DanThat'sCool!

 

 

 

Umm. Duh. I know them other girls be jealous of my crayon song. Haters gonna hate, mmmkay?

 

 

 

 

 

And by “she’s a little rude,” I mean they don’t even want her in Hell. For realz.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bleep Bleep Bleep Bleep Bleep Bleep Bleep Bleep Bleep Sparkle, Baby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lemme just slap on another four coats of this mascara and then I gotta go f*** up your coach in the lobby. Ok, honey?

 

 

 

 

 

Hellooo? I’m right here. With my little dog. I can hear you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh. My. God. She’s such a bitch.

 

 

 

 

Who knew being pretty was so much work?

Trust me.  You have no idea.

The wait is over.  Toddlers & Tiaras kicked off the official premiere of their new season this week in typical sprayed down, glitzed up fashion.  Everyone’s favorite Guilty Pleasure was back with all the craziness that we secretly live for each week as the Carolina Queens Pageant spiked pageant hair and pre-diabetic blood sugar levels to an all-time record high.

And as if that wasn’t enough…proving that the Mayans may actually be on to something with that whole calendar thing, the bowels of the Earth even opened up and allowed a Coach from Hell to claw her way up to the Earth’s surface.  Stay tuned for that one.

Pageant Director Tanisha Dorsey broke it all down for us before the party even got started.  And as they say on RuPaul’s Drag Race…Tanisha What?!

Right away I was confused, because when I saw her name in TV Guide I got all excited thinking she was going to be that crazy a** VH1 Bad Girl’s Club chick who clanged all those pots and pans together when the other bitches wouldn’t get outta bed.

Pageant Tanisha may hold the title for the most misleading name in all of television, because when I’m standing behind her at Kohl’s, Girlfriend don’t look like no Tanisha.  I wish you could sue TV networks for getting your hopes up for no reason.

Mental duress or something.

This Tanisha was nice enough, but nowhere near as crazy as I like my Pageant Directors and she certainly didn’t go out of her way to dress up for the occasion, which was kind of a bummer.  I like ‘em big and flashy.  But she was still really into it as she explained the Icon Wear portion of the pageant, which is the part where all the little contestants would be dressing up as…duh…Icons.

Our first little princess was 6 year old Mackenzie and her Mom Stephanie, because you can never have too many Mackenzies in the pageant world.

(What ever happened to the original one, by the way?  She must be like 28 now…)

The new 2013 model Mackenzie was redoinkulously cute, especially when Mom gave her those two Princess Leia hair poofs that made her look like a she was the star of her own Cartoon Network show.  She needs a whacky sidekick and pet unicorn, asap.

And the girl liked to sing.  Made up songs.  On every subject.  That kind of sing-songy la la la thing that is really cute until you’re stuck in rush hour traffic and you just want to stuff your Starbucks lid in her mouth after two hours on the expressway ramp.

Mackadoodle performed an original number about her crayons which already has me waiting for the ReMix version to hit iTunes, and then went on to explain how everyone else is jealous of her pretty eyes and pretty face and pretty hair and pretty whatever.

It’s exhausting being this beautiful.

I feel your pain, sister.

Next up was 9 year old Faithlyn.  Not to be confused with Faith Lynn.  Because that’s not her name.  One word.  No spaces, thank you.

Get it right, or you’ll face the wrath of Pageant Coach Nikki, who entered the house through a hole in the kitchen floor, all covered in brimstone and last year’s eye shadow.

Faithlyn awkwardly explained that Nikki was…umm…a little rude.

Nikki explained that she just (bleepin’) says it like it is, and she doesn’t take any (bleep) and that if you’re going to win a pageant you need to get your (bleep) together.  All in front of a 9 year old.  A (bleepin’) 9 year old who was the (bleep) on stage.

If there was ever a time for the Other Tanisha to  show up and clock somebody in the back of the head with a frying pan, it would have been right about now.

The final princess in the Tiara Trifecta was 3 year old Selena and Mom Sabrina.

This little Butterball of a Beyoncé-in-training was still young enough to be able to get away with a few pounds of baby fat, since she was still chronologically pretty much a baby.  She had those cheeks you just wanted to squish with both hands, and those Cabbage Patch doll eyes that could lock down on a bag of candy from across the room like a military laser.

Mom was quick to point out that Selena was not your actual, average weight for a pageant girl…but history is full of thick girls Who Run The World.  So deal with it.

This one just happens to run that world while under some form of solar house arrest, which requires that Selena remain inside her home at all times in order to maintain her trademark golden skin tone.  Mom doesn’t want her accidentally tanning herself out by the pool, I guess, so she keeps her inside behind tempered, sun blocking thermal glass while her brothers run around shooting hoops in the driveway.

Don’t ask.

During a photo shoot (…the camera adds 15 pounds.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you…) we also learned that cutie patootie Selena had a tendency to develop Homeless Feet, which turned out to just be an extremely politically incorrect way to describe what happens when you wobble around barefoot.  Honestly, the way everyone was screaming and running around with Windex you would have sworn it was some kind of communicable disease or something, but it turned out to just be kitchen linoleum spooge.

Crisis averted.  Stand down.

While Selena was getting a foot bath, Faithlyn was rehearsing her routine under the (bleepin’) watchful eye of Nikki, and two dogs who were playing the role of judges when they weren’t licking themselves.

During the practice session Faithlyn had Dead Bird Arms, Nikki swore some more and the judge that looked like Lassie would probably have rather thrown himself down the well alongside Timmy than sit next to that piece of Crazy Coach on the couch.

Mackenzie’s rehearsal wasn’t going much better, thanks to an uncooperative umbrella that Mom had purchased for her Icon prop.

That, and a zebra print pleather couch.

No lie.  Where do these people find these things?  It was Jersey Shore meets Pageant Pizzazz.  I wouldn’t even know where to begin to find a store that would sell something like that.  No wonder Mack couldn’t focus.

And while we’re on the subject.  One thing I always love about the T&T family scenes.

There is almost always a random assortment of spare children who are never explained, introduced or even acknowledged in these scenes.  But there they are.  Hanging out on the couch watching the rehearsals, swinging yo-yos and mugging for the camera.  Either give them name tags, or explain how they got in the house, please.

This time it was a little Snookie-looking girl in some kind of jungle print Baby Gap number and a blonde kid in Toy Story cowboy boots, dodging falling knick knacks as Mackenzie side swiped everything in the path of her eratic umbrella swings.

Yeah.  Unless Mom was going to wrap the entire living room in bubble wrap, that routine needed a little work.

Selena, on the other hand, was simply refusing to rehearse.  Surrounded by two more of those random background kids, Baby Beyoncé would not budge her pudge until Mom upped the ante.  Bribery works, but only the good stuff.

Like that 32″ plasma nailed to the wall.  Selena got that for doing some finger kisses and pretty feet the last time she had a meltdown.

Seriously.  A 32″ plasma.  For a 3 year old.  For just walking from one piece of duct tape to another.  Sign me up for that gig and I’ll finger kiss someone until my hand cramps.

And then suddenly, we were somehow transported to the school that Oprah Winfrey opened up for all those girls a few years ago.  Or at least I thought we were.

Mackenzie was in a classroom, all decked out in some whacky Disney Channel concert outfit, doing some kind of Show & Tell with a Hasbro microphone.  I’m not even sure what was happening with this one.

Surrounded by Ashanti and Naima and a bus load of little Oprahs, Mackenzie tried to get them to all channel their Inner Diva while school marm Miss Tanya Zachary used incorrect grammar to praise the process.

I just can’t.

Luckily a commercial cut in before Ashanti could point out that White Girls are Crazy.

Back in the (?) Real World, Faithlyn was getting her (bleepin’) hair trimmed by the heavily tattooed Joshua Ketron, while Nikki did what Nikki does best.  Somewhere along the line Nikki had picked up a little lap dog that she dressed in coordinating baby clothes, and the poor thing almost had nervous piddle between all that swearing and the Greenwich Village salon dude.

With Faithlyn trapped in the chair, Nikki used her captive audience as an opportunity to swear some more and bash overweight Pageant Moms, wondering out loud what they eat to be that big.

Donuts, probably.  Not everyone consumes the souls of little pageant girls, Nikki.

Finally, it was Showtime!

And Nikki Time, of course, as she went for the (bleepin’) throat of some poor bullied makeup lady who was only trying to do her job on Faithlyn.

As Nikki creepily stroked her little lap dog like some Flying Monkey had just scooped him up in Oz and dropped him in her lap, she bossed the makeup lady up one side and down the other about face paint and mascara.  When the unsuspecting makeup lady casually commented that she didn’t like the finished look…well…it just got ugly.  You need to watch it to fully appreciate the inappropriateness.

Some woman dressed up like Wynonna Judd was the emcee, and she wanted to get this party started.  And she said it.  A few times.  She kind of looked like a mix of performing Wynonna and mug shot Wynonna, but it was all good.

Because she liked to party.

Selena’s Dad Sergio finally made an appearance, and I swear he looked exactly like some gardener on an ABC show.  Not the Desperate Housewives guy with no shirt, but somebody else that escapes me right now.

Dad was all about the pageants, and even did the judging table dance that is usually reserved for crazy Moms.  Dude can work a weed whacker and a cupcake dress.

I really do admire any Dad who can support their kid in Pageant Land and still maintain a grip on their ManCard, though I could have done without a few of the backwards over the shoulder pouty faces, Sergio.

Work it, Daddy.

Faithlyn’s flipper didn’t fit her face very well, but it was pretty insignificant when compared to the two Dbag dudes in glitter tank tops who accompanied Nikki everywhere she went.

Again.  I just can’t.

I can’t even explain it.  And neither could TLC apparently.  The guys just appeared in the lobby, not even paying attention as they tried to hook up with hot chicks via their white Eurotrash iPhones while Nikki blew a nutty because Wynonna took a breath between Faith and Lynn.

That (bleep) is (bleeped) up.  It’s one word.  Don’t make me tell you again.

Icon Wear was truly iconic.

Selena did a 3 year old’s version of Single Ladies, but totally forgot to yank her skirt off in the middle of the song.  Having her brother step in and strip her down on stage was disturbing on so many levels that I’m going to have to leave that one to a qualified psychologist and move on to the next girl.

Mackenzie twirled her umbrella ella ella all over the stage without losing an eye, so that was a win.

Faithlyn’s I Dream of Jeannie routine was slightly compromised  by not one…but two… tiny Barbara Edens in the ballroom.  What are the chances?

Nikki blew two more nutties over that…one for each Jeannie.

Then some kids won some stuff.

Selena won candy.  And Tootsie Rolls are way better than a big crown, so she went home with a full belly and a smile.

Mackenzie didn’t win the good stuff, so she was a little bummed.  But she still managed to sing another song about something or other and la la la’d her way out the door and back to Cute Town, USA to play with her crayons and feed her new unicorn.

Faithlyn won Most Beautiful, which really urked Nikki because some of the ugliest kids in America win that pointless award.  She knows that Faithlyn is pretty.  Tell her something she doesn’t know.

And what the (bleep) is Faithlyn gonna do with Play-Doh?  What the (bleep) kinda prize is that?  Not to mention that the girl who won Grand Supreme looked ridiculous.

Absolutely (bleepin’) ridiculous.

Then I walked away from the television to brush my teeth, floss, wash my face and iron my clothes for the next day.  And when I finally came back Nikki was still swearing and complaining.

Somebody needs to get (bleeped.)  Bad.

See you next time.  Unless Nikki and the Mayans were right, that is…

 

 

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?

Oh.  Wait.

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?

Psych.

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.

MmmHmmm?