DanThat'sCool!

 

 

And the award for Mrs. Ultimate Grand Supreme Vicarious Living goes to…

 

 

 

 

 

I have no clue what sexy means, but in my silver Hello Kitty stilettos I can tell I’m sexy.  And I know it.

 

 

 

 

Dude.  Hand in your Man Card. Just hand it in and we’ll never speak of this again.

 

 

 

 

 

I swear to Gawd, if I turn around and he’s still wearing that thing…it’s been like two hours.

 

 

 

 

There’s only one true Makenzie. Suck it like a Pixie Stick, bitches. Suck it.

 

 

 

 

Aloha.

From the tropical paradise known as Mississippi.

Toddlers & Tiaras finished off the season this week with a southern fried Hawaiian Luau kind of a thing, and it was everything we could have hoped for and more.  TLC ended the latest round of pageantry with enough glittered palm trees and processed sugar to keep all of us buzzing until the next SUV full of Crazy pulls up to the check-in desk later this year.

It was the Mississippi Sweet Pea Party Pageant, and everybody knows that nothing says Southern Hospitality like a luau.  Pageant Director Linda Brown excitedly got us all up to speed right away by explaining how the whole shindig was gonna go down.

This was a full on, in yo’ face Glitz pageant.  That meant mounds of that gravity defying Closer to Jesus hair and enough spray tan and aerosol mist to smoke a terrorist out of his underground foxhole.

The clothes were most likely going to be too small, and the flippers too big.  There’s probably a mathematical equation that Pageant Moms use to figure out the perfect ratio between the two, but that is way beyond my skills or attention span so we’ll have to save it for another day.

The Ultimate Supreme winner was going to take home a wicked sparkly 13″ crown for their tiny 10″ head, a 3 foot tall trophy guaranteed to tip over at some point in the living room and crush their 2 foot high body and $250 in greenbacks.

Since those crackly cupcake dresses normally start at $350 on the low end of the retail scale, it’s always nice to head into a pageant already in the hole.  That one I will never understand, but I don’t make the rules.

Our first little contestant was 7 year old Liz and her Mom Jennifer.

Hollah to Liz.  That’s how she rolls.  Everyone called her charismatic, which usually means her personality is so boisterous that she gets kicked out of movie theaters.  Charismatic just sounds better.

Initially I thought that Liz may actually sleep in an FAO Schwarz stockroom, because there were so many toys and stuffed animals packed into that one bedroom that it looked like the belly of the airplane that delivers Toys For Tots every Christmas.

A quick salute to the troops.  If you’re short one teddy bear next December, I’m sure Liz can hook you up.

Elicia, the coach, seemed nice enough…but sorry, she’s no Katie Boyer.  Shout out to Katie’s Kuties, and another troop salute to any woman who can go from coaching to the pageant to the award ceremony and not blink once.

Katie.  Is.  Into. It.  True dat.

Mom and Coach both admitted that Liz can get a little obnoxious at times, which was another synonym for charismatic, I guess.  Even Liz herself suggested that she may get a little angry if she doesn’t win Top Dawg honors.  She then proceeded to bare her empty gums, growl like one of the Twilight wolves and fling herself into a stockroom shelf full of Beanie Babies.

Next up was 3 year old Emma and Mom Hope.

Right about here is when it started getting good.

Mom was a former Mrs. Mississippi United States 2011, which I guess must be different than Mrs. Mississippi Tokyo 2011.

Seriously.  Why do they need the United States part?  There are so many rules in this world.

As soon as Hope put on own her personal crown and did that Pride Parade wave, you knew that thing was staying on her head until someone pried it out of her cold, dead, bloody hands.

Once a Pageant Princess, always a Pageant Princess.

That pageant gene was clearly in Emma’s DNA, or had been injected in vitro at some point.  Either way, Emma was in it to win it.

And so was Mom, who pointedly remarked that the haters out there are just jealous bitches.  Pageant Dad Hank could probably support that mindset as well, since he was all about it as he worked his own pretty feet and plopped a crystal crown on his head like it was his day job.

Now I’m all for Dads supporting these kids, because most father figures are probably more apt to be tossing the pigskin out back with the nearly ignored little brothers than showing their girls how to pop a hip when you reach the painter’s tape “X” on the carpet.

But Hank seemed to already know his crown size and wore that thing like his lodge buddies wear their John Deeres.  Let’s pause, scratch our chins and just go Hmmmm.

While Hank was tilting his crown slightly askew, someone had been hunting, because 5 year old McKenzie’s house was full of dead animal faces mounted on the walls.

This was McKenzie, like the hamburger.  Not Makenzie, like the Ni-Ni.

I know that the blogs and the boards were getting all excited that the Princess of Meltdowns was coming back this week.

Psych.

Not doing it.

Hopefully T&T can figure out a way to sneak the original Mak Attak back in one more time before she outgrows the cute meltdowns and starts getting called a beeotch by the Mean Girls in the cafeteria.

Love you.  Miss you.  Mean it.

Golden Arches McKenzie was competing in Mississippi for the first time, so she and Mom Michelle weren’t sure what to expect.  They just knew that Big Hair = Big Scores, so they hit the salon to get McK’s hair did for the pre-game practice session.  They were planning to tease that ‘do into the military No-Fly Zone.

Elsewhere, rehearsals with pint-sized Emma were proving to be an effort in futility.

Between Hope still latching on to her fading pageant dreams and Hank matching tomorrow’s cowboy shirt to his crown, Emma was holed up in the closet waiting for a bribe.  Seems that money and ranch animals are the only things that get this little kid to practice nowadays.

I’m not certain if anyone has ever done any long term research studies on the subject, but I can’t imagine that begging your 3 year old child to dance for a dollar won’t come back and haunt you later on in life.  Mom and Dad have even gone as high as $20, which after taxes probably makes for a pretty good night at Hooters.

Luckily Emma has standards, and preferred horses instead of tips.  Hopefully she won’t be riding that new pony while wearing her new silver high heel shoes.

That’s right.  As part of her Marilyn Monroe costume for Outfit of Choice (…during a Hawaiian Luau theme, of course…) Emma was going to be wobbling across the stage in little Louboutins.  Since she can barely balance her head at 3 years of age, adding heels into the equation was proving a little challenging.  But she’s gonna make it work.  Or make it Werk, Girl.  Because she’s sexy and she knows it.

And she said it.  Not me.

Apparently nobody in that house had been keeping up with TMZ to see how well that statement had worked out for fellow contestant Isabella Barrett.

Yeah.  Just saying.

In one of the odder moments in television history, after Emma’s salon bleach highlighting and more practice on her hoochie shoes, Hope got all misty eyed about how kids grow up so fast.

I know, right?

I’m thinking the 3 year old girl next door who still blows snot bubbles while she watches Teletubbies reruns isn’t growing up quite so quickly.  But I’m not here to judge.  Or at least not so blatantly.  This one is too easy.

To make up for all the makeup and stiletto strutting, and to keep Emma stunted at 3 years old as long as possible, Hope still lets her sleep in the bed with them at night.  Another chin scratch and a Hmmmmm.

So if I’m doing the math correctly, that’s three people and three crowns all crammed onto that one mattress.

Again…too easy.

Pageant Day arrived with all the usual prep panic that I adore.  McKenzie must have sold bootleg tickets to all her relatives, because half the audience was all in neon green t-shirts to show their support.

Emma spent most of the pre-show process with her head cocked back like a Pageant Princess Pez dispenser while Hope literally poured Pixie Stick crack down her throat.  At one point Dad even poured it out into his hand and let her suck it up like a DustBuster.

(Not gonna lie.  Part of me wondered if she was going to snort it when he first made the line.  Another part of me wished that she had, because then this would have been the best blog post evah.  But she just licked it up like the reindeer at Santa’s Village and then went SugarSpaz.)

The Beauty portion was all finger kisses and cupcakes.  The usual.  Liz’s flipper kept falling out, but she managed to keep it in her skull while she was on stage.

In between numbers Mom and her entourage worked some MacGyver magic on Liz’s palate with pink stuff from Home Depot and a french fry.  For realz.  No clue how it worked, but somehow it kept the rubber teeth from falling out during the rest of the show.

Outfit of Choice and the actual Hawaiian part were pretty low key aside from a few nuggets.

McKenzie was a naughty referee, complete with a sequined football and moves that would make the Dallas Cowboy girls blush.  Liz did a Saturday Night Fever number while Emma did something or other on a complete sugar high.

During the luau, Emma finally started to come down from her sugar buzz right when they popped in the wrong CD.  The Perfect Storm as they say in the biz.

She froze and almost made the show go 90 minutes over.

If there really are any Gods of Reality TV, they will immediately give a 13 episode commitment to Pam the Judge.

All rise, if you know what’s good for you, because Judge Pam was in session.

Part Mississippi librarian, part knuckle rapping nun in street clothes, Pam was deducting points right and left anytime one of the contestants lost eye contact with the judges.

Every time we went back to Pam for her play by play on the last tackle, she said the same thing.  Every.  Time.  It was Mississippi déjà-vu and I loved it.

Granted, half of the little niblets on the stage haven’t even mastered full control of both eyes at that age, but that don’t matter to Judge Pam.  Homey don’t play dat.

She can put up with that soft spot in a baby’s head, and maybe even some puréed Gerbers on the onesie…but get those eyeballs under control or you just lost yourself another tenth of a point.  At least one of those wandering orbs have to be focused on the judges at all times, or you’re going home empty handed.

By the time the crowning took place, both the Moms and the kids were cranky.

Liz got a Mini Supreme, which I guess is like the 6 inch grinder at Subway.  She always seems to get that crown, and she’s sick of it.

Sick of it.

Meltdown #1.

McKenzie got Grand Supreme and was pretty darn happy, and yet that still wasn’t enough for Mom who stomped her feet and justified it by stating “That’s what we do.  We win pageants.”

Second place is the first loser, as they say.

Adult Meltdown #1

Emma scored the 6 inch grinder for her age category, and Hope had to sit on her own hands so she wouldn’t swipe the trophy and crown for her private display case.  Mom pretty much got the vapors and let the glory of the moment pretty much take her to church.

And then the season was over.

As I pack up my gigantic tupperware container of crap and drag it back to the tour bus, I’ve gotta give one more shout out to all the great/crazy pageant peeps I’ve met since I started this mess.

Thanks to Paisley and Wendy and Blake and Katie and Mama and anyone else who didn’t try to sue me this season.  You guys rock.

Until next time, as Hank would say…

Sparkle, baby.

No wonder Carrie Underwood released her new album earlier than some people thought she would this month.  Looks like there might be a new Diva breathing down her neck, and you know how fickle those Club Kids can be when it comes to their dance tunes.

Clear some space on your BeDazzled Hello Kitty iPod because it looks like the freakin’ cutest niblet evah, Paisley Dickey, is about to shake her cheese dip on a new song.

The pint sized dynamo who nose picked and pretty feeted (…is that even a word?…) her way to Toddlers & Tiaras fame, is taking a cue from pageant retiree Eden Wood and jumpstarting her own sparkly Empire.  But whereas Eden chose to go the questionably uncomfortable half Anna Nicole/half RuPaul route, Paisley is going with what she knows.

Cuteness and Boogers.

Now I pride myself on being an authority on cuteness, but not so much on boogers…so we’ll all just have to wait until Ryan Seacrest leaks a few tracks before I start party rocking my new dance moves.

Recording career or not, it looks like that little nugget is going to need a longer resume.

According to the interview below, when her finger kissing days are over, Paisley may just become the world’s first singing clown doctor.

 

 

 

And far be it from me to open up old wounds or stir things back up again…but maybe Isabella could lay down the Booger ReMix tracks?

How epic would that be?

I Pick It And I Know It.

Yeah.  I went there.

 

Girl, I don’t need no hooker outfit. Just a fake tan, fake hair, fake nails and my Hello Kitty lip gloss. Oh it’s on, Paisley.

 

 

 

 

Boogers. Boogers. Boogers. Boogers. Booooooogers. Booooooooogers.

 

 

 

 

Lawd. White people are crazy.

 

 

 

 

I’ll take a coffee with 5 lumps.  But hold the coffee. That s*** just waters down my sugar, honey.

 

 

 

 

It’s wicked hahd seein’ her be such a losah. Sucks like the ’86 Red Sox.

 

 

 

Cover your eyes.  The glitter could potentially blind you.

Cover your nose.  The aerosol could easily asphyxiate you or your loved ones.

Cover your face.  Someone might see that look of shame you now carry for snuggling up to another season of that show you watch religiously and yet vow to never speak of in public.

That’s right.  They’re baaaack!

New York City hadn’t even cleared the streets from the Dance Moms invasion before Times Square was hit head on by the sparkly asteroid known as Toddlers & Tiaras.

It’s another batch of bite sized Pageant Princesses and their vicariously living Pageant Mom enablers!  Pop the lid on your Go-Go Juice, because this is the Best.  News.  Ever.

The show that you love to hate is back, with all the sequins and shiny stuff that you have come to expect.  And now that TLC has been pixie dusting our screens for a few years, there are quite a few break out stars on the Ramada ballroom circuit that are sure to show up for this latest round of suburbia disturbia.

Two of the most recent Big Dawgs on the runway are back this week to jumpstart the festivities as the gang all headed to the Darling Divas New York  New York Pageant.

First off, we got reintroduced to 3 year old patootie Paisley Dickey who is best known for hoochin’ out in that Julia Roberts Pretty Woman prostitute outfit last year.  That whole thing didn’t go as well as Mom Wendy had anticipated, now did it?

Paisley is also well known for being willing to sell her own organs for a Sam’s Club tub of cheese dip.  Forget college or the light bill.  All Paisley wanted last year if she pulled in any cash on the runway was that cheese dip.  Cheese dip.  Cheese dip.  Cheese dip.

I don’t even have a Sam’s card, but I might break down if she keeps talking about how finger licking good it is.  Now that Paula Dean can’t be my go to point person for all things cheese, I need to find someone out there who knows the good stuff.  Paisley seems to be the authority.

I just hope she doesn’t double dip at cocktail parties, because anytime that Paisley’s not eating cheese dip she’s picking her nose like it’s her day job.  And singing about it.

Pickin’ and Singin’.  Singin’ and Pickin’.

Nashville…are you listening?  Isn’t that your shtick?

Nose Gold aside, Paisley is so cute that I might need to take a hit off Paula’s insulin before the end of this season, because that little niblet is so precious I just want to go out on the street right now and slap someone for no reason what so ever.  She is cute.

Period.

Wendy, who proudly explained how slutting up her daughter led to “their” fame and stardom, is text book Pageant Mom.  She is determined to take her little fuzzy Georgia Peach and unleash her on the Big Apple, and has hired an agent to help with that process.

Yeah.  An agent.  Blake.

Blake said he is one of the top sumthin sumthin agents in New York and has really white teeth, and a tongue that he can’t seem to keep in his mouth.  He also snapped and fo’ shizzled his head side to side like he was a Bad Girl on VH1.

Dude.  Your’e not.  You also are at the LaGuardia Hotel for a baby Glitz Pageant.  Call me when you and Angelina have lunch, ok?

Next on deck, was 5 year old Isabella Barret and her Yawkey Way Mom Susanna.

If Mom’s thick accent is any indication, I believe there must be documentation out there somewhere to prove that Isabella was both conceived and delivered under the bleachers at Fenway Park.  I mean Fenway Pahhhk.  Love me some Boston Southie drawl.

Isabella is best known for getting snagged by TMZ fresh off a spray tan, where Mom (allegedly) spoon fed her smack talk about Paisley and that whole Pretty Woman Slut Puppy debacle.  Mom says she didn’t, but Izzy couldn’t respond to any questions without looking off to the side for coaching.  Maybe it was just Barney the Dinosaur off camera buying some bronzer and she was distracted.  Whatever, Mom.

If you slow the TMZ reel down you can almost see Susanna’s hand up Izzy’s dress like a Charlie McCarthy puppet.

They proudly boast that they put the “IT” in Italian.  And the “FUN” in Dysfunctional.  And the “BROKE” in Family Finances as they showed us the $5,000 Beauty dress splattered with 3000 crystals and the salty tears of at least 10 sweatshop children.

In the last 8 months Susanna has spent upwards of $40,000 on Bling.  The least Isabella could do is say it with the proper attitude.  Mom has a tendency to make Isabella keep repeating all her catch phrases and sassy finger snaps until she gets them just right.  Say it.  No.  Say it again.  Say it. Noooo.  That’s not how you do it.

After all that I needed to chill, and luckily we got to meditate with 8 year old Shian and her sassy Mom Trisma.  (What Baby Book had those two names?  Anyone?)

Shian is a little Diva in Training.  Kind of Beyoncé-ish, kind of old skool girl group.  She thinks her Mom is cray cray.

Mom is loud and proud, and meditates before each pageant in preparation for sliding down the shoot to DivaLand.  Her words, not mine.  Shian has an alter ego.  Natch.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I love me some Beyoncé, and could easily give Lady B a run for her money in a Single Ladies Dance-Off.  But all by herself that bitch has somehow given every African American girl I know a split personality.  Sasha Fierce entered our water system and some mass text message went out to every playground in America to line up at the bubbler and take a hit.

Trisma is a hoot.  Sister don’t take no crap.  You know she is on the Wendy Williams Show Facebook page every day getting all “Ooooooh Girl, no she din’t.”  She sez she’s passionate about pageants.  MmmHmm.  Loved her on the spot.  Her wigs and weaves were a little whacky, and always looked like they needed one more tug to the right, but she’s a sassy one.  I see where Shian gets her MoJo.  And her split personality.

Like any good Mom though, the kids come first.  So tightening them weaves had to wait because she just coughed up enough bank to buy 12 dresses for the pageant.  Twelve.

That meant no extensions.  And no fixing the front gate, which was a hot mess.  It must be exhausting to have to go outside every 30 minutes and yank their little wiener dog to safety when he gets stuck in that gaping hole in the front.  You’d think that little sausage would learn.

But no worries.  Pretty soon he’ll be able to slip right through that hole because he exercises every day with Shian.  They’ll both be pageant ready soon.  Their morning run was fun to watch.

As a result of the whole TMZ throw down, Isabella and Paisley’s Moms are not showing much love for each other, which translates into Anything Goes to Beat That Bitch.

Super Agent Man Blake took Paisley to a Child Stylist who was paid to morph her from Country Mouse to City Mouse before the show.  It was basically the whole Julia Roberts thing all over again, but in a more family friendly manner.  We got a little Paisley fashion show that gave everyone just enough time to realize that all a Child Stylist does is hand a kid some clothes and wait for them to get dressed.

Sign me up.  I’ll be in the Mall Food Court.

While Paisley was getting static in her hair from pulling all those sparkly tops over her head, Shian and her alter ego were battling it out in the nail salon.

Both the nail tech and Mom said no to gel tips.  Shian and Shian #2 said yes.  One of the Shians had a meltdown, and next thing you know…bam.  Nail tips.

Even though they are not recommended for young girls, and can ruin their nails for life, Shian wanted them burned into her flesh.  I think Trisma was afraid that Shian might splinter into thirds, and that bedroom ain’t big enough for three mini Divas.  So nail tips were applied and it was Pageant Time.

The prep work for the event was the typical hair and makeup pandemonium that every hotel has come to expect.

Isabella pointed out that her Mom was “Friggin’ stressed” and then bet $20 on the Yankees game.

Shian didn’t get her Diva meditation time, and as a result was feeling the nerves, as were all the crazy chicks in her hotel room.  The only way I can describe that room was to tell you to picture any random episode of Flavor of Love with an 8 year old in curlers running through the scene.  Trisma was not having a good day.  We’ll leave it at that.

Right before Paisley went on stage for her beauty, she realized that she had to tinkle.  I mean right before.  Like standing at the stage.

In a soon to be classic Toddlers moment, Dad Scott scooped her up like she was an explosive device and ran through the hotel while the  Mission:Impossible theme song played in the background.

Remember the old 1960s Batman show when Adam West was running around the docks and couldn’t get rid of the smoking bomb in his hands?

If you loved the show but can’t recall that particular episode…check it out on youtube.

If you’re so young that you didn’t even know that there were years called the 1960s…well…just screw you.  Go to bed.  You have school tomorrow and you shouldn’t be online anyway.

The whole beauty part of the pageants is always pretty tame.  They save the crazy for the theme portions.

This one was all about New York City.  Der.

To get Isabella on her game, Mom tore open two full packets of hotel sugar as if they were life saving pellets and dumped them down Izzy’s throat like a garbage disposal.  You know how in medical shows they tear the needle pack open with their teeth, spit the paper out and spike the patients blood sugar?

Like that, but carefully so she didn’t get lip gloss on her teeth.

It seems that Susanna didn’t read the warnings on the back of the packets before she crammed them into her daughter’s face, because all that sugar caused a crash that could be heard from the International Space Station.  Isabella came to a screeching halt on stage and stood there like she was having a bad acid trip.  Coming down’s the hardest part, honey.

Susanna’s reaction was classic Drama Queen.  She needed a moment.

Paisley chugged across the stage in a little plastic car that Dad then proceeded to pull back over her like rush hour on the Expressway.  The audience gasped as though they just witnessed an actual head on collision involving a daycare bus.  It’s a pageant.  Calm down.  Nothing to see here.  Keep it moving.

Paisley’s outfit this go round was a Lady Gaga inspired number, which had been done to death.  But the fact that Mom hooched out her kid a second time?  Seriously?  This costume was a little calmer, with only a few cut outs and missing parts.

She even got to rehearse ripping off the skirt part while bouncing on a hotel bed earlier in the day.  Get it out of your system now, I guess.  When a 3 year old does that, it’s only disturbing.  When a 16 year old does that, Chris Hansen shows up.

Shian squeezed into a girdle that Trisma pulled out of her purse and strutted her best Diana Ross.  (What a rip.  My Mom only had mints in her pocketbook…never any shape wear.)

Shian brought them to Church, I tell you.  Half the audience was testifying by the end of her song.

Then some kids won some stuff.

You don’t really care about that part.  It did get a little ugly when it turned out that Shian’s age category had 14 little beauties in it, instead of the 7 that I guess was mentioned on CNN or something.

I don’t know.  Mom blew a little nutty and took off.

Toddlers & Tiaras is back.

Cheese dip for everyone!