Posts Tagged ‘cool’

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition: If You Expect A Sassy Finger Wave, You Better Get Your Performance Face In Place, Honey. Let The Dancing Begin!

Wednesday, October 10th, 2012

 

 

Seriously. How many times have I said to only shoot me from here up..?

 

 

 

 

And I’ve been waiting for this my whooole life. And Dance Moms has only been on for two years. So I’m like totally psychic.

 

 

 

 

And then, no lie, she sez “You gotta risk it to get the biscuit.” Girrrrl, pleez. Honey Boo Boo Child sez that s*** is nasty.

 

 

 

 

And for the last time, it’s PCD. Not PCP. They just danced like they were on it.

 

 

 

 

“Dance like Fred Astaire or Mama yank yo’ hair.” You might want to put it on a glitter glue tee shirt if you know what I mean, honey.

 

 

 

 

Bitch, please. No more photos. Diva needs her juice box.

 

 

 

 

And so it begins.

For those of you having a tough time getting through the shakes and withdrawals of Dance Moms detox, it’s your lucky day.

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition has arrived to take the sting out of having to face the cold, hard fact that Chloe and Maddie are back in school and won’t be clawing their way up and down the ALDC Pyramid every week.

Dance Moms is over, but Abby Lee Miller ain’t going anywhere.

Considering the fact that a mere two years ago most of the Free World didn’t even know what ALDC even stood for, it’s a testament to everyone involved in the Dance Moms phenomenon that Abby and all her matchy-matchy primary colored accessories are now part of pop culture.

You go, girl.  You go all the way to Los Angeles.

And you start a dance competition show, girl.  Because Lord knows we don’t have enough of those on television already.

And so was born AUDC, not to be confused with the aforementioned ALDC even though it’s the same person.  So I understand if you already can’t keep up with what’s about to go down.

Yes.  It’s another dance competition show.  But it’s different.  The same.  But different.

It’s Dance Moms meets So You Think You Can Dance meets Survivor meets The Swan meets pretty much any show where someone gets cut every week and goes home crying.

And maybe even American Idol if you count host Kevin Manno and his skinny tie, who wants this whole thing so badly he even smells like Seacrest.  Pick your favorite Reality Show and you’ll probably find a little snippet of it in here somewhere.  But it’s all good.

The dealio is that 12 dancers and their 12 Dance Moms are all competing for one coveted spot in the Joffrey Ballet Young Dancers Program.

That’s right.  The same Joffrey Ballet where crazy Chaos Cathy Nesbitt and all her Candy Apples dancers almost got everyone booted out onto the streets of Manhattan for screaming and eating pepperoni pizza slices during open auditions back on that infamous episode of Dance Moms.

It looks like Abby and the admissions department all hugged it out though, because someone is going to score a spot at the Joffrey by the time this thing is all over.  And worst case, even if the lucky winner spends the rest of their career getting turned away at every audition and never dances again, they’re also leaving this show with $100,000 prize.

So it’s a pretty sweet deal.  Which would explain some of the Moms.

Since this was the first episode, it was more of a Meet & Greet for starters before the first elimination.  With a nod to Project Runway, we got to meet a few contestants stuck in traffic acting like they were on their way to meet Tim Gunn for the first challenge before Fashion Week.

Jordyn and her Mom Kelly were first up.  Jordyn looked like she was happy to be part of the show.  But not as happy as Mom.  Not even close.

Kelly was literally pinging off the car windows like a puppy on the way to the vet for the first time.  She was sooooooo excited to meet Abby.  She was living right now.  Living.  Someone crack a window.

The token boy of the show Zack, and Mom Gina were also excited.  Mom was nervous, but Zack was cool as a cucumber.  It’s totally irrelevant to the story, but Zack’s voice was not what I expected when he opened his mouth.  It was a little high, like a Nickelodeon cartoon, but he’s representing BoyPower and dude gets one bonus vote just because.

The last cab ride was with Hadley and Mom Yvette.  Hadley was kind of like a Paige 2.0 from Dance Moms.  Yvette was a dance teacher with a penchant for cutesy inspirational rhymes.

Yeah.  Let’s just say that if this was a VH1 Pop Up Video Show, right about now was when a neon “UH OH!” would have splopped up from the bottom of the screen because according to Lifetime TV, dance teachers never shut up.

My psychic powers told me that she would most likely try and get all up in every other choreographer’s face.  They also told me that she and Hadley had never seen an episode of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, or the two of them would never have been so publicly celebrating their biscuits.

When everyone had finally made it to the fancy pants venue, it was time to meet Abby, who appeared to have swiped one of Maddie’s crowns and repurposed it into one major league headpiece.

Kelly had obviously not calmed down yet from the ride over, and probably had not wiped her PupKiss nose prints off the window either.  She was freaking.  Out.  Big.  Time.

During the explanation of the rules we met Elisabeth and her Mom Erin.  Both really nice and friendly, but you totally know that Erin has one of those plastic templates from Sephora that she uses on those eyebrows.

Whoa.  Just whoa.

We also met Tua and her Mom Shayna.  Mom was from Hawaii and made me want to book a flight just so she could greet me when I came off the plane.  I liked her smile.

The first challenge was to learn a group number in 45 minutes, which was taught by either Anthony Burrell or Ne-Yo.  It was hard to tell with that chapeau.

I wish I had a head for hats.  He looked fly.

Towards the end of their rehearsal, Abby came back in to check up on everyone and assign trios.  Her blinding head piece pretty much caused a few dancing trains to jump the track and then everyone either bumped into each other or looked at their Moms for guidance.

With a nod to either RuPaul’s Drag Race, where you have to hot glue gun a doll into a fierce Queen in under 45 minutes, or Shear Madness where you go all Supercuts on somebody’s nervous head, the point of the first mini challenge was to just pick a winner.  Plain and simple.  That winner then got either Tribal Immunity or the choice of dance style for the Trio Dance.

Elisabeth won, and she chose Contemporary.

The first real snark of the evening came when Yvette commented on Elisabeth’s seemingly overconfident attitude.  Whispering as though she had some government secrets or a juicy pregnancy rumor that she was about to break to the media, Yvette let us know that she was not that impressed with overconfident people.

Hello, Pot?  Meet Kettle.

The competition then broke up into 4 trios, with 4 dance styles.  Contemporary.  Hip Hop.  Tap.  Jazz.  That is what they would be judged on and then one of the little dancers would hit the road after all that work.  That’s why it’s called a competition, kids.

Somewhere along the way we also met the other two judges, but I forget where and when.  Trying to keep track of 12 brand new kids and 12 brand new Dance Moms is a lot of work, people.  You try it…and then maybe I can finally go to bed early one night.

Robin Antin.  Famous for the Pussycat Dolls, Botox and her Hair Guy brother Jonathan from Bravo TV.  What ever happened to him? He always had the best jackets.

And Richy Jackson.  Famous for tweaking his name like a crazy a** Toddlers & Tiaras contestant, those crazy a** BeDazzled vests and for teaching Lady Gaga how to dance in those crazy a** shoes and meat dress.

Since this was the first episode, they had to cram in all the rules and all the new faces, so a few Moms and kids got slighted.  That’s probably also code for who the producers think is the craziest and makes for good TV, which is fine by me.  We love crazy.

To keep this thing moving, I’ll skim over the trio rehearsals and the guest choreographers.

Except for the Bobby Newberry part.

I just can’t.  That bitch is so faaaaabulous that I almost paused my DVR and drove across town to the RamRod Discoteca just to slap a Club Kid in the face.  Seriously.

I hear you talkin’.  I see you walkin’.  Don’t need no squawkin’.  MmmHmm. Werk.

Where’s my glue gun?

Since everyone was new, the MomDrama was fairly limited except for a little sumthin sumthin that was about to go down during Showtime.  Leading up to the actual competition though, most of the Moms played nice even though some of them wouldn’t stop yakking.  And my psychic powers were once again proven accurate as Yvette got all up in her choreographer’s face until she was pretty much told to sit on her own hands and shut up.

Finally it was Showtime!

Richy was rocking the whackiest vest yet and Robin was rocking about two cans of Jonathan’s hairspray.  No wonder he gave up the product line.

First trio: Hip Hop.  Sassy little Asia made Mom Kristie proud by booty popping her way around the stage like Beyoncé while Jordyn and Lexine played like paparazzi stalkers.  It wasn’t really full scale hip hop, but more like three little girls acting out a video they weren’t supposed to be watching online.

Lexine goobed up her front walkover, which everyone seems to do on Lifetime at some point, which in turn made Mom Maria cry.  She cried a lot this week.  She also immediately assumed that Lexine would be going home since she blew her routine, and immediately told her the news before the judges had even seen the other numbers.

The loud ‘pop’ you heard was a young girl’s self esteem going buh bye, which resulted in the oddest back alley Dance Mom throw down we’ve seen yet.

Jordyn’s Mom Kelly tried to talk some sense into Maria, until Maria screamed at a kid that she didn’t own and then everyone blew a little nutty.  You don’t yell at the wrong kid.

Second trio: Jazz.  Since it has been well documented that I know nothing about dance but insist on talking like I do, I’m not sure if it’s a Lifetime TV thing or a general industry rule that every boy who dances has to do that one leg up in the air move like my man Lucas always did on Dance Moms: Miami.  Because Zack was busting them out like it was his day job.

(And speaking of Miami…you tell me that Victor and Angel weren’t sending out a string of phantom tweets tonight wondering why these f***ing newbies were all hogging their time slot.  Oh, Lifetime…)

Hadley and Madison completed that trio and got pretty good props from the judges.

Third trio: Tap.  Finally.  You never see tap in these shows.  Or anywhere, for that matter, unless you still own a black & white TV and get that channel that always shows Busby Berkeley movies.

Tua didn’t care for the dance style and doinked it up a little bit.  Tessa and Kyleigh Jai didn’t seem to be loving it either.  Maybe it was just the whacky Old Hollywood flapper wigs that looked like ginormous steel wool scrubby sponges on their heads that was making them lose their focus.  We’ll never know.

Tessa got called out for no performance face.  Mom Renee‘s arms were so jacked I’m not sure that I would have even messed with her kid.  But Abby is pretty ballsy.

Final trio: Contemporary.  With the confident Elisabeth and Brianna and Amanda.

Yeah.  Not so much. Elisabeth didn’t have a very good night.

Amanda was great.  Richy gave the whole thing a finger wave, which looked like he was clubbing and forgot to buy a glow stick.  Miss Thang?  He loved it.

When the judges all ganged up on Elisabeth and asked her why her head wasn’t in the game, she broke down and played the Divorce Card.  With a nod to All My Children, Liz broke down and revealed that Mom and Dad were divorcing and dance was her escape from all the bad stuff at home.

Shayna got all Hawaiian OhNoSheDin’t and then the whole thing just kind of backfired on Elisabeth.  Home is a hot mess?  Leave it at home.  Thank you very much, missy.

You don’t see Celine bawling like a baby do you?

In a show of whatever the opposite of solidarity is called, all the other Moms immediately figured that both Mother and Daughter were using the divorce to distract the rest of us from the fact that Elisabeth can’t keep her knees together.  Even the breakdown of the holy sanctity of marriage can’t cover the fact that somebody’s technique sucks big ones.

After some more tears and 30 seconds of Survivor theme song drums, Tessa was the first one cut due to the whole performance face being MIA thing.

Mom flexed her guns and then the two of them dragged their luggage out the door and out of the competition as Tessa expressed her displeasure with the results and pretty much almost gave Abby a special finger wave of her own.

And then there were 11.

The Real Housewives Of New Jersey Reunion Part Two: There Is A Whole Lot Of Crazy On Display, On Display. Everything Is Not Coming Up Rosie.

Monday, October 8th, 2012

 

Yo. Check it out, ladies. Last year’s glitter eye shadow and I still look hotter than all of you.

 

 

 

One of these days, Alice. POW! Right in the Fabulish kisser!

 

 

 

The only things that can penetrate my Delusional Force Field are magazine royalty checks and body glitter. Bam!

 

 

 

It ain’t Britney, bitch.

 

 

 

 

I don’t ever like using the C-word or wearing poorly fitted 1970’s Brady Bunch spread collars.

 

 

Now that you all mention it, I’ve never seen Joe and Rosie in the same room at the same time. It’s like Clark Kent and Superman…

 

Ring the bell and grab some snacks, because it’s Jersey Fight Club: Round Two.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Reunion just smeared our screens with more Glitter eyes and Twitter lies for the second of its three installments, and to say that the Borgata hotel, casino, spa and mud wrestling mat was explosive would be a bit of an understatement.

Even though the confrontations were already growing increasingly heated as Part Two began, the chill in the air still rivaled the best granita di caffè con panna from any 1/16th Italian Olive Garden drink special board.

(The above clearly being a pointless sentence, inserted purely to make me appear more worldly and bilingual than I really am.  I don’t even drink coffee, people.)

We picked right up where we left off last week with the rampaging Butchzilla Rosie Pierri thrashing her way around backstage, toppling tripod lights and threatening to cut out Teresa‘s tongue for talking smack about her deceased father.

Rosie’s sister Kathy and her new nose had just finished calling Teresa’s mother a F***ing liar (…nice talk, by the way.  You eat cannolis with that mouth?…) which in turn had catapulted OK Magazine’s go-to cover girl Tre into some dead dad bashing.  In her defense, it wasn’t so much the bashing as the fact that she was digging up a dead man.

Oh, that crazy Tre.

Somebody wasn’t liking it, and Rosie blew a backstage nutty that managed to drown out 5 fully mic’d Housewives sitting directly under those fuzzy overhead sound sticks.

Trust me.  You do not want to cut off Rosie’s float during Pride Week, people.  Just let her pass and then cross against the lights, or find another way to get where you’re going.  Because Rosie has a temper.  And Honey Badger Rosie don’t give a s***.

She’s the most loving, squishiest teddy bear of a girl you can imagine, but she’ll pop your head like a beer cap if you cross her or her family.  And she proved it as she slammed her way around the maze of electrical wires and lighting equipment.

Have you seen those mini GoPro cameras that kids duct tape to their helmets before they skateboard or jump out of airplanes?  It was like that.  But more spastic.

Rosie was off the GPS back there.

Luckily, newly skinny Lauren Manzo and her still a little snug leather dress managed to calm Rosie down and convince her to drop her weapons before sending her out to the couches to face off with Teresa.

Not that the other women would have noticed any artillery, because they were having a pretty major meltdown of their own.

As Yoda Caroline tried to explain to Teresa what 15 Minutes of Fame meant, one of the camera guys pulled a Split Screen.  And if we’ve learned anything from Rosie O’Donnell and Elisabeth Hasselbeck, it’s that the Split Screen means it’s Going Down Town Tonight.  Going fast.  And going hard.

Melissa and her (…alleged…) copy cat eye shadow blasted Teresa for trying to play the victim card, which Melissa claimed as her own.  Throw her a bone, for crying out loud.  If she can’t have the glitter look, she wanted the victim card.

“You don’t get to play victim! I’m the victim!”  Oh snap.  Girlfriend better stop screaming or she won’t be able to sing on Seacrest next week.

(And she don’t lip synch, bitch…stay tuned for that update.)

Rosie calmed down and made it out to chat with the Reality Maestro Andy Cohen, who only 10 minutes into the show was more than likely already sitting in wet pants.  He tried to lighten the mood a little by showing a batch of clips featuring Kathy and Rosie being supportive sisters and hugging it out, and then touched on Rosie’s coming out story.

After a few back and forths with Teresa, Rosie (…who may have the best WTF face in New Jersey…) was scooted off stage, but only after Andy clarified that she was indeed Single and Ready to Mingle again.

One of the stocky girls who carried in the Craft Services food table dropped something backstage right about then.  Just saying.

Then it was off to Napa and that whole winery vacation mess.

Teresa denied purposely leaving Kathy out of her warm & fuzzy toast at the end of their road trip.  She swore that it was just an oversight.  Since her cousin was only sitting approximately 4 chairs away from her during that entire dinner, I think she’s gonna have a hard time finding a jury for that one, if you know what I mean.

I tried to count how many times poor Andy snapped his head back and forth during this exchange.  Dude’s eyeballs looked like an Atari Pong game. (Put down your Xbox 360 and Google it, kids.  I can’t do all the work for you.)

After a delightful exchange that began with Teresa calling BS on Kathy’s fake nose and lips and ended with Mrs. Wakile apologizing for dropping the F-bomb on Teresa’s mother, Tre moved back to her original couch position, which allowed for all of us to not only catch a widescreen glimpse of her butt before she plopped herself down, but also put her dead center back in front of camera #2.

Yeah.  I think she knows what she’s doing.

For someone who spent the entire season proclaiming that she was done with Teresa, Mama Manzo certainly ate up a lot of Reunion screen time trying to pound some sense into her head.  As everyone relived the last night in Napa when Jacqueline faked narcolepsy and the Boys all pretended to be so far away on the other side of the room that they couldn’t hear what was going on, the Manzo Matriarch definitely got more than 1/16th Italian on Teresa’s a**.

The C-word even came back up again.  Not Caroline.  The other one.  The nasty one.

Andy nervously asked Tre if she felt that Caroline had bullied her all season, as some Twitter Twatters had suggested.  She quickly said yes, but then couldn’t come up with one example to support her accusations, no matter how many times Caroline bullied her to answer.  Not playground bullying.  Just Brownstone bullying.  The usual.

Then someone said the D-words.  Plural.  And that always gets an even bigger rise out of a Jersey Housewife than the C-word does.

Danielle (Staub) and Dina (Manzo.)

I know, right?  It is kind of amazing that after (…how many?…) seasons being MIA these two women still have a grip around everyone’s neck.  I mean, really.

Is Danielle even alive?  I guess she must be, since everyone keeps talking about her tweet.  (…I said tweet.  Get your mind out of the gutter…)  And if you don’t need someone to go to iParty or your cable company doesn’t broadcast HGTV would you even recognize Dina on the street?

But you just say either one of the D-words and it’s a guaranteed volcanic eruption.

When it was obvious that this one was going nowhere after about 20 minutes of soft core bullying, even Caroline gave up on the topic and it was back to Melissa.

Who can sing, thank you very much.  And she proved it, just to shut up her sister-in-law.

Over the last two seasons, Teresa had made it blatantly clear in pretty much any media outlet she could get her claws into that she didn’t feel that Melissa could sing without the aid of auto tune and an MP3 iPod lip synch track, so La Gorga finally called her out on the accusations.

It was almost like watching an episode of Glee the way Melissa just broke into song in the middle of a sentence.  But the girls on Glee don’t have so much boob showing, and nobody danced, so I knew it was still RHONJ.  But it was almost like Glee.  Really.

Since everything somehow needs to be centered around Teresa, as soon as Melissa finished her 16 measures of Top 40 acapella it was time for Mrs. Giudice to lay down a few beats to prove that anyone can be a singer.

Or a cookbook author, apparently.

When Melissa accused Teresa of tweeting photos of food that her mother had actually phantom cooked, the whole thing spiraled into more D-words, which spiraled into Melissa’s secret Twitter convo with Danielle a hundred years ago.  Which then spiraled into a blurry flashback to that classic RHONJ Reunion where Teresa totally lost her marbles on Danielle and tossed poor Raggedy Andy aside like…well…like Raggedy Andy.

Is Bitch Bettah?  Just asking.

Then Teresa suddenly proclaimed that she had ‘let go of all the crazy’ and was now free of Caroline and Jacqueline.  Halleloo!  To complete the exorcism, she dropped to her knees and waved her hands in the air like those women on the National Geographic channel do when a Coke bottle from America washes up on shore.

Let’s just say it got cray cray and move on.

The only way to possibly top that one and finish off Round Two was for Juicy Joe Giudice to waddle out to the couches and put an end to all the rumors and gossip and cheating accusations.

Or maybe just waddle out to the couches and sit in a sweaty, foggy haze.  That’s probably more like it.  Let’s all just lower our expectations so we’re not disappointed.

Even after slamming down a full Red Bull in under 5 seconds, Jabba Joe still appeared to be unsure of where he was as Andy quizzed him on The Call.

You know.  The cellphone call heard round the World.  That one.

The one where he got busted on camera in Napa for talking to who knows who and calling Teresa a Bitch Wife and the C-word.  What did he think that microphone pack on his belt was for anyway?  And the cameras?  Tool.

But Andy wanted to know the deets, and it is his show.

Granted, I would have been more concerned about why Joe was wearing that Greg Brady leisure suit shirt with one sleeve longer than the other, but I don’t work for Bravo.

Yet.

What I could decipher between slurs was that Joe had been talking to a friend who was taking care of things back home while they were jet setting around on Bravo’s Amex.  He also explained that he doesn’t like the C-word, but had learned it from Teresa.

(Maybe she should focus on the other C-word: Cooking.)

When asked why he seemed to have been speaking in a number of different languages when he was busted, Jabba slurred something about a Spanish Pizza Guy even though most everyone believed that he was speaking some version of s*** faced Italian.

Something ain’t right.

To stick a fork in it and make sure it was done, Andy asked Jacqueline to elaborate on why she had previously stated that Teresa and Joe put up a front for the cameras, to which she politely declined comment.

Well that’s boring, I thought.

And then Joe slurred that she could say whatever she wanted…he don’t care.

Wait for it…

…and then she did!

Second week.  Second stick of Dy-no-mite.

Jacqueline revealed that Teresa had walked in on Joe while he was getting busy with some woman on his desk.  Eeww.

Teresa claimed that Chris had cheated on Jacqueline.

Jacqueline blurted out that Teresa had told her that Joe cheated with baby sitters, secretaries and anyone else stupid enough to want a piece of that jelly.  I’m not ready for any of that quite yet.  Double eeww.

OMG.

And then she was all like Oh You Wanna Play?  And then she was all like Bring It.  And then Andy was all like google eyes and nervous blinking.

In the middle of it all, Joe actually asked why he was even there.  No lie.

(For those of you who missed it the first time:  Tool.)

And then it was over.

But the fuse was lit, and next week it’s the B-word.

Boom.

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: It’s All Aboard The Biscuit Express For A Super-Sized Redneck Finale. Poodles, Pageants & Pigs…Three Thumbs Up!

Friday, September 28th, 2012

 

 

Sometimes it takes a Village. Other times it just takes Aviator shades and a casual evening gown. Werk.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, hey now girls. Haters gonna hate.

 

 

 

 

 

Mama, I don’t feel so fresh. It’s hotter than Poodle balls out here, and Boo Boo ain’t liking it one bit.

 

 

 

 

 

Oooh! Get it off get it off get it off get it off get it off get it off!

 

 

 

 

 

And that’s what I think about humidity and table manners. I’m good without either, thank you.

 

 

 

 

This week on “Keeping Up With The Kuntry Stoe Kardashians…”

 

 

And I quote.  Sort of.

Their mouths will hang open a minute or two.

And then all The Boos down in Booville will all cry “Honey Boo Hoo.”

The End.  

That’s right.  It was a sad day in Booville, Georgia this week as the first butt scratchin’ season of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo came to a mud splashed, cheese ball coated close after gracing our televisions for much too short a time.

Love ’em or hate ’em, you better Redneckognize that Pageant Princess Alana Thompson and her sneezin’, wheezin’, finger pullin’ family are now part of Pop Culture vernacular.  Forever.  And there is no way to escape them if you own a television or a wi-fi router.  No way.

Because Honey Boo Boo is here to stay.

And what better way to immortalize all that Redneckulousness for future generations than with a family portrait, right?  So it was off to a Boat Landing/Rock Climbing looking place for some paparazzi practice.

First order of business this week was gathering all the Boo Boos together for a photo shoot on what turned out to be a Triple H summer scorcher of a day.

Since it has already been well documented that Mama June is not a big fan of the hazy, hot & humid trifecta, you can only imagine how well she was handling all those sticky H’s in her Sunday best.

All dolled up in fancy Mall makeup and an up ‘do, June actually cleaned up pretty nicely, all things considered.  She liked to call it “a little paint on the barn” as it were, but in the middle of a summer heatwave we all know how long it takes paint to dry on a barn.  And don’t even get me started on how it tends to pool up between the shingles, because we’ve all been there during a weekend home improvement project gone horribly wrong.

You know something ain’t right between the siding and the insulation, but you’re afraid to lift it up and look underneath because it might start running and leave a streak that won’t come out without a sanding belt.  So you just walk away and hope that it will eventually dry to a smooth finish.

It was like that.  But more humid.

Photographer Tammie Graham, who as of today is most likely sharing a Freshman triple dorm room at Insane Asylum University with Miss Georgia 2011 and the Etiquette Lady who melted down during a lesson in Boo Boo table manners, had somehow found herself in charge of rustling up all the scattered family members and getting at least one decent shot with her Pentax.

Everyone was hot.  Everyone was cranky.  Everyone was yelling at everyone else.

And Tammie was getting so hot and bothered that I was afraid she might overexpose her film canister before she managed to even score a single 8 x 10.

Alana kept rubbing her face until she looked like Carol Burnett back when she played that crazy a** silent movie star with the black eyeliner, while Pumpkin worked the camera lens like she was Tyra.  Mama spilled her water bottle all over the barn siding and Sugar Bear put on pants.  Not his funeral pants.  Just pants.

After rock climbing, sitting in mud and Mama taking a bath in her own sweat, Tammie finally got enough photos to keep everyone happy and then either left or 4-wheeled off the dock.  I’m not sure where she went.  She just kind of disappeared with her wet bangs all stuck to her face and her eyes bugging out of her head.

Godspeed, Tammie.

Back at Casa Boo Boo, Mama and Alana began packing for the upcoming Beach Beauties Pageant.  Honey Boo Boo Child was hitting the Pageant Circuit one last time before school started, and she was definitely looking to Holla for a few more Dollas.

Unfortunately, a summer full of sketti and BBQ orgies had left Alana with both a dress and a bathing suit that she could barely pull over her head.  Mama had already hooked her up with a new cupcake dress, and now it was time to try on her new swimwear which had come safely delivered all crammed up inside a crumpled postal priority envelope.

If it fits, it ships.  If it don’t, we make it fit.  And then it ships.

Thank you Lane Bryant, for now offering your swimwear in shrinky dink baby size ranges.  That’s the only vendor that could have shipped that thing.  Seriously.

Alana looked adorbz in the outfit, and it was a really eye catching cobalt blue for you fashionistas…but there was a whole lot of belly poking out of that swing coat looking top.

A lot o’ belly.  Like more than two handfuls.

But she looooooved it.  And I loooooove me some Boo Boo.

So stick it in the plastic bin and let’s get going here, people.

Or not.

Hold that thought, because Chickadee was having contractions.  Real ones this time.  Real enough to make her realize that maybe this whole Teen Mom baby thang was actually going to happen while she was still a teenager.

Not taking any chances, everyone pried the bag of snacks out of her hands, hoisted her dead weight off the couch and headed to the hospital to pop out some baby.

Special delivery on the Biscuit Express, as Alana anatomically explained.

You know when you slam one of those Pillsbury Doughboy tubes on the counter that was either in the refrigerator too long or not long enough, but you don’t slam it hard enough and just a little blob of goo squirts out and sticks to your fingers?  And then you have to keep slamming and yanking and slamming and poking until it’s all out and finally ends up on the tray?

Yeah.  That Biscuit Express.

Enjoy your next brunch.

Three hours, 6 pounds, 2 ounces and three thumbs later…baby Kaitlyn Elizabeth was officially biscuit-free.

Hold up.  What was that, you ask?

Not the 6 pounds part?  The other part?  The thumbs part?

It’s true.  As Mama explained, baby Kaitlyn was highly evolved.  So highly evolved that she had three thumbs.  One on the left, one on the right, and as a special parting gift…one more on the right.

She was a cute little peanut with what kind of looked like a can opener where her thumb (singular) should have been.  Or a Swiss Army knife, if you ask Shugie.

But if we’ve learned anything at all from this amazing family, it’s that it don’t matter none.

Family is family.  They love her.  She loves them.  Or at least she will when both eyes start going in the same direction, and there’s nothing more important than family.  Alana probably broke it down best when she stated that it was just one more person to love.

Gah.  I love these Boo Boos.

Looking past all the Redneckulosity, they really do get their point across.  Three thumbs up for being real.  And a High Six.

Auntie Chubbs wasn’t a big fan of new baby smell after taking a whiff.  It wasn’t totally “biscuit bad” as she explained, but still not pleasing to her finely tuned cheese ball nose.

One…thanks for ruining almost an entire food group for me with one sentence.  And two…you put a wet crescent roll on your head for 9 months and then tell me how that all works out for you.

Needless to say, the Biscuit Express pulled into (…out of?…) the station around the same time that Alana was supposed to be at her Lane Bryant Pageant, so she had to miss the entire event.  But she was ok with it, because bringing the estrogen count up to 6 in that one tiny house was all worth it as far as she was concerned.

Luckily, Mama found another pageant…but it was in two days.  Yowza!

That meant it was time to get serious and call in the Pageant Cavalry to save the day.

The Poodle Pageant Cavalry, that is.  Fueled by Chicken Nuggets and Rainbow Power.

Uncle Poodle!

Sugar Bear’s faaaabulous brother had moved back into town and was on his way over, with hopefully ample sass and fruit in his tank to help Alana get her mojo back.

Arriving with enough fanfare to make up for not actually riding in on a float, everyone’s favorite Gay Redneck Uncle was more than happy to come up with an impromptu pretty feet routine on the spot.

Like any good Gay Redneck Uncle should do.  Der.

Poodle is a hoot.

And let me tell you.  Jazz Hands ain’t got nuthin on Poodle Paws as Lee worked his invisible cupcake dress and Timberland boots like a pro, all against a backdrop of 365 days a year icicle lights and an air conditioner that I swore was going to fall out of the window before he even got to his finger kisses.

Werk it, Girlfriend.

Somewhere between the lesson on eye contact and popping your hip, Alana attempted a cartwheel and then the whole thing just collapsed into a grass fight.  Apparently the Boo Boos are not big on bagging their lawn clippings, because there was enough clumped up artillery on the ground for Alana, P-Diddy Poodle and Pumpkin to go full on War Games on each other’s heads.

It was clear that Uncle P would not have worn his good striped polo shirt if he had known that he was going to participate in a grass fight, because you would have sworn Alana was launching live nukes at his logo embroidery the way he was screaming in the front yard.

Yeah.  It got a little gay.

But not that there’s anything wrong with that.  Not at all.  Even Alana explained that everyone is a little gay.

But it was grass.  Not acid, dude.

After Uncle Poodle stuffed a ginormous wad of lawnmower cud down the back of Pumpkin’s pants, the rest of the fight was pretty anticlimactic, so they finished up and got ready for Pageant Day.

Finally, it was time for The Sparkle & Shine Pageant!

For all you Toddlers & Tiaras groupies it was just what you would expect, though the venue itself was a little odd.  After years of Ramada Inn ballrooms with miles of empty chairs, this joint was part barn dance and part church pew as far as I could tell.  Or maybe a community center where they argue about librarian salaries.  I don’t know.  I wasn’t really paying attention.  My bad.

But the whole Boo Boo gang was there to cheer on Alana.  Even Baby Three Thumb, who pretty much slept through the whole thing while sucking on a variety of appendages.

Mama June belted out her signature “Work it Smoochie!” howl while Uncle Poodle sat back and envied Alana’s outfits.

(He did, however, clarify that his ensemble would be much more of a casual evening gown type of number.  Good to know.)

Did I already mention that he is a hoot?

Since this wasn’t a real T&T episode, the pageant part was fairly insignificant and we barely saw the action, though I did manage a glimpse at that crazy eyed, overly spray tanned male judge who always cracks me up.  That guy is IN TO his job, and totally reminds me of those shaky little lap dogs who never blink.

Alana scored 2nd Runner-up which meant that she still has yet to win the Big One.  Kind of sad.  More importantly this time around though, she won the People’s Choice Award which is chosen by the…duh…figure it out.  I gave you a big clue.

At the award ceremony, Alana got a special surprise when Uncle Poodle brought Glitzy the Pig up on stage to congratulate her, which was a nice gesture until you realized that it meant she would have her favorite pet yanked from her grip for a second time and sent back to the breeder.

 A little odd.  And a little gay.

The pig, that is.  But we already knew that when he got measured for a boy pig dress a few weeks ago.

And then it was over.  The whole season.

With just enough time for some Yoda wisdom from June.

It was a crazy summer.  A great summer.  All about fun and family.  Living and loving.

Accepting and couponing.  Mud fights and Bingo nights.

And eating.  Lots of eating.

It’s a little gay and a whole lot of Redneck.

Love ’em or hate ’em.  June summed it all up for us before heading down the tracks…

It is what it is.


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