.

Faithlyn?  Did she just say Faithlyn?  Not Faith (…pause…) Lynn, right?

Thank you, baby Jesus.  Because wherever singular Faithlyn goes, Pageant Coach from Hell Nikki can’t be far behind.

And sure enough, the floor of some dark Abercrombie & Fitch fitting room buckled and out crawled Nikki, swearing and cussing and talking (bleep) about everyone on the pageant circuit.

Explaining that during a recent ballroom altercation Nikki had called out Real Mom and Fake Mom for being members of the White Trash Mafia, Shannon was looking for the opportunity to slap some bronzer right off Nikki’s sarcastic puss.

Shannon don’t play, especially when she can tag Kacie through the ropes and then double up on Nikki’s smirking face like the bitch just cut in line on Black Friday.

Oh, it was on.  WTM WWE Style.

Finally, it was Showtime!

With Faithlyn as her unsuspecting pawn, Nikki activated Operation: Mind F*** on the ballroom.  Letting everyone know that Gracie wasn’t really that cute, she began the process of getting inside all the other contestant’s heads while multi-tasking that last minute sequin drama that always seems to manifest itself right before they call your number.

Watching the (…alleged…) WTM Moms just waiting for Nikki to talk smack about their kid reminded me of those high school girls leaning on their Daddy’s Trans Am getting ready to rumble over something that went down at last weekend’s cafetorium dance.  I pity the fool who disrespects their youngins or tries to text their man from the bathroom during Stairway to Heaven.

You just don’t do that.

Meanwhile, Nana’s choice to override Mom and allow pink glitter polish came back and bit her on the butt when it turned out that french tips don’t adhere to sparkly things.

For the dudes in the room, french tips are like when you clip your nails and then change your mind and try to glue them back onto your fingers.

Ain’t gonna happen.  And it almost made Ashley late for her Beauty Walk.

But the glitter really hit the fan when Gracie showed up in her new red dress.

OhNoSheDin’t.  A red dress.  Just like the one Faithlyn was wearing.

Nikki was so (bleepin’ bleeped) that anyone would have the (bleeps) to wear (bleepin’) red, because everyone knew that Faithlyn had purchased a new red dress.

Everyone?  Seriously?

Honey.  Unless it was on a CNN screen crawl or she’s actually a Kardashian, I’m thinking that Faithlyn’s new red cupcake dress could have slipped under the radar for a few Americans.  Regardless, Nikki felt that Gracie’s red knockoff looked like (bleep) and went back to her sequin drama.  Bitch.

This time around, the actual stage activities were not nearly as captivating as all the off-stage antics.  It should also be noted that there seemed to be a fairly large showing of big church hats in the audience this week for some reason.  Not sure what that was all about, unless it was a Sunday pageant or everyone was going to Boston Market after the show for the half chicken meal deal.

But I felt it should be pointed out just because I like big hats.

Gracie attempted a so-so booty pop move for the judges, which resulted in a disrespectful Nikki and Faithlyn mockery in the hallway.  Gracie did the G rated version, while Nikki had obviously trained Faithlyn to work it like she was soaping up the hood of a car in some music video.  No wonder Mom won’t go on camera.

Before crowning, Shannon couldn’t stand it any longer and took Nikki out in the parking lot to settle the score.  I was hoping for some Real Housewives of Kentucky weave-pulling action, but Nikki just called her trash again and walked away, carrying what was either a Juicy Couture markdown from last year or the bag you get in the lobby when you register and pick up your sticky tag.

Nice sparkly crown logo, Nik.  Girrrrl, you ratchet.

Then some kids won some stuff.

Jersie actually came out of her shell a little, and seemed to have fun wearing her tiny crown upside down.  Ashley was a winner no matter what, according to Mom, and I like when they tell that to their kids.

Faithlyn beat out Gracie on the food chain, so you know Nikki had no problem rubbing that in everyone’s face before crawling back to wherever she comes from each weekend.

Then as fast as it had rolled into town, the circus pulled up stakes, took down their tents and stacked up the ballroom chairs.  Everyone climbed back into their clown car SUVs and headed off into the horizon all full of sugar and aerosol fumes.

And somewhere out there…or down there…Nikki is clutching a little lap dog and already plotting her next attack on the Earth’s surface.

That is just (bleeped) up.


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