Posts Tagged ‘TV Spoilers’

Dance Moms: The West Coast Abby Returns! When It’s Tap vs. Hip Hop, You Better Pop It, Lock It And Bump-It.

Wednesday, July 17th, 2013

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Everyone in LA has bangs. Richy said that if he was into it and his standards were a little lower, he’d be all over this.

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Lawd. This s*** and that Priscilla Presley hair just got real.

 

 

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Umm. I didn’t sleep with my boss. We were awake the whole time, thank you. And you’re pretty much a bitch.

 

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This Chipotle App is the bomb. That beef burrito will be ready before we even pull into the bus stop.

 

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Oh. My. Gawd. I’m freakin’ finally on Dance Moms and I’m wearing horizontal stripes. What was I thinking? Dying.

 

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Shut. Up. You really gave Chloe hip hop? That is HIGHlarious. You’re gonna make me pee my pants.

 

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Mama’s coming home soon, Baby.

 

 

 

 

Well.

Freakin’ finally.

After being preempted for what seemed like six months by the premiere of the already classic What’s Vivi-Anne Gonna Eat Today? Show and then being postponed for another two more weeks while that cable access Drink While You Dance Chat mess auditioned a few D-List comedians…Dance Moms is back.

I think.

Or maybe it was a repeat.  I’m not sure.

I remember last season there was an episode that was nothing but Christi getting all up in Melissa‘s face about butt kissing and special treatment and everyone swearing in front of their kids until Maddie cried.

And that totally happened again this week.  So I’m not really sure what was going on.

Honestly, with all the recent repetitive story lines and rehashed Mama Drama, the only way I can keep track of what day it is is by referencing my Crazy Jill Hair spreadsheet.

And my Where’s Kristie? board game, of course.

And speaking of.  Do I physically have to go down to the Lifetime TV executive offices and slap somebody until they put Asia‘s bad a** Mama in every episode?

Because I will.  If this site ever starts making me some money, that is.  Have you priced airline tickets lately?  Seriously.  I don’t want to buy the plane.  Just a ticket, ma’am.

Let’s go, people!

Thanks to poor planning on somebody’s part, Ms. Miller had to take a sabbatical from the show in order to jet out to California (…swimming pools, movie stars…) to film the second season of Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition, which left the inmates running the prison.

But Abby was back now.

With a fresh new LA attitude, a ton o’ fresh new LA hairstyles that she was clearly trying to get a handle on and basically every piece of fresh new Resort 2013 she could strip off the Lane Bryant window mannequins down on West Pico Blvd.

Did you see all her new clothes?

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But it was back to bidnez now and that meant that the Two Months Later And Maddie’s Still On Top Pyramid of Shame finally made a reappearance.  After one more promotional blitz for AUDC, coming soon to a television near you.

Was it just me, or was Richy Jackson wearing a Burger King crown in that hazy flashback?  Because Girlfriend was definitely having it her way.  MmmHmm.

I’m fairly certain that Abby just left the last pyramid taped to the mirrors, because nothing looked very different this time around.

Bottom row was reserved for Brooke, Paige, Kendall and Nia.  Apparently Brooke had blown off dance rehearsals while Abby was gone and had gotten busted by the ALDC SpyCam or somebody’s thermal heat goggles when she and Mom Kelly snuck off to record another youtube CD.

I don’t know.  Somehow Abby knew though.

Second row was Mackenzie, Chloe and the MIA Asia.  After I did the math and realized that an MIA Asia meant an MIA Kristie…again…I stopped paying attention to that row.

And natch, top of the pile was Maddie again.

This week the gang was headed to beautiful Syracuse, NY for another In10sity Dance Competition and Abby was ready to shake things up again.  Last time, as you will recall, she had sent Maddie and Chloe out on stage to perform the exact same routine to the same music.  It was like, OMG.  Totally twinsies.  Like…totz.

This time they would be hitting the bright lights as complete opposites.  Maddie would be doing a tap routine.  Chloe would be going gangstah with a hip hop number.

Maddie’s favorite thing in the whole wide world is tap.  Chloe is a skinny little white ballerina who doesn’t even take hip hop lessons.

You do the math on that one.  It’s even easier than my Kristie addition & subtraction a little earlier, so you probably won’t need a calculator.

MackLoJack also got a solo, but she’s not Asia…so you know…

The group routine was entitled Gone Too Soon about celebrities who were gone too…well, you can probably figure that one out as well.

Every girl would play a character.  A dead one.  Dead Diva Dancing, basically.

Nia was Whitney.  Kendall was Selena.  (The Latin one, not Bieber‘s on again/off again suckah girlfriend.  She’s still alive.  A fool for going out with such a Dbag, but still alive.)

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Brooke was Amy Winehouse.  Paige was Anna Nicole Smith.  Chloe was Marilyn Monroe.  And Maddie got to wear a tiara, which was all that really mattered to Abby.

Not to steal any of Honey Boo Boo Child‘s thunder, but if this show had its own People Magazine Whiff & Sniff card this week, the whole thing woulda stank up the barn with favoritism and shame.  And bacon.

Up in the MomPerch it was National Gang Up On Melissa Day.

Apparently while Abby was gone, the Moms had all taken some kind of blood oath to band together as a team and not pimp out any of their kids by sending them to Los Angeles.  One Team.  One Mission.

Yeah.  How did that Mom Parking Lot Sit-In of 2013 work out for everybody?

Needless to say, Melissa had crammed Maddie into Abby’s carry-on and shipped her off to the West Coast asap to appear on AUDC while the rest of the girls stayed in Pittsburgh to do whatever it is that kids do in Pittsburgh before they grow up, smarten up and run away from home without ever looking back.

(No hate mail from the Pittsburgh Office of Tourism, please.)

Somehow that move translated into an argument between Christi and Melissa about sleeping with your boss.  Or Melissa’s boss, more specifically.

Because that’s what she (…allegedly…) did.  Numerous times.  Multiple numerous times, if you know whaddimean.

Before she ended up marrying him.

And can we just talk for a second about how Melissa fights?  Like your 5 year old niece fights, maybe?

Nuh uh.  No way.  You lie.  Whatever.  Not talkin’ about it.  Not talkin’ about it.  Maybe because you’re a big poopy head liar, that’s why.  Whatever.  Fine.

Whatever Infinity.

And then she grabbed her Bratz doll and her sleeping bag and stormed out of the Perch.

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The next day (…I knew it was the next day because Abby and Jill both had new hairdos…) Melissa narced on Christi for being White Trash and then apologized for not remembering that it was 1960’s Dress Up Day at the ALDC.

Holy Bang ‘n Bouffant, Batman.

As Melissa hunkered down in the studio to watch Mackawhacka try and imitate SassyPants Asia’s sassypantsness in her solo, the rest of the Moms looked down and (…white…) trash talked their brains out.

MackPaddiWack was having a rough time of it, and Abby blamed it on her having taken part in recess earlier in the day.

I know, right?  The nerve of that kid.  Playing with her friends.  Getting all that exercise out there in all that unhealthy fresh air.

And that is why dancers should be home schooled, according to Abby, whose wisdom and hairstyles both seemed to be trapped somewhere in the JFK Era this week.

Maddie’s solo rehearsal went a little better.  She’s Maddie, after all.

And Christi is Christi, after all, so she was right back to chewing on Melissa’s neck about whatever and whoever as soon as Mom came upstairs.

They weren’t supposed to run solos.  But Abby’s running Maddie’s.  So you know she won’t run Chloe’s.  Blah blah.  My kids are not your concern.  White Trash.  Boss Sleeper Arounder.  Then somebody said “Bitch” about 100 times.

And then it was the whole pick up your Bratz doll and sleeping bag attitude again.

Punctuated this time by Melissa’s delightfully adolescent “You wish I would die in a car accident while tweeting about One Direction and putting on mascara.”

Or something.

Gah.  Kids today.

After getting liquored up following rehearsal (…do these kids just drive themselves home now?…) everyone was back for one last day of practice and snarking up in the Perch.

Unfortunately, even after cocktails the Moms were way too sober to deal with Payton‘s Mom Leslie, who swung by with her bodyguard on the way home from Walmart.

Turns out that Payton was helping Chloe with her hip hop routine, because the best person to help a skinny little white ballerina get gangstah is a taller skinny white ballerina, right?

Don’t ask.

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And I have no idea who that other woman was who tagged along with Leslie up to the Perch, pretending she didn’t notice the cameras or the fact that Holly, Jill and Melissa were all color coordinated like a Pointer Sisters Cover Band .  Did you see that?

I’m guessing the woman with the glasses won some kind of Facebook contest or something and got to do a walk-on like they did on All My Children a couple years ago.

Look at me, baby.  Mommy’s on the television.

Leslie said that she was supporting her daughter helping Chloe and then quickly left before all the ice cream in her car started to melt.

And seriously, how perfect was it that the Lifetime people weren’t paying attention again and added in a Catering Wars pop-up promo at the bottom of the screen right then that said “The Ultimate Food Fight?”

I wish.

Melissa stormed out again at some point.  Cuz that’s kinda her thang lately.

Finally, it was Showtime!

To compensate for MackSplat not having any of Asia’s sassy “this” and “that,” Abby gave her a whirly twirly Grinch movie headpiece that boinged all over the place when she walked.  Stiffer than a Slinky, but bouncier than a pipe cleaner.  And slightly askew.

If you can’t fake sassy…werk a hat, Bitch.  And you can quote me.

Abby also changed Maddie’s Messy Housewife outfit a few times while basically stepping over Chloe before everyone hit the stage.

Mack’s solo went great, and she did that strut off the stage again that I still can’t master when I leave a room.  Peace out, haters.

Chloe danced around like every drunk chick I’ve ever met at a frat party trying to booty pop.  I’m from Delta Delta.  Wanna do shots?  I’m so wasted.

Don’t get wrong.  I love me some Chloe.  But she was set up to fail.

Maddie jumped all over the stage in her pink apron like some bat s*** crazy DC Cupcake Lady all wired up from licking one too many beater bowls.  Gimme more sugar!  She nailed it, though.

Even when her little pink cartoon apron top fell down, she took a (…bowl…) licking and kept on ticking.

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From here on out is was basically the Maddie Show until the credits rolled.

Abby loved Maddie’s solo even though she had an apron malfunction.  Christi pointed out that Abby had an emotional melt down when Chloe’s headpiece fell over her eyeballs a few seasons ago, but yet had nothing negative to say about Maddie flashing her baked goods on stage.  Really?

Insert random Christi eye roll here:  ______________!

After the group routine, Abby stated that she had only watched Maddie.  Not her backup dancers.

Even when they took First Place in the group category Abby never looked up from that iPhone with the “Save Those Tears…” sticker long enough to recognize any of the other girls.  She thought it was crap that Maddie had only gotten 2nd Place in her solo, and she didn’t want to play anymore.

I guess she was doing her own version of a Sit-In.  But she sits all the time, so I couldn’t be certain what was really happening.

Backstage it was more Christi vs. Melissa vs. Tap vs. Hip Hop dramz.  I don’t know if it was the same episode or another repeat.  Jill had another hairdo, but it was one I’d seen before, so I got all confused.

This week, it was Melissa who uttered the contractually required “That’s it.  I’m done.  I’m so over it.” before slamming her suitcase and taking the mandatory Walk of Shame past the lockers.

I think they need a new gimmick.

Or maybe just freakin’ bring back Kristie.  How’z ’bout dat?

Don’t make me keep saying it.

Abby hugged Maddie, who had started to cry a few Precious Moments tears before being swallowed up by Abby’s ample bosoms like Star Trek‘s Enterprise when it gets sucked into a Klingon Black Hole.

In Dance, no one can hear you scream.

And then it was over.

Let’s just say that those Lifetime execs are darn lucky that I saw Kristie in the previews for next time or it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Put yo’ hands up, cuz next week LA is back in the house!

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Toddlers & Tiaras: Who’s Saree Now? It’s Time To Pop In Your Flipper And Sing A Glitzy Hurray For Bollywood.

Friday, June 28th, 2013

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Seriously, people? It’s Bollywood, not the Lone Ranger. How ’bout you all Google it before you show up on a damn horse next time?

 

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Bitch, I know you’re not tugging on my weave while I’m choking to death on this plastic tooth.

 

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Lawd, I’m tired. Last night I had a dream I was named after some really thick Kardashian girl.

 

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What The Hell am I supposed to do with this piece of tin?

 

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Soldier Down in the lobby. I repeat: We have a blue Persian Parrot Down in the lobby. Send backup.

 

 

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Don’t look at me. They wouldn’t even let me bring my rifle inside. But hunting’s pretty sweet, Bro.

 

 

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I swear I’m either gonna break some water or some gawd dang diva skulls in about two minutes.

 

 

 

Here we go again.

Pageant Time.

Time for Toddlers & Tiaras to check off another chunk of crazy on that BeDazzled Bucket List.  But what could they possibly come up with next?

The new season has only been around for about three weeks and we’ve already come face to face with fierce drag queen judges, lesbians and non-lesbians throwing down in hotel lobbies…and the mother of all Hood Rat muthas.  (Shout out to Englewood!)

Is nothing sacred?

Not really.  Except maybe the cows in India.

Oooh.  Good idea, dude.

And that’s probably pretty much how the Glitter Girls Bollywood Pageant was born.

After a quick introduction, Pageant Directah (…that’s how she said it…) Tasha Land explained how this whole Indian themed thing was going to go play out this week.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember seeing Tasha on T&T before now.

I’m not saying she’s never been on the show.  I just don’t remember.  I’m pretty sure that I do remember seeing her slap a bitch down on Oxygen’s Bad Girl’s Club and throw another bitch’s suitcase over a balcony railing while screaming something that got (bleeped) out on the audio track.  I could be mistaken.  But I doubt it.

Regardless of where I’ve seen her, Tasha was a hoot.

She was totally the kind of brassy sassy girl that you always hear on the midtown bus screaming into her blinged out cellphone, starting and ending every sentence with “Gurrrl.  Just.  Shut.  Up.” and then laughing so hard that one Sephora eyelash falls off and her purse dumps upside down on the floor.

She needs to go on the Wendy Williams Show asap.

Two minutes into the episode and Tasha already knew that she was in over her head since not one Pageant Mom had taken the time to read her Facebook explanation of what the word Bollywood actually meant, and now they were all rushing to iParty to buy the wrong costumes.

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Indian doesn’t always mean we’re having guests over for Thanksgiving, people.

Without crossing into Paula Deen territory, Tasha delicately tried to explain the difference between feathers on your head and that movie where the kid won a buttload of money on Who Wants To Be  A Millionaire?  She had absolutely no idea what to expect at her pageant, so it was easier to just laugh really loudly and flip her weave.

She’s a hoot, and is now officially invited to join Annette Hill and me when we book that T&T party bus and get kicked out of a Texas bar.

Gurrrl.  Just.  Shut.  Up.

Our first little contestant this week was 2 year old Khloe and Mom Abby.

Holy crap can Abby smile.  Like all the time.  Even when she’s a stress bag.

She reminded me of those bubbly bank tellers who always get reprimanded for holding up their line by chit chatting and giggling with every customer instead of just giving them their balance and sending them on their way.  I like happy people, so she scored some bonus points right away.

Which I immediately took back, because Mom had named her precious little squirt of a baby after Khloe Kardashian.

Yeah.  That Khloe.  Let that one sink in for a minute.

Hi, Grandma.  Here’s my new baby girl that I named after some big, loud coat tail riding fame whore who is only famous because her big, loud fame whore sister has a big a** and got caught doing a sex tape and has a baby out of wedlock with a Dbag rapper and now somehow makes a katrillion dollars selling hoochie dresses at Sears.

Wanna hold her?

Mom then listed all the Supreme titles that Khloe (…the little one, not the big one…) had won up to this point.  All of them.

Mega Supreme.  Ultra Supreme.  Face Supreme.  Super Über Supreme.  Mega Ultra Super Über Face Supreme.  Diana Ross & The Supremes.

All of them.  She didn’t miss one.

And to make it even more entertaining, Khloe was a screamer.  Not a scaredy cat screamer.  Or Boogie Man under the bed screamer.  Just a screamer.

Question: How old are you?  Answer:  AAAAAAAUUUGGGHHH!

That kid was so cute.

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The second princess was 6 year old Ma’Leeh and Mom Garriel.  And they came packaged with a bonus gift with purchase princess, tiny 2 year old sister Nadia.

Mom was about 23 months pregnant and not moving too quickly.  Ma’Leeh was dramatically laying face down on the teeter totter with no friends while Nadia dingle dangled aimlessly on a swing set.

This family is clearly not known for their speed or sense of urgency.

Mom fessed up to being the Lazy Queen and to blatantly playing favorites with her daughters.  Nadia was her favorite.  The other one, What’sHerName, not so much.

If Nadia was crying or pouting, Mom explained that she would drop everything and run to her rescue.

If Ma’Leeh was crying or pouting, Mom would just drop her.  On her head, probably.

When an army guy in fatigues came out of nowhere and swooped in to snatch up one of the kids, I thought it was some kind of Child Services military training but it turned out to just be Dad Marcus in his uniform.

False alarm.

And finally, we met Honey Boo Boo Child 2.0…the Glitzy Hillbilly known as 4 year old Brooklyn and her Mom Sabrina.

It was like someone had come in and cleaned up Alana and her family just enough so they could go to fancier restaurants.  Mom had some of last year’s streaky highlights in her hair and Brooklyn had a stupidly cute face which she used to her full advantage.

Because only a cutie patootie face lets you get away with cutie patootie tooties in the middle of a television interview.

Toots.  Honks.  Farts.  Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?

Get it out of your (…intestinal…) system before high school or it ain’t gonna be pretty at the prom, sister.  But for right now, as long as I’m not the one driving her to preschool in a car with the windows rolled up, I guess we’ll cut her a little slack.

But just one.  Cut one, so to speak.  See how I did that?

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Brooklyn had been retired for a whopping four months, basically because she started losing pageant and decided to bail.  Mom called it retiring.  My Mom called it quitting.

Tomato.  Tomahhhhto.  Whatev.

Dad Kyle thought the whole pageant thing was a waste of time, and was way more interested in the dead hog laying in the back of the pickup truck.  Somebody’s having bacon with their eggs tomorrow.

He also randomly picked the age of 24 for the day when you kill your first grizzly or deer or elusive sasquatch and bring it home and your ex-pageant wife just sits there watching The Chew instead of offering to help hoist it up onto the garage door and slit its throat.

Because that’s what happens when you do pageants.  You wear makeup and watch TV all day.  Kyle said it, so it must be gospel.

Back at Ma’Leeh’s (…that’s a lot of apostrophes…) house, Mom was laying on the couch rubbing her SuperPregger belly and freaking out that Ma’Leeh had a loose tooth that was going to cost her the crown.  Even in Bollywood you either need two front teeth or a flipper.  And Ma’Leeh was at risk of having neither at the moment.

Luckily, Dad came to the rescue.  If you can pull a piece of shrapnel out of your buddy inside a moving tank with just your bare hands and a paper clip, I guess ripping a tooth right out of your daughter’s skull isn’t really much of a challenge.

Close your eyes.  Think about unicorns.  Boom.  Done.  Now go stick it under your pillow.  Daddy loves you.

While Ma’Leeh was bleeding out, Brooklyn was back at the lodge trying to learn how to do that Indian dance they do every season on So You Think You Can Dance.  As Coach Lindsay Ray Wright tried to bluff her way through some finger snaps, Mom voiced her concern that every girl was going to look the same at the pageant because they would all be wearing Sorries.  Or Saris.  Or what are they called again?

And then she just blankly looked back and forth as if some Indian woman was suddenly going to randomly pass through the living room on her way to Kala Ghoda.

(Google it.  I had to.)

Khloe was going to be dressed as a persian parrot for the Bollywood Outfit portion of the pageant because I guess they have a lot of persian parrots in India.  Who knew?  But she was too tired to care.  All that screaming wears a girl out.

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Poor thing barely had the strength to blow enough baby snot out of her baby nose to patch all the sheet rock in the nursery before she konked out for the night.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Tasha still had no idea what was going to happen and instead chose to just flip dat weave one mo’ time and prepare herself for the most ridiculous thing ever, which may be the tag line for Glitter Girls Pageants for all I know.

Love.  Her.

For the Beauty portion, the little Kardashian Kid had a meltdown.  She was tired.  Lawd, she was tired.  And cranky.  Brooklyn chose to shake her tootie booty at the judges and then just sulk on stage with her arms crossed like something was wrong in her dressing room.  Divas to the Dance Floor.

Favorite daughter Nadia took up all of Mom’s time in hair and makeup, so Dad had to go up on stage with her while Ma’Leeh got 30 seconds of attention in their hotel room.  As Mom raced through the process with a scalding curling iron, Ma’Leeh almost gagged herself unconscious with her snazzy new one tooth flipper until Grandma let her spit it out all covered in what looked like more of Khloe’s nose goo.

Gross.  I know it wasn’t, but it totally could have been.  That was at 10:26am if anyone is keeping track, because Mom said so.

After racing to the stage, Ma’Leeh rushed through her beauty walk and got scolded by Mom, who was now 36 months pregnant and not in the mood.  She could have cared less how her daughter felt.  She even said that.

Dad said that Mom should criticize the kids in a productive way, which I guess is different than a constructive way…and then it was Bollywood Time!

Khloe was now officially exhausted, and slipped out of Mom’s grip like a Slinky going down a flight of stairs and fell asleep on the lobby floor.  I mean, fell asleep in less than one second. Like a Spring Break blackout or something.  For realz.  I was kind of jealous.

Trust me, Girlfriend.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been face down in a hotel lobby wearing sequins and smeared lipstick.  Been there.  Done that.  But I’ve never been able to fall asleep with all those people checking in and rolling luggage over my head.

Totz jealz.

And that was a joke, by the way.

Maybe.

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Abby managed to shake Khloe awake long enough to carry her up on stage so she could act like a baby who had just been shaken awake.  NASA, we have lift off.  And simultaneous meltdown off all our protective shields.  This flight is so over.

Brooklyn looked like a gypsy prostitute.  Mom’s words, not mine.  Ma’Leeh werked the stage like Beyoncé on some kind of curry high and then ignored Mom by sitting alone in front of the stage.

Mom cried when she realized her least favorite daughter didn’t need her anymore.

Totally unrelated to the story was this random tiny potato sack of a baby dressed in Indian clothes that some Dad was boinging around the stage like she was on a yo-yo string until he finally sat her down on the cutest stuffed elephant pull toy evah.  I don’t even know who that was, but it was a scream.  Five point bonus.

Then some kids won some stuff.  None of our three won the Big Dawg though, and for the most part it didn’t go over very well.

Brooklyn was happy enough with Mini Grand Supreme, and actually seemed more concerned about leaving to go eat freshly slaughtered bacon with Daddy and throw that freaked out cat of hers down the play slide one more time.

Seriously.  Did you see that at the beginning of the show?  PETA on line 2 for Brooklyn.

Khloe had meltdown #786 while Ma’Leeh walked away to the accompaniment of the saddest guitar music every played on Lifetime TV.  And that includes all the Jane Seymour movies on the normal channel and the movie channel.

She was jealous of the winner.  She was jealous of her sister.  She was jealous of everything.  And she was missing a tooth on top of it.  Sucks.

And then it was over.

Say goodbye to Bollywood, little Kardashian.

And gesundheit.

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Toddlers & Tiaras: When I Grow Up I Wanna Be A Pilot Or A Nurse…Or Just Throw Down At A Georgia Pageant.

Saturday, June 22nd, 2013

 

 

Puhleez. Aside from all the F Bombs and disorganization, if Heather had sat on that Mom I totally could have taken her downtown.

 

 

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The Hell? Now my toothpaste is gone? How many bitches you trying to cram into this one little bathroom, woman?

 

 

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You wanna talk smack? Let’s talk about that stupid blue hat your boy was wearing. WTF was that all about?

 

 

 

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Well, there we go. If you had told me that some grown a** man grinding his junk in a cartoon teddy bear suit would be the most normal thing I saw tonight…

 

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I forget if you’re the pretty one or not, but somebody better win this thing or next time we’re switching from beach balls to bowling balls during rehearsal. Capisce?

 

 

 

 

I ain’t just dog walking that bitch. I’m taking her to the Vet, getting her neutered and then holding her head under the flea dip water. Watch me.

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At Dawn…we ride!

 

 

 

 

Can you do me a favor the next time you go down to the hotel lobby?

Check and see if the TLC Gift Shop sells pocket calendars or day planners or racing forms, because my fight card is filling up so fast that I’m already having trouble keeping track of who threw the first punch at all these Glitz Pageants.

I mean…whoa.

Was it really only last week that we all witnessed The Hood Rat Hoe Down?  (Shout out to all my girls at the Englewood Walgreens!)  And now Toddlers & Tiaras is already back in the Ring hosting The Rumble of the Red Heads?

Remember when this show used to be about kids in cone bras?

Too boring, I guess.  Been there.  Done that.

Think about it.  When’s the last time we actually saw an awkwardly inappropriate spray tanning session?  I guess that after five seasons, that one kind of lost its shock value.

Which is fine.  To be honest, after five seasons of How-To episodes, I can pretty much climb up on my own kitchen table and give myself a nice coat or two of Krylon without streaking, though sometimes I still forget to roll up my Speedo leg holes really high and end up with that annoying butt mark that looks like you sat on a coffee filter.

I also still get some grief when I have friends over for dinner, especially if I’m hosing down the good parts while they’re trying to have dessert.  TMI?

But I’m not complaining.  You know the rules around here.  The Messier the Hot Mess, the better.  If you really wanted to discuss which kid had the best lace ankle socks you’d be in the Baby Gap chartroom and not waiting for me to throw some shade.

This week was the Coastal Georgia Pageant Productions…errr…production of…the When I Grow Up Pageant, because everyone knows that anyone who has graduated from the 0 – 23 month category should have already charted out a pretty solid career path for themselves.

Pageant Director Chasity Saunders broke it all down in a fairly low key manner, unlike some of our previous Directors.

Hmmm.  Perhaps Chasity was saving all her Krazy for later.  You think?

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The winner of this competition would receive the awesome Mega Face Supreme title and $1,000…which I’m going to assume could be turned directly over to a bail bondsman if the PoPo happened to be called at some point in the evening.

You might wanna hold that thought.

Our first contestant represented pretty much every progressive lifestyle and ethnicity on the US census form except for space aliens.  If you were looking for the Ward and June Cleaver household, let’s just say you might want to get back on the highway and reset your GPS.

Tiny 2 year old Lyric and her 19 year old Mom Amber were both pretty darn cute.

True…all babies are pretty darn cute, but there’s something about babies with uncontrollably fuzzy hair that makes me smile.  And when they look like someone just rubbed twelve birthday balloons on their head?  Even better.  And when they live in a veritable clown car full of family members?  Gold!  We loved this family.

Here we go.  Take a deep breath and we’ll do this…

Lyric was a patootie of a bi-racial baby who lived with her Mom and her Aunt and her lesbian Grandma and her lesbian Grandma’s lesbian wife and her Great-Grandma who could make some of the best flustered Great-Grandma faces ever seen on TLC.

For the cherry on top of that awesome sundae, the lesbian Grandma Jennifer and the non-lesbian Great Grandma Valerie had been professional wrestlers earlier in their lives.  They even showed old photos, gave us a few of their fight names and took Lyric to a Martial Arts Studio to show her how lesbians and non-lesbians can F*** you up if you’re talking on your cell and not paying attention.  And then my head exploded.

For some reason, they all felt it was necessary to use the one bathroom at home all at the same time every day, so enjoy that one.  If you’re claustrophobic or allergic to aerosol or the goo they put on fresh tattoos, or just don’t like crowded elevators, you might want to pass on the experience.

Moving on, the second and third contestants this week were sold together in a freshly sealed TwinPak from the local farm.

Dat’s rite.  The Tiara Twins!  So.  Cute.

Alycesaundra and Giavanna were back and just as competitive as ever, though parents Kelly and Ron seemed to have discovered a top secret way to swap out their brains since we last saw them on the show, because the normal one was now the crazy one and the crazy one was now the normal one.  Go figure.

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It wouldn’t really surprise me if they actually had a SyFy Channel genetics laboratory somewhere on that farm/plantation/biosphere thing they live on, hidden underground below the 13,000 square foot practice building, the rockstar trailer garage and the airport hanger where they store that shrink wrapped Tiara Twins tour bus.

I’m too lazy to Google it, but whatever it is they grow or sell out on that farm certainly pays the bills.  Mom did some quick math in her head and came up with a nice, round $1M that had been spent on pageant pimpin’ so far.  Nice to hear as I nuked the Lean Cuisine that I bought with a coupon.

Adopt.  Me.

There was also the ongoing 5 year old battle as to which little nugget was cuter, though Mom let us know that Gia was clearly the winner.  Hopefully Aly was out playing in that field where they grow cow poo and mud when Mom dropped that bomb on the nation.

I’ll cut her some slack, though.  Maybe Mother really does know best.  But to the untrained eye, both girls still needed name tags.  If I get a vote, they were both redoinkulously cute.

Prep work for any pageant is key.  We all know that by now.

Inside the 13,000 square foot playroom (…don’t even ask me how many sq. feet my condo is…) Kelly and Ron had devised a new training technique that would hopefully prevent the girls from being distracted on stage.  Designed to build razor sharp focus and help them acquire the Ninja-like skills required to join the X-Men, it was a cross between elementary school dodge ball and a Jimmy Buffett concert where everyone is bouncing inflatables in the air during the last song.

Basically, it was just throwing gigantic beach balls at children when they weren’t looking.

3 for $1.  Knock one down, win a prize.

Over at Lyric’s home, there weren’t quite as many balls.  Maybe none.  It was hard to tell.  I think they were probably just tucked away some place safe.

Yup.  Drag Queen Miss Navonna dropped by to show Lyric how to be fierce.

C-List Drag Queens.  Lesbians.  Non-Lesbians.  Pageant Babies.  All attempting to shake it like a Polaroid picture…and a Vegas showgirl…at the same time.

It truly was The Perfect Storm.

Finally, it was Showtime!  Too bad no one told the emcee.

Right out of the gate, the pageant was a hot mess.  Chasity had picked what appeared to be the smallest hotel in the city and for some reason everyone was doing hair and makeup and When I Grow Up stuff in the middle of the hallways.  And they were narrow hallways.  There’s no way you could have gotten one of those maid carts through, so I guess nobody got fresh linens that weekend.

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Lyric was crying before she hit the stage, and Mom gave her what looked like ecstasy or ibuprofen.  It was a little sumthin sumthin…maybe they have pixie stix in pill form now.

The Emcee missed little Lyric completely in the MacBook Pro roster and had to go back and announce her.  Goober #1.

Actually, it was the second, if you count his outfit.

WTF?  I think I wore that same ensemble to my first boy/girl junior high dance in the cafetorium.  And the Boy Band hat was a nice touch.  Just enough of a shade off from the blue shirt that it kind of made my eyes sting a little.  You know the tie came in the same package.

Along with a bonus swatch of fabric, of course, so you can go shopping for matching socks without having to bring the whole shirt to H&M.

Mom Kelly was a little wired when the party started.  I think she was still mad at Dad for lifting up her shirt in the middle of the mud bog back home and almost showing all of America the other Tiara Twins.

Trust me…if you didn’t see it, you don’t want to see it.  Just walk away.

Ali did poorly in Beauty, but she’s not Gia so it was no surprise to Mom.  I still say they could have switched in the middle like an episode of The Brady Bunch and nobody would have known the difference.

Gia did better, because she’s Gia.  That, and the fact that this time she wasn’t dragging a live turkey behind her.  And Dad finally showed up with her flipper.  That helped, too.

Seriously.  Dude.  How many flippers do you have on you at one time?  He was pulling them out of pockets like a birthday party magician.  Look!  There’s one in your ear!  And another one!  And a quarter!

Kelly was pissed.  No way to get around it.  Pissed.

The When I Grow Up Wear was pretty much every Career Barbie outfit ever made come to life.

Ali wanted to be a pilot.  A pilot who is going to miss every landing strip and dump 237 passengers into the Atlantic if she spaces out in the cockpit like she did on stage.

Gia wanted to be a Hunter in booty shorts, hunting down her Dad who was dressed in one of those life size teddy bear costumes with the giant heads.

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Before you die, you really need to see him in action when the music kicked in.  Check your DVR or look on youtube.  Unless he was groping around for another flipper, there was a little too much bumping and thrusting for a Glitz Pageant.  Especially when you have mitten paws instead of hands and you keep whacking your honey pot.

Why yes, Goldilocks.  Trust me.  This one is juuuuust right.

Of course, the emcee missed his cue for Gia as well and left the audience with nothing to do but watch the RonBear get down with his bear self at the edge of the stage.

Lyric’s showgirl routine was derailed by one of the emcee’s groupies who stood next to him and made crazy faces throughout the entire competition.  Like the crazy faces you make in maternity wards or when the Beatles are on Ed Sullivan.  Dial it down.

 And then it happened.

Great-Grandma Valerie had gotten wind that Chasity was talking smack about their family to other participants and audience members.  Something about them being low class and dropping F Bombs in every sentence.

Valerie very politely asked to speak with Chasity away from the crowds.  And then Chasity disrespected Valerie.  And then Jennifer smelled the blood and red hair dye in the water…and it was over.

Girl.  It was on like Beer Pong.

Chasity had some big thick girl named Heather following her around everywhere and Jennifer got all up in her grill, too.  I’m in Chasity’s face?  Do it!  Get me outta her face!  Get me outta her face!  Get me outta her face!

(Remember:  According to the VH1 Book Of Popping Off, you always have to repeat everything at least three times and then clang a frying pan if you have one handy.)

Heather scooted off to call the cops and that pretty much pushed Jennifer’s final button.

Everyone just pig piled at the front door and screamed and yelled and cussed and got all low klass beeotch on each other.

Chasity kept dragging other people into the argument which made Jennifer’s nutty get even nuttier.  Chasity even asked for a show of hands from anyone who had heard Jennifer swear during the competition.

Kudos to that one dude who was so mesmerized by the whole extravaganza that he just stood there holding his kid’s rolling pink zebra luggage and balancing about ten of those giant Rubbermaid bins on his shoulder.  You know he was completely cutting off the circulation to his neck and risking a stroke, but he wasn’t leaving this shiz for nuthin.

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Chasity screamed and then cried and then screamed some more.  Some random girl on a cell phone even came up behind her and tried to take her by the arm back to the CrazyTown Sanitarium but she wasn’t having it.

Check it out.  Chasity’s got some looney tunes eyes when she gets going.  You know she thinks there are bugs on her when they’re not even in season.

Finally, Jennifer’s wife Shantae (…all 97 pounds of her, not counting the gel for her spikey motorbikey fauxhawk…) managed to get her outside before she cracked Chasity’s skull wide open and let all the spaz leak out.

Chasity asked who was glad to see them go, then joined the crowd in an unprofessional round of applause, followed by the whitest “Peace Out, Mutha” I’ve ever heard on cable television.  Seriously.  I’ve heard worse on PBS.

The PoPo showed up and proved useless, as well as a couple of pageant cameos.

Now I either watch waaaay too much of this stuff, or I’m just very observant…but Pageant Coach from Hell Nikki was hanging out in the lobby, as well as Honey Boo Boo‘s Coach Amanda Carter, who apparently still goes back in her Tiara Time Machine to get those tired old chunky highlights put in every six weeks.

Gah.  Buy a Cosmo and figure it out.  It’s 2013.

Chasity had a meltdown and the emcee tried to block the cameras like she was going into the courthouse.  Nice try.  She’s a Pageant Director, not freakin’ Lindsay Lohan.

And nice hat, by the way.  Did I already mention that?

Somehow, amidst all the dramz, they still managed to finish the show and some kids won some stuff.  But not Gia.

At least not what she should have won, which sent Mom to the judges’ table for her own little F Bomb Moment.  A couple of them, actually.

Kelly flipped inside the building.  Twice.  Maybe three times.

Jennifer finished her own flip outside the building.

Frazzled Great-Grandma Valerie chewed her gum so fast that I thought her upper plate was going to come loose and Ron kinda looked like he was starting to dig that sweaty bear costume after standing in the lobby for two hours telling everyone he was Pooh.

But I’m not here to judge.

Yet.

Maybe when I grow up.

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