Mob Wives: Unless You Want Some Gravano Up In Your Grill, You Don’t Wanna Go To War With Me…Capisce?

January 23rd, 2012




You heard me. Right in front of Macy’s. During a One Day Sale, bitch.







Bring it on, bitch. I ain’t scared. I’ve got a Macy’s card…and a coupon.







I have no clue what these punk girls are talking about. But I love Macy’s.







WTFFF?!? There’s crumbs on my new Macy’s sofa! Crumbs! Crumbs!





Holy (bleep!)

Somewhere in Manhattan the CEO of Macy’s just spit out his cocktail.

I love me my Mob Wives.

And I love shopping at Macy’s…my past due credit statement will testify to that truth.

But the next time I swing by to pick up my shaving cream and free cologne samples I only pray that Drita and Karen are not out front on the sidewalk, because I know where that one is headed.

Thanks to Karen’s (bleepin’) overly descriptive threats on Drita in this week’s episode, I may have to head to Sephora for my toiletries.

The Mob Wives were all up in each other’s grills this week as they tried to repair the damage done by the last few roof top throw downs.  Drita and Karen were still circling each other like sharks in dirty water while Ramona tossed in a few more buckets of booze flavored chum.

We started out with Ramona just being released from jail and scooting over to Karen’s to fill her in on the details.  After 4 kids and and an ex-husband, Ramona finally caved and fell in love with someone in “the business,” and is apparently already paying the price.

After being pulled over by 7 cop cars while riding with her boyfriend, Ramona was handcuffed and dragged off to jail.  She had no idea what was going on or why she was being bullied.

Hate to say it, because she can be a looker and has some dangerously white teeth…but I’m pretty certain that if she was arrested wearing the same hippy granola dress that she had on when she showed up at Karen’s, it was the Fashion Police.

Yikes.  Honey.

Unless you were heading to the Mall to return that thing when you got pulled over, I don’t know what to say.  No excuse.

Turns out her boyfriend was arrested for some DEA drug sumthin sumthin which she thought was lame.  No big deal, right?

Yikes.  Honey.  Again.

Seven police cars don’t usually circle a guy and throw him on the hood for buying a joint behind the high school dumpster, so I’m thinking it might be a bigger deal than he is letting on.  Karen is a romantic at heart and doesn’t think that just because the DEA is after her boyfriend that he is all bad.  Love conquers all.  Even in that dress.

Kids…the moral of the story is stay off drugs.

And don’t piss off Joan Rivers.

Moving on to bigger and louder things, Drita and her Siamese Twin Carla head to Ultimate Reality Diva Big Ang’s bar to throw back a few and reminisce about the good old days.

Big Ang is in full blown Big Ang Mode, smoking and drinking and laughing like she swallowed a cotton ball.  Decked out in a white wife beater that was clearly manufactured out of the same fabric used to prevent military planes from splashing into the ocean when they land on floating carriers, Big Ang was her usual life of the party.

I love her.  So much.

As Drita relived her glory days beating up mouthy Jersey girls at Big Ang’s old club Nocturnals, everyone pounded shots and longed for the good ol’ days when bouncers would get stabbed but never tell.

Somewhere in the middle of Drita listing how many jaws she had broken over the years Big Ang gets a call that her son AJ had been in an accident, totaled the car and may or may not have been high again.  Turns out the police must have Big Ang on speed dial because AJ gets arrested pretty much every week, has no job and spends the majority of his time mooching and wearing Jersey Shore sunglasses.

But Big Ang takes it all in stride.  And if she’s cool wid it, then so am I.

It was Moving Day for Junior as he dragged all his belongings back into Renee’s house again for the second or third time.  After their Lifetime Movie semi-reconciliation, Renee is allowing Junior to shack up with her as long as he does not bring in girls or crumbs.

He has a bad habit of leaving both girls and crumbs laying all over town, and Renee would prefer he break that habit asap, so that is House Rule #1.  No hoes or crumbs in bed.  Especially crumby hoes.

Junior and some of his random buddies shlepped Staten Island’s largest sectional up the front steps along with bags and boxes of more randomness.  Since Junior is about to go back to prison…again…the whole thing seemed like a lot of work for nothing, unless he was just looking for something cheaper than a storage unit rental.

Aside from the fact that the sofa was clearly the same sofa that shows up in every episode of Toddlers & Tiaras, the scene was pretty uneventful.  Renee got bossy and wanted to be in charge of the living room layout.  Her full body makeover must be healing up well because not only did she look much sleeker than before, but she was shoving both Junior and couch pieces around with one hand.  You go, girl.

While Renee and Junior played house, Drita and her trusty sidekick Carla met up with Derek Tobacco.

Besides having THE  best ABC After School Special cartoon name EVER, Derek was also the dude lucky enough to be in the middle of the Drita vs. Karen rumble that went down during Renee’s Celebration of Life Party.

Derek had jumped in and tried to protect Drita as punk Karen and punk Ramona wailed on her with all four paws, and can hopefully solve the mystery of whether or not punk Karen hit Drita when she was being held down.

Because only punk a** bitches would do that, don’tcha know.

Drita likes to use her fists…and the word punk…a lot.  And usually at the same time.

Derek pleaded the Fifth on the subject and wouldn’t reveal what he knew.  He did however demonstrate the proper way to restrain a crazed Mob Wife, because as you pull them apart like wild cougars you must still respect them and not touch their naughty bits.  It’s a Mob thing.

It’s also actually a fairly elaborate up and over kind of thing that allows you to protect their skulls from impact, but still allows the assailant access to their weaves.

I’m going to need to practice that one a few times before I try to cut in on any MILFs Gone Wild.

Before the final confrontation of the week, we got a glimpse at a few questionable parenting moments.

Renee’s son AJ, who I guess could share monogrammed cufflinks with Big Ang’s son AJ if he wanted to, has started acting out even more than he normally does since Junior came back into the picture.  He has also started dating a girl who makes him aggressive for reasons yet unknown, and AJ recently kicked in his Mom’s bedroom door instead of turning the knob and saying hello. She doesn’t want him turning to a Life of Crime like his father, but if he robs something it better be a bank and not a candy store.

Her words.  Not mine.

Renee also didn’t like the (bleepin’) way AJ was (bleepin’) swearing at her, which made me scratch my head a little.  I guess the (bleepin’) Apple doesn’t (bleepin’) fall…well…you know how the rest of that one goes.

AJ#2 on the other hand, has no job and apparently doesn’t plan on getting one unless it’s at Sunglass Hut.

He also doesn’t believe that just because his Mom’s new boyfriend recently got out of jail for murdering someone that he’s a bad person.   And besides, the recently released inmate/boyfriend is going to buy Big Ang a puppy like the one on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

Hold up.

This guy knows Giggy?  People in prison know Giggy?  That changes everything.

Anyone that watches Bravo is ok in my book.  Even if they killed someone.

And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter, just in case AJ#2 Googles my site by mistake.

Moving on.

For a little slice of suburbia, Renee invites Karen, Ramona and all their kids to her house for some pasta and potty mouth.

It seems that since Junior has now moved in and given up, at least temporarily, his extra marital affairs he has been filling the down time with crackers and cookies and any other food group that could potentially leave crumbs on the couch.

And the floor.  And the chair.  And the bath tub.

Wasn’t he already warned about this one?  Renee is not handling it well at all.

Seriously.  I don’t think she would be this upset to find (alleged) body parts in the backyard.

I really thought she was going to bust her back stitches again as she screamed and yelled and swore about the crumbs, all while managing to pull out a hot pan of perfectly seasoned pasta for all to enjoy.

And don’t get her started on how Junior leaves the TV on at night.

And then back to the crumbs.

When she turned her wrath on the table of little goombahs waiting for their Spaghetti-Os, they all looked up at her like someone just told them the truth about Santa Claus.

You know at least two of the kids still need to sleep with a light on ever since Pasta Night at Aunt Renee’s.  True fact.

We finished off that big meal by sitting down for another with Karen and Carla, who were attempting to get to the bottom of their issues.

While terrified Steak House waiters lurked behind columns, Karen laid it all out.  It was a Network Censor’s worst nightmare.

Ever since that first roof top throw down with Drita when Carla stood by and let them go at it, Karen has hated her all Summer.  She saw Carla laughing while she was getting punched and yanked around.

Yes.  Carla was laughing,  but not the funny kind of laugh.  It was more like the WTF kind of laugh it turns out.  There’s a difference.  Der.

Karen then rehashed all the stories that Drita was spreading around town bragging that she had slammed Karen so hard during the second roof top throw down that she put her in the hospital.

Not true.  But Karen hates Drita and Carla likes Drita and Carla hates Ramona and Karen likes Ramona.  And Karen really hates Drita.  Did we mention that?

Then it got nasty.


As the two got up in each other’s face, Karen made it very clear what Drita could do to her at Herald Square.

Right in front of Macy’s.


Where The Wiggle’s perform during the Thanksgiving Parade.

Right where the Hello Kitty balloon goes by.

Between the (bleeps) and the (bleepin’) the gist of it was pretty (bleepin’) clear.  Very clear.

And very gynecological.

Poor Macy’s.  Like their stock didn’t already take a hit this Holiday Season.

Trust me.  You don’t wanna go to war with Karen.

Not unless you bring protective head gear.

And floss.

As waiters scurried behind the girls like a scene from Pixar’s Ratatouille, Karen and Carla took the fighting from the table to the bar in a seamless transition of swearing and eye rolling.

(Side note…did you see the bartender scrambling on the phone behind the bar? “What’s the number for 911?  Anyone?”  Classic.)

Just when it looked like it was going to go all Western Saloon, they calmed down, had a shot and called a truce.

For Macy’s sake, I hope so.

The Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills: Yes, SUR That’s My Baby…Maybe. It’s The Night Of A Thousand Surprises.

January 20th, 2012




Oh yeah. I would totally tap that. Again.






Why yes, I am still gorgeous. Thanks for asking.






I’m like this many late. How many is that again?







It’s me. Again.





“You are cordially invited to the Launch Party for the new lounge at Lisa Vanderpump’s SUR restaurant.  We hope you will be able to join us for this gala event.

Attire is Real Housewives of Beverly Hills semi-formal.

Food and drinks are snooty and overpriced.

Behavior is totally bat s**t mental.

See you there, or we’ll talk about you.”

Now granted, I never received anything in the mail…thank you very much Mrs. V…but I’m pretty certain that’s how it all went down on the pink embossed invites.

Grab your Cheetos, this is gonna take awhile.

After months of bossing people around while clutching Giggy WonderPup Vanderpump so close to her cleavage that strangers mistook him for a third boob, Lisa was finally ready to unveil the new lounge at Sur restaurant.

Since Beverly Hills Housewives don’t knit or scrapbook, Lisa’s newest hobby has been knocking down walls and expanding her foodie empire.  After endless hours of walking around the work zone in crisp white shirts and leopard Louboutins, it was finally showtime.

(I gotta give Lisa her props on that one.  I can’t make it down the stairs and out the front door in a white shirt before I have at least two strategically placed stains on me, but she can catwalk through a construction site for 3 months and still return the shirt if she was so inclined.)

The last we saw the Wives they were all back in Hawaii (…minus Taylor…) where Kyle and Kim had gone another round in the seemingly endless battle over Kim’s erratic behavior.

After missing every train, plane and automobile that they possibly could, Kim and her blue collar BoyToy Doof Ken had finally made it to Hawaii only to screw up everything when they got there.  After a tearful confrontation at the Birthday dinner table, K&K had stormed off with a dramatic swish of a Kim’s pashmina scarf and Ken almost knocking the table over, Jersey Style, with his belly.

That was the last we saw everyone.  I’m guessing that Bravo either ran out of film, or the remainder of the vacation was boooooring, because the next thing we know…everyone is home getting ready for the SUR Launch Party.

It was almost like we missed an episode.  But we never saw the Brady Bunch come home from Hawaii either.  They were just kinda there the next day.  Spooky Tiki statue and all.  So whatever.

The big news around town as everyone primps is that Russell left Taylor.  Or Taylor kicked Russell out.  Everyone had a slightly different take on what happened since they hadn’t gotten a chance to get the full scoop from Taylor yet.  Everyone was talking about it, except Camille, who still had Russell’s nasty email threatening to sue her if she even mentioned their names in public fresh on her mind.

While everyone was getting ready for the party, Lisa was runway walking her way around the lounge barking orders and stressing that the construction workers were leaving their tools everywhere.  Unless you can figure out a way to hang a bar mirror on the wall with just the friction from a balloon rubbed on your hair, than you need to simmer down, honey.  They’re doing their job.

Dog walking husband extraordinaire Ken shows up to try and get a little sumthin sumthin from his wife in the middle of the bar, but Lisa pries him off her after just a hug.  Shame to let all that canvas drip cloth on the floor go to waste, I know, but Ken is sent on his way to grab a cold shower before the guests arrive.

Speaking of sticky floors…Kim and Ken decided to get a hotel for the evening, so they could get liquored up at SUR and crawl home if they couldn’t find the limo at closing time.

I’m pretty certain they found this place on Craig’s List, because it looked exactly like a combo of the place The Jersey Shore guys stay in, combined with that luggage room on The Bachelor where all the girls go to cry.  And Goodwill.

There was stuff everywhere.  Makeup, clothes, unidentifiable plastic ziplock bags and enough single right foot shoes to fill 25 Kmart parking lots.  How Kim can be that disorganized, and lose that much crap, within the confines of a Buy Two Nights/Get One Free hotel is beyond me.  She has turned Spaz into an art form.

As her makeup boy tries to apply a base coat of thick primer to her messy skin, Kim rambles on and on about finding a little light up vibrator in her purse and mistaking it for her missing lip gloss.

One.  Her makeup boy is going to get into Heaven simply by putting up with that Hot Mess for one night.

Two.  I do NOT want to know where her lip gloss is hiding.  Let’s just leave it at that and never speak of this again.

Ken gets progressively more agitated and begins to exhibit the kind of behavior that would almost explain some of Kim’s jitters.  He lumbers around the hotel room telling her what to do and what to wear and what time it is and basically just creeped me out.  He’s the D-bag guy at the bowling alley who always threatens to beat someone up for no reason.  Totally that guy.

As Kim crawls around the floor looking for God knows what, Lisa is ready to show off her new baby SUR.

Horny Brandi is the first to arrive, with her posse of horny wing girls.

Since she was not able to score with the captain of the boat last week in Hawaii, she tries a few moves on the bouncers at the front door.  But they’re working.  And they have standards.

So no go.

Programming Note:  When you watch this episode back on your DVR, or during one of the 264 times that Bravo repeats each Housewives episode (both Twitter and non-twitter versions…what a scam…) you absolutely have to play my new favorite drinking game.

Take a drink every time that Brandi’s dark haired horny girl friend bullies her way into a camera shot.  Seriously.

If you are not face down before the end credits roll, you weren’t paying attention.

That girl shows up everywhere.  Behind shoulders, in the background, in the foreground, on the bar, probably on the roof for crying out loud.  Tell me I’m not lying.

It was like a crazy eyed Where’s Waldo? Game.

Not the kind of one rolly polly eye like that blond chick had that used to be on The Bachelor.  I swear Brandi’s friend can see both right and left at the same time.  Handy for the troops watching for incoming enemy planes and great for keeping track of Bravo TV cameras, but a little skeevy at a cocktail party.

Next up is everyone’s favorite cranky chef  Bernie, who somehow got the night off from Adrienne.  It’s been well documented that Bernie is not a big Lisa fan, so he was probably just there to put a Zulu curse on the kitchen and stick his wet finger in the appetizers.

It had been a few weeks since Brandi got in any good LeAnn Rimes bashing, so we were due for a good one.  Turns out that one of Lisa’ waitresses used to date Brandi’s ex Eddie Cibrian sometime during his cheating phase before he completely boned Brandi and left her for LeAnn.  Needless to say Lisa sent that little Tramplette home for the night with no tips, and Brandi was touched by her support.

Camille makes her grand entrance in yet another sexy, short, tight stunner from the Your Loss, Kelsey Collection.  Last season she drove me bonkers.  This season I want to give Kelsey Grammer the finger.  I love her.

And every party needs a crasher, right?

Enter Cedric.

Say whaaa—?!?

Yup.  Lisa’s former…umm…well…I’m not sure what he was.  But he’s back.

Accompanied by Carmen Electra’s blond body double, Cedric struts in to wish everyone well and milk a little bit more out of his 15 minutes.

After spending years living jobless at Casa Vanderpump, he was finally booted to the curb last year and has now been blacklisted by Lisa and Ken.  No one knows what he has been doing, and no one really cares.  He’s pretty, but pretty don’t cut it anymore.

The fact that he showed up at all doesn’t say much for his career, or for the front door security guys, and Lisa had him booted out yet again.  Up until Cedric showed up I would have bet that Lisa had both Ken and Giggy’s niblets cut off on the same day, but Mr. Vanderpump suddenly grew a pair and told Cedric to get the heck out of SUR.  It was kind of like when the Grinch’s heart got really big right when they needed it most.

All Cedric had time for was a couple of air kisses and he was gone before Brandi’s horny friend could even slip him her number.

Oddest Couple Award goes to Taylor and her NoSock Doc Dr. Sophy.  Taylor was feeling too insecure to attend alone, so she brought her shrink along for the ride, and he dashed for the car door like he was the family dog.

Kim and Ken took their sticky floored hotel shtick on the road and scummed up a limo with more rambling gibberish.  As Kim dug through trash in the back of her seat while trying to take off her bra, Ken rolled his eyes and got increasingly aggressive.  They made it to the party about two minutes before the driver was ready to take them over a bridge embankment.

Once everyone was inside SUR, the party really got started.

Ken barked at Kim to stay with him like she was a kid at the Mall, until she finally broke away long enough to confide in Adrienne that she was going to leave his sorry a** and run away for real.

That set off a warning flare and sent Adrienne running to Kyle, who pulled Kim into another room and got down and dirty.

Both sisters fell apart and tried to figure out just what was going on between Kim and Ken that had Kim so loopy.  Through a lot of tears and fidgeting, Kim admits that she may be pregnant, since  she is kinda sorta late, you know…

Ken is controlling.  Ken puts her down all the time.  She’s depressed and already packed to leave.

Programming Note:  If you don’t feel like playing the previously mentioned drinking game, you’re second choice is to take a shot every time Kim plays with her hair during this confrontation.  Check it out.

The evening ended up with another major revelation as Lisa zoomed in on the black eye that Taylor tried to hide with a thick layer of cover stick.

This led to all the Wives in a back room huddle as Taylor caved and admitted to what we all knew all along.  Through tears and hugs, and one of those pig pile hand stacks that The Fantastic Four always do before they go off on a mission to The Negative Zone, the Wives commit to stand beside Taylor as the whole thing spins out of control.

Oh.  And Kim locked herself in the bathroom in one final moment of spaz.

And look…it’s Brandi’s horny friend trying to get in.

I’ll drink to that.

Toddlers & Tiaras: Universal Royalty. Russian Nuclear Meltdown Warnings. Beware Of Radiation And Some Glitter.

January 19th, 2012



$500 should get me across the border and away from these people.




Daughter sparkle like Kremlin star and still she loser.





I know that bitch is not lip synching Shirley Temple.





On the Good Ship Hoochie Bop Lollipop.






She said it. I didn’t.




Dear Mr. Kissinger:

I would like to personally apologize on behalf of the United States for one NutWad Pageant Mom single handedly dismantling a large portion of your work on détente with the Soviet Union and very nearly ending our relationship with not just Russia, but the even more important Universal Royalty Pageant as well.

It goes without saying that both are extremely crucial to the success of not just modern civilization itself, but also the cupcake dress industry and the residual checks for that guy who designed the Amber Alert signs in shopping malls.

I’m sorry that Toddlers & Tiaras unleashed such an import crate full of noodle on America this week.

But thank gawd they did, because that was some serious train wreck TV that I just sat through, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

It was Old Hollywood Glam Time as another pageant rolled through the south like a twister heading to a mobile home park.  And it was a big un’, as Miss Annette explained.

Grand prize for winning the Ultimate Deep Dish Sumthin Sumthin crown was $10,000.

Yeah.  Ten with a bunch of zeros after it.  Just for pretty feet and a finger kiss or two.

Shut the front trailer door.

When I heard $10,000 I contemplated yanking my own front teeth out with a pair of Craftsmen pliers and buying myself a flipper.  I was even going to pay for overnight shipping.  Hell, yeah.

Beauty hurts, but trust me…10 Grand takes some of the pain out of getting eye lash glue on your retina.

The first little tyke down Sparkle Street was 6 year old Isys.

Seriously.  Like the Saturday morning Superhero chick but spelled even whackier.  Without even hearing Mom speak, you already knew that this little girl was branded with that name so she could be guaranteed some form of star status down the road.

Mom Erika proudly admits that whatever it takes is whatever it takes to win.  That includes prepping her daughter for greatness even though she is coming down with a head cold, and making her go on stage without her foggy substantially lensed glasses.

Mom laughs a little when she mentions that last one, in that odd way that implied it would be funny if she fell off the edge of the stage, but not really funny.  Well, maybe just a little.  That kind of laugh.

Even with her ill fitting glasses, Isys and her SuperPowers were apparently not able to read the label on the back of the cold medicine box, because right out of the gate it seemed as though she was already tanked up on the kind of meds that makes you sleepy.

Luckily at age 6 the chances of her operating heavy equipment are pretty slim, but walking across a wobbly Holiday Inn banquet room stage can’t be much easier.  Already you could tell that she stood a better chance of riding a John Deere down Main Street than she did at taking home 10 Grand.

While Isys was fogging up her specs and coughing up her chest cold, 4 year old Mia was buried in her storage room/bedroom full of trophies.  Mom Mariana was a meltdown just waiting to happen, and she

Brought over from Russia as part of some mail order bride blind date love connection, Marina was all about pageants and making her daughter number one.  She was also all about Keeling Moose and Squirrel as she talked to us in a subtitled Russian accent that was thicker than Isys’s glasses.  She explained that years ago her husband Ray had been in the mood for a Russian bride, and knew someone who knew someone who got them to do some dirty Skyping or something, and then the next thing you know…married in America.  She also had what I thought was poor vision that required a lot of squinting, but in retrospect were most likely time bomb-like nervous ticks.

In sashayed Saliz, a 7 year old Diva Impersonator, whatever that means.

(Are there any Pageant Girls named Sue?  Or Eunice?  Why is that?)

Mom Sarah was a smiley, big boned fierce thing that reminded me of Oprah before she got a full time hairdresser.  She had already sent Saliz up on stage dressed as Tina Turner, so you knew she was all about the Fierce Factor.  Mom was pretty level headed about the whole thing, but was determined to make her daughter a household name.

Move over, Beyonce.  You just stay home and diaper that baby.  Saliz can handle this.

Three days before Show Time, Mom Erika decided to take sniffly Isys to Teffany’s Dance Studio to learn a new routine.  (Seriously.  Doesn’t anyone use SpellCheck when they name their babies anymore?)

The whitest dance teacher I have ever seen filmed on TLC was in charge of teaching a little African American girl with a head cold how to get all Gangstah.  How do you think that one turned out?

As Isys coughed and tried to work it like a G6, Mia had to practice her routine to a couple of lawn chairs full of teddy bears.  Mom barked directions as Mia kept looking at the wrong bear judge.  Marina was slowly unraveling, and you knew it wouldn’t be long now.

Oprah and Saliz headed to Miss Cindy’s Pageant Shop to pick up the custom made dress for the pageant.  Saliz couldn’t wait to see it, and Oprah couldn’t wait to find out how much it cost.  When you don’t even ask how much a fully sequined, glitterific cupcake dress will run you before it’s all cut and glued together, then…well…maybe she is really Oprah.

$1200 later they had a dress.

Open that front trailer door.  Now shut it again.

Since Isys couldn’t drive due to being heavily medicated, Mom brought her to get her nails did.  I think she also hid her glasses so Isys couldn’t see the drills and buffers and tools of the trade.  She still felt the pain, and did manage to find the TLC camera long enough to give the saddest Please Save Me face I’ve seen yet.  And she coughed some more.

Pageant Day arrived and everyone pulled up to curb with a storage unit’s worth of oversized tupperware and garment bags.

Isys was tired.  And sick.  And clearly sick of it.

Mia had one loose hair curl that was dangling, and Marina’s shell cracked a little more until the girl doing hair and make-up sprayed Aqua-Net in her face to shut her up.

Saliz channeled her Inner Beyonce.  She was all good, but Oprah was nervous.

When Miss Mia hit the stage, she had her big blond weave, lip shine and posing hands all under control, but didn’t remember to bring a stopwatch with her and over stayed her welcome.  Cut her some slack.  She’s 4.  She probably doesn’t even know all the numbers up to 12.  Regardless, they almost had to use the hook to get her off stage.

Miss Annette had to keep thanking her until she got the hint.

Marina also didn’t have a stopwatch.  Or a handbook on Good Parenting, apparently, as she completely blew a nutty over the incident.

I mean nutty.  Blew.  A.  Nutty.

In some of the worst parenting ever seen on T&T, Marina drags Mia back to the hotel room to complete her MomSpaz, crying and rambling on and on that everyone hates Mia and they cut her down and they hate her and they cut her down and…wait for it…they hate her.

The whole thing was doubly stressful thanks to Marina’s Boris & Natasha accent.  The scene played out like you were trying to tune in a Russian radio station late at night with no reception and kept getting every other word.  Husband Ray tried to slap her down a little, but she wanted to go home now.  Some random, nameless brothers just layed around the hotel with their Soduko books or whatever that was they were fidgeting with as Marina whined and whined.

Marina made sure to emotionally scar poor little Mia but telling her she already lose.  (That’s not a typo…that’s how she talks.)

And they hate her.  And Mom wants to go now.

It got to the point where Mia slipped out the door and almost made it down to the bar before one of the brothers went to get her before she got carded.

Mom is a mess.  Mia is 4 and didn’t sulk as much as Mom.

They finally get her back down to the stage for Celebrity Wear, where Marina sits and complains some more that her daughter already is lose.  (Again…not a typo.)

Mia did a Shirley Temple number, complete with a Britney Spears headset.  She’s a cutie, and she actually sang the song.  Take that, haters.

Of course, in true T&T fashion, directly after her was another Shirley Temple.  But this one was the Pussycat Dolls version, as she fist pumped and chest popped her two piece outfit all over the Holiday Inn.

Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

Mia’s face was worth the price of admission, but I don’t think Mom was ready for that jelly as her final engine ignited.  Houston, we have a problem.

Mom sulked and cried and swore and moped outside in the lobby like a spoiled brat.  Total strangers wanted to slap her silly.  She continued to tell her daughter that she was lose.  (Again…for the third time…)

As Marina proved to every registered guest in the hotel that she had no grasp on maturity or the English language, Isys did her Jennifer Lopez imitation and Saliz ghetto blasted through some Nicki Minaj.

I’m not sure how either of those numbers fit the Old Hollywood them, but by then everyone was more concerned that Marina was going to trash the building.  (…“When the last finger kiss is blown…release the nukes…”)

After 8 adult judges had time to sit around and pick apart young children in a creepy Harry Potter round table kind of way, it was crowning.

Even though Isys had no idea where she was by the end of the day, she managed to pull top honors in her age group.  But that wasn’t enough for Mom Erika, as she took the opportunity to drink the same Kool-aid that Marina must have been chugging all day, and had her own meltdown.

Sore loser, much?

Erika is not taking her daughter to fake pageants anymore.  Just the good ones.  Not the ones where they already know who is going to win.  Fixed.  Blah to the blah, lady.  How about you teach your kid how to have friendly competitions and lose gracefully?  I’m thinking that there might be a few more disappointments ahead in life.

Hopefully without her glasses on, Isys didn’t have to witness the second MomSpaz of the day.

Mia ends up winning $500, but it’s too little too late as Mom announces that Miss Annette has ruined everything.  Her life.  Everything.

If you hurry, you can catch a ride on Erika’s Sore Loser Bus before it leaves the parking lot and you two can go to IHOP or something.

When Saliz first pulls out for a higher prize, Oprah goes total banana boat with her girlfriends, in true Oprah style.  (“YOU get a crown! And YOU get a crown! And YOU…”)  But it’s short lived, as Saliz doesn’t get the money.

Saliz had a really sad Whitney Houston face at the end, and that made me sad.

But Ray looking for a box big enough to ship his wife back to Russia in made me smile again.

She’s a loon.

And a lose.

%d bloggers like this: