Archive for the ‘Pop Culture’ Category

Dance Moms: It’s The Anthony Burrell Show! Step Aside Ladies And Let The Boyz Show You How Crazy Is Done.

Wednesday, June 5th, 2013




Damn, girl. Mama likes some of that fine beef jerky that Ohio has been importing lately.






Whenever your boy getz the blues, I just put on my big giant hat and turn that frown upside down.






I got no problem sitting in this closet full of pink cupcake dresses and telling that Bitch to Man Up.






Don’t cry, little Buckeroo. It’s like that angry man in the tutu closet said: You’re Dad’s just being a pissy bitch.






OMG. I’m like totally going on a date with a boy who can do a split. Haters gonna hate tomorrow.






I would totally tap that. Or maybe just do a high kick and then throw some pie in her face. Whatev.






Lawd. I never seen so much cryin’ and so many damn cows in all my life.






Not right now.  I just can’t.

Don’t talk to me.  Don’t touch me.

I’m bloated.  I’m emotional.  I just need my Häagen-Dazs and a spatula.

And it wouldn’t hurt if your kid could actually make it through a baseline CrossFit gym workout without wetting himself.  Is that too much to ask?

That’s right.  Dance Moms is back.

Or Dance Dads.  Or whatever it’s called nowadays.

Mathematically deducting all the crying, screaming and emotional baggage unleashed by both the Moms and the quasi-Alpha Males, this week’s 2 hour Summer Premiere gave us all about 11 minutes of actual choreographed dancing between commercials.

But we all know that if you wanted to see Mackenzie do another backflip, you’d go to youtube.  You go to Dance Moms for the drama.

And this week was Boyz Nite Out, yo.

The new season of dance competition just kicked into gear.  It was still the same season of the show, but a new season to compete on that Road to Nationals that Glee made so famous.  In TV Land a month had passed.  In the Real World just a little more if I’m not mistaken.  Those two weeks of Reunion Shows in that sparkly Star Trek Discotheque got me a little off track, so bear with me.

Spring Break gave the girls time to ice their knees and catch up on their book reports, while some of the Moms used the time off to get their hair did.

Kelly was now rocking those chunky highlights that were so popular about ten years ago, while Jill continued her gradual transition into Sue Ellen Ewing by darkening that uncontrollable hair.  Holly got herself a new flat iron and was looking pretty slick and sleek (…Michelle Obama who?…) while Melissa put her hot rollers to good use.


Christi, on the other hand, didn’t really seem to know what to do with all that blonde ambition, so she just kinda waved the white flag and wore her hair up a lot this week.

Regardless, nothing gets done without the Pyramid of Shame, which was back after a few weeks on hiatus.

Bottom row was prime seating for Kendall, Nia and Mackadoodle.

Kendall had cried too much, Nia didn’t straighten her back leg even though she was yelled at 11 times (…not 12…they count these things, apparently…) and MackSplat hadn’t been able to keep up with bottle rocket Asia.  Same as always.  I’m thinking that I should just cut & paste this paragraph into the recap every week as a time saver.

Mezzanine level was all about Chloe, Asia and Paige.

Chloe had done a good job last time, but wasn’t Maddie.  So she was still numero dos.

Asia was actually MIA in Los Angles this week, doing whatever it is that squeaky Sophia had done a few months ago, I guess.  Which meant that Mama Krisitie was also MIA.  Which was so not cool.

No Kristie?  I momentarily contemplated actually opening up a book when I realized that JLo wouldn’t be throwing down this week.  Almost.

Paige was on the second row because she had stood up to Anthony Burrell and Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein when they started talking smack in the audience after her last performance.  Remember that?

That was when Kelly flipped a switch and went bazoinkers on them in the middle of the awards presentation, while that kid with the big Bozo shoes sat on stage behind her.

Seriously.  That still bothers me.  It totally distracted from the hormonal drama.  If they can pixelate Paris Hilton‘s hoooha every time she straddles out of a limo with no underpants, why couldn’t they have blurred out those gigantic feet?

Anyway.  Maddie was on top.  Because she’s Maddie.


This week they were headed to the street behind the studio and staying in Pittsburgh for the Masters of Dance Arts Competition.  Chloe and Maddie were going to bust out a duet, Paige was doing a solo and Brooke got moved up to the majors and was going to dance with the ALDC Senior Group.

The elite senior group meant taller girls, not so many Cartoon Network hair bows and a chance to dance with boys who were sporting peach fuzz and Peter Brady voices.

Brooke was psyched.  I guess.  She never really shows any emotion.  She did keep pawing at her ponytail like she was deep conditioning the ends, so I’m going to assume she was a little nervous.  But psyched.

Then it was off to Ohio and the Evil Dance Lair known as Candy Apples.  I live for that 1950’s drive-in movie music they play every time we head to Ohio.  And the cows.  I also live for all the cows.  I had no idea they were the official state animal.  Are they on the flag at the State House?  Does anybody know?

Since Cathy only has those same four boys on her team, the Apple TV Pyramid is a little anti-climactic.  Nick 2.0, Jalen and Gino were on the bottom.  Zack on the top.

The End.  Power down the plasma.

They were, of course, heading to Pittsburgh to get all up in Abby’s face and needed to get right down to rehearsing.

Nick had a Cirque du Soleil solo, Zack and Gino were doing a tribute dance to Anthony’s father who had just passed and the whole gang was sticking it to Lance Armstrong with a cycling steroid samba group dance.

It was right about here that everyone involved with the show seemed to suddenly go on the same cycle (…no Lance pun intended…) and everything just went total hot mess.

In Ohio, Anthony cried when he explained how much the duet meant to him.  He also felt that the boys were too wimpy and took them all to SWAT gym for a workout in a desperate attempt at CrossFit-ing the girly right out of them.

Jalen smoked the bootcamp course, but tiny Gino (…allegedly 24 hours out of ICU from bronchitis or a rash or something…) had trouble pushing 10 times his body weight across the astroturf and Dad Mickey went complete Helicopter Poppa on Anthony.


Which in turn got loose cannon Hockey Dad Rick wound up tighter than an Atlanta Housewife poppin’ off her acrylics.

Watching the two of them go at it like Kim and NeNe was TV Gold.  You wanna go outside?  Let’s go, Bitch.  Kristie Ray would have been so proud.

Rick screamed and did some jazz hands for visual emphasis.  Mickey yelled and screamed so much that he almost sweat through his white Welcome Back Kotter turtleneck and flatlined next to his son.  Gino just cried and looked in his book bag for an inhaler while Zack’s Mom Gina questioned all her life choices since high school.

Nick’s Mom Donna kinda looks like Angelica Houston, by the way.

Back in PA, Kelly was oddly unappreciative that Paige had been given a solo and Brooke had just received a promotion, and somehow found a bazillion reasons to complain and hate Abby and publicly declare that she hoped the entire senior number flopped.

Which was all Jill needed to get on her case.  And then Jill went to snitch on her to Abby down at that sloppy front desk.  And then Kelly caught Jill gossiping about her as she came downstairs to use the bathroom.  And then Melissa finally looked up from her iPhone and got on everybody’s case.  And then Holly tried to chill everyone out.

And then Jill’s furry boots.  What the hell?

Back in Ohio, Cathy cried as she realized her entire team was imploding and that a few Dads may have some questionable loyalty to Canton’s Finest.  Rick and Mickey hated each other and continually got all junior high up in each other’s grill any time they were in the same room.

And then…Stop The Presses!  Gino and Maddie.  Sitting in a tree.

Yup.  Somewhere in all this mess it came out that Gino had kissed Maddie on the cheek at one of the previous competitions.  And that…OMG…they were texting and possibly sharing government secrets concerning choreography and nuclear warheads.  Kids today.

Then Jill and Kelly went another round or two.  And then somehow Christi took over and she and Kelly went completely balls to the wall.  Screaming.  Crying.  I hate you.  I hate you more.  I hate you Infinity.


Since I didn’t have my spreadsheet prepared in time for this week’s episode, I kind of lost track as to when Christi actually went downstairs and talked shizzle right in Paige’s face.  But it wasn’t pretty when the whole thing was exposed.  Paige cried.  Maddie almost cried.  I swear, people kept crying and popping up behind that Mom Perch couch like it was a Punch & Judy puppet show.

Next thing you knew, Kelly AND Gino were looking for inhalers as they both hyperventilated themselves into near seizures.

There was a lot of crying.  Did I already mention that?

And as if your heart could take anymore, at some point during one of the senior group flash mobs, there was a quick glimpse of Original Recipe Nick Dobbs and Payton Ackerman…and the Twitterverse pretty much just exploded.  The internet crashed and at least 927 TweenyBoppers were air lifted to Pittsburgh hospitals clutching their cell phones, screaming that they wanted to have Nick’s baby.

I know, right?  He’s so dreamy.

Abby also set Brooke up on a date with Kevin Cosculluela, her partner from the senior group, and then the whole thing just got a little incestuous for my tastes.  You see, Kevin is Gino’s brother, so it was kind of like sleeping with the enemy, kinda sorta, except that they are only teenagers and that would be gross.

Luckily they only had a food fight, trashed a pastry shop and ended the date with Kevin throwing half-eaten cake into Kelly’s freshly detailed mini-van.

Dude.  You are so dying single.

To ensure that the whole thing just went complete Telenovela this week, Anthony’s duet rehearsal ended in everybody crying when two young boys couldn’t relate to the emotional angst of a grown a** man who doesn’t feel appreciated as a choreographer.

While we’re on the subject, Zack’s Mom could very well be one of the best soap opera cryers on television today.  Dab.  Dab.  Hold the tissue dramatically.

And seriously.  For all the hats that Anthony owns, you’d think he could find one that fit.


Finally, it was Showtime!  They just forgot to tell the audience, because the place was pretty empty.

Everyone’s dances went well.  The ALDC duet was off the hook.  The CADC duet was pretty emotional, even though one of the boys appeared to be wearing Pee Wee Herman‘s old bow tie.

Naturally, Abby tossed out a little snark regarding the Candy Apples duet, which on VH1 would mean that she  just disrespected Anthony’s Momma’s Baby Daddy.  So it was on.

Nick’s solo somehow magically turned into Johnny Weir in a bird cage and got a big round of applause from Angelica Houston.

Back out in the hallway, Christi and Jill pretty much lunged at Cathy as she walked through with bicycle wheels and testosterone boosters.  More screaming.  More crying.

For some reason, Cathy felt that the other Candy Apple parents should have gotten into a pig pile rumble with the ALDC Moms right there by the lockers to prove that they had her back.  But they didn’t.

So…more crying.

The ALDC senior group rocked the house.  I will say that since I can’t even bend over to tie my own shoes in my new skinny Levi’s, I was pretty impressed with Kevin ‘s flexibility in those pants.  Relax.  Nothing pervy.  Just saying I may have to pick up a pair for the klub this weekend.

Then some kids won some stuff.  Google it.

Backstage, there was more crying in every camp.

Anthony lost his noodle a few times.  Cathy smelled at least one Mole in her army as Mickey snuck off to the ALDC room to break up Jill and Kelly’s screaming match and to ask Abby if she wanted Gino on her team.

Emotionally drained (…Spoiler Alert:  Candy Apples didn’t do so well this time…) Cathy disappeared down the hallway next to a room where they clearly teach Español Sign Making, and then it was over.

Two hours of crying.  Literally.

I’m physically and emotionally drained.

Where’s my Häagen-Dazs?

I don’t even need a spoon.


The Real Housewives Of New Jersey: Hide Yo’ Kids! Hide Yo’ Wives! Don’t Mess With Family…That’s Their Job.

Monday, June 3rd, 2013




I heard that the Red Cross was looking for donations of canned goods and Louboutin stilettos.







OMG! It’s from Child Services. They got my Hello Kitty text!








F*** You. I’ll have you know this outfit won First Prize on Golden Girls Nite at the Shady Lady.






I warned Rosie not to wear Mom’s good outfit on the Pride float. She’s gonna kill her when she gets home tonight.






OhMyGod, Babe. The Chanel Runway Show was bananas. I choked on my pink lollipop and literally died a little. Maj.







Ok. Srsly. These bitches be cray.








Sweetie, you are preaching to the choir. Amen.





Here’s a thought.

You might want to keep that plywood on your windows for a few more months.

Just when New Jersey thought it had finally made some headway in the Hurricane Sandy recovery…they’re baaaaack.

That’s right.  The Real Housewives of New Jersey returned this week to unleash a 5th season of disfunzioni familiari all over our living room floors, and I couldn’t be happier.

All the body glitter and side eye that we’ve come to expect was back, with Teresa Giudice and Melissa Gorga‘s never ending feud still front and center.  And just as uncomfortably awkward as we remembered, thank you.

But this time, with TWO scoops of Rosie!

Yup.  Looks like Kathy Wakile‘s internet phenom sister has been bumped up to second string Housewife status this season.  She even got her own confessional interview shot, which was like a delightfully tasty surprise at the bottom of the box.

(That was not even a planned sexual innuendo.  I swear.  Sometimes I’m just unintentionally hilarious.  It’s a gift…and a curse.)

The last time we saw everyone together, it was back at The Borgata Hotel, Casino & Cat Fight Cage in Atlantic City during the bronziest (…is that even a word?…) Reunion Show evah.  Sprayed down and rolled up like  five of my best Toddlers & Tiaras girls, the Wives went a full 3 Rounds in the mud before an exhausted, and equally tanned,  Andy Cohen had to wave his blue cards in the air and call it a draw.

Thanks for coming, Ladies.  Here’s some lovely parting gifts.  Have a shotski, tip the waiter and slap the person next to you before you leave.

Flash forward to this week, and it has been over a year since Teresa has last seen brother Joe and Melissa.  Needless to say, it didn’t take quite that long for the Detective in me to figure out that things must not have smoothed themselves out much while I was over on Lifetime watching Dance Moms.

And I think it’s safe to say that I was correct in that assumption.


We started out down at the Jersey Shore as everyone surveyed their Sandy-damaged summer homes.  Even NBC’s Brian Williams got to do a Man in the Field cameo in front of a pile of telephone poles which I’m sure was a highlight of his news career, if not a close second to that time he was on The Soup.

The devastation and tragic aftermath of Hurricane Sandy was just as poignant as it had been back when we first saw it unfold on The Weather Channel, though I’ll admit that having Teresa react to the battered coastline while teased up in full hair and makeup did take some of the emotional impact away from the homeless people aimlessly wandering around holding their toasters.

She remarked how sad it all was, and that if she had been in the house during the storm when the water poured in, she would have drowned-ed.

Like drowned.  But with an extra “-ed” at the end.  Cuz dat’s how she tawks in Joisey.

And only Melissa could drive through a meteorological war zone wearing a Latoya Jackson silver shoulder epaulette number and still come off as pretty sympathetic.

But they both meant well.

In all honesty, the Gorga house looked pretty much like it did during that last party when everyone trashed the pool and Rosie got all horned up, but Joe seemed to think it needed some new paint.  And he’s the contractor, so I’ll believe him this time.

We only saw the back of Kathy and Richie‘s heads as they drove around the beach community, so I don’t know if they were in full makeup or if Kathy was bandaged up from another 1,000 mile nose job tune-up.  They only rent, so the producers clearly didn’t think they warranted much screen time.

Back home in Jersey, Teresa gathered what appeared to be 45 of her daughters together to go through their closets and make a clothing donation for the Sandy survivors.

If I had time to go back and rewind the DVR, it was probably only the four kids we’ve seen every season.  The ones with all the rhyming names.  But now that they are growing up and getting snarkier, they seemed to be everywhere in every camera shot, either falling on the floor, sucker punching each other or climbing up on those chandeliers that Jabba Joe can’t really afford anymore.


It’s like Bravo used some Star Wars CGI program or something and photoshopped a billion little Milanias and Begonias and Patagonias and Calzonias into one scene.

And at least one of them seems to have gone through that SuperFast Soap Opera aging thing that so many child actors go through in daytime television.  You know, when they get sent into the bedroom to play with their Legos while Mom and Dad have a talk and then come back out as teenagers during Sweeps Week.

(Hello…General Hospital.  Are you listening to me?)

Gia.  The one that looks like she could be a shrinky-dinked Kirstie Alley.  She’s now 11 going on 29 or something, and we can only pray that her height eventually catches up to her bad attitude.

Question:  Is 11 too young for me to call someone a spoiled little bitch?

Because if it is, I won’t.  I’d never bully a child.  That ain’t right.  If I have to wait until she comes back out of the bedroom, I will.  Then it’s Game On.

But, anyway.  The clothing donations.  Teresa had heard that the hurricane victims were in need of beautiful and glamorous clothes.

Hand to Gawd.  She said that.

So while Gia rolled her eyes around like one of those Cat Clocks you always see in Chinese restaurants and tiny Milania pined away for her cousin Antonia, everyone tossed something ruffled or sparkly into a pile and then Teresa bagged it all up for good karma.

Next time you see a little kid on the news walking down the Boardwalk dressed up like a Gypsy, you’ll know who to thank.

Over at Casa Gorga, Melissa and Joe were (…again…) lamenting the family dramz and trying to figure out how to get the little cousins all together for a play date.  Antonia had even handwritten a note to her cousin Milania (…spelled incorrectly, which would later come back to bite her on her baby butt…) asking to see her soon.  The whole thing was so wrong and so sad on so many levels.


Unfortunately, it was also overshadowed by the visual of clunky, beefy Joe trying to delicately sip tea from a porcelain cup while eating biscotti.

Why yes, I do fancy another sip, Mum.  And how about those Giants?

Dude.  Please.  Man Up and have a protein shake straight from the GNC shaker before you lose your Membership Card.

Speaking of Manning Up…

Rosie.  We love her.  And watching her whine to Kathy and Mom about the lack of fish in the sea was a delight.

(Again…no innuendo.  Just hilarity.)

The only problem this time around was with the wardrobe department.  For realz.

When we first met Rosie, it was a revolving door of fashion do’s and don’ts.  Remember how she rocked that train conductor hat?  Or her plus-size Rhythm Nation back-up dancer outfit?  And who could forget those straight up East Village Kick You In The Nuts ensembles?  Instant classics.

After all that previous awesomeness, seeing her styled up this week like it was a cold night at an outdoor Paul Anka concert in Boca Raton was pretty disturbing.  Visually and emotionally.

Just Say No to neck scarves unless you’re Bea Arthur.  It’s a rule.

I don’t even remember what they talked about, but her Mom put her head in her hands at the same time I did.

While my eyes were still stinging, we headed back to Teresa’s, where Milania had just recieved the note from Antonia.

Yes, it was spelled incorrectly.  But they’re kids.  And it was redoinkulously precious.

Except Kirstie Alley didn’t think so, who made another Chinese restaurant face, cracked some wise a** remark and then headed to the garage to narc on the cousins to sweaty Jabba Joe in the middle of his heavy bag grunting.

Man, if she wasn’t 11 I would be all over that spoiled li……..


Anyway.  Hoboken.

Caroline “Yoda” Manzo and hubby had recently rented an apartment in Hoboken as a test run for down-sizing.  Whereas most of us would just drop some premium channels from our cable bill to test living within a budget, the Manzos just spend more money on real estate.

Seems fair.

Caroline denied that she moved to Hoboken to be closer to Albie and Chris, who were noticeably MIA this week, even though the entire Free World knows what a Helicopter Mom she is when it comes to Family.

Family.  You don’t mess with them.  You don’t hurt them.  And you don’t let them out of your sight.  Ever.

Remember those matching bracelets she gave everyone for Christmas a few seasons ago?  The bracelets with the GPS chip in the clasp?

Yeah.  Mama sees you.

While the Manzo boys were off in Hoboken somewhere trying to chew off their own wrists, Teresa and Melissa were busy turning a simple play date into a ceremony for visiting dignitaries.

Seriously.  The Royal Wedding didn’t take this much pre-planning.  Texts.  More texts.

And then some more texts.

I literally thought I was watching an iPhone commercial until Jabba Joe called Melissa a Stank A** Bitch, and I didn’t think Steve Jobs would have let that one slip past him.

The next day, as Kirstie Alley led Teresa around by her credit card clutch strap through some TweenyBop Boutique in search of booty hugging skirts to impress her new playground boyfriend, the texting continued.  Except this time, Teresa got her daughter so involved in all the dysfunction that Gia finally snatched the iPhone from Mom and texted Aunt Melissa herself.  Gah, Mom.  You’re so lame.

That’s how you make sure you don’t involve the kids, I always say.

And did anyone else notice that Kirstie is only 11 years old and she was holding her Louis bag in the crook of her arm like an Olsen Twin?

Geezis.  Where’s my mocha grandé latte?  OMG.  Mom is driving me nuts lately.


Finally, it was Play Date Day!

After all the texts, smack talk and a Secret Service pat down, Melissa came face to face with Teresa at some little Bead Shop where the girls got to make odd little springy things while the Aunts just sat and glared at each other across the craft table.

Awkward, much?

Melissa, being the Fashionista that she is, kept interjecting her opinions on the design aspects of the project until both girls got up and left the bead table.

Secretly, I had hoped that one of them would flip it like Teresa did that one time, but I don’t think they’re old enough to really know what a Prostitution Whore is, and c’mon…we all know that was the best part.

Milania came baring Giudice Gifts, of course, and presented Antonia with an iPod, which Melissa didn’t feel it was appropriate.  Teresa, on the other hand, did the same dance that a quarterback does by the goal post after they score.

Booyeah.  Aunt Teresa is on the board.

In case you’re wondering, Jacqueline was around this week, but just barely.  She did play with her son and listen to Caroline’s gossip, but that was pretty much it.  If it wasn’t the season premiere, she probably could have just taken this week off and chilled with the Manzo boys.

Finally, since Caroline didn’t want to get involved or have anything to do with Teresa anymore, she decided to get involved and get right in the middle of everything again.

I know, right?

So she took Joe Gorga out for pastries and a hug.

Don’t ask.  I’m not sure why she wasn’t texting Dina instead of sharing some pie with Melissa’s husband.

But she said she’d be willing to go talk to Teresa.  Again.  Even though she wasn’t sure how that would all go down.

And then I set my DVR on Season Pass.

Bring it.

Get psyched.  Jersey is back.

Right, Gia?


Toddlers & Tiaras: It’s A Hair Raising Countdown Flashback. Jessica And Justin Get All Frizzy And Fierce, Girl.

Wednesday, May 29th, 2013

JESSIs your wiglet a little wobbly?

Are your fake falls freaking you out?

Is your Miss America arm flapping around like it’s attached to an air traffic controller?

Well, then it must be time for another Toddlers & Tiaras flashback.

Because that’s what we do.  Especially when there’s still a week to kill until Season 6 SparkleSplats across our TV screen with all new episodes.

Lucky for all of us, there appears to be a limitless supply of  leftovers in the pageant pantry for everyone to nosh on one mo’ time.

Like Jessica and baby Ava and all that luxuriously awesome hair.  One of my favorite Moms evah.  Remember her?

Love me some Jessica.  Everything about her was big.

Like Best Buy TV big.  That big.

Big Personality.  Big Laugh.  Even bigger Hair.

Apparently, even her credit card bill from HomeGoods was pretty substantial.

I mean.  C’mon.  Everywhere you looked there was a rooster or sunflower or country sumthin sumthin from that front aisle when you first walk in the store.  If she doesn’t invite me over pretty soon for homemade lemonade and fresh snacks from the Farmer’s Market, I’m going to take it personally.

Big Butt jokes aside, she definitely got it from her Mama.

The personality, I mean.  Because Nana or Namna or Ninja or whatever Klingon name she had given herself…Grandma was just as much of a hoot.  And I’m a big fan of the Hoot DNA being passed down from generation to generation.

Dancing around the living room like she had all six numbers for Powerball, Nimna Helen made me love her right there on the spot.

Rocking out with that side to side arm thing that Bon Jovi always does in concerts, Helen swished her snappy Kohl’s sweater all around the living room like a Boss.

Namajama loved her pageants.

So did Mom Jessica, and she didn’t care what anyone else thought.  No ma’am.  And that was cool beans with me, because Jessica could do no wrong in my book.

Seriously.  Only a woman with that big a personality could anchor down that much hair without falling over backwards.  Months later, I still rewind the DVR and have no idea what a person does to make all that happen on their head every morning.  It must be like a sculptor creating a masterpiece out of clay, or something.

Except that this one is inexplicably created with just a full red CVS basket of hair care products that somehow allow Jessica to counteract the gravitational pull of the Earth.

Bucket List:  Spend one night at an ’80s Hair Band Tribute in the mosh pit with Jessica.

And live to tell the story.

And then there was that rogue housefly who took over her on-camera interview.

A classic television moment that will go down in history alongside Lucy & Ethel in the chocolate factory and pretty much everything…ever…from The Carol Burnett Show.

From that moment on, it was clear that I would always greet Jessica with a smile, open arms…and a closed screen door.

Cuz it’s mosquito season.

And I don’t want people thinking it’s nasty up in here.

FIERCEAnd speaking of fruit flies.

Remember Justin?

Justin Fierce.

From Fierce by Justin?

Like Bond.  James Bond.  But slightly sassier.

Part Muppet, part Annette Funicello and 99% strip mall Drag Diva, Justin was brought in by Grandma Pam to show little Ariana how to werk the runway for her upcoming pageant.

I don’t even know where to start, and it’s been like 100 years since the episode originally aired.  I should have been able to process all this by now.

I guess we could start with that weave.

Justin’s hair was equally as fascinating as Jessica’s, but for all the wrong reasons.  I’m still not really sure what was going on up there, with that odd combination of twisted hemp rope, Brillo and those headbands they always put on bald babies.

But he was Fierce.  Totz fierce, all you West Virginian Bitches.

From the neck up, anyway.  From the neck down he looked a little more like one of those customers at Hooter’s who keeps trying to cop a feel.

Yeah.  Justin was an odd juxtaposition of Fabulous and Flea Market.

But it took someone as fierce as Justin to stand up to Ya Ya Pat, her Pittsburgh Steelers mascot headgear and that crazy a** puppy tee shirt.

Honestly, if I was trapped in an elevator with both Ya Ya and Menomena Helen, my head would explode before we ever made it to the lobby.  It was that good.

Ya Ya was a spitfire, and it was clear that she could wreck the place on Bingo Night without ever putting down her Solo cup.

As Justin back kicked and lip licked his way around the back yard, Ya Ya ate it up with a spoon while Ariana tried to figure out how to butch it up a little before she hit the stage.

Dude.  The kid’s just going to walk around the Ramada in a cupcake dress, not headline in Vegas.  And she’s like 9 or something.

Clearly, Justin’s over the shoulder facial techniques were designed to score both points from the judges and free drinks at the club.

Needless to say, I’ve been practicing all the variations that he laid out in his tutorial and I’ll let you know how they go this weekend.  Daddy’s either gonna land some cocktails, a black eye or a night in jail.

Stay tuned.

And there you go.  Another round of flashbacks to get you through the dry spell.

Don’t worry.  All the glitz and guilty glam that you’ve come to know and love will be back soon enough.  And then the party really starts.

Until then, put your hands up in the air and wave ’em around like you got Grandma hair.

Whoop Whoop.  Who let the flies in?


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