Posts Tagged ‘Reality TV Recap’

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: Will The Runaway Bride Please Report To The Party Before Alana Eats All The Pizza?

Sunday, August 11th, 2013




Lawd. Dippin’ and Doorknobbin’ can really take it out of you. I’m almost too pooped to toot… Almost. Pthhhpptt.







I should probably carbo load before the Big Day. And pepperoni loading couldn’t hurt, either.






What a rip. I only agreed to this cuz I thought the padded bra cutlets were gonna be made of real chicken meat.







I would totally be a Runaway Bride if it didn’t have the word ‘Running’ in it. Dang.








Oh, yeah. Smoochie still got it goin’ on.








The Kuntry Stoe Kardashians call it a Redneck Facial. Don’t be hatin’…







Basically, I’m just trying to fit in with all the hungry white women and not lose a finger at the buffet table. Oh Mi Dios.





Just say Yes to the dress.

And No to that third helping of Buffalo Wings, if you know what I mean.

The countdown to the highly anticipated Royal Redneck Almost-Wedding has begun, and this week on Here Comes Honey Boo Boo everyone was either sweating it out or shoveling it down in preparation for the Big Day.

With Sugar Bear still recuperating from his pancreatitis scare, Mama June had spent the last few weeks shuttling back and forth between Casa Boo and the hospital, which was causing her to fall behind in both household chores and Commitment Ceremony planning.  Which in layman’s terms meant that she barely had enough time to pick out food from a menu, much less up off the living floor.

And that needed to change asap.

Luckily, Jessica had stepped up to the (…paper…) plate and offered to help keep the household running like a well oiled linoleum Slip ‘N Slide.

Taking on the role of Mini-Mama, Chubbs made certain the the house stayed in as close to one piece as possible, even if that meant hosing off Alana‘s shampoo-covered head in the same kitchen sink where they peeled potatoes and rinsed out Nugget the Chicken‘s sketti pot after her nap.

(Seriously.  A damn chicken.  In the house.  On the oven.  In a pot.  I just can’t.)

And we all know that when you gotta get stuff done quickly and get back to the couch for more cheesy snacks, it’s all about the multi-tasking.  So if someone lays an egg on the counter in the middle of Shampoo Night, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.  Just keep on keepin’ on, Girlfriend.


Heck…some of them fancy pants strip mall salons across town probably charge extra for that treatment and your house pet just pooped it out for free on the same cutting board you use for sausage links.

From what I recall the few times I’ve glanced at Toddlers & Tiaras, I believe you score extra points from the pageant judge when your hair is super big and shiny, anyway.  So no matter what chaos takes place in that kitchen,  I’d say it’s a win-win all around.

After rinsing all the blue ‘poo bubbles and chicken fuzz from her hair, Alana got right to mopping down the kitchen with one of those twisty fabric strip mops that the crazy State Fair guy with the headset mic is always selling in the ShamWow! booth.

But wait.  There’s more!

Say what you will about Honey Boo Boo Child.  You can’t say she ain’t thorough when it comes to her domestic responsibilities.

Boo mopped the floor.  The stove.  The kitchen counters.  The outside of the refrigerator.  The inside of the refrigerator.  The food in the refrigerator.

You heard me.  Even the food.

Who knew?  I don’t recall the ShamWow! Guy ever showing me how easy it was to slop a dirty floor mop all over my cold cuts and milk cartons, thus speeding up not only the cleaning process but also the amount of time it takes for botulism to fully incubate on my Kraft cheese slices.

I’ve wasted so much time and money waiting for food to go bad all these years.

While Alana was busy infecting the household food supply, Mama was still back at the hospital with Sugar Bear, kanoodling and doorknobbing as they plotted his release.

The poor little guy looked so tired and just wanted to go home.


Sugar Bear missed his family.  A lot.  And no doubt also his mouthful of tobacco drool, because I’m pretty sure that hospital jello can’t compare to a wad of dip in your cheek.

But mostly he missed the girls and his big June Bug, and just wanted to be back home declaring his love for them all out of every open window.  Extra loud, of course, so everyone could hear it over the sound of that train skimming the side of the garage every fifteen minutes.  Can you even imagine?

With the doctor’s blessing, Mama packed up all his Firehouse Sub t-shirts and it was finally time to go home and begin the healing process.

And to pick out dresses for the Commitment Ceremony!

I know, right?  Pumpkin in a dress.  Shut.  Up.

Now I don’t know what kind of fashion store GG Formals was supposed to be, but it looked like that first scene after Dorothy crash landed in Oz and she walked out of her house and almost went blind.

No.  We’re not talking stuffy formal wear and prissy gowns.

We’re talking My Great Gypsy Redneck Hello Kitty Circus Pageant Rainbow Wedding.

On acid.

And can we talk dress code, while we’re at it?  What kind of formal shop has their employees wear aprons?  Like the kind they wear on that Cupcake show.

And who knew that Pumpkin was actually a girl?  Did you?  I totally would have lost that bet when she came out of the dressing room all awkward girly boob and smelly feet.

And how much do you think they had to pay that employee to stand inside the fitting room spraying it down with a can of Bowling Shoe Squirt?


Yup.  Pumpkin proudly comparing her warm mismatched StinkFeet to soft brie followed by a moment of reflective self-doorknobbing pretty much did me in for this week.

I’m done.  Can we go now?

I love this show.

While that cute little baby with the three thumbs rolled all around the floor like she was watching CrazyTown cartoons (…I mean…c’mon.  How cute is that baby?…) the three big girls all paraded in and out of the fitting rooms in a veritable PopArt splash of I don’t know what.

There was seriously so much glitter and feathers and rhinestones and sequins ricocheting around the room that it appeared to send Alana into some kind of Go-Go Juice flashback that required her to physically support herself on the mirror with two hands until she stopped pageant trippin’.

Work it out, Smoochie.  Work it out.

After finally agreeing on dresses that didn’t make the fat girls look so fat (…their words, not mine…) everyone headed home to show some more love and jump on Sugar Bear’s tender pancreas.

But it wouldn’t be an episode of Boo Boo if there wasn’t some eating involved.  So bring on the pizza.  And the wings.  And more pizza.  And more wings.

And then maybe even tiramisu, which made no sense whatsoever.

That’s right.  June’s Almost-Wedding Bridal Shower was in full gear!

But we got the presents as an endless parade of friends and relatives streamed into Amici’s Restaurant.  Let’s just say that if there really is a God of Reality TV, at least ten of them will have their own TLC show by the time the 2014 season lineup is revealed.

Starting with June’s sister Doe Doe.


Like the bird, I guess.  Or two baby deer, maybe.  I dunno.

Nice and smiley and super friendly.

And dating José, who pretty much gave me a reason to live again.  Love.  Him.

This guy was so politically incorrect that in his two fleeting minutes on camera he probably single handedly set the Justice for Janitors campaign back about 20 years.

He giggled about how the day he met Doe Doe (…in a Home Depot parking lot?…) she called him a Border Jumper and then asked him to go dancing at the Ramada.

Or something.

Full disclosure:  I was so mesmerized by señor José that I may be making some of this up.  Can I even say Border Jumper without getting my site shut down?

Then he showed June his dancing skills right there at the pizza table, which kind of looked like he was using two mops at one time but I couldn’t be certain.  It was sort of like the Windshield Wiper move they used to do on MTV mixed with someone getting ready to tag a dumpster with two Krylon spray cans.  I need to party with this guy asap.

Then he explained that he was the only male in the entire joint and that he was working hard at fitting in with all the White Women.

And then my head exploded and I woke up during a Geico commercial.

(Anybody know what day it is?  Mike Mike Mike Mike…)

Shut the front door.  And the border, por favor.

Seriously.  Paula Deen can’t sell ham on QVC anymore but this dude just called out an entire room full of rednecks.  Only in America.

Vote for José


Aside from the hilarity surrounding José and his mad dancing skills, there was also the usual sloppy eating and food fights as Pumpkin shoved tiramisu into Mama’s face and Alana inhaled everything she could fit on her plate.

Another friend Vicki skipped her appointment at the salon for a root touch-up and came straight to the party to show support for June.  Not sure what was going on with her hair, but she was a good friend to make an appearance even though she predicted that June would bolt and not go through with the ceremony.

In a touching final moment, we got to see a side of Mama June that she works hard to hide.  The softer side.

While trying to thank everyone for showing up, June got all choked up and then lost her nutty in a sobbing meltdown.  After only seeing her pass gas and Monster Sneeze and do her jiggly Pageant Mom dance behind the judges all these years, it was nice to see Mama just be Mama.

Because it is what it is.

Mama loves her Man.  And her Family.  And her Friends.  And her Food.

Pretty much in that order.

And when you can have them all together?  All at once?

Even better.

So once José cleaned the place up, one more thing could be checked off The List.

All that was left this week was to go home, tuck in the kids, find a good doorknob and burn off some of that pizza.



Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: Grab A Doorknob & Plan A Redneck Wedding. Chubby Chasers Need Love Too, Y’all.

Saturday, August 3rd, 2013




OMG. Why didn’t we think of this before? The Honky Booty workout video with bonus Toot & Scoot dance moves DVD!







Do you mind if we discuss this later? I’ve got fat in my eye.








Proof that even Cupid buys in bulk. True Love now comes in industrial sized containers.







I don’t think it’s really necessary to drive-thru Burger King 14 times. I’m pretty sure you got that left turn down.






This rubber thing tones my arm flab and doubles as a pretty sweet cheese ball slingshot.








Boo Boo got back.








No lie. Then they ate the damn food right off the display. White People are cray, Yo.





Now where were we?

Oh, wait.  I remember.

Love…and that strange pollen-looking fuzz that’s always stuck on their clothing…was in the air over at Casa Boo Boo.

When we last saw the Dynamic Duo, Mama June and Sugar Bear were in the kitchen getting all kinds of Romantical on each other, surrounded by a veritable potpourri of waxy Dollar Store scents, a chicken that was finally in his damn cage and one of those shiny golden plastic eggs that the fancy pantihose comes in over at Walgreen’s.

Yup.  It was Proposal Day on Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.

After 9 years of playing house, Sugar Bear had washed his hair and put on his funeral shirt in order to properly pop the question in the hopes that June would finally overcome her fear of the “M” Word.

Marriage, that is.  Not Macaroni.  Girlfriend definitely ain’t scared of her sketti.

With all the Boos peeking around every corner, Mama squirmed and blushed and left the room and flushed and then came back with her final answer.  Sorta.

Since patience and table manners are slim to none in the Boo household, the girls couldn’t stand the suspense any longer and crashed the party right as Mama was about to break Sugie’s heart with a flat out ‘thanks, but no thanks’ and convinced her that a Commitment Ceremony was the next best thing to making it legal.

That didn’t sound so scary.  And that way, Sugar Bear could still be one step closer to the “M” Word without Mama having to lose her nutty in front of God and TLC.

Done.  Winner Winner, Chicken Dinner.  Fried, of course.

And shoveled down in front of that live chicken who just sat there in its cage watching in horror.  I don’t know if chickens actually blink or not, but if they do…that one didn’t.


There was also some better-than-sex back scratching to consummate the meal as Sugar worked his way up and down June’s beautimousity like a true playa.

Mama likes that shiz.  If you’re gonna Love, wear the Glove.  Or a Mitten, I guess.

All this non-wedding talk had made June and Sugar Bear a little sentimental about the good o’ days, so next we all gathered around the table for a trip down Memory Lane, courtesy of a few photo albums and a whole lot of TMI.

We saw Sugar Bear as a cub in a couple of his baby pictures and numerous vintage shots from the June B.C. era (…Before Calories…) back when she was a looker and cruised the dial-up internet for pieces of a**.

Yeah.  That’s how they met.  We’ll just save that one until the kids go to bed.

At 9 years and still going strong, Sugar Bear is Mama’s second longest relationship.  Or so she said.  Except that he’s actually the longest relationship.  But the second one if you count the first one that was with another dude that only lasted for 5 years.  The first longest with the second guy.  So the second longest even though most countries consider 9 to be a larger number than 5.  Or something.

Seriously.  If Mama couldn’t even figure it out, don’t look at me.

I tell you.  Math…and Exercise…are hard.

And speaking of…

Mama and Lauryn (…aka “Pumpkin“…) had decided that it might be in their best interest to shed a few pounds before the ceremony, so needless to say, it was right about now that the hilarity began to ensue.

Pumpkin had gained quite a bit of weight over the past 24 hours (…srsly…every time I see her, I swear…) and she was no longer fitting in with all the other bitches at McIntyre’s School For Skinny Girls.  So clearly it was time to do one sit-up and then buy some equipment at Sports Authority.

Mama was even willing to cut the household soda supply pipeline if it would help, but Pumpkin felt that might be a little extreme.  Let’s just start with that one sit-up.


As Pumpkin helped raise June up from the carpet using the same technique I saw somebody use to lift a horse from a sinkhole on the Discovery channel, it was clear they had a long way to go.  But we love this crazy family, so more power to ’em.

Feel the burn, girls.

While Mama and June were practicing their balancing act, Sugar Bear had been flipping channels and saw on Say Yes To The Dress how important a Wedding Planner was to the entire process.

So it was off to meet with Brandi Walker Maddox and her mute assistant Linh.

Forever Fabulous was their name.

Wedding Planning…and being sassy…was their game.

You know I loved Brandi.  With her Ann Taylor blazer and Dance Moms braces, I’m going to assume she’s the only wedding planner in McIntyre.  Which explains why she didn’t even feel the need to excuse herself whenever she thought she was going to laugh at June and all of June’s crazy budgetary and dietary restrictions.

She just laughed that kind of slurpy, wet laugh you laugh when you first get braces and flat out told June she was dreaming if she thought she could feed 60 people for $1500 and not come down the aisle naked.

Girrrl, pleez.  You so crazy.  OhHellNo.  Jelly Beans are naaasty.  But I do love me those Gummy Worms.  MmmMmm.

Linh just kind of sat there motionless.  I think she may have actually been a ventriloquist puppet for Brandi’s side job, because if they laugh every client out of the building I can’t believe they are pulling in much profit.

At least Mama and Sugie thought to completely obliterate the food sample table before they left and headed home to turn their ceremony into an extreme couponing DIY event.

$10,000?  I don’t think so.  I’ll take that cheese, though.  Peace out.


Back home, it was time to start working off some of those Wedding Planner snacks, so Mama set up five circuit stations like they show on them infomercials complete with weights, rubber tubes and giant bouncy balls.

Lots of balls, actually.  And nobody could stop saying it.  Balls.  Balls.  Balls.  Like they were all in 5th grade PE class getting hit in the junk on Dodge Ball Day.

Let’s just say it was a hot mess and move on.

Beyond the beautimous body, June explained that it was also important to work the facial muscles so they remained firm and toned for those days when you need to put some paint on that barn.

RuPaul would have been so proud, because she was totally giving Face.

Play-Doh Face.

Taking a break from the ceremonial planning, Jessica and Anna were making attempt #463 at completing their Learner’s Permit test.  Having failed 462 times, they were determined to get it done this time around.

Unfortunately, only Chubbs passed, leaving Chickadee in her dust as she jerked and squealed out of the driveway with Sugar Bear strapped and trapped inside her uncle’s car.

Uncle Poodle.  Dude.  That is such an un-gay car.  What are you thinking?

(Spoiler Alert:  Without actually having access to any medical records, I would hazard a guess that inching along the highway towards a potentially flammable factory smokestack with Jessica behind the wheel may have helped put unnecessary stress on Sugar Bear’s heart.  Just thinking out loud.)

Once everybody made it home with all their limbs intact, it was back to the planning process.

Or it would have been, if the new craze that’s sweeping the nation hadn’t reared its ugly…umm, rear…in the midst of the discussions.


Move over Monopoly…cuz you just got Doorknobbed, Bitch.

Doorknob!  The game that combines screaming, unintentional exercise and thunderous flatulence into one hilarious pig pile of players all suffering from a low tolerance to dairy.

It’s pretty technical, so try to keep up.

Someone lets one rip.  Then someone else screams “Doorknob!”  Then the person who passeth the gasseth has to dash across the room and touch a doorknob while the person who did NOT release a butt honk tries and stops them by any means short of actual bloodshed or mutilation.

Sitting on their face is ok.  Just don’t break their nose.

For the twist that you never saw coming, if the person who actually tooted can scream “Safety!” and put the international sign language symbol for Loser up on their forehead before the other non-tooting person can scream “Doorknob!” then the game is over as soon as it started and everyone goes back to updating Facebook.  The End.

Did I mention that Alana came up with the game?

And that I used to read books?


As if that wasn’t enough fun, we then moved on to creating the guest list…and I need to meet all of these people immediately.

Best.  Redneck.  Drag Queen.  Names.  Ever.

Snap John.  Little Willy.  Pork Chop.  Box Car.  Catfish.  Fat Daddy.

And please don’t forget to invite Corn and Niblet.

The best birth certificates in the world.  I just can’t.

No wonder Sugar Bear passed out.


And he kinda did, poor thing.  Sugie was in a bad way.  Really bad.

As he was rushed to the hospital after a particularly bad night, it was clear that something was really wrong with Sugar Bear.  And the whole thing got kind of real.

Call them what you will, but the Boos are Family.  And that’s all that matters when one of them goes down.

Mama’s Chubby Chaser had pancreatitis.

Nobody could say it.  Or spell it.  But he had it.

And it’s pretty serious, because you kind of need your pancreas to stay inside you so it can do whatever it is that your pancreas does on a daily basis.

(If this was actually still The Learning Channel they would probably have had some medical special on the subject, but those dancing kids from Atlanta probably hogged the time slot.  Or those Amish people who take off their funny hats and suddenly think they live on the Jersey Shore.  As if.)

So Sugar Bear was sick.  And everyone was getting sad and crying a little and realizing how much they loved him.  Watching him read the homemade cards that the girls all scribbled out for him was actually a little touching because he always has that emotional glaze over his eyes when he talks about The Family.

If you were taking shots every time Mama accidentally said “Wedding” instead of “Commitment Ceremony”  (…or every time Brandi and Mama tossed “Wing It” back and forth…) you were probably already passed out by now, but if you stuck around for the entire show than you know that they are one tight knit family.

Sloppy and pretty dirty and they touch waaaaaay too many doorknobs in one day.

But they’re Family.

And it is what it is.  So they all banded together, had a couple of hugs and one more really good fart before going to bed to pray for Sugar Bear’s quick recovery.



To Be Continued…

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Dance Moms: Girrrl, Pleez…It’s Time Take Off Your Spanx And Have A Seat, Because It’s Clash Of The Mamas.

Wednesday, July 31st, 2013




Imma ’bout to pop these acrylics and show you all how Mama likes to dance.







Oh Hell No. Why is Anthony yelling at me? And why is he wearing a dress?







Umm. Hello? Excuse me everyone, but my name is Payton. And I’m better than you.






Really? You’re just lucky little Britney back there is taping this on her iPhone with the pink bow, or these damn earrings would be off already.





Srsly? Where the hell is the waiter? My burger’s cold and this beer’s been empty for like ten minutes. Dang.






Did I miss a memo while I was in LA? When did my show get so ratchet?







Meanwhile, at Walmart…





Who gon’ check me, Boo?

Who, you ask?  Well, since there were about 110 Moms to choose from on the latest episode, I guess you could probably just take your pick.

Holy Dance Moms Overload, Batman.

They were coming out of the woodwork and dropping down through the air ducts like ninjas this week.  Moms everywhere.

Old ones.  New ones.  Missing ones.  Classy ones.  Sassy ones.  Returning ones.  Guest star ones.  Senile ones.  Questionably attired ones.  Ones that could mess you up and still be home in time for dinner.

It was literally Mamas fo’ Miles, which coincidentally enough, is the new charity organization I just invented that will ensure every overprivileged kid in every white collar suburban school gets their own 64GB iPad so they can Google the word ‘Ratchet.’

What the Hell did I just watch?

I need to go back and check my notes to see if anyone actually danced on the show this week.  I’m so disoriented that I can’t even remember.

It was full on Real Housewives of Pittsburgh, I tell you.  So let’s not waste any time.

Coming off another successful annual ALDC Recital, it was time to hit the studio and get ready for the next competition.  After the Pyramid of Shame, of course.

Basement seating had been reserved for Paige, Brooke, Asia and Nia.

Paige and Brooke has missed yet another recital, thanks to yet another (bleeped) out meltdown by Mom Kelly, so they kind of deserved the bottom row even though it wasn’t really their fault.  I felt bad for them, but honestly I was more jealous that Kelly had so much money that she can afford to pay for a dance studio that she never uses.  Feel free to adopt me.  Those girls are screaming for a whacky big brother.

Nia was down there once again because she was good, but not great.  Abby wanted more from little La Quifa.  She also wanted Asia to stop wearing her pants backwards.

The middle row was filled with Mackenzie, Maddie (…say Wha–?) and Chloe.


Maddie was knocked down a peg because she didn’t immediately raise her hand and offer to do a solo last week.  Chloe was considered the MVP of the recital, but her Mom was still Christi and you know how that usually goes down.  MackAttack was chastised for not knowing enough Nerd Moves, which I guess is now a bad thing in schools today.


Top of the heap was Kendall and her Mean Girls magazine cover shoot.  Werk it, girl.

This week they were all headed to a brand new competition in Lancaster, PA called Believe National Talent Competition.  Which doesn’t even have the word ‘Dance‘ in the title, so it wasn’t really clear if you could also sing and juggle for prizes.  I assumed that they would be editing out all the ventriloquism acts since this is Dance Moms, after all, but Abby kind of skimmed over all the rules.

Chloe, Kendall and Nia would be doing a solo, just so Maddie could make a pouty face.

The group routine was called ‘Open Waters’ and would be performed with a prop which basically looked like a repainted wedge of cheese that MackSplat probably used for backflips during one of the gazillion times she was dressed up like a country mouse.

And speaking of country.  It was off to Ohio and the Evil Dance Lair known as Candy Apples!  Cue the drive-in movie music.

After losing out again to the ALDC, Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein had apparently shipped her entire boy band dance team off into the Witness Protection Program, because they were just gone.

I mean…gone.  Like vanished.  Without a trace.  Not even Jalen‘s crybaby Daddy Rick or his box of kleenex was left as evidence.

In their place was yet another newly created team fresh off the Anthony Burrell assembly line.


AUDC alum Hadley had stuck around so Lifetime could continue to pimp out the upcoming season.  (Coming September 3rd to a television near you.)

The fact that her Mom Yvette is about 110 pounds of Crazy in a Crazy Sack probably didn’t hurt her chances either.  Plus, if there’s ever an opportunity for my girl Kristie Ray to pop off on Yvette…well, you can just sign me up right now.

Hit Me!  Go ahead.  Hit Me!  Those were good times, weren’t they?

Nicaya was back again, mainly so America could keep saying ‘Black Patsy‘ every time her ‘hood Mama walked into a scene and not get judged.  If she picked the name, you can’t be getting all Paula Deen on my a**, mmmkay?

Mari and Mom Gina D. were also back at Candy Apples, but now Mom was allowed to lose the “D” off the end of her name due to Zack‘s Mom having gone MIA.

Some newbie Brooke #2 showed up, along with her mouthy Mom Michelle, who pretty much got up in Anthony’s face before they even chose seating arrangements.

But the big dealio news flash was the Return of Lucas Triana.

Yes.  Hold on to your panties, girls.  Lady Killer Lucas is back in the Dance Moms hizzle.

You remember Lucas.  Twenty years after Dance Moms: Miami got the axe and he still looks exactly the same.  Still made of the same goop they use in Stretch Armstrong toys and still busting out that one leg up in the air move that he invented.

Mom Bridget, on the other hand, looked a little traumatized at having to give up all her comfortable teal surroundings at the beach and shlep her kid all the way up to Ohio, but you do whatchoo gotta do, I guess.

The Candy Apples team would also be heading to Lancaster this week, so Anthony had created a Four Seasons group dance (…the actual seasons of the year, not the hotel…) which was basically four girls running in a circle around Lucas while he stuck his leg up in the air.  But they still needed to rehearse, just to be safe.


As did the ALDC girls back in Pittsburgh.  Except that there were some noticeable holes in the choreography with Paige and Brooke being held hostage in their own home.  So Abby called in some replacements.

Payton was back…again.  All 8 feet of her.

Up in the MomPerch they all braced themselves for what they knew would be coming next:  Payton’s Mom Leslie.

No lie.  It was just like in a Godzilla movie or something as she clunked up the stairs.

The camera wobbled like the ceiling tiles were about to drop to the floor.  Go back and watch it again.  I’m not making it up.  It was perfect timing.

Seriously.  How much does this chick weigh?  Or maybe Lifetime just needs to hire cameramen who can handle 40 pounds of camera on their shoulders while walking backwards up a flight of stairs.  I’ll cut her some slack since I don’t have all the details.

Plus we need to talk about Kristie some more.

This week she had gone to the salon and got her hair all did up in one of those really tight JLo buns that make your earrings look even bigger than they already are, so naturally I couldn’t wait for the first head snap.

And how much do you love Kristie’s posture?  Straight up proper spinal alignment like they teach you in the military.  She always looks like she’s sitting in the middle of that couch on The View waiting for Whoopie to ask her a question about self defense while the rest of the Moms slouch back like they’re watching the Superbowl.

And even better than that, did you see when Leslie plopped all her Godzilla goodness down in Kelly’s spot and Kristie gave her some SideEye?  Tell me Mama Ray didn’t look like some socialite taking public transportation for the first time because her stretch limo was in the shop.

Jeeves.  Who are all these common people…and why are they sitting so close to me?

Get me my hand sanitizer.  It’s in my Louis bag.

Love.  Her.


And then, with absolutely no advance warning at all, there was a commercial for Lifetime’s Double Divas show and I saw Abby Lee Miller in a bra that didn’t fit.

On a widescreen plasma.

I now have to sleep with a nightlight and hope that maybe one day I’ll get the vision back in my right eye.  You’ll be hearing from my lawyers, Lifetime.

The Momapalooza continued with Chaos Cathy taking her mom and sniffly Vivi-Anne out to lunch to discuss the upcoming competition.  Grandma had no idea where she was and Vivi-Anne just sat there snarfing up burgers for the winter.

Nana noted with a breaking newsflash that Vivi-Anne was certainly ‘an Eater.’  Which is pretty much right up there with acknowledging that the sky is blue.  Duh.

There was also some really poor editing where there was absolutely no food on the table anywhere and then all of a sudden, in the middle of a conversation, Cathy was leaning over her plate globbing up a bowl of nachos like the meal had just been beamed down with that machine they used to use in Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Get it together, people.  Probably the same guy who couldn’t hold the camera steady.

Back in the MomPerch, Leslie continued her mission to take over Kelly’s spot permanently while Kristie phutzed with her touchscreen…either tweeting me or blocking my account.  It was hard to tell.

Yes.  Kristie tweets me.  Don’t be hatin’.

Finally, it was Showtime!  And Pre-Showtime, which was even better.

Payton mouthed off (…again…) by making sure that everyone in the room knew her name after Abby accidentally called her Kendall.  Say my name.  Say my name.

Unless you spell it “B-E-Y-O-N-C-É” I think you can dial it down a notch, honey.

Out in the lobby, Kristie and Yvette got right down to bidnezz in front of the Believe CEO Gary, who kind of looked like an actor and my mailman all at the same time.

In the heat of the battle, JLo’s new bun made her look like Patti LaBelle werkin’ the last chorus of Over the Rainbow as her earrings flapped all around the room and she did that sharp point the finger/pull it back even faster thing that I still have yet to master.

Really, Yvette?  Really?  Take your spanx off.  Take your spanx off.


I just can’t.  How do I make that my ringtone?

Then there was actually about 45 seconds of dancing, but nobody really cared because it’s always about the After Party.

And Anthony’s Mama.

Girl, pleez.  Lifetime, if you’re not going to give Vivi-Anne her own spin-off, you damn well better be coming up with something for this piece of work.  Or I will.

All techno-weave and back tattoos, Anthony’s Mom had overheard somebody talking shiz about him (…that’s my baby!…) and pretty much just left a burning cigarette on the window ledge and came inside with her lady friends for a beat down.

Bring it on sez Jill.  I see where Anthony gets it.


Apparently, after you’ve had Black Patsy push your nose half way across the room, you completely lose all fashion sense as well as your fear of Death.

Anthony’s Mama got all up in Jill’s grill while the other 109 Moms gathered around like they were filming it for youtube.

Screaming Moms.  Yelling Moms.  It was like 4:59am in a Target parking lot on Black Friday when you know there are only 12 pairs of Air Jordans in the whole store.

Let’s just say that it gave me life…and that the unedited Director’s Cut DVD is going to be the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.  Ever.

Coming and going, Anthony’s Mama was just a wrecking ball in a racer back.

Luckily, she took off to Sears for a new Ratchet Wrench before she could pummel Jill into a puddle of fake fur and lace, and everyone got to leave the competition in one piece.  Flustered, but with all their veneers intact.

Lawd.  Anthony’s Mama.

Who would’ve guessed that  Abby Lee Miller in a poorly fitted bra was no longer the most traumatizing thing I had to witness this week?

I seriously need to take off these damn spanx and chill.  It’s been a rough night.


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