Toddlers & Tiaras: Girrrrl, Pleez. Grab Your Passport And Drop It Like It’s Hot. Get Ready To Sparkle All Around The World, Because When Glitz Goes International…It’s A Thriller.Thursday, May 17th, 2012
Those bitches are lucky there’s no Ultimate Grand Fierce category. Mmmm’kay?
I’m pretty sure they wear my crowns when I’m at school.
Sometimes the smallest Tiffany box contains the most valuable jewelry. Remember that.
And this is how you shake what yo’ Mama gave you. Any questions?
Salt-n-Pepa’s here, and we’re in effect. Want you to Glitz It. Glitz It Real Good.
This could be one for the record books, people.
Now I’m not an archival statistician…never claimed to be…and the hard drive on my Xfinity DVR is in no way large enough to backlog every single episode ever filmed over however many seasons we have all been closet-watching this show.
And surprisingly enough to many, I may not actually be the authority on all things Toddlers & Tiaras, though I do claim this title on my current resume, business cards and upcoming Walmart tee shirt line.
So with nothing to go on, and no proof to back up any statements I am about to make, I’m going to go out on a limb and declare that this week’s episode of T&T may be the first time in television history that all three Pageant Moms have been…well…almost normal.
Pageant Normal, at least.
It probably won’t make for great sound bites on TMZ because there were no Hooters waitresses in bikinis, no sobbing Russian women having breakdowns and no delusional wives spending all their blue collared husbands’ hard earned income. There wasn’t even any livestock poop on the hotel bed that Consuela would have to clean up after scrubbing down the spray tanned tub.
They were all outrageously friendly, didn’t have one flip out and loved their kids unconditionally. I was afraid that there might not be anything for me to snark about this week, and who really wants to read this much fluff without any zingers? How was this possible?
This wasn’t held in the South. That explains it.
And just like that, I gotz my snark back.
Take a deep breath for this one. The America’s Genuine Jewel All Around The World Glitz Pageant…another breath…was held in white bread Connecticut, so that explained some of the normalcy.
Though many have tried, nobody can take the title of Pageant Crazy away from the South. I’m pretty certain that at least 5 of the states down there actually have “Home of the Pageant Crazy” as their DMV license and registration motto, which probably looks pretty dope with a “SPKL BBY” vanity plate.
So what the Northeast lacked in crazy, they more than made up for in fierceness and cuteness. And then more fierceness.
First up we got to meet 8 year old Lacey-Mae and her Mom Kerry Ann.
Little Lacey-Mae is…well…little, because she was born with achondroplasia, the leading cause of dwarfism.
(Again…DanThat’sCool! We Google it so you don’t have to….!)
Trust me, her size is the only little thing about this princess. When Mom pulled up to the drive-thru maternity window 8 years ago, everything else was super-sized.
L-M has more self confidence than most of the goofs I went to high school with and more stage presence than most of the glitter babies at the pageant. If you check out her bio, she has gone through more in her 8 short years than most of us will ever have to deal with, and for that she should get one extra crown just cuz.
You couldn’t help but like her as soon as she got up in the camera lens. The only problem she has with pageants is that the dresses are either too long, or so heavy that knock her down, or both. But that ain’t stopping the Lacey Locomotive from tearing into the station, because she was really excited to do her Bollywood and Voodoo Queen numbers at the competition this week.
As proof that I watch waaaaay more Reality TV than I should, as soon as L-M was introduced I chuckled at how many hits the other famous Lacey-Mae was going to accidentally get on her Facebook tonight.
For those of you who still read books or didn’t pay your cable bill, the other Lacey-Mae Schwimmer is that crazy hair whipping bitch from So You Think You Can Dance and Dancing With The Stars. The one with the Broadway dancing brother Benji, who himself is the sappiest/happiest jazz-hander I have ever seen.
How bummed is the wrong L-M gonna be when she gets home from the DWTS Vegas Show tonight and gets all excited that 5,000 more people checked out her status page?
Then we were on to even bigger and badder things…and I pretty much died and went to Heaven for a few minutes.
I went to that part of Heaven you go to when you witness so much fun fierce african-american nubian fierceness that your head can’t contain all the fierceness and you die a little. That Heaven.
It was time for 8 year old Damitri’ana, her Mom Quiana and Mom’s side kick sister Marquita. Whoa…that was a mouthful.
One: Where is this Name Generator Machine located that everyone uses to come up with these names? I need to find it before I buy a puppy.
Two: Why haven’t I gone to lunch with these woman yet?
I. Love. Them. We would totally wreck the buffet at Olive Garden, and have the best ride home in a cop car. Ever.
They are a hoot. Two hoots, actually. Two full hoots. The only thing bigger than their personalities are their weaves. Girlfriend, call me. Hit me up on my Sidekick, if you know what I mean.
Finally, we had a musical interlude with 4 year old Mackenzie and her Mom Crystal.
Tiny Mack does that sing-songy thing that always makes me smile. The thing where the kid can’t just answer a question, but instead has to make a little ditty out of it and bust into a stuffed animal tea party song. But this one had air guitar. She’s a rock staaaaahhhh.
Mack’s Dad Jamie is a Pageant Dad that could pass as a normal Dad. He’s all about his daughter, and is more than happy to work it with finger kisses and pretty feet during the living room practice sessions (…PleasePleasePlease don’t let the guys at the Lodge see this episode…) but could just as easily whip your a** at poker or fly fishing. Just a normal Joe who loves his kid.
Sir, I tip my Hawaii sun visor to you.
Then it was back to our African roots. Or Damitri’ana’s anyway.
(Uh oh. Doesn’t look like the Name Generator Machine took into account how odd that name would look with two apostrophes. Let that be a lesson to you.)
It was rehearsal time. Quiana vs. Marquita. Only one diva would survive….and score a crisp $20 bill in the process.
Turned out that Mom had choreographed D’s African routine, while Auntie dreamed up the Michael Jackson number. The pageant called for two productions, and it was on like Donkey Kong to see which dance scored higher, and who got the twenty bucks to put towards some new tracks. Did I already mention how much I love them?
The African number was Lion King meets Beyoncé meets Prince meets I don’t know what. The Michael Jackson number was the same thing plus some hardcore Mama Say Mamakossa, but without the Lion King part.
Damitri’ana dropped it like it was hot. Then she picked it up again and dropped it one more time because it was still too hot. The African outfit she was going to wear had been custom designed by some tailor at some shop that I guess makes African pageant clothes, but it was a little too racy for “Father Figure” Kenny who had just watched a booty girl wear almost the same thing while doing head stand leg splits in a Ludacris video.
(Hey. TLC gave him that title…not me. I’m not sure why they couldn’t have just slapped his name under his face and left it at that. I’m not touching that one.)
But Kenny was out voted. Sorry, dude.
While Damitri’ana was in the living room dropping it, Mackenzie was in the kitchen spitting it out.
Her flipper, that is. For her first glitz pageant Mom had invested in a flipper that looked like it was cast from the mouth of a 6 month old baby. The thing barely fit, and they decided after Mack almost digested it that they would go with her natural chompers, risking the dreaded Glitz penalty points.
Side note. For a pageant that harped on all the Moms to get flippers, the director certainly had some gnarly enamel. That’s all I have to say on the subject.
Glass houses. Don’t throw stones. Ok. Now I’m done.
On Pageant Day, it was the usual hotel room carnage.
Mom and Auntie painted up Damitri’ana while promising her that she would be the baddest Real Housewife of Atlanta ever.
Watch yo’ back, NeNe. And if you really have to wear that Ludacris African outfit, Kenny sez close your legs to pageant judges.
(Seriously. Do you know how long I have waited to be able to use that RHOA line in an age appropriate fashion that actually made sense in these recaps? It’s like Christmas just came early for me.)
The only other casualty of the pre-show chaos was Lacey-Mae’s right eye getting glued shut during the false eyelash application. They managed to pry it open and she correctly identified how many fingers they were holding up in front of her, so it was all good.
The Beauty portion was pretty tame. For her first Glitz evah, Mack rocked the stage.
Damitri’ana was a little nervous, but pulled off her Niecy Nash look just fine.
Lacey-Mae did this stop and look back over her shoulder head move like she was that chick from GLEE on the red carpet. Classic.
The World Wear portion was introduced with a bootleg version of Disney’s It’s A Small World After All, and then it was as if all the animatronics came to life and jumped at you on the amusement ride.
Mack did a Portuguese nose pick and Flamenco Dancing Soccer Player looking routine. Damitri’ana unleashed her African princess and Lacey-Mae did a Bollywood shimmy shake that made me wonder if the stage was being hit by a tremor. The poor little nugget cried so hard after the Indian routine because she didn’t think she did well and all of the sudden I was yelling at my TV to make sure her Mom hugged her real hard for me.
Quiana and Marquita were spliced in every few minutes so they could head shake and give their two snaps worth of fierceness. I’m pretty sure that I loved them more in the second half of the show than I did the first, if that was even possible. Quiana got a couple of two fisted whoop whoops in while giving her roving reporter input on the pageant’s progress, while Marquita made room in her wallet for the twenty dollah that she just knew was coming at her soon.
Outfit of Choice is when the party started.
Mackenzie came out as a human piano, but came to a screeching halt and yelled at Mom from the stage for doing “the motions” during her routine.
What is it about Pageant Moms at that point? I don’t care who you are. You can be the most chilled out lady at the Bake Sale, but as soon as your kid gets on stage you think you have your Harvard PhD in Pageant Dancing and you unleash all your inner spaz behind the judges.
Lacey-Mae’s Voodoo Queen number came complete with Gold Bond foot powder that she blew into the judges’ faces as a curse should they even think about taking off points for her dress being too long.
When Damitri’ana busted out her Michael Jackson dance, the place went BaZoinkerz. Even the tiniest little white girls who had no clue what was going on suddenly got their groove back. Quiana and Marquita were jammin’ like it was last call at the Apollo.
For those of you who missed it the first ten times: Love. Them.
Some of the people in that room may even need an intervention after that routine. Michael Jackson and Pixie Stix are the new Ecstasy.
Then some kids won some stuff. Google it if it’s really that important.
All that really matters is that Marquita went home with a crisp twenty in her Louis bag.
I think somebody’s getting their hair did this weekend.