Posts Tagged ‘reality tv’

Dance Moms: It’s Open Auditions In Orlando, Baby. In10sity Gets Intense When Abby Lee Miller Strikes Back.

Wednesday, January 15th, 2014

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Because wearing fur keeps me warm and makes me feel like Joan Collins. Are we really having this discussion again?

 

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OMG. Shut. Up. It’s Abby and Melissa. You tweet it and I’ll totally put it on my kid’s Instagram. Totes McGotes.

 

 

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Lawd have mercy. What the hell is happening on the top of this crazy bitch’s head?

 

 

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Sorry. Sorry. Sorry…I swear to Gawd I thought this was The Price Is Right.

 

 

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Honey, Imma need you to work thru the pain while Chloe’s Mom horndogs an EMT or two, ‘kay?

 

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Two. Boom. Done.

 

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I can’t explain it, but something about all this new hair just makes me wanna sing like Whitney.

 

 

 

That’s right.

Everyone’s Replaceable.  Eventually, anyway.

After we hold the threat over your head for at least a month or two, that is.

Then you should probably start watching your back.

Dance Moms returned this week with more job insecurity than you hear about on CNN money reports as Abby Lee Miller (…finally…) unleashed the first of her Open Audition cattle calls to find The Next Big Thing.

After threatening to boot everyone but the makeup guy off her show for the last three seasons it was actually time to start looking for some fresh meat for the ALDC.

Because…say it with me:  Everyone’s Replaceable.

But not until we unveil the latest Pyramid of Shame and talk about whatever was going on with Melissa‘s new floral pants.  Because you know the (…fashion…) rules.

The gang hadn’t even made it past the parking lot potholes and the internet was already buzzing about Girlfriend’s butt-to-toe screen print jegging/legging/body paint.

Oh, Mel.  Love you.  Mean it.  But sometimes you need to stop and smell the roses.

And sometimes you need to walk right past that rack at Forever 21 and realize it’s just the name of a store and not a reality.  Smell ’em.  Don’t wear ’em.

And Leslie was back.  Again.

Even after being publicly humiliated at the last competition (…”No, YOU shut up”…) and storming out of the makeup room, she was back.  With a vengeance.  And right up at the front desk trying to schmooze her way into the building as Jill cut in line and slipped Abby what at first appeared to be one of those tiny crack cocaine pouch bags they always show as evidence on CSI.

False Alarm, though.  It turned out to only be a gift of silver hoop earrings with a very low street value, so the whole drug thing was my bad.  Jill’s clean.

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Nothing to see here except brown nosing, people.  Keep it moving.

As Abby began the Pyramid Reveal, she prefaced it with another Open Audition threat.

Except this time, the s*** was getting Real.

This week they would all be headed to Orlando for the In10sity Dance Competition.  And the first round in the hunt for new dancers.  Because, you know.  The whole Everybody’s Replaceable thing.

So it was Game On.

Except for Maddie and Mackenzie, of course, who would be going down to Orlando earlier than the rest of the team to help Miss Abby run the auditions.  Because apparently the Ziegler girls are really good at special event logistics.

I know, right?  Who knew?

Bottom of the Pyramid was home to Payton, Kendall, Nia and Paige.   Payton was down there because her Mom wouldn’t shut up about it.  Kendall was down there because she performed out of numerical sequence last week and wobbled during her solo.  And now her Mom wouldn’t shut up about it.  Paige was just kinda down there.  Period.

Nia had one or two technical issues, but it’s the International Year of the Nia…so you just wait.  Mama didn’t get no makeover just to watch her baby sit in the basement, mmmkay?

The Pyramid Mezzanine was loaded up with Mackenzie, Brooke and Chloe.  Again, mainly so Maddie could be on top.

And how about Payton’s fake applause when Maddie was announced as Top O’ The Heap again this week?  Did you see that?  It was a-maz-ing.  Ackerman was literally either scratching her palm or giving Maddie THE weakest Mean Girl finger tip tap clap evah.

Meeeeow.

I’m totally stealing it for next week’s sales meeting when they announce all those top performers that I hate so much.

Go team.  Tap.  Now where are those donuts I keep hearing about?

Maddie and Mackenzie scored this week’s solos.  Brooke, Paige and Chloe were handed a See No Evil Speak No Evil Hear No Evil trio routine that was going to be part monkey/part boogie-woogie Andrews Sisters with Brooke as the lead monkey singer.

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(Google it or ask your parents, kids.  I’m not calling her a monkey.  I’m referencing an old photo of three monkeys and now realizing that this joke is not worth the effort involved.)

And finally, the group dance was all about smelling like Team Spirit.

Until you get cut from the Team, anyway.  So take a big whiff now, cuz you never know.

As they headed into rehearsals, Abby asked all the Moms to tweet about the upcoming Open Auditions while they were upstairs picking on each other.  Clearly every one of these Moms knows how to work a cellphone at warp speed, but apparently Dr. Beyoncé’s Sidekick is the only one with a calculator because Holly did some quick Doctorate Math and realized that tweeting out the Auditions amounted to a Craigslist post looking to replace your own kid in the family photo.  I don’t think so.  No, ma’am.  Not doing it.

Abby commended Holly for being the only one in the room smart enough to figure that scam out so quickly and then asked Melissa to immediately start tweeting, which in an odd kind of way implied that Melissa wasn’t very smart.  Or maybe that was just my interpretation of the events.

As the Moms all hit the MomPerch and began debating how Kendall and Chloe could have possibly been swapped out of order in last week’s competition, Abby remained in the studio to work on making Mackenzie her bitch.  And hopefully slipping in some choreography between foot rubs.

Because that totally happened.  Nice socks, by the way.

And now that you mention Mack.  I’m still not sure what age is actually listed on Mackenzie’s drivers license.  Sometimes she seems like she’s 6 years old, rolling all over the floor in a sugar buzz and then sometimes she goes all youtube Glamazon giving Duck Face Realness on her Pyramid headshot.

One minute Abby is talking about how she wants to take Mack down into the ALDC Underground Laboratory and turn her into a Maddie Clone and then the next minute she’s sticking another one of those damn cutie patootie hair bows on her head.  So I have no idea what’s going on with that kid.  She may have to lay on her belly and kick her legs back and forth a few more times before I really get a handle on where she’s headed in her dance career.

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The trio rehearsal got all the Moms excited.  Especially Jill, who saw the old fashioned radio microphone stand come out and wanted in on some of that action right now.  There was some discussion on whether or not Abby was just trying to take credit for Brooke’s current dream of pop stardom, but honestly, whenever Jill starts doing her shimmy shimmy cocoa puff I get such a bad case of Vertes Vertigo that I don’t even know what’s happening.  Call me when you want to hit the klubz, gurrrrl.

It should also be noted that Leslie was trying to fit in with the Moms a little better by rocking a Bump-It, but she had it all the way in the front of her hair instead of in the back the way they show it on the commercial.  Not sure what that was all about, but I know Holly was dying to touch it.  Because that’s kind of her thing now.

Then it was Open Audition Time!  So You Think You Can Dance: Pee Wee Edition.

At first I thought it was just lost footage from Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition (…you know how they love to cross promote the krap out of these shows…) since there were a bunch of random dancers from this past season jumping around the stage.  I’m pretty sure I saw Honey Bow Bow Child and WhatsHerName that was always afraid of her own shadow colliding with an auditorium full of new fresh and juicy lunacy.

And speaking of.  You know that spray you can buy at Petco that keeps cats from peeing on your bushes?  The one that drives them all into your neighbor’s yard instead?  I swear that Lifetime has the opposite of that in their production booth toolboxes somewhere, because with one quick hit of KrazySpray that auditorium was stampeded by wannabe dancers and their nutty Moms.

All wide eyed and rocking those big sticky game show name tags, kid after kid tried to keep up with Maddie’s lead as Mom after Mom melted down in their seats.  They were standing up.  They were sitting down.  They were standing back up again.  They were yelling at Abby.  They were begging for second chances.  They were ugly crying.

Seriously.  Melissa even had to go over and talk one of the Moms off a ledge she was so devastated by the outcome.  Mama Drama.  To Infinity and Beyond.

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But how cute was that first little kid in the first big rehearsal?  Did you see her?  She clearly just learned to walk last week and had no idea what was happening.  I’m pretty sure she still had a soft spot in her head she was such a baby.  Cute times a billion.

It was Madness, I tell you.  

There were Studio Hoppers, Booty Poppers and Name Droppers.  There was even one Dad who was so clearly duped into thinking this was going to be a Monster Truck Rally that he just sat there chewing his gum hard enough to give me a headache.  Suckah.

Somehow, between all the crying and yelling, Abby managed to find a handful of dancers who made it through the audition without poking their own eyes out and they all got an ALDC pass.  Stay tuned.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Jill and Kendall were late.  Apparently Jill hadn’t learned her lesson after the last family vacation and decided to attend one of her other daughter’s events instead of getting on an early flight.  In the Dance World you’re either supposed to pick favorites or be better at managing your iPhone calendar.

As for the staging, someone wise once told me to never skimp on lighting.

And they didn’t.

Holy solar flare, Batman.  I’m pretty sure they used the same heat lamps they use above those rolling wieners in the 7-11 convenience store hot dog case.  In an attempt at bringing in a bigger male viewership they also had one judge with an especially low cut top who probably scored a Perfect 10 from the Hooter’s panel.

The show doesn’t always have to be on the stage, kids.  Remember that.

Maddie’s solo was a Maddie solo.  Of course she won.

Mackenzie went back to her cutie pie roots and acrobatted (…is that even a word?…) herself around the stage like a preemie Sonic waitress.  She won, too, even though Abby was quick to point out that she’s still not Maddie.

The trio did their best RuPaul drag queen Lip Sync For Your Life but only came in 2nd Place.  Which was not First Place.  Yikes.

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And then Payton fell down.  Hard.

Somehow she either tripped on a chair backstage or over Kendall’s big foot or ran into one of those air pockets that make JetBlue planes lurch to the side.  It wasn’t really clear, since we got two stories almost as soon as she hit the ground.  Regardless, the moral of the story is that Payton can do backflips and pointe shoe spins but can’t walk a straight line.

Gianna: Payton fell.  Something snapped.  Leslie: Who?  Abby: Payton…your daughter.  You remember her, right?  Leslie:  OhMyGod!  Abby:  Shut Up, Leslie.

Suddenly, all these muscled up EMT dudes burst through the backstage doors like it was somebody’s Bachelorette party.  I really thought one of them was going to be holding a boom box and the whole thing was just a staged fake out to get strippers past security.

Christi immediately pulled her top off and pretended that she was the one with the broken foot while Abby’s tongue fell out of her mouth so far that you could swab it for Strep.

And I’m not even making up most of that.  Not a pretty look, ladies.

It was panic.  The girls had to quickly re-block the group number.  Holly kept Payton from completely losing her nutty on the stretcher while Christi put on more lip gloss…just in case.  Because you never know.

As the Chippendales van drove away, the group hit the stage and still somehow managed a First Place showing without the big tall hole that Payton usually fills.

There was also what appeared to be an unconscious kid laying in his Mom’s lap in the audience during awards, but the ambulance had already left the building so he wasn’t going anywhere.

It totally reminded me of Toddlers & Tiaras crownings when all the kids hit that Pixie Stix Wall and crash at the end of the night.  I miss that show.

And then it was over.

Nobody got booted off the Team.

At least not yet.

But I hear that Everyone’s Replaceable.

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Dance Moms: Let’s Just Send In The Clones. When It Comes To The Candy Apples, Two Can Play This Game.

Wednesday, January 8th, 2014

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Then I told Leslie to save those tears for her pillow and to return that Walmart dress. Girl, please.

 

 

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Shake the nerves or I’m taking your pink iPhone and you’ll be waiting overnight in a tent at the Apple Store for a new one.

 

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Yo! Frazier! Over here! Lovin’ the new weave! Woot Woot! You werk it, Gurrrl!

 

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MmmMmm. Dang, that McGrath boy is a fine piece o’ sweet candy. Mama Kaya’s kinda liking all that.

 

 

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Honk.

 

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Ok, Baby. Tell me if they’re still looking. I know those bitches be hatin’ on my new Dr. Beyoncé look.

 

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Yeah. I think I’m all set with hearing about this damn makeover. We get it. She bought hot rollers. Call CNN.

 

 

 

Game On.

Hope you packed your bags and your milking stools, kids.

Dance Moms is heading to Ohio this week…and you know what that means.

After a short summer break to soak their feet and tighten some orthodontics, the ALDC girls are finally back in business for another competition season and ready to do whatever it takes to retain their National Champion status.  Especially when they cross state lines into Candy Apples territory.

The tiny dancers may have lost some of their baby teeth during their time off, but they didn’t lose their hunger to be Number One.  Even that awkward soap opera growth spurt that a few of them encountered between seasons (…I really thought that at least one of the girls was going to be played by a new, older actress like they do on General Hospital when the producers warp speed a kid through 12 birthdays during a commercial break…) wasn’t going to stop them from their goal of Dance Supremacy.

Unfortunately, their first showing of the new season hadn’t really been anything to write home about.  Last week’s Third Place trophy wasn’t sitting well with Abby Lee Miller as they all rolled into the studio for the second Pyramid of Shame.

Clearly, the kids were a little nervous.

And clearly, Abby was now making up for years and years of pre-Dance Moms anonymity by never leaving the house without a full coat of celebrity makeup and hairspray.

(Is it just me?  Remember Season One? Who was that woman with the flat hair and the plastic headband?  Save those tears…and that foundation…for your pillow, honey.)

This week everyone was headed back to Ohio for another face to face meeting with Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein and her revolving door dance team.

As Abby once again messed with the girls heads by pointing out that any of the upcoming Open Auditions could potentially deliver replacements for the current team before their little bodies were even cold, we were treated to a few more Best Of Cathy flashbacks to bring us all up to speed.

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You know the ones.

The infamous Water Bottle/Purse Swing to the Head.  The unruly Mob in the Hall when Kaya From The Block pushed Jill From The ‘Burb‘s nose so hard that Botox almost squirted out both ears.

Seriously.  How much do you love Jill when she goes all Grocery Store Gangsta?  Love.

But first…The Pyramid.  Always The Pyramid.

Bottom row this time around was filled with Payton, Brooke, Nia and Mackenzie.

Brooke had botched a few moves in the group routine last time, which Abby somehow managed to blame on the country music industry.  Nia had done a really good dance, but hadn’t even placed during the awards ceremony.  That made me sad and also made me want to go on a rant about how lame the Sheer Talent backdrop was last week.

But I won’t, because I’m sure that someone spent a lot of time and effort stretching a queen-sized bed sheet out on four clothespins and then lining up a film projector logo.

Diss my Nia?  I don’t think so.

Payton had completely lost her noodle over a tight hair bow.  And despite Mackenzie’s new “My Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Teeter Totter” glamour shot, she proved that she was still a little girl on the inside by screwing around in the makeup room all day.

I also think that was her only scene this week, because I don’t even remember her being in the rest of the show.  She must have gone home to do another youtube makeup video.

The mezzanine level was home to Paige, Kendall and Chloe, which was basically done in order to free up the top spot for Maddie.  Again.

Maddie is Numero Uno.  We get that part by now.  But who is Numero Dos?

Good question.  And one that could only be answered by giving both Chloe and Kendall ‘Battle of  the Pop Stars’ solos in Ohio.

Chloe would be Katy Perry.  Kendall would be Lady Gaga.  Really.

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As we digested that one, the hilarity shifted to Ohio and the Evil Dance Lair, where we found the Candy Apple brigade all busting out the same sit ups they make felons do in prison exercise yards.  Cathy’s prisoners just weren’t visibly shackled, from what I could tell.  At least I don’t think they were.

Bad a** choreographer Blake McGrath was back again, still getting it done with his bad a** neck tattoo and bad a** East Village t-shirt.  You can tell all the Moms get giggly around him when he dirty dances in his Diesel skinny jeans.

Except for maybe Kaya that is, who instead got all Good In Da ‘Hood on Blake’s bad a** as soon as he gave the week’s solo to Lady Killer Lucas Triana instead of her daughter Nicaya.  OhHellNo.

In Kaya’s defense, Cathy did dangle the dance in front of them both for a few seconds before yanking it back like a Twinkie on a string.  That was kinda mean.  And in hindsight, that’s probably what made Kaya go off like one of those molotov cocktails you always see people throw through a Best Buy window during a city blackout when she accused Lucas’ Mom Brigette of partying the lonely nights away with Blake.

Whaaa-?  Whoa.  Hello.  Gurrrl, I need the deets on that one.

Cuz I love Brigette and her smiley face and her smiley kids.  And she’s always putting all these fluffy motivational blurbs on Twitter.  But did you see that Side Eye she gave Kaya?

Oh, snap.

I don’t care how many times Brigette quotes Maya Angelou.  I bet Mama Triana could let 100% of the air out of both your front tires before the light even turns green and still make it to her first real estate showing on time.  She’s from Miami, you know.

Back at the ALDC, rehearsals were in full swing as the Moms went a few rounds up in the MomPerch.

Turns out that Kendall had scored a 30 minute private with choreographer Gianna over the weekend and now…suddenly…the solo that Kendall was performing in Ohio was the same one that she had practiced on Sunday.

If we’re being completely honest, I don’t accomplish much of anything in 30 minutes, so I’m not really sure why Christi made such a big deal about the private attention.  But I guess it’s a Dance Mom thing.  Privates must give you some kind of magical leg up on the competition from what I can tell.

It also meant that Christi and Jill sparred for more than 30 minutes about 30 minutes of their lives they’ll never get back before Jill got up to go buy another 30.

For a total of 90.

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So there.

And why is the parking lot always wet?  Always.  Anyone?

Zipping back up to Ohio one more time before the competition, we got a glimpse of the group routine that Blake had (…allegedly, according to Kaya…) over choreographed.  Too much stuff.  Too elaborate.  And too much for Kaya, who stormed out of the room when Blake asked if she would like it dumbed down to her level.

OhNoHeDin’t.  That’s twice if you’re counting.

Hopefully she was going back to that vandalized Best Buy to pick up some better microphones for the Candy Apples studio, because they all sound like they’re being recorded on a Kindle when compared to the ALDC sound checks.  Really.  Go back and listen again.  Echo, much?

And why is that?  Anyone?  So many unanswered questions this week.

Not to be outdone, Abby was putting her girls through their group routine as well.  Entitled “Just Another Number,” it was a sci-fi looking kind of thing about cloning sheep.  Or something.

Holly went back to her academic roots and tried to explain to Leslie what cloning was all about, but Leslie was starting a slow boil over her kid’s height again and Holly’s hair was still so fresh and tight that I got really distracted.  So all I remember is something about sheep and robots and those barcodes that never scan correctly on your cell phone app.

Finally, it was Showtime!

The Candy Apples Crew pulled up to the bumper in one of those shiny black Evil Villain town car/bus contraptions that they always use on Real Housewives of Atlanta.

I immediately wondered if there was a stripper pole inside, cuz that’s kind of a Bravo thing.

Luckily I was pretty easily distracted by Cathy’s crazy animal print dress and the sight of sniffling Vivi-Anne stumbling off the bus behind her Mom carrying a gigantic shopping bag full of travel snacks.

Seriously.  How does this kid not have her own spin-off show yet?  I’m not talking anything expensive.  Just stick her in front of a green screen and let her eat ice cream all day.

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By the time the Candy Apples hit the pavement, the crowd was already bazoinkers.  Needless to say, they completely lost their shizz when the shiny white Good Guy ALDC bus reared ended the black bus from Ohio.  I swear it was louder than when the Beatles landed at the airport.

Inside, it was the usual stress filled pre-game show.

Christi threatened Chloe to either shake off her nerves or Mama would take her iPhone away, which I thought was a little extreme.  Seeing’s how it might actually be easier to pry raw meat out of a pit bull’s mouth than to get a cell phone away from a tweenager, I kind of envisioned Christi sitting in the audience flipping through the program with a broken arm for the rest of the season.

Abby then threatened Kendall to either hold in those tears or she would replace her with Maddie doing improv.  I got kind of excited to hear Maddie’s comedy shtick until I realized I was thinking about the wrong kind of improv.  I bet Maddie would have been funny, though.  They should totally add it to next week’s group number.

And put her in Groucho glasses, because those always make me laugh.

Holly kind of sat this one out, choosing instead to continue giving us another week of Michelle Obama Sleeveless Realness and tossing her hair around like the Herbal Essence Shampoo lady.  Protect that investment, sistah.

I swear, if she doesn’t bring one of those Mariah Carey floor fans into the MomPerch next week to keep that new ‘do blowing around for the full hour I’ll buy you lunch.

Lucas was first up with his solo.  One leg straight up in the air and some fake Enrique Iglesias Spanish soundtrack about making girls swoon and throw Hello Kitty underoos up on stage.  Check out his HowYouDoin’ eyebrow lift.  Dude is a Playground Playa.

And my hero.

Next up was Kendall’s solo, event though the program said she was going last.  There was some sketchiness in the audience as Jill tried to figure out what was going on.  Christi somehow knew that Chloe and Kendall’s spots were reversed but wasn’t really clear on where she scored that informational update.

I’ll give it to my girl Jill.  She still can’t figure out what to do with her bangs, but she knows that you don’t change the order of the horses in a race at the last minute unless someone loses a shoe or breaks a leg.  Something’s up.

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Caught a bit off guard, Kendall’s first spin was a little wonky and she fell out of the move a bit, which got the whole row of Moms talking.  Was the floor wet?  Was it slippery?  Was it sticky?  Shut Up, Leslie.

That last one kind of came out nowhere and it was all downhill from there.

Chloe did her thing.  And then Leslie had a 15 Kleenex meltdown out back.  Mad, ugly crying.  Even Melissa couldn’t calm her down.

And then both groups performed.

The solos didn’t score that well.  Chloe did better than Kendall, which kind of made her the Numero Dos dancer.  But only by default.

The ALDC group took First Place.  The Candy Apples group not so much.  Could Kaya have been right all along?

But all the really good stuff was out back.

Leslie blew a nutty at Abby for telling her to shut up in front of the entire auditorium.  One of those major league nutties that you only see when someone cuts in front of you at Costco on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Git out m’way, beeotch.

Boom.

You Shut Up No You Shut Up No You Shut Up.

They kept repeating that over and over as the credits rolled.

Nothing like another relaxing trip to Ohio, I always say.

Vivi-Anne.  Gimme some of them Cheetos.  I’m stressing out.

And get me outta here.  Now.

Who’s excited to go back to Pittsburgh?

Jill?

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The Drama Queen: You Make Me Want To Shout. And Scream. And Yell Really Loud. Welcome To Marki-Wood, B**ch.

Tuesday, November 19th, 2013

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Seriously. Even my dentist has a damn headshot. He also bought ear plugs for some reason.

 

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Mum! You totally need to come to America. They have X-Factor and free candy EVERYwhere!

 

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Please don’t flip anyone off today. I’m begging you. Please don’t flip anyone off today.

 

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OhMyGod. I can’t even remember if I moisturized today. Think, J-Man. Think.

 

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Mama’s got two sparkly Ultimate Grand Supremes right here, Haters.

 

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OMG. I know, right? If you’re pretty you can let the phones ring all day and nobody even cares.

 

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And then, no lie..she went at the candy jar with both hands like she just got out of some Aussie prison or sumthin.

 

 

I know you are.  But what am I?

Yeah.  I’m talking to you, Fame.  

And you, Hollywood.  And you, Lady with the five kids who cut in front of me at Walmart last week and then couldn’t even remember your freakin’ debit card password.

You’re all crazy bitches.  Krazee.  Beeotches.

But that’s ok.  Because Talent Manager Marki Costello is here to scream some sense into all of you.  Or at least the Fame and Hollywood part.

And I do mean scream.

Since we all know that I don’t spend nearly enough time as I should watching Reality Television, somebody over at E! decided it was necessary to take yet another hour away from me this week with the premiere of The Drama Queen, which follows brassy and sassy Marki and her team of highly photogenic assistants as they search for new and exciting talent in the cut throat world of show biz.

Who is Marki, you ask?

Well, I may be dating myself a little, but this bitch (…hey…she said it, not me…) is part Abby Lee Miller, part Peg Bundy, part Joanne Worley and a whole hella lot old skool Rita Moreno screaming “Hey You Guuuuuuuuuys!” during the opening credits of PBS’s The Electric Company.

Yeah.  The Electric Company.  And PBS.  Go ask your parents or Google it, kids.

And then lightly spritz all that with some Eau de Jersey and there you go:  Marki Costello.

Loud and proud.  And you know how I love my women loud.  And in cheetah prints.

Girrrrrl, pleez.

Marki lives at home with her boyfriend Tommy and sons Lucas and Finn.  Lucas likes dry cereal and felt we needed to know that for some reason, and Finn has his name painted on the footboard of his little bed just in case he gets disoriented after dark.

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Marki likes her eye candy boy toys and pricey Real Housewives of Miami Birkin bags.

A lot.

Unfortunately, her busy career and dreams of expansion are causing her to spend more time with $50,000 handbags than with boy toys, so we’ll have to wait and see how that all plays out this season.

Since this was only the first episode, it was naturally a little more of a Meet & Greet than a full-on cliff hanger, so for starters we headed off to the CMEG Mother Ship.

Creative Management Entertainment Group.

Marki’s home base was part Rachel Zoe‘s office and part Superman’s Fortress of Solitude.  Very white.  And full of pretty things.

First up was Angelica, the Receptionist.  Ding Dongy as a doorbell.  Thank Gawd she doesn’t work the phone bank down at the Suicide Prevention Hotline.

Here’s a thought:  If it’s ringing…answer it.

Next was Matt Jacobi, the Image Consultant.  A self-professed low maintenance dude with a high maintenance face, he reminded me of Brad Goreski without the nervous pink cheeks.  Rachel Zoe reference #2 if you’re keeping track.

Matt likes to be called Jacobi instead of Matt, which is probably a logistical nightmare when it comes time to do taxes.  But whatever.  He probably writes off all his bronzer and hair gel, anyway.

Stephanie is the Head of the West Coast sumthin sumthin.  I forget exactly what she said because she used to work at Hooter’s and that made me laugh.  Especially when she got so caught up in her wet t-shirt resume that she almost forgot to mention she had a full law degree.

Hooter’s has amazing hot wings.  So suck it, Harvard.

Kelly is the Talent Coordinator.  Which I guess is different than Michelle‘s Talent Manager title.  Which I’m going to assume are both somehow different than Marki’s Talent Manager title, because otherwise I can’t explain why one talent manager is working for another talent manager.  Which I guess explains why Marki doesn’t represent me.

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Yet.

Since this is Reality Television, nothing much ever gets done at work except sitting around talking about lady parts and watching Jacobi Matt’s eyes bug out.

Eew, gross.  Boy in the room.

Luckily, Marki finally showed up to the office and they got down to bidnezz.

First up was a meeting with Australian celebrity/actress/singer/dancer/magician/neuro physicist Tamara Jaber.  She listed off a lot of careers and admitted that she sounded rather precocious, which didn’t really even make much sense in the context that it was used.  But she had a great smile and a very on trend ombré thing going on with her hair.  So points were given back.

I guess Tamara’s a pretty big dealio Down Under, but in America she has yet to show up on any episode of South Park and that’s one of the top metrics I use to determine a celebrity’s Q Score.  So she’s got some work to do from where I stand.  But that’s what Marki is for, right?

Tamara reminded me of what Leona Lewis might look like if she had never lost her baby fat.  Tamara wasn’t a big girl, but she wasn’t a little girl either.  She brought a few extra carry-ons across the pond, if you know what I mean.  But she owned them.  Proudly.

The same way she proudly scarfed down two handfuls of candy that she scooped out of the reception area bowl.  Free is free.

Side note:  Anyone else find it odd that after apologizing for her bad hostess manners, Angelica awkwardly offered Tamara some water and/or cheese as a peace offering?

Cheese?  Yes, please.  I’m especially fond of those individual Kraft slices wrapped in cellophane.  And maybe a Baby Bell or two before I head into a meeting that will determine the career path for the entire rest of my life.  If it’s no trouble, I mean.

Did she really say cheese?

I should probably point out that during the meeting Tamara appeared to actually spit out one of the Good & Plenty niblets that she didn’t care for right onto Marki’s snazzy tin desk, and Ms. Costello’s OCD tendencies almost resulted in a full cardiac arrest before her client left to get ready for a gig at some local club.

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There was also a random dollar bill on the desk which they never addressed.  I can’t believe that Marki can’t validate parking after all these years.

As part of the CMEG expansion and world takeover plans, Marki had decided to have an open casting call for her new Kiddie Division, where everyone was required to sing “Take Me Out To The Ballgame.”

Well, maybe not really required.  But for some reason the first two people sang the same song.  It was basically a few minutes of the poor man’s American Idol, with Angela acting all NutWad instead of Mariah.

Then my girl Paisley Dickey showed up to save the day.  PDickey in the house yo!

Dat’s rite.  Toddlers & Tiaras was in the hizzle.

You all know that little nugget Paisley.  Cutie Patootie.  Cheese Dip.  Boogers.

Pee Wee Pageant Royalty.

At least that was the plan…until The League of Hater Moms, some bloody riots in the streets and a declaration by the United Nations caused her to walk away from her pageant dreams.  And all because of that one fateful day when Mom Wendy subtly hooched her up like a tiny Julia Roberts and almost put the entire Ramada franchise out of business.

Gah.  People.  Chillax.

But now she’s back.  Still little, but bigger and better than evah.  And doing what sounded like a commercial for something that gets hot dog mustard off your shirt, complete with Incredible Hulk arms and the same hair braid that Princess Leia had before she became Princess Leia.

Marki loved it and Jacobi clearly got a little jealous that there might be somebody cuter than him in the building.  And then Mom flipped off all the Hater Moms.

And it was magical.

Except that she used the wrong fingers for her double bird, so it was really more like she was just showing off the new French tips she got down on Hollywood Boulevard than it was actually telling that Mom from TMZ to kiss her a**.

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But I knew what she meant.  You go, girl.

Next up were the Johnson Triplets.  Sorta.  It was really Mom ReReeeeeee (…I don’t actually know how many ‘E’s’ are supposed to be there and I’m too lazy to Google it, but you get the idea…) and Sister Merritt and Kirby, who was actually the one that was supposed to be doing the audition.

Kirby told some story about turning 16 and her mother threatening to kill her or something and then Marki fell in love.  She even called her an ingenue, which I totally had to spellcheck.  I liked them even though I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to high five each other during an audition.

The final girl to audition (…so much for Boy Power this week, except for some gangly basketball dude who showed up in the middle…) was Justin Bieber‘s old girlfriend.

Kinda.  It was actually Sloane Brown, who totally looked like Selena Gomez on Nyquil.

Easy on the mascara, honey, or someday those things are gonna stick together and you’ll never be asked to booty pop for rappers again.  Then watch your Twitter followers bail.

Marki felt that Sloane had the potential to either be a star or get eaten alive by Dateline predators, so she offered her free membership in her Host Bootcamp.

Excuse me?  I don’t know if you have to do push-ups or not in that bootcamp, but if a smokey eye will get me free s*** from Marki, you know I’m at the MAC counter the minute Macy’s opens tomorrow.

After the open call was finished, Marki and Co. headed to Tamara’s karaoke gig at the local club.

I’m not sure what Leona was up to that night.  She had on a delightfully unflattering leather ensemble and some 1984 Madonna gloves and rambled and sang about Make Up Sex and then drove Marki right out of the venue.  I think Costello actually threw a chair through the front window just to get back out on the sidewalk.

Oh, Tamara.

The next day at an outdoor cafe (…Rachel Zoe reference #3…) Marki finally laid it all on the line to Leona and brought up the 15 pound elephant in the room.  The one on her a**.

And then the angels sang.  And the clouds parted.  And Body Bullying was born.

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Tamara had a brand and a gimmick and a contract.

Back at the CMEG Compound, The Johnson Triplets showed up to get the deets on their audition results, followed close behind by Paisley, her ‘I Poop Glitter’ dress (…don’t we all, honey…) and Mom Wendy.

Re-Re-Reeeeeee cut right to the chase and asked if Kirby was going to be signed.  Yes.  And the crowd goes wild.

Marki’s biggest concern with Paisley (…besides the fact that she knows me…) was that she was still a young pup and had the attention span of a young pup.  Since I myself still have the attention span of a 5 year old, I’m not really sure when it’s supposed to improve, but Marki felt that a few years of commercial spots would buy Paisley some time.

Is she signed?  Yes.  And the crowd goes wild.

Well.  Mom anyway.  Am I the only one who noticed that Wendy totally stole some of Honey Boo Boo‘s Go-Go Juice while she was at the wedding last summer?  Did you see her clutching that can of soda like a newborn as she ran out the door?  I thought she was gonna go straight through the plate glass.  We got signed!  We got signed!

Pump the brakes, sister.  Your flight’s not ’till tomorrow.

Finally, one of the Ballgame singers busted back in and wanted in on some of the good stuff.  But it wasn’t meant to be for young Taylor.

Turns out that her Mom was the only one who really wanted this shot at singing stardom.  Taylor wanted to go on Project Runway and be a famous fashion designer.

So Marki set her free.  Because that’s what she does.

She also lays the smack down on employees who laugh and scream and make fun of potential clients who show up in the same outfit as Marki (…Team Cheetah Power!…) and then lock themselves in the bathroom to cry like little school girls.

Because that totally happened between Kelly and Stephanie.

Seriously.  Grown a** women.  I don’t know how she does it.

Hollywood’s a bitch, I tell you.

A big, crazy one.

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