Posts Tagged ‘Reality TV Recap’

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition: It Was The Rachelle Rak Show. Twerk It. Werk It. Want It. It’s Broadway, Baby.

Wednesday, October 9th, 2013

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I was up ’til 2am checking out flip flops on Zappos. Mama needs her Starbucks shot.

 

 

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And this is how they found me at Candy Apples. I was curled up in a little ball all delirious and s***.

 

 

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OMG. Just…OMG.

 

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And then you push all the ugly people out of the way and Boom Boom Pow your way into the room like this, kids.

 

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Seriously. Does this Flashdance bitch even own a pair of pants? There’s little boys in the room.

 

 

 

 

And then you open the door up like you just found leftover cheesecake that you had forgotten about.

 

 

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Hold still, Baby, and let Mama hooch up this dress a little bit. You won’t sell any hoagies if they can’t see ’em in the case.

 

 

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Why me? Why? All I want is my bows back. Is that too much to ask for? Just one big one.

 

 

 

Five.  Six.  Seven.  Eight.

They say that there’s a broken heart for every light on Broadway.

That’s what they say, you know.  I forget whether I heard it in a song or saw it on one of those 3 for $20 tee shirts they sell down on 42nd Street.  But I know they say it.

And that’s a lot of lights if you do the math.

But what they don’t tell you is that there is also a crazy Dance Mom for every one of those same lights that is either flickering, burned out or screwed in crooked.

Because it’s Broadway, baby.

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition hit the Great White Way this week.  And they hit it hard on the downbeat, thanks to new AUDC judge Rachelle Rak.

Anyone familiar with the New York City theater world or the high cut leotard industry already knew Rachelle before she joined Richy Jackson and Abby at the table this year.  And if you didn’t, you certainly do by now.

From what I gathered this week, Rachelle is the one who invented Broadway.  All of it.

Or at least the hard knocks part.

I’m fairly certain that she also had a jazz hand or two in making women everywhere feel even more emotionally traumatized by their own cellulite as she Flashdanced her way in and out of Times Square for the last 25 years wearing nothing more than a self-inflicted wedgie and a can of hair spray.

I’m too lazy to read her bio, but I’m guessing her Mom gave birth in the lobby of the Gershwin Theater, because Broadway is in this bitch’s blood.  Even though her actual career has taken her a little bit more down the Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride Road as far as leading lady roles go, Rachelle lives and breathes Broadway 24/7.

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You know she totally high kicks it at the grocery store if she can’t reach the chips on the top shelf.  Every move Rachelle makes, right down to posing for her license at the DMV, is done so it can be seen from the cheap seats.

It’s called “SAS.”  Trademarked with a copyright.

The theme:  Broadway.

The skill:  Versatility.  All genres of dance.  All at once.  In yo’ face.

As the eight remaining dancers all scurried in from Bungalow #2 for the latest challenge, they were greeted by Abby Lee Miller and Rachelle.

Thankfully, Rachelle was the only one not wearing pants.  Abby remembered to put her’s on, so that was one less crisis we were going to have to deal with this week.

Rachelle, on the other hand, either forgets hers a lot or just doesn’t like to wear pants.

Ever.  Even with the kids in the room.

If you slow down your DVR, you can actually see one of the Atwood Twins sprouting facial hair the first time Rachelle bends over.  You’re a real boy now, Pinocchio.

For this week’s pop quiz, they were going Old Skool.  The kids were all given numbers and put through a classic Broadway cattle call.

You know the drill.  Learn a high speed, highly technical, highly age inappropriate dance, shake your non-existent hips and bootays, get cut early and then go find yourself a nice waitressing job so you don’t lose your apartment in the East Village.

It’s called Broadway, baby.

Rachelle and her Rak showed the kids how it’s supposed to be done.  Open the Door and then Wiggle Down.  Head Snap.  Feisty Apple Bite.  (That’s the only one I couldn’t figure out how to do correctly in the middle of my living room, but I’ll work on it over the weekend.  I promise.)

Even Tina got into the groove for a second while telling us how perfect her daughter Trinity was for this type of challenge.  Busting out her own raspy Broadway Razmatazz whisper and some curtain call arms, I honestly think that for a moment or two Tina actually believed she was hosting the Tonys.

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Thank you all for coming tonight, you’ve been a great audience.  I love unicorns.

I am loving how Tina is slowly letting all her crazy leak out little by little and not giving us everything in the first week.  It makes me want to come back again and again just to see what she’ll do next.

McKaylee won the challenge, which gave Mom Shari yet another excuse to announce her daughter’s name through a megaphone a few times.  A few hundred times, I mean.

The other Moms were getting a little tired of hearing McKaylee’s name spewed out every 30 seconds.  More than a little tired, actually.  And they weren’t hiding the fact at all.

By the time (…fake Kristie Ray…) Kira sang her “McKaylee McKaylee McKaylee” song, I not only felt their pain, but realized how much I miss the Brady Buch.

Poor misunderstood Jan.  Been there.  Done that.

The winner of the challenge scored the first solo of the season, so that was good for a few more “McKaylees” before everyone headed off to rehearsals.

Oh.  And tiny little JoJo started getting the hornies for one of the TBoyz.  The Travis one, if I’m not mistaken.  I forget which one has the freckle.

She even made that stupid Taylor Swift heart sign that everyone makes with their fingers.  Over.  It.  Unless you have really fat sausage fingers, because then it looks more like the BatSignal instead of a heart.

Fo’ realz.  I swear.  It does.  Either look it up on Pinterest or find a fat friend.

Ally and Giaaaaaaanana were paired in a number titled “Eight,” which they hoped would keep Lifetime from getting sued by the producers of the movie Nine.  (See what they did there?)

Their rehearsal was pretty tame, but it did give Ally’s Mom Shari a few more opportunities to bash the other Moms.  Thank Gawd she’s a Dance Mom and not a Hockey Dad, that’s all I gotta say.

Marcia Marcia Marcia’s “I Danced A Dream” solo was based on Les Mis.  Studio Hopper Anthony Burrell and his backwards hat returned once again to choreograph the routine and to lay on the floor like he was hit by a Candy Apples sniper.

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I really need to know what happened between Tony and Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein back on Dance Moms.  Something tells me it was way more than just some missing jerky from the cooler.

Down the hall, JoJo Swift, Trinity and Tyler were all attempting to channel their inner paper boys for an “Extra Extra” hot off the press hip hop dance, which was proving to be a little more difficult than anticipated for JoJo and TBoy.

So much so that choreographer Erik Saradpon ended up yanking Tyler from the center lead spot and replacing him with Trinity.

Spoiler Alert:  Can you say ‘Foreshadowing?’  Figure it out.

Meanwhile, TBoy #2 Travis was in the next room getting his Phantom on with Kalani, who was busy getting her Fish Face on.  Again.

I swear.  No matter how many times Abby lays into this poor kid about her Kardashian Instagram selfie pout, she keeps on busting it out whenever she hits the dance floor.

And then Travis said he was a ‘Ladies Man,’ even though he’s not old enough to know what that means.  I blame the internet and Rachelle’s Boom Booms for that one.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Backstage, the Filly from Philly Cindy was busy weed whacking the fringe on Giaaaaaaanna’s dress using what appeared to be the dullest pair of scissors she could find in the building.  Hoping that more leg would translate into more points, Mom would have been better off just chewing the yarn from her kid’s dress.

Ally’s Mom was not happy that the two girls were no longer matched sets for their duet and then Cindy screamed and shoved the scissors into someone’s back so she would know where to find them later.

She’s from Philly, you know.  Love.  Her.

My boy Kevin Manno was all slicked up again.  I’m starting to think that maybe he just wears a baseball hat to the studio and that’s why his hair is always so molded to his head lately.  I dunno.

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Richy was finger waving his brains out in white gloves that were missing some of the digits.  I think they were supposed to look like that, but you never know when Cindy is back in the Green Room running with scissors.

Abby was pretty low key for starters, and Rachelle had forgotten her pants again.  But she did remember her sparkly top hat.  She probably left the iron on at home and forgot to lock the front door.  But she had her sparkly Chorus Line hat.

Because it’s Broadway, bitch.

Travis and Kalani’s number was going fairly well until they tripped on each other and almost took a Fish Face plant right there in front of the judge’s table.  Not cool.

JoJo, Tyler and Trinity’s New York Times dance slightly rocked the house.  At least Trinity’s part in the production, anyway.  But even Trinity was momentarily overshadowed a few times by Mom Tina’s bad a** gangstah faces from the sidelines.

Who knew that Mama liked her hip hop so much?  Girrrrrllll….you ratchet.

Giaaaaaaanna and Ally got it done.  Plain and simple.  Two finger waves!

Their routine even got Rachelle up on her pants-less feet like that crazy Bruno Tonioli from Dancing With The Stars as she raved about head rolls and feisty apples and Beyoncé hair and Boom Booms to the umpteenth power of Pow.

Sit down, Flashdance.  You’re drunk.

And then McKaylee McKaylee McKaylee hit the stage stage stage and showed everyone how you do a solo solo solo like a Boss.

Standing Ovation from the judges.  All three of ’em.

With a better buzz cut than Anne Hathaway, McKayKay owned that stage.  I think she grew a few inches backstage, too, because she nailed it with her long legs and fancy footwork.

If I had a clue what I was talking about I would mention her amaze ball chassé coupé blah blah blah, but I don’t know what those are and I don’t know if she actually did any.  I just Googled it to sound smart in front of my new dancer friends.

Rachelle told McKayKay that when she grows up and goes to Broadway, she will proudly pass the torch to her if she’s strong enough to pry it out of her cold dead hands.  Or something like that.

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For a moment I swear I saw the ghost of Robin Antin pass into Rachelle’s body and take credit for every thing that is right in the world of The Dance.  Remember how she used to do that all the time last season?

Yes, Robin.  Pussycat Dolls.  We remember.

With all the dancing done, it was up to the judges to sit in their harsh lighting and fiddle with their iPads until they decided who was going home this week.

The Bottom Three ended up being JoJo and the TBoyz.

In the end, JoJo and Mom Jessalynn‘s ginormous Bump-It (…clearly every Dance Moms franchise requires at least one big poof per episode.  And was it just me or did Jess look like one of those Greek Goddess ladies they always put on restaurant placemats with that one shoulder Athena thing she had going on?…) were saved and sent away, leaving Sheryl and the TBoyz all alone at center stage.

Thankfully, one of the Ts was wearing a hat, so we could tell them apart.  I think it was Tyler.  Because he was the one that got cut.

Until the cosmic Power Ranger Twin Bond kicked in, that is, and Travis announced that he would also be going home.  Because that’s what Power Ranger Twins do.

And then Abby Lee Miller blew a major nutty.  Because that’s what Abby does.

And then Rachelle got all flustered like she was back at the DMV and started hand circling to the cheap seats and going all OhNoYouDin’tJust….

You know it’s a contest, right?  With one winner?  Don’t make me dance, boy.

Sheryl interrupted Abby.  Abby interrupted Sheryl.  The TBoyz cried a little too much for big boys.

And then the one who wasn’t wearing a hat announced that he had just punk’d everyone’s a** and he would totally be back next week.

Psych.

And then there were  Five.  Six.  Seven.

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Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition: It Was Ninja Sticks To The Throat When Things Started to Get Unconventional.

Wednesday, October 2nd, 2013

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I appreciate the Callback Card, but can you check your boobs again for Bieber tickets?

 

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That’s right, haters. We’re back! So suck on that one. Jeah!

 

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Oh. Hell. No. That crazy bitch did NOT just tell me to slow down my groove. Imma srsly ’bout to hurt somebody.

 

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Crazy? You want Crazy, girl? I’ll give you Crazy! And how ’bout some Sas? Crazy Sas! Werk It! Want It! Where am I?

 

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Are we really gonna do this now, honey? Really? Cuz if we do, the only thing that’s gonna slow down is the oxygen getting to your lungs.

 

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Oh. My. Gawd. They were THE best flip flops evah. On Sale. With Layaway. Shut Up. I died right there.

 

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You might wanna cover your eyes, ladies, because Mama’s about to go all Pittsburgh Ninja on your kid’s a**.

 

 

“Unconventional.”

Google it.

When you do, the first thing that’ll pop up on your screen is a photo of Abby Lee Miller.

Her style of teaching.  Her interactions with every Dance Mom who has ever co-signed that infamous ALDC contract with the Devil.  Her questionable choices when it comes to costume jewelry and even more questionably pretty male companions.

Not to mention whatever it is that has been going on with her hair lately.

Unconventional?  Yes.

Boring?  Never.

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition was back and ready to show us all what ‘unconventional’ really looked like this week, complete with super-sized high school play props and those potentially lethal martial arts sticks that everyone is always swinging around in the Wolverine comic books.

The field of tiny dancers had shrunk by one again.  Kalani had been sent packing last week, mainly because the producers thought her Mom was Kristie Ray and the rules clearly state that you can’t be on the show two years in a row.  It’s in the fine print.

I’m sure the elimination scene is still painfully fresh in your mind.

Kalani cried.  Kalani’s Mom Kira cried.  Abby cried.  Half the kids cried.  One of the lighting guys cried.  I’m pretty sure even Jane Seymour was in the audience crying, because this is Lifetime Television after all and she is contractually obligated to be on the network once a week bawling her eyes out over something life changing.

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And then Rachelle gave Abby the best WTF side eye ever that somebody in the editing booth should have caught and destroyed before air time.

So as all the kiddos and Moms filed in for this week’s challenge, there was no Kalani.

And no bow in JoJo‘s hair.  Wait.  Whaa—?

I’m not even sure which was supposed to be more traumatizing to the viewing public.

Instead of her signature Honey Bow Bow headgear, Miss JJ (…if you’re nasty…) was rocking a tight hair bun that looked exactly like one of those decorative round dresser knobs you can special order from Crate & Barrel.

But before anyone could even process JoJo’s new look, in walked Kalani and Kristie/Kira.  Again.

Please.  No.  Not a plot twist before the first commercial.  I just can’t.

Did they miss their flight?  Are they squatting like homeless people in the bungalow, refusing to go home?  Are they just disoriented and can’t find the exit door?

And then, the moment that all of America had always feared would happen…or secretly hoped would happen in dirty dance boy chat rooms…happened.

And right in front of the kids.

Abby reached inside her bra like the big girls do at Burger King when their cell phone rings.  And I was all like, please Lawd…I know it’s cable, but don’t let her pull out what I think she is gonna pull out.

Drumroll…

False alarm.  It was just her Callback Card!!  That hot glued artsy craftsy card that she had refused to offer up while Kalani was on the chopping block last week.

But now it was back.  And probably pretty warm considering that it had been motor boating The Girls since breakfast.  I was actually kind of worried that maybe a few crystals might have fallen off when the glue started to soften up, but everything looked pretty secure as Abby pulled it out like she was Penn & Teller’s new assistant.

Taa-daa!  Like magic, Kalani was back in the game!  And just in time.

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The theme: Unconventional.

The skill:  Nada this time around.  Unless you count basic survival instincts.

The challenge:  Don’t get killed by a ninja.

Suddenly, martial arts stunt guy Nito Larioza either dropped from the ceiling or stepped out of a plume of shadow smoke and started swinging his stick at the kids.  I don’t know how he got there.

But it’s not like ninjas ring the doorbell.  They just show up and start kicking your a**.

Nito was immediately my idol because he had a name that you can’t say without faking an accent.  And he had worked on a Batman movie.

Umm.  Yeah.  Batman.

I don’t care if you run with scissors if you’ve touched the Batmobile, dude.  I bow to you and your little beanie.

The winner of the challenge was actually going to be a Mom this week, who would then get to choose the three dancers to stick in the bottom.  I smelled a bloodbath already.

After rolling and Karate Kid-ing their way past Nito and Abby, who looked like one of those Discovery channel documentaries about Eskimos who stab their own fish in the river, the winner turned out to be Trinity.  But not before some controversy.

Abby was just about to allow McKaylee to go through the obstacle course a second time due to having missed a crucial jump in the choreography, when everyone’s favorite loud Filly From Philly got her flip flops in a bunch and called out Abby for favoritism.

I mean, really.  How much do we love Cindy?

She’s from Philly, you know.  And Italian.

She’s also the kind of Mom who was put on Earth to embarrass her daughter and hold up the line at Walmart.  Like when she rolls down the window in front of the school and yells at Giaaaaanna to remember to ask the nurse for more ointment.

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Or when all her tampons fall out of her fake Louis bag as she’s looking for one of the 47 store loyalty tags that are dingling off her keychain while squishing her flip phone between her shoulder and ear and talking about how her dental hygienist shouldn’t be wearing leggings this soon after having that homely baby.

OMG.  Mom.  Just stop.  I’m not kidding.

As Abby cracked her stick over Cindy’s head and the kids went off to rehearse, Tina headed out back to cry and figure out who she was going to throw under the bus.

There was a lot of crying this week.

Trinity, JoJo and scaredy cat Haley were cast in what was either some kind of a pirate themed Walk The Plank routine or the final scene of Titanic where they could only jump from iceberg to iceberg without touching the floor.

By the time Abby showed up and asked Haley to stay down low on her block of ice a total of three times, it was clear that choreographer Matt Cady wanted to shove every one of them into the ocean.

Poor Haley.  She either needs to figure out how to blink like the rest of us, or somebody needs to get her some protective eye wear.  Like I’ve said before, it’s probably a good thing that she cries so much, just so she can keep those orbs properly lubed up.

Girlfriend be buggin’.

Down the hall, Giaaaaanna and Kalani were working on their Twisted silk scarf dance as Abby plopped it down next to Cindy to figure out why she talks so damn much.

Good luck with that, by the way.

Cindy had a fairly substantial neon green bandaid on a boo boo from what I assumed was an earlier hoagie accident.  I bet if you slow down when you eat your food, you won’t bite your fingers so much.  Just felt that should be pointed out.

The TBoyz were going head to head in an attempt to reach the Top Of The Pyramid with choreographer Peter Chu.  One of them was Tyler and one of them was Travis.

That’s about all I could figure out.

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Again:  Name tags, photo IDs or a visual cheat sheet, please.  Or maybe one could just grow a mustache.

Lastly, my girl Tarua Hall was trying to get Ally and McKaylee to untangle themselves from their hot mess of a Tangled Web spider dance.

Ally was having some timing issues, most likely brought on by all the dust that McKaylee was kicking up in her face as she smoked the routine.

Ally and her big hair have struggled a lot this season, but she has always tried to fight her own battles.  Thanks, Mom.  But no thanks.

Until now, when Mom went and opened her pie hole.

Oh, snap.  Tiffany basically interrupted the process to ask Tarua if she wouldn’t mind being a sweetheart and keeping all four of her eyes on her daughter and basically just ignore that other girl who seemed to be doing just fine on her own.

Oh…and slow down yo’ music, bitch.  This ain’t Dance Crew.

Ooooh, girrrrrl.  I know you did not just diss Tarua’s iPod mix and her fly glasses.

Luckily Abby showed up right when Tarua was gonna throw it all down.  (Lucky for Tiffany, I guess.  Unlucky for the rest of us who wanted to see a rumble.  Let’s Go!)

Tarua booted Tiffany out of the rehearsal and then flipped her weave a little like they do on The Real Housewives of Atlanta.  MmmHmm.  Take that.  Bloop!

Finally, it was Showtime!

My bro Kevin Manno, who was basically put on Earth to make tween girls squeal until they pee and to rock skinny jeans, was styling in a retro theater usher ensemble.  With his red jacket and black slim fits, he kind of looked like he could sneak backstage pretending to be one of Frankie Valli‘s Jersey Boy singers.

If you have to Google either Frankie Valli or Jersey Boys you probably need to just go right now.  I don’t think I even want you reading my blog anymore.

Someday the boys from One Direction will get old, too.  You just wait.

Keeping with the Batman theme, Richy Jackson was all Biff! Bam! Pow! with his pink cartoon bubble vest and three different pastel time zone watches.  Because you never know when someone is going to ask you what time it is in Zimbabwe.

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There were no amazing Slap Yo’ Mama routines.  The kids did well, but didn’t make any of the judges fall off their chairs.  Even the really good ones were just really good.

JoJo’s pirate eye patch wasn’t even on her eyeball, so that was probably a four point deduction right there.  Haley looked scared and then cried some more.

Ally’s timing was still off and Tarua was still waiting for Mom Tiffany in the parking lot behind a dumpster.  This is over when Queen T sez it’s over.  Mmmkay?

Ally let the cat out of the bag and announced…on stage…that she had just started taking ballet lessons, which I guess is not cool in the world of The Dance.

Not having taken any lessons myself, I’m not really sure what she is missing, but Abby got pretty twisted about the whole thing so I’m thinking that maybe I should look into some Learning Annex classes next Spring.

And speaking of twisted…Giaaaaana and Kalani did amazeballs.  Clearly the judges’ favorite dance of the night.

The TBoyz were eggshelly, according to Richy, which was either a reference to their dancing skills or their lack of sunlight.  They are a little pasty now that I see them under the spotlights.

One of them did better than the other.  You choose.

As the week’s competition wound down, it was now up to Tina to start crying again and throw the bottom three to the wolves.

Ally, McKaylee and Haley.  Please report to the front of the stage.

And then everybody started crying.

In the end, it was poor little Haley who got a major case of the ugly cry/hiccup sobs and was sent home.  Which was sad to see.

I can’t believe my boy Kevin didn’t give her a paper bag to breath into up there before scooting her off stage.  She and Mom Melanie lost their marbles.

I’m almost positive that Melanie kind of winked at Kevin on her way out.  Did you see that? What was that all about?  You don’t think they….?  No.  No way.

Unconventional Week was over.  With no more safe haven between Abby’s bosoms.

And then there were eight.

Again.

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Toddlers & Tiaras: It’s Time To Put On Your Gatsby Glitz And Flapper Dress. It’s The Roaring Trystian Pageant!

Friday, September 27th, 2013

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I tried asking my Director friend Carol what really went down in Vegas, but she’s still curled up in a ball and won’t answer her cell.

 

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The best thing about one baby running down the hall and another one lost in the elevator is that I have both hands free to cut a bitch.

 

 

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Oh. Hell. No.

 

 

 

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Imma ’bout ready to throw this baby on the floor and show you how the gurlz all multi-task back at HoodRat Hair Salon.

 

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Luckily, Mommy showed me how to snatch a weave on my own, just in case we’re running a little behind schedule.

 

 

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Sometimes if you squeeze them real tight right here, they actually go to sleep for awhile and I can finally catch up on all my stories.

 

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And then you grab it like this and drag her backwards down the stairs. Unless she’s wearing a lace front and then you can just pluck it off.

 

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Not gonna lie. That crazy bitch walked in and I literally pooped glitter right there in the hotel lobby.

 

 

 

Oh, yeah.

Now we’re talking.

I’ve said it a number of times before and it still stands.  There’s nothing I really love more than a big, steaming, juicy helping of Hot Mess.  Nothing.

Except for maybe multiple servings of the same Hot Mess, of course.  Then I may need a moment or two alone just to process everything on my plate and to get my equilibrium leveled off.

Like the latest installment of Toddlers & Tiaras & Trystian. 

Wha–?  That’s right, haters.

The Mom who put the Hood in Hood Rat and the Weave on Crooked is baaaaack!

And Trystian Janeace Barnes Smith is not just a mouthful, bitches.

She’s also quite a (bleepin’) handful.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, mmmkay?  First things first.

This week it was the prohibition themed Angel Face Roaring ’20s Pageant in White Plains, NY.  Flapper girls, gangsters and Gatsby Glitz as far as the eye could see.

Pageant Director Debbie Smith explained the whole process in such a calm, low key manner that at first I thought she was just pretending to be a director and we were all being punk’d on MTV.  I mean, there’s no way that anyone in the kiddie pageant industry could be that chillaxed, right?  No way.

But she was.  And she looked so familiar it was driving me crazy, until I realized that she waited on me one time in the Curtain Department at JCPenney.  I swear she did.

Either that, or she looks exactly like everyone who ever worked in the Curtain Department at JCPenney.  Those really friendly, soft spoken women who smell nice that used to cut fabric bolt yardage until the store got rid of the Notions Department and they had to transfer or go work at Joanne’s down the street.

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The Supreme Deep Dish winner of this week’s pageant would be the lucky one to take home either a $3,400 sapphire ring or a massively massive $5,000 Queen’s Castle bed/playhouse looking thing.  If your town’s zoning ordinances allowed it, that is.

Don’t ask.  You could literally park a car inside the thing it was so huge.  I have no idea why these people keep giving away such ginormous prizes when we’ve all seen the tiny homes that these people live in during filming.  Plus…what do the little boys in the competition get for showing up to the party?  I totally saw boys in the ‘hood this week.

If they plan on sending a dude home with a two story Queen’s Castle bedroom set, then I hope the Angel Face Pageant People are also going to supply the poor guy with 24 hour onsite security for life, because that kid is getting beat up twice before he even exits the ballroom.  Three times if you count his brother giving him a purple nurple.

It should probably also be pointed out that I’ve never met one preschooler who has ever asked Santa Claus for a $3,400 sparkling sapphire ring, so I don’t know who picked these prizes this week.

The first little princess wannabe was 3 year old Brooklyn and Mom Ashley.

Initially, I thought that Brooklyn was already in her flapper costume because she had one of those really cute, really round 1920’s faces that looked like she was BFFs with Buckwheat and had the Target dog as her family pet.

Mom was as cheap as they come, in a good way, and was proudly trying to bring the whole pageant weekend in at around $300, which is redoink if you know anything about pageants.  Armed with a $10 romper and a can of Krylon, I bet she probably came in under budget, which would explain the extra cash for all those chicken and biscuits she kept burping up during her interviews.

Chew your food slowly, honey.  I like your glasses.

Brooklyn was at that stage where she still didn’t use any punctuation in her sentences and hadn’t quite yet figured out how to smoothly transition between subjects, which I guess would explain why she liked to be in pageants and go on stage and poop glitter on the toilet while flying in spaceships to the zoo and knitting a piggy bank sweater with flowers on it but didn’t know how to make cupcakes even though she had the world’s largest Easy Bake oven in the background the whole time she was rambling.

t9

Yeah.  It was like that.  And then she fell off that slippery T&T stool a few times.

Ouch.

And speaking of messin’ yo’ face up…

Trystian was back, yo.  With frizzy haired 1 year old daughter Kelsie, her highly rambunctious big brother Angel and about 40 TLC censor guys with their sweaty fingers on the button.  And in case you wondering, she was back because you’re all bitches.

The last time we saw Trystian, she was throwing down (…Englewood Hood Rat Style…) out in Vegas at the California Tropic Sugar & Spice Pageant, getting all up in Director Carol Fleming‘s heavily eyebrowed face and being accused of unsportsmanlike conduct.  Which I guess is pageant talk for threatening to kill somebody with your bare hands.

There was also that whole annoyance when she was booty kicked out of the pageant by Carol’s awkwardly attired husband.  And when she called the Pageant Po Po.  And pretty much swore and sweat right through her Gangnam Style t-shirt as she dragged her two kids around the hotel like recyclable Whole Foods bags.  Outta my way, bitch.

And now she was back.  With a new weave and the same old (bleeped) out mouth.

The kind of mouth that never stops in front of the kids, and the kind of weave that has that zig zaggy part on top where you’re never quite certain if it’s intentional or not but it’s clearly not growing out of her head because no scalp meat shows in bright sunlight.

Girlfriend doesn’t have a filter, but she definitely has a flat iron.

Hot Mess…your table is ready.

Trystian explained that if YOU are gonna be a bitch and get all ghetto, then SHE is gonna be a bitch and get all ghetto.  Cuz that’s how she rolls when she’s not on her meds.  And then her baby said “Bitch” and the future of our country became clear to me before the first commercial break.

Remember when this show was just about Toddlers eating sugar and drinking coffee?

If you’re pressed for time and need to go, the rest of the show was basically Trystian swearing, Angel running around the hotel like a puppy that just jumped his invisible electric fence and Kelsie crying and falling down over and over.  And over.

t5

Rinse and Repeat.

If you can stick around, I bet there will be some real good shiz coming up.  I mean, there has to be if everyone was already at the hotel within the first 15 minutes of this week’s episode.  I guess practicing your finger kisses at the Elks Lodge and getting a kitchen table spray tan are for (bleeps) when Trystian’s in the hizzle.

After Curtain Lady Debbie uncomfortably attempted an explanation regarding the…ahem…director problems at the last pageant Trystian attended, it was time to get some hair and makeup done.

Debbie had recommended that Trystian pay for the services of Diane the Hair Lady, who was also apparently booked to do the other 247 girls at the Ramada.  Hair was important to Trystian.  It had to be right.  Tight and Right.

Because Trystian could get upset if it’s not.

Spoiler Alert:  Look at her hair.  And then look her kid’s hair.  And then do it again.

And then just sit back and enjoy the show.  Because it was already Showtime!

I don’t know who the emcee was, but I’m pretty sure that I bought a Nissan from him on the same day that Debbie sold me my living room curtains.  I loved that car, and I still have the curtains.  It was a good day.

Brooklyn’s Mom had rented a custom made designer Beauty dress for something like thirty bucks, which didn’t even make sense when she said it since I don’t know anyone who custom designs something and then willingly takes it back in 24 hours, but she looked cute even though the outfit weighed in at around 47 pounds.

While Trystian was checking her texts, Kelsie stopped crying just long enough to get chocolate stains all over her own cupcake dress, but luckily Mom seemed pretty well versed in tearing the crap out of another girl’s party dress and simply covered the whole mess with some fabric that she ripped right from Kelsie’s poofy shoulders.

If you swapped out Kelsie for a sloppy full grown woman putting on lipstick in the restroom of an Atlanta karaoke bar at closing time, you know exactly what I was picturing in my head.

I saw you talking to my man, bitch.  Let’s do this.  Rrrrrrip.

k

Can we just say that it wasn’t Kelsie’s day?  At all?  She cried.  Fell down.  Got the slo-mo music treatment which meant she was going to freeze on stage, and then fell down some more.  In every category.

Brooklyn on the other hand, was rockin’ the stage for her very first glitz pageant.  Which made me smile, since she was basically stuck on the show this week so it didn’t look like The Trystian Spin-Off Hour.

You go, little girl.  And poop out all the glitter you want.

By the time the Roaring ’20s Wear was about to start, Kelsie still hadn’t gotten any time with Diane to change out her baby weave.  And Girrrl…that ain’t right.

Granted, it was kind of hard to tell where the hair assembly line started and where it ended, but Kelsie definitely wasn’t getting her hair did next, fo’ sho’.  Needless to say, the delay got Trystian (bleeped) out a few hundred times and gave Angel a chance to snoop around all those empty Dunkin’ Donuts boxes before he took off like a bottle rocket down the hallway again.

Honestly, I don’t really know if Trystian showed up with two kids or twenty, because she had offspring flying around that building like it was a laser tag birthday party.  At the last pageant she at least had that baby daddy/boyfriend guy with her who kept taking his shirt off in front of the children, but this time she was flying solo and her meds were wearing off.

The Perfect Storm.

After getting nowhere with Diane, Trystian dragged a couple of kids down to the other end of the hall and confronted Curtain Debbie’s daughter, who was wearing what appeared to be the gown from Beauty & The Beast and a Dance Moms jacket.

I have no idea what was going on there, but I didn’t dare ask.  I guess it was chilly that day.  Or maybe she actually lives in that Queen’s Castle bed contraption.

She didn’t get any further with Belle than she had with Diane, so Trystian made a quick 180 and retraced her erratic steps back to the makeup room.  With one baby under her arm and another one somewhere within the range of the building’s security cameras, Trystian headed in to confront Diane a second time.

Because she paid for some (bleepin’) hair and makeup time, bitch.

Insert your favorite GirlFight lines here: _____________________.

d3

But Diane wasn’t having it while she was trying to get a knot out of some other little tyke’s fake hair.  No ma’am.  Plus she could smell a loose cannon a mile away, even through that cloud of toxic Aqua-Net gas.  Diane was really pretty and clearly knew her shiz.  So dial it down a notch or two, honey.

Pageant Hair is like Burger King during the lunch rush.  You get out of line, you lose your spot.

Which made Trystian blow a nutty.  But a subdued nutty.  Because she didn’t want to go to jail in another state.  So Diane was lucky that they weren’t both back in Vegas where Trystian would have gone completely boughetto ghetto on her sorry strip mall salon a**.

I’m wasn’t sure if that meant they don’t have a prison system in Las Vegas, or if she didn’t mind going to jail in her home town because she had a couple of besties who could break her out from the inside.  Whatev.

At some point in the festivities Trystian attempted to do Kelsie’s synthetic hair all by herself, which the baby immediately pulled out and threw on the floor in the hallway like she was being filmed by VH1 or something.

Yeah.  She definitely gets it from her mama.

Don’t make me take my pretty feet shoes off.

Then there was some more crying.  Some more kids falling down.  Some more kids running in circles.  And then a whole lot more swearing.

In front of the kids, of course.

When it was all over, Brooklyn did great and was a happy camper.  She smiled and then fell off the stool again.

Kelsie cried some more and unfortunately didn’t do that great.  She was also missing some of the tracks in one of her Miley Cyrus poofs.

Trystian snagged the score sheets and thought the whole thing was BS.  From now on they would only be going to pageants where they could win, which I thought was the whole point of this circus in the first place.

Diane made it to her car in one piece and immediately locked the doors.  I believe she entered the Witness Protection Program the following Monday.

Debbie couldn’t go out for drinks with the girls after work because she had to be up early for the JCPenney White Sale.

And then The Roaring Trystian Pageant was over.

Go home, bitches.

t3


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