Posts Tagged ‘reality tv’

The Real Housewives Of New Jersey: Kids Gone Wild New Years Eve Edition

Monday, August 8th, 2011





Tell me I won’t grow up to be my Mother! Tell me, you little goombah!








I think this is how Mom does it.





I guess the cannoli doesn’t fall far from the pasta puttanesca now, does it?

The Real Housewives of New Jersey finally ended their month long Christmas Festivus, restuffed themselves into even more improperly sized designer wear, reapplied their lip stain and got ready for New Year’s Eve: Joisey Style.  Always the multi-taskers, our girls were again able to sneak in an afternoon nip around the kitchen table as well as close down the Brownstone Restaurant with the best of them, all while managing to continue exhibiting nearly non existent parenting skills.

The latest episode managed to serve up another main course serving of The Teresa vs. Melissa Show, while still leaving plenty of room for a desert topped with some kind of goo that I assume was supposed to taste like the importance of Kids & Family.  I’m thinking that someone at Bravo must have thought it would be a good idea to ride the kid friendly wave of the Teen Choice Awards which had just aired earlier in the evening, in order to keep that momentum and mood alive for another hour, perhaps hoping to capture that all important Bieber demographic.

Regardless, you would think that someone else at Bravo would already know that Housewives and kids are not a good mixture, unless you are also filming a side project on how NOT to raise your kids on TV.

For starters, we got to witness a minor, or even lesser important number, scene with Nothing But Trouble Spoiled Brat Ashley, which I believe is in fact her actual full Native American name, and that Manzo Girl bickering over some sketches for a new company.

It was the skinny girl vs. the not so much skinny girl, and has been done to death since Dawson’s Creek.  The only difference this time is that one of them was still wearing the Manzo tracking device bracelet which she received for the holidays, and the other was driving a new Jeep Wrangler that she has no intentions of making payments on.  Ever.

I’m thinking that every scene in this episode was story boarded to involve kids somehow, so there you go.  Check off two kids in one take.

Melissa put on a fresh application of Crest White Strips and invited Teresa and her brood of brooding kids over for a play day at the mansion, all in the name of Family Rebuilding.  Why she didn’t just take a match to the place instead is beyond me, but the season just started.  Teresa’s girls are all going through what she uncomfortably tried to write off as the “Terrible Twos into Fours into Maybe my kids really are just Beeotches”  as they all whined and slugged their way around the house getting ready for the day.

The Giudice Girls…Laconia, Catalonia and Zipadeedonia…whatever…were alternating mood swings of moping and screaming and tossing clothes in the air like they were searching for their meds on a scavenger hunt, to simple catatonic states.  The house has 17 bathrooms, but not one hairbrush.  Just saying.

The only semi-normalcy in their lives seems to be the bond between all the tiny cousins when they get together.  Melissa’s kids were peeing their Le Baby Boutons when Teresa finally showed with her posse.  The girls all genuinely love each other and squeeze the oxygen out of each other just to prove it, in a creepy “Don’t let them take me back home” kind of way.  The girls all go total spaz over each other’s toys and outfits, while Melissa’s boys are roughly manhandled and then go back to lying on the floor like any good Italian baby.  I swear.  I’m not making it up.  Check any episode.

The episode is worth DVRing just to see little Baby Gorga wander aimlessly thru out the house in his Rainbow Bright Pride Parade roller-walker thing.  How badly do you want to know what that baby is really thinking?  Be honest.  Guess we won’t know for another 10 years until the shrink gets ahold of him.

Melissa and Teresa knock back a few bowls of milk and get Uber catty on each other while all the kids scream and run in circles like it’s just another day at the Sugar Factory.

With all that marble and brass everywhere, how at least two kids didn’t end up in the ER with a fat lip is beyond me.  Forget the FAO Schwarz toys…just tripping over the floor baby is a liability in that place.  They all tumbled down the basement stairs to take a look at Melissa’s new recording studio/unfinished dungeon.  Yeah.  Recording studio.  I know, right?  I can bust out a tune or two, thank you, but I don’t have anyone building me a complete studio from scratch in less than two weeks.  Teresa snarks that Joe just built it to keep Melissa in the house.  I’m thinking a Manzo GPS bracelet would have been a lot cheaper, dude.  She totally could have hooked you up.

Cousin Kathy got her contractually obligated scenes again, and still holds a grudge against Teresa for…well, for being Teresa.  Same song, different outfit.

So the deal appears to be that no one trusts their own children home alone on New Year’s, so they bring them all together to a liquor filled restaurant in order to keep an eye on them until the ball drops.  All of them.  Even the little girls and boys.  Only Baby Gorga was lucky enough to be spared and left at home, most likely alone and probably on the kitchen floor since it was a special night.

As the adults boozed it up, the little ones got to do their glow stick hyper dancing wherever they found room, all while dressed in more sequins than a RuPaul DragU graduate.  If the Housewives can not keep an eye on their kids within the confines of their own living room, did they really think this was a good idea?  The men got sloppy and talked Jersey Shore all night, while the women flipped hair and beat the Teresa and her brother Dead Horse again.

Caroline stood two steps above everyone else and did her best Desperate Housewives voice-over about Family and something and something and then more Family, while all the Italian Joes groped their wives and significant others unaware that their kids were chewing on noisemakers and getting trampled on the dance floor.  The whole thing was done in that home shopping network New Year, New You motif.  Starting over and mending fences…blah to the blah.

All I know is that someone better get slapped next week or I’m not watching this show anymore.


Selena Tells Bieber: “See Ya. Wouldn’t Want To Be Ya.” OMG Ya?

Sunday, August 7th, 2011

Yeah.  That’s right, honey.  Now you might stand a chance.

Baby, baby, baby.  Whoah.  Say it ain’t so.

In case you were caught up in that whole US Credit Downgrade Stock Market Almost Crashing Thing this weekend, let me bring you up to speed on what’s really been going on out in the Real World.

You may not have felt it, but there was a brief ripple in the Teeny Bop Time Continuum Vortex.  For Realz.

Regardless of which astrological glitter sticker locker door chart you use to track these sort of things, over the last few days all calculations began to verify the possibility that the RadioDisney constellation JelenaSelieber is showing signs of imploding all over itself like just so much Nickelodeon green slime.

The mere suggestion/rumor that such a carefully placed, perfectly photo-opped stellar creation could not survive Infinity & Beyond nearly shut down the internet, all our unlimited text plans and every Limited Too retail outlet in the Free World.

Translation?  What does that actually mean to anyone old enough to shave or wear a bra?  It means that Selena Gomez may have dumped Justin Bieber.

A moment to process all that, and the ramifications for hyper ventilating Tweens everywhere.

And all this is happening before the Back To School shopping season even begins?

Think about it.  If Justin Bieber is actually back on the market, there ain’t enough Biebz Trapper Keepers in all the Target warehouses in all of America to placate the gazillion girly girls who will spend Algebra class doodling “Mrs. Justin Bieber” all over the back cover.  This won’t be pretty.

The CNN rumor mill…(OK, I couldn’t even keep a straight face while I typed that)…is verifying/gossiping that Selena doesn’t like the Biebz choice in friends and doesn’t want all that sketchy riff raff bringing down her skyrocketing career.  (Two attempts at a straight face in one sentence.  A new Blog Record.)  As has been well documented in the press lately, Justin does not appear to fully recall that he is in reality still a Little White Boy.  He has as of late surrounded himself with random Homies that must give even his YouTube pimping Mom cause to second guess some of her past choices.

Sean Kingston and Lil Wayne have both recently taken Justin and their police records for rides around town, and Selena don’t play dat.  Chris Brown didn’t want to be left out of the fun, and has also been seen waving his Rihanna pumping fists in the air to some Justin tunes while they laid down some new tracks.  Selena really don’t play dat.  The dealio is that Justin dragged some of his crew backstage to chill after Selena’s concert, potentially terrifying her own groupies, many of whom still carry unicorn stuffed animals in their backpacks decorated with those Hello Kitty Head key chain dangling thingamabobs.

Add to that Justin being photographed in a nasty potty mouthed logo t-shirt a short time ago, and you know somebody at Disney is breathing into a bag right now.

Depending on which of your tearful summer camp BFFs TTFN IM you first, Justin & Selena are either broken up or still together.  Duh.  No one knows, and no one over 14 seems to care.  But this thing is still clogging up all the Google pages and keeping Ryan and the staff at Eonline working overtime on a Sunday.  A “leaked” photo of the Teen Choice Awards showed the auditorium seating layout, and O…M…G…they are not sitting together.  I know, right?  There are empty chairs between them.  Empty.

Why me, God?  Is the space set aside for parents, which means they are still together?  Or bodyguards, which means they are broken up and someone needs to make sure they play nice?  Or is it for all the surfboards he is going to win?  (And what is anyone, celeb or otherwise, gonna do with an airbrushed surfboard trophy?  What if you win more than one?  How do you even get all that home on the subway?  Seriously, TCA?  OMG.  ROTFLMAO.  Smiley face icon goes here…I just don’t know how to do it, and I can’t find a 9 year old to break it down for me.)

Whether they walk the red carpet or not, no one knows if it is for publicity’s sake and they are grinning and bearing it, or if they are really still together.  Or maybe they broke up too late to find another date, even though I’m pretty  sure Chris Brown could have hooked up the Biebz with a hooch or two without even getting out of the drivers seat.  “I thought I told you to get to yo’ a** into the Teen Choice Awards?  Don’t make me put this thing in park, woman.”

I dunno.  Only time, and the non-Dateline chat rooms, will tell for sure.  I shouldn’t even know as much as I’ve already let on.

I need to find something to do between Real Housewives episodes.

Seacrest, out.

Toddlers & Tiaras: How To Suck The Life Out Of Your Kids…And The Dirt Off The Floor All At The Same Time

Thursday, August 4th, 2011





Miss WindTunnel Bagless Canister Supreme 2011







Miss Grand Supreme Most Natural Photo 2011





Is it too late to start one more New Year’s Resolution?  Seriously.  When is the absolute last Ultimate Supreme cut off date to try and get a new one going?  If I can, I need to start one tonight.  Immediately.

My newest New Year’s Resolution is going to be to stop saying “Well, NOW I’ve seen it all.”  Because every time I say it, complete with a drama filled forehead slap or a quick spit of my drink across the table, TLC comes along and makes me eat those words.

Toddlers & Tiaras.  You win.

I will never use that phrase again, because you keep upping your glitter game and I can’t keep up anymore.  Unless an Alien Mothership actually lands in a trailer park, which you know is somehow always the location of choice for twisters, alligators in the sewers and alien invasions, I will never think that I have truly seen it all because I know TLC will come back the following week and show me how it’s really done.

T&T unleashed another trifecta of crazy around the race track this week and all bets were off as to what little mini sparkle pony was taking in the most sugar, and taking home the most crowns.  It was the Glamorous Beauties Pageant, which I’m going to assume must be different from the Ugly Little Girls Who Will Never Get Married Pageant that must have been running concurrently in the other ballroom?  I mean…aren’t they all supposed to be glamour pageants?  What made this one Glamorous?  “Honey, next week you are competing in the But She Has A Great Personality Pageant. Sparkle.”

Baylen was your typical tomboy who didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with pageants, even though Mom said she looooves being in them.  When Baylen wasn’t putting on her boxing gloves and threatening to lay Mom out on the driveway with a black eye, she was alternating between running in circles and collapsing on the floor in a big heap.  Both of those skills paid off well during the actual pageant as she aptly demonstrated both of them to perfection.  We got to witness Baylen in all her wild haired tomboyish-ness, as she looked for her soccer trophy and posed for huntin’ pictures next to a bear or deer trussed up on the garage hook.  Side note….now you know they hang the meat upside down so they can slit the throat and let it bleed out before they gut it, right?  I’m thinking she wasn’t wearing her white sassy pose shoes in that photo spread.

Baylen’s Mom was kinda, sorta Barbie-ish, which was a nice change up from the usual Pageant Moms, but she could still get her pageant nutty on.

So apparently Baylen could punch out her Mother and also easily put a bullet in a deer’s skull, but she couldn’t get spray tanned without a meltdown.  She had a few of her patented run around, collapse in a heap moments during the process but that didn’t stop the air compressor lady.  Now you can check my resume.  I don’t work for Child Services, but I’m thinking that if a tiny little girl has her mouth wide open and is screaming literally non-stop bloody murder, you probably don’t want to be aiming the spray tan nozzle down her throat.  By the time they got the process completed, her tongue had to be the darkest thing on her body.

Little Allyson only wishes she could have had that much ingested tanning solution spread through her system.

Her goal in life was to be Beyonce.  Beyonce is a Diva.  Beyonce is Fierce.  And Newsflash: Beyonce is not a little white girl.

Like the grillin’ deer meat from Baylen’s huntin’ trip…the darker the better, please.  Ally wanted to be Beyonce brown, and made it clear to all around her any chance she got. She only played with Brown fashion dolls, had Brown cardboard cut out dolls and the whole thing just got a little…odd…after awhile.  They even had to hose her down for a second coat of Brown the weekend of the pageant, because she wasn’t Beyonce enough.

One of the many things that you can count on Toddlers & Tiaras to bring to the table, is that the show always lends itself really well to Frat House drinking games.  Almost like it was part of the initial presentation to the networks.  I can guarantee you that more than a few freshmen across America blacked out from taking shots every time Allyson’s Mom said “Brown,” in her really wide crazy eyed kind of Stepford Wife way.  I had to rewind a second, because at first I thought she might be that woman who sells all the potpourri and heartfelt holiday decor on QVC.  She was soooo not Beyonce Brown.

But out of the three Preemie Glamazons this week, no one could get a mouthful of brown better than Emerald.

Apparently, gone are the days of simply rewarding your child for a job well done with a pat on the back.  No more hugs.  No more extra quarter in your allowance.  Forget about it.

Now when you do good on your inappropriate hip popping attitude pageant practice strut, you get to Bowl For Chocolate!

It sounds like a great night out with the girls, but hold up.  For those of you who might have missed the Bowling For Chocolate Championships on ESPN last month, let me refresh you on the rules.

You lay some 3M blue painters tape down the hardwood floor in a racing stripe.  Then you make your little girl lay her head on the ground, lips on the floor, mouth open wide…and throw Hershey’s Chocolate Chips down Lane #3 into her eye, or nose, or forehead…or maybe even occasionally actually into her mouth.  I know, right?  Jealous much?

You can’t make this stuff up.

When Mom shook that bag of Hershey’s, little Emerald came running like a cat when it hears the electric can opener.  Nothing else about Emerald’s story even compares, or matters, so I won’t even bother with the whole being Quakers and how they don’t want to win, but they really do thing…that’s not important.

They freakin’ bowled chocolate chips into their kid’s face.

Most of them actually ricocheted off under the couch.  Emerald did proudly state that if Mom missed, she would just suck them up like a vacuum.

Flash forward ten years:  Phone call.  Hooters.  Line Two.

Watch for this family on Hoarders in a year or so, where they lift up the furniture and find more cocoa than a Willie Wonka’s Warehouse, and a bunch of fossilized pageant crowns stuck in the goo.

Until next week, I have totally seen it all.

**UPDATE:  Gotta add a line or two onto this badboy.  You guys crashed the post last night, and it wouldn’t be right to repost without pointing out that I’ve actually heard back from a couple of the Moms (…politely…not with a rock through my window…) and props to them.  I thought that I was the Poster Child for being able to laugh at myself, but they showed me through their responses that they can absolutely do the same and come out on top of the glitter pile.  Life is way too short to not laugh out loud, and I’m glad they joined me in the chuckles and totally got where this whole hot mess of a blog comes from.  Their notes were probably actually funnier than anything that I wrote up above, but luckily they want to stick with pageants and not take over my job in the Blogosphere.  My own parents always told me that as long as you love your kids unconditionally and laugh until milk comes out your nose…it’s all good.  They do.  And they do.  Thanks, Mom(s)!


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