Toddlers & Tiaras: It’s Time To Pop In Your Pappy And Slam A Few Hooters Shooters, Because The Beautiful Me Disco Pageant Is About To Get Ugly As New Boobs & Old Grudges Collide.Thursday, April 19th, 2012
I never said her kid was ugly. I said butt ugly. Get it right.
Oh, it’s going down, bitch. I’ll wipe that smirk and all that Kool-Aid off your punk a** face.
Tastes like anxiety and vicarious living. With a hint of Mountain Dew.
Sorry, but I’ve tasted better wings and seen better boobs.
Now I don’t know this for a fact, and there’s a good chance I could be making it up, but somewhere in the Toddlers & Tiaras Corporate Offices there’s a Special Room reserved just for nights like tonight.
A room that only the Big Wigs know about, where they go to celebrate unleashing so much hot pageant mess on the rest of us that they need a moment alone to light up a smoke and unbutton the top button of their pants like it’s Thanksgiving afternoon.
We’ll call it sparkly pageant afterglow.
I know there’s a room like that, and it gets used a lot. And tonight it was probably so full of Brooks Brothers suits puffing on Newports that they were over the Fire Code for a room that size.
Tonight’s episode celebrated all that disco and dysfunction have to offer, and it all came gift wrapped in a Hooters take out box. I don’t even smoke, but by the time it was over I almost got dressed and went down to the 7-11 for a carton.
Full disclosure. Since I gave birth to this odd little site last year, I’ve met some really great pageant peeps. Believe it or not, they’re not all whackadoodle. For realz.
(Shout out to Paisley, the world’s cutest nugget, and her entourage among others…)
But sometimes we just need some Crazy to keep us grounded. And sometimes when you ask for crazy…it answers back.
Get some snacks. Here we go.
Pageant Director Dena Jackson and her Jerseylicious raccoon liner eyeballs introduced us to the Beautiful Me Disco Diamonds Pageant.
If you suffer from even the mildest form of Epilepsy, that’s probably about as far into the episode as you lasted, because the Ramada banquet table full of strobe light trophies probably set off a seizure and you lost consciousness when your head hit the floor.
Every sailboat owner should have a Prettiest Eyes trophy in their emergency kit in case they find themselves stranded at sea, because the International Space Station could track down those glitter flares.
That ballroom was like a bad acid trip, but before my pupils even dilated back to their normal diameter we were meeting little 2 year old SamiJo, her Mom Tricia and her Mom’s new boobs.
Knowing Tricia as we now do, they probably have names as well, but it was never discussed. You can make up your own.
If you jump back a season to when we last met Tricia, she and her camo-wearing redneck husband were arguing about how much of their income had gone to pageants and breast augmentations. Even without the aid of any psychic ability, you kind of knew where that whole relationship was headed. While her new boobs were going North, her marriage was going South.
Jump back to the present, and Tricia is now divorced and living with her new boyfriend and all the OctoMom babies. I forget exactly how many kids she had all together, but it was more than just SamiJo. There were a couple of brothers for sure, because they were all eating wings and staring at her boyfriend. ”HG” was in the hizzle, and the kids all seemed to like him, though they could have just been staring at the big “S” on his head.
I need to brush up on my street cred, because I guess the days of carving Nike swooshes into your hair are long gone. Now it’s all about pageant girl initials.
HG had gone and gotten a custom piece of hair doodle art shaved into his scalp to show his support for SamiJo. Touching, I guess, but it kind of looked like he fell asleep and some street kids tagged the back of his skull like it was a restaurant dumpster.
But SamiJo liked it, even though she doesn’t know her alphabet yet.
And speaking of restaurants.
Since her divorce, Tricia has had to pick up a number of jobs to support her pageant habit, and let’s just say that none of them are at the Mall.
Tricia does “promotional work”…whatever that means…at tractor pulls and racetracks, is also one of those bikini Cage Girls who hold up signs during matches and still finds time to work at that “world famous wings” place.
You know the one. Not KFC. The other one.
That was definitely not a KFC uniform that she had on when she came home. Hose her down and you have Spring Break right there at the kitchen table. No wonder the boys were so bug eyed. Maybe it wasn’t HG’s new doo after all.
To cleanse the palette after all that spicy breast meat, we scooted over to meet 3 year old Destiny and her Mom Sherrie.
Destiny showed us her Hula Girl shimmy, boinged around on one of those bouncy balls with the handles and just generally fell down a lot. There was one delightful moment when she ran to the staircase banister and screamed that she wanted to dance on the pole. That’s right.
That one was too easy, even for me….so please, do pause and insert your own joke right here.
Ha. That was a good one. Destiny’s Mom is gonna hate you for that.
Destiny is crazy cute in her interviews, but hasn’t quite figured out how to keep her tongue in her mouth. Even Mom couldn’t poke it back in. But the cute factor makes up for the drool bubbles.
Sherrie had maxxed out the three family credit cards to get her pageant fix and yet her husband had no clue, so I guess she takes care of the bills while he’s out in the shed guttin’ deer. When we got a tour of that hatchet shop, complete with random pieces of dead deer laying in their own pools of blood, it was definitely a close second to the terror of the actual glitz pageant world.
As for maxxing out the cards? The third card was supposed to be just for emergencies. I do NOT want to be around that house when the septic tank backs up and they’re trying to sop up all that poo with a Miss Pouty Face sash.
Ask Tricia for her divorce lawyer’s 800 number and keep it in a safe place.
Or just tape it to Destiny’s pacifier and you’ll never lose it. That thing is always in her mouth, so you’ll always know where to find it.
And why is it called Pappy? Makenzie’s Ni-Ni was cute. But sucking on your Pappy?
Sorry. That opens up a whole other can of country worms, thank you.
Finally we met 3 year old Camarie and her Mom Jennifer. Mom called her a Brat. The pageant director called her a Demon Child. I was too busy ducking and dodging and trying to avoid all the candy and toys and appliances that Camarie was heaving around the house to decide what to call her.
She appeared to be one of those unmanageable kids who goes completely HyperSpaz, and then collapses like a bag of Idaho potatoes when you go to pick her up and toss her out the back door. Camarie also spends every waking moment with a mouthful of Mike & Ike’s and a face full of cherry Kool-Aid stain. Somebody get that kid a WetNap.
The history between Jennifer and Miss Hot Wings 2012 goes way back. They met up at a few pageants, have pretty much grown to hate each other and have no qualms about talking smack to any stranger who will listen. The tension has dripped onto their children as well, because the looks that Camarie and SamiJo shoot each other is worth the price of admission.
Tricia had previously referred to Camarie as ugly. The Book of Mom says that is totally not cool.
In case you’re ever asked on a game show, Camarie was named after Calamarie…Mom’s favorite food while she was preggo. That’s just messed up. No way around it, unless you’re a Disney Mermaid.
There was so much chaos in this episode that the poor producers just kept tossing us back and forth from one noodle to another, hoping that we could retain it all and not get motion sickness.
I’m going to have to do the same, so we can get the rest of this in before the next episode airs.
To “create her own income” outside of the tip jar, Tricia had hired a photographer to shoot a calendar that she was going to sell around town. Not a SamiJo calendar. A Mommy in a Bikini calendar, like the ones you always see when you go to get a new muffler put on your Hyundai.
As Mom posed and popped her booty, little SamiJo fumbled with a cell phone and tried not to look. Tricia claimed that even at a whopping 2 years of age and partially thanks to her own new breasts, SamiJo loves Victoria’s Secret and already has full comprehension of how the biz works.
Please. Two years old? She doesn’t even know how the toilet works.
All I know is that at any age, you do not want to see your own Mother doing a cheesecake pose in a bikini. I’m pretty certain SamiJo was trying to figure out how to blind herself with the iPhone flash and not really surfing The Wiggles website.
We got to ride along with Destiny for her spray tan. Once I got past the distraction of the ginormous Jersey bouffants on the front desk girls I could focus on Destiny getting a coat or two of Cocoa #45.
She refused to spit out Pappy, so the Jersey girls had to figure out how to tan her with a mouthful of Pappy…which then left her with a big white circle around her mouth and a dark Pappy.
There is just so much wrong with this episode.
SamiJo had a little practice session outside standing on what appeared to be giant pasties. You know what I’m going to say, so I’m not even going to say it. But thanks, Tricia.
She also bragged that SamiJo has Runway Swag and you can’t wash it off. Gross.
Finally it was Pageant Day!
As I say every week, the event itself is never as exciting as the klusterf*** leading up to it, but there were still a few pieces to chew on.
Somehow Tricia and Jennifer ended up in the same hotel room for hair and makeup. That was uncomfortable.
Catty looks, snarky digs and lots of smeared makeup. Except for the room service menu on the desk, the scene could have been filmed in a women’s prison. Take the lid off the toilet and toss a few switchblades on the floor, and there you go. One of those Moms was going to get cut if they didn’t get to the stage asap.
The Beauty portion of the shindig was a downer.
SamiJo just stood there. Period. Where am I? Tricia knelt behind her in a skirt so short that I thought they might have to pixelate the nasty parts for television.
The girl with the seafood name did ok. Nothing great.
Destiny copied SamiJo and just stood there with her mouth open like a carnival game. Three Pappies for a dollar! Aim for the mouth and win a prize! The more Pappies, the bigger the prize!
For the Disco Wear portion, SamiJo was late because she was riding up and down the elevator with the OctoMom kids. When she finally made it, she was wearing a doofy looking Hello Kitty kind of thing, which I can’t ever remember seeing in any disco movie. Painting whiskers on her face was a nice touch, if this whole thing was being held at Destiny’s Carnival.
CalamityCalamarie wore go-go boots. That’s all I remember.
Destiny did some crazy dance and then went off stage to chomp on Pappy.
The whole thing ended up with nobody winning what they really wanted to win, and with Tricia and Jennifer still hating each other. If you really wanted a listing of who won what, you would be on a real website and not reading my witty sarcasm, am I right?
Oh, yeah. It was good stuff. But now it’s too late to go across the street for some smokes.
Say goodbye, Destiny: