Posts Tagged ‘Reality TV Recap’

Toddlers & Tiaras: Please Don’t Feed The Animals Or Throw Any Fierce Drag Queen Shade. It’s LalapaZOOza!

Friday, June 21st, 2013




If your mansion doesn’t have a skylight to handle a 14′ trophy, then you’re probably too poor to be in the pageant anyway.





Those snotty kids can pry this off my cold dead body. Get your own crown… I’m Britney, Bitch.






With all our money we both decided to genetically engineer kids with heads big enough to finally handle those damn crowns they keep handing out.





I still don’t know what a drag queen is, but out back there’s enough duct tape to seal every leaky pipe in the entire building.






Sit still for crying out loud. I want your lips nice and moist when you meet Cher.







So, yeah. I kissed a girl and I liked it. Eeew…kidding. That shiz is so nasty.








Suck it, Bitch.





“We’re born naked, and the rest is Drag.”

RuPaul said that.  And for some reason, I know it.

I don’t generally make a habit of tossing that quote around during a Bruins game, and I’m pretty sure it’s not on my updated resume anymore.

But for some reason it’s stored away in my mental file cabinet along with Sparkle, Baby and Werk It, Girl and it suddenly came back to me this week during Toddlers & Tiaras.

It was the Little Mr. and Miss Nevada Pageant: LalapaZOOza and all kinds of absolutely faaaabulous wild animals came out of the closets and cages to werk that stage in Las Vegas.

Pageant Director Tami Soudbakhsh (…five years later and I still have to Google her to figure out how to spell it…) explained how the whole Animal Kingdom thing was going to go down and how the trophy was going to keep going up and up and up.

Like 14′ in the ayah ayah.

Gah.  I finally stopped dwelling on what the eff that winning family was going to do with the 7 story pink condo that Tonya Bailey dumped on them in the Ramada parking lot a few weeks ago, and now Tami SoudaBakeAndShake was going to give away a 14′ tall trophy.  Oy, my head.

I don’t want to be a buzz kill, but Tami better hope that some nuns start entering their kids into these pageants, because other than the Sistine Chapel I don’t even know anyone with a 14′ 1″ living room ceiling.

But she was darn excited about it, to the point where I thought she might lose her glasses.  Tami SoudaBurtBacharach tilts her head back a lot, so I kind of wonder if LensCrafters ever fit her properly.  But she has that kind of infectious arts & crafts store smile that the ladies always get when a new bolt of holiday fabric is delivered.

And while the trophy would be sticking right up in our faces, not much else would be…because all the judges were Drag Queens.  Wink, wink.  Nudge, nudge.


I mean, obviously Drag Queens are always all up in our faces.  That’s their thing.  But their thing isn’t actually up at all…since…well…you know.

Seriously.  Forget it.  If I have to work this hard at a duct tape joke, it’s probably not worth it.  It would have been totz hilar…but it’s too late now.

The first little princess was 3 year old Mimi and her Mom Amanda, and they pretty much set off the Emergency Broadcasting Ginger Alert on my television.

Mimi looks like she could have been on a flashback episode of I Love Lucy when Ethel and Mrs. Ricardo were 3 years old and met for the first time.  She was that cute, with a floppy bow in her hair and 9 nannies.

Yeah.  Nannies.  Nine of ’em.

Mom and Dad had birthed 4 gingersnaps all under 5 years of age that were flying everywhere around the house like orange bottle rockets, and had basically chosen to delegate the child rearing to a baseball team of au pairs.  The nannies were at the house from something like 7am to bedtime, which gave Mom more than enough free hours in the day to be fabulous and drink mimosas with her rich husband.

Remember…this was the Las Vegas episode.  Swimming pools.  Movie stars.  And dollar bills instead of toilet paper.

Mom and Dad were oddly hands-off in the kid department and had even put Pageant Coach Georgina Vaughan in charge of Mimi’s glitz career.  This was pretty evident when the FedEx man dropped off a new pricey glitz dress and Amanda didn’t even know what some strange looking bow thing was inside a plastic bag.  She even put down her cocktail to try and solve the mystery.

Hint:  It’s a bow.

But Mom owned her aloofness.  She was too busy being fabulous and holding champagne glasses by the stem to be bothered.

Our second contestant was 5 year old Ava and Mom Erica.  And a stable of strippers who knew more about hotel amenities than the Travelocity gnome.


Mom and Dad ran Girls Direct To You, which sends strippers to your hotel or motel or toll booth so you don’t have to go through the hassle of putting on your pants and getting a roll of quarters from Bank of America.

For realz.  And we got to see them.

The girls were pretty enough as they all wobbled around in stilettos in a room that looked exactly like the office furniture display section at Staples.  Granted, my local Staples has homeless people sleeping in the swivel chairs and not girls that you can motorboat at the Sheraton…but you get my drift.

Ava was crazy cute, especially with that big puffy yellow hair bow and matching JLo sweats.  She had the kind of cheeks that Grandmas would kill to squeeze and she smiled a lot.  (Spoiler Alert:  For now.)

Surprisingly enough, Mom saw no problem with Ava chilling out with strippers.  None at all, and I didn’t judge.  Ava then lifted her leg all the way up to her head and I prayed that Wednesday was not the day the US government decided to start spying on my phone and television records.

The final Ultimate Grand Supreme wannabe should have been pretty familiar to all of you from the last Las Vegas show.  Spunky 6 year old Elizabeth and her tight & right Grandma Noni were back.  And they had stepped up their game.

Last time we saw Elizabeth, we pretty much saw two of her.  As you’ll recall, Georgina had turned another contestant into Elizabeth 2.0 with basically the same dress and the same hair and the same makeup.  They might as well have been given the same herding number,  since they were even standing back to back in the auction lineup.

But not this time.  Kenneth Blake had been hired to give Elizabeth some crazy new hairdos and a fresh coat of paint for every outfit this time around.  He even drew up oversized cartoon sketches of Elizabeth’s head like they do at the State Fair to show how fabulous the whole thing was going to be this year.

Kenneth dresses up as Lady Gaga during his spare time, so I guess that means he knows sumthin about sumthin.  I guess.

He also did one “OhHellNoGirlOhSnapMissThang” Georgina diss with an eyebrow lift that kinda gave me life and sent me to the bathroom mirror to practice.


A year later, Noni’s hair and face are still smoothly flat ironed and Elizabeth still has about three more years left before that “I’m Perfect” thing gets her slapped right upside the head in study hall.  But for now, she’s still cute and has eyeballs that literally bug out of her skull like in a cartoon when an old fashioned car horn gets honked.

Across the board, the Zoo Wear rehearsals weren’t going that well.

Ava was supposed to climb an (…alleged…) stripper lion cage and do stuff  but she was afraid of heights,  so naturally Mom wanted to push her past her limits and dragged her to the Death Drop Trapeze Academy.

Apparently there’s a fine line between pushing your limits and an induced pediatric stroke, because the poor tiny nugget lost her marbles when they tried to throw her out of a simulated airplane.  Time for Plan B.

Little Lucille Ball was going to be dressed as a peacock, so Amanda and Dad put down their stemware and took Mimi to the zoo.  After slaughtering some seals and putting on a fur coat, of course.

As Mimi tried unsuccessfully to get the attention of both an unruly peacock and her parents, Amanda felt the need to apply chapstick to her husband’s lips.

That’s when you know you have too much money, when you can pay someone and/or marry someone to put your chapstick on for you.  Amanda continued to lube up those lips even as Mimi ran past them and disappeared into the woods for two days.

Maybe a Forest Ranger should be Nanny #10.  Just thinking out loud.

Finally, it was Showtime!  Or at least going to showtime time.

Since 14 hours a day with 9 nannies isn’t enough time to build emotional independence in four young gingers, Mom and Dad decided that it would be best if the kids travel in a separate vehicle to the pageant this week.

That way the children could learn to survive in the wilderness with only a Driver and some hired help, and nobody would spill a juice box on Mommy’s Louis Vuitton.

Have you ever seen that Lifetime movie where the Mom abandons all her kids in the car and then lets it roll down the embankment into the river?  It was like that.  But with even more screaming and crying and emotional scarring.


Ava on the other hand, even though she still couldn’t climb up on the kitchen table without getting vertigo, somehow managed a helicopter flight to Vegas.  With her little headset on, she totally looked like she was dropping Jack Bauer onto the roof of the White House in that last season of 24.  Such a patootie.

Not to be outdone, Noni and Elizabeth snagged one of those monster limos with disco lights and stripper poles and went balls to the wall party bus straight to Vegas, baby.

Noni even busted out a quick bump & grind for our viewing pleasure.  From the neck down, Grandma’s still got the moves.

And speaking of.  We’re only four episodes in, and already there have been more Nonis and NeNes and Naye Nayes and NoNos than the last five seasons combined.  Doesn’t anyone ever call a grandma a grandma anymore?  What up wid dat?

(Shout out to my somersaulting grammie, NeNe!  Hey, girlfriend!)

Ava screamed out “I am SO rich” and Elizabeth countered with “Best Day Eveeeeeerrrrrrrr!” like she was a preschool Oprah…and then it really was Showtime.

Besides that 14′ harpoon trophy, the winner was also going to get some cash and enough zebra furniture to make any Jersey Girl totally jealous.  The prize table alone gave me pink eye.

To keep the traffic moving, Joan Rivers was back as emcee again this year.

Well, actually it was Frank Marino again.  But this time he forgot his boy clothes at home and was dressed up like he was ready to throw shade on Fashion Police.  He even brought a pair of Joan Rivers QVC readers because it’s all in the details, especially when they make the type on the score sheets so damn small.

Tina Turner, Liza Minnelli, Cher, Britney, Rihanna, Bette Midler, Katy Perry and Diana Ross all found time to duct tape the goods and show up to judge the pageant.

So you knew it was gonna be a party, Squirrel Friend.

After Dad finally realized that Ava was still strapped into the helicopter seconds before he cut her in half with the seatbelt, they got her out with the Jaws of Life and headed into the hair and makeup circus.

Elizabeth brought who I assumed was her highly caffeinated brother and Mimi brought four giant Heads-On-A-Stick, which I totally need now.

They.  Were.  Awe.  Some.


The Beauty portion kind of tanked.  Sorry.  Mimi forgot to leave the stage.  Ava got so distracted by three of the strippers who made the trip with Mom and Dad (…hey…a hotel is a hotel, right?…) that she didn’t know which end was up.  Elizabeth had new hair and no mirror image twin, so she was happy and didn’t blink during the entire next costume change.

The Zoo Wear was ferocious, fo’ sho’.

Mimi shook her tail feathers.  Ava overcame her fear of tall stripper cages and did a back flip/back splat thing that made everyone very happy.  Elizabeth looked like Bindi, that Crocodile Hunter’s kid and gave Safari Realness and Cartoon Eyeball to all the Queens in the house.

It should also be noted that for some reason, Ava’s Dad was dressed up like a bank robber.  Not sure what was going on there.

Elizabeth won the whole enchilada, mainly because her party bus was the only vehicle that could handle transporting a freakin’ 14′ trophy back across city limits and not get flagged as an Act of Terrorism.

Which meant Ava did not win.

Attention Makenzie Myers.  Sorry, honey.  Love you.  Mean it.

But the time has come to pass the Tantrum Torch to Ava, because all of your previous Toddlers & Tiaras hissy fits combined  (…Nope.  Not doin’ it!…) do not equal even one of Ava’s meltdowns.

That kid flipped out.

I mean:  Flipped.  The.  Switch.

Poor Mom looked like she was trying to take a wet cat up a flight of stairs to the veterinarian’s office on free rabies shot day.  Good luck with that.

Mimi won something that almost choked her and didn’t fit her head, and then it was all over after a little more AvaSpaz.

The Queens left to unzip it, untuck it and call it a night.

Everyone back in the closet or back in your cage.

Sashay Away.  The Zoo is closed.


Dance Moms: Time For Booty Shorts And Vodka Shots. An Apple A Day Can’t Keep Kaya And Yvette Away.

Wednesday, June 19th, 2013




There ain’t enough booze in this bar to get me through a night with these hens. Let’s Go!






Me? Nothing. Just hanging out at by some giant UDC sign, pimpin’ out my new show. Sup?






Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. One quick little iPad photo and Mama’s got herself a new screensaver.






Oh. My. Gawd. Pinocchio’s shorts. You could totally see Jiminy Cricket. I’m a Real Boy Now!






I didn’t pack up all my Krazy and bring it to Ohio just so you can come in 6th again. Plus I need you to find out if Anthony’s single.






There is no way those Ray Guns are real. Look at those things. Holy S***.






And I see you right up Anthony’s a**. Yeah…it’s hella fine, but have some klass. And fix yo’ damn hair, bitch.





First things first.

Can we just say that Abby Lee Miller has one of the dirtiest, nastiest iPhone screens evah?  Like a science fair experiment or something.  Gross.

You know they make wipes and sprays just for that kind of thing, right?  It looked like the top of a Macy’s Clinique counter after Free Makeover Saturday.  I almost had to change the channel before my OCD really kicked into overdrive.

I also almost had to change the channel a few times because I couldn’t figure out if I was actually watching Dance Moms or not.  What was that?

At first I thought it might have been the new spin-off Candy Apples Variety Show or an Ohio Department of Tourism promotional video, because there was certainly a lot of song and dance and cow stuff going on this week.  And Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein does kind of remind me of a whacky character that Carol Burnett used to play who always got a pie in the face.

Then I thought maybe it was just a relaunch of The Love Boat, because every time the door opened another famous C List celebrity was coming up the ramp with a suitcase and an attitude.  There was even a bartender getting Kristie Ray all liquored up.

(Love her, by the way.  And not nearly enough JLo this week if we’re keeping track.  I don’t feel that one scene with all the Moms slamming down shooters gave her ample opportunity to flap those earrings to their full potential.)

Then I thought maybe it was an Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition Reunion Special, because the only thing missing was Richy Jackson‘s carved up lightening bolt hair and a fierce finger wave or two.  Werk it, Girlfriend.

That, and Robin Antin casually reminding us that she personally gave birth to all 75 of the Pussycat Dolls without an epidural, of course.

Finally, I realized that the whole thing was just a one hour commercial for the upcoming second season of Abby’s UDC and then it all made sense.

That’s what it’s called now, you know.  Abby’s UDC.  I guess someone finally realized that the old name took up too many letters on Twitter.


This week Abby was out in Los Angeles under the pretense of “looking at real estate,” which was actually code for “filming and promoting season 2 of AUDC.”  That basically meant that anything Pittsburgh-related was pretty much abandoned for this episode and the kids could finally get caught up on their homework.

If you tuned in to see all your favorite ALDC dancers…sorry.  Ain’t gonna happen.

On the other hand, if you tuned in to see Abby’s BFF John Corella and his allegedly manscaped eyebrows be all fabulous…then it’s your lucky day.

Now the jury is still out on Abby’s Friend Who Is A Boy, and I’m not here to judge, but I will note that JC did latch onto that stripper pole like it was his day job when he and Abby checked out a potential studio.

You know when you throw a baby bird out of the nest and somehow it already knows how to fly?  It was like that.

It was also a little bit like Batman and Robin trying to slide down to the Batcave after too many Happy Hour appetizers by the time Abby took it for a spin.  There’s a reason they tell you to never look directly at the sun.  Ouch, my eyes.

Back in Ohio, Chaos Cathy was yet again creating a new team in the laboratory.  Her Boyz-Only clubhouse routines had not been quite as successful as she had hoped, so now it was time to add some estrogen back into the mix.

Zack, Jalen and NickNumeroDos were all still in the hizzle.  Zack and Nick were back because they are amazeball dancers and make Cathy look good.  Jalen’s Dad Rick is such a loose cannon that you know the producers would keep them around even if his kid couldn’t walk a straight line, but luckily Jalen can do more than just spin on his beanie head.

There were so many new faces popping up this week that we’re gonna need to pick up the pace a little.

Crazy Yvette Walts and her daughter Hadley were back for some redemption.  On last season’s AUDC, Abby had emotionaly scarred Hadley for life by calling her Roadkill after an exceptionally odd performance, and it was time for payback.

More importantly, though…Kristie hates Yvette.  And I love Kristie, especially when she blew her first ever nutty all up in Yvette’s face last season.  Hit Me!  Hit Me!  Let’s Go!


If there really is a God of Dance…Round Two.  Yes, please.

There was also a new puffy face in the place.  Campbell and her Mom Alli.  My psychic powers told me that she was a cryer.  Stay tuned.

The third new addition was Mari and her Mom Gina D.

Two Kristies.  And now two Ginas.  Lawd.

Mom had the same kind of harsh bangs that cosmetic queen Adrien Arpel has on HSN, except that she took it up another notch by giving herself some even harsher chunky Jersey highlights.  If you’re gonna play in the salon, be in it to win it I guess.

Apparently Cathy had reinvested some of her husband’s jerky money back into her own MomPerch couch, because now the ladies (…and Rick…) all had a place to sit and get snarky.  Gina D wasted no time in pointing out that Jalen should leave the dancing to real dancers and just spin on his head right out that door and back to the street corner where he belongs, which didn’t sit well with Rick.

Unfortunately, instead of a beat down, Rick just got all pissy and ran out of the room like some teenage girl who just caught her boyfriend IMing a cheerleader.

What the hell was that, dude?  Not cool.

This week’s Candy Apples group dance was all about 1st kisses and 1st boyfriends and all that cafetorium dance nonsense.  Campbell ‘fessed up to having a boyfriend, and Jalen admitted to tripping on his hip hop hightop shoelaces and somehow landing with his tongue in a girl’s mouth or something.

Totally trying that at the grocery store this weekend.

First day of full rehearsals, and Mari was already sick and MIA.  That’s probably not a good sign.

But the silver lining in that black cloud was…well…also black.  As in Black Patsy.

Oh.  Hell.  No.  Crazy Kaya Wiley.  From the ‘Hood Wileys.

Cathy hit up Kaya on her Sidekick and got her to jump the next bus to Ohio.  The shizzle was definitely getting foshizzle, especially when Cathy explained who Black Patsy was in that kind of whispering voice that Symphony Women use when they talk about their maids behind their back.  A classic television moment.


All the ALDC hates Black Patsy.  So bring it.

Then we squeezed in another AUDC promo, with Abby all spread out in a reclining makeup lounger right next to lap dog John, who was dialing up Jill on that greasy iPhone.  They needed a spy.  Asap.

Abby wanted Jill to pull together a small posse and go spy on the Candy Apples at the upcoming Dance U.S.A Competition while she stayed in out LA and whored out some more AUDC.

Watching John get all tweeny bop on that sticky cell while Abby laid around completely hot roller-free was just about enough for me, thank you.

OMG.  LOL.  Smiley Face.  Send.

Back in Cow Kuntry, Anthony Burrell was working on Zack and Hadley’s solos.

Hadley was hooked up with a Golden Couch number, which was some kind of gold digger and casting couch mash-up from what I could decipher.  Sassy hands and booty action.  Rockette Roadkill Redemption, haters.

Zack was going to play a puppet, which caused Anthony to go on for days about this top secret costume like he was having an Oscar de la Renta couture moment.

(Shout out to Rachel Zoe.  This puppet dance was gonna be maj.)

And then Black Patsy and her daughter Nicaya arrived on the scene and I went to Heaven for a few minutes.  I can’t get enough of that crazy bitch.

Go back and watch your DVR, paying special attention to Gina D. when she cups her hand over her mouth like she’s never seen a…you know.  I can’t.  I won’t.  I can’t even describe the moment without risk of upsetting at least three different ethnic groups and/or alternative lifestyles.

Just watch and enjoy.  If we could have actually seen Gina D’s eyebrows, you know they would have been up on the top of her skull.


I just can’t.

The thing I love most about Kaya is that she was born with no filter.  Just one straight pipe from her brain to her mouth.  And proud of it as she started right in on everyone.

Cathy then cut Campbell from the group number and the tiny dancer cried.  I called it.

Or at least I think she cried.  There was some kind of high pitched noise that only dogs could hear, and she looked pretty sad.  So I’m going to go with crying.

Finally, it was Showtime!  And Vivi-Anne Time!  Because you know Cathy always throws that little spaz inside her Louis bag whenever she goes on a road trip.

And again…why does this kid not have her own show by now?  It’s not like I’m asking for an elaborately scripted multi-episode production.  I’m just saying let her walk in front of the camera with a mouthful of Dubble Bubble, yawn a few times and then cut to commercial.

That kid is gold, I tell you.

And then there was Zack’s puppet outfit.

Seriously.  All that was missing were tube socks and construction boots and the poor kid could have high kicked himself right into an episode of Dateline.

Bow-chicka-bow-wow.  Help yourself to the lemonade.  I’ll be right down.

Even Vivi-Anne woke up for that crotch shot, until she realized it wasn’t really a package of Rolos in Zack’s shorts.  WTF Anthony?

Zack cried big puppet tears that almost smeared his red circle puppet cheeks.  Mom Gina cried little soap opera tears with that corner eye dab thing she does so well and then Anthony got mad that everyone was dissing the booty shorts.

Just say No.  One good lie in those shorts, and Pinocchio would be sent away to military school for four years.

And then Jill, Holly and Kelly burst into the Candy Apples dressing room like a SWAT team and came face to face with Holly’s Evil doppelgänger.


Or at least Kelly thought so, because she swore Black Patsy’s new blouse and weave were an exact rip-off of Holly’s signature look.

Right.  You just keep telling yourself that, honey.  Have another cocktail.

As the Candy Apples hit the stage, Jill reported back to Abby via that gnarly touch screen.  Conveniently enough, Abby took the call in the AUDC auditorium.  Then Abby called back home to PA to make sure her studio hadn’t burned to the ground.

Conveniently enough this time, Abby made the call while posed seductively in front of a giant UDC float with giant UDC letters that were taller than the Hollywood sign.

Ok.  We get it.  Our DVRs are set.

And as long as we’re talking bad editing, can we make a note that every time they showed Abby’s touchscreen she was holding it in the wrong hand and not the one she was actually using to talk with during the scene?  Can we?

Yeah.  Bad editing is right up there with gooey iPhone glass on my Hit List.  Just.  No.

Hadley did some gold digging across the stage and Zack, thankfully, put on some pants before lifting his leg on national television.

Then some kids won some stuff.

Hold up.  What was Vivi-Anne doing on stage for the awards ceremony?  Did she just wander out there looking for the vending machine?  I know that low blood sugar can get you a little disoriented if you don’t have a juice box within the first 30 seconds.

And why was she dressed in the same three quarter sleeve fur top that Jacqueline Kennedy wore during a 1962 news interview with Walter Cronkite?

We finished off the AUDC Candy Apples Love Boat Variety Show Commercial with Kaya getting all ‘hood on anyone who came within her orbit.

She called out Yvette for being a whackadoodle and sucking up to Anthony’s fine tight a** and called the ALDC Moms all stalkers for creeping all the way to Ohio.

Oh, yeah.  It got cray cray in the hallway.

And then this totally happened…


Toddlers & Tiaras: Let’s Belly Up To The California Tropic Sugar Bar. Hood Rats & Punches & Weaves…Oh My!

Saturday, June 15th, 2013




Honestly, I have no idea what a Hood Rat is, but on the phone it sounded much bigger than a Field Mouse.






Bitch, you do NOT want me to take my shoes off right here in the Expo lobby.







Srsly, I was ’bout ready to throw this baby on the floor and punch her in the throat, but I knew they’d steal my new Coach bag.






Listen to me. If Daddy can take a bullet in Iraq, I think you can handle two little pink earrings like a Big Girl.





This crazy bitch is about to make me pop off my veneers and crown her upside the head before the judges even show up.






The Hell? So you’re telling me that I sat through the entire Little Mermaid with Hellman’s on my head and now we’re going home?






Shout Out to my girls in Englewood! Look at me, bitches. I’m on the TV!






Let’s just be honest and cut right to the chase.

There’s really nothing in the entire world that I love more than a good Hot Mess.

You heard me.  I said it.  I own it.

Don’t get me wrong.  I really like pizza.  And sushi.  And a nice meaty lobster roll, as long as it’s not all mayonnaise like the ones they try to pass off at the Mall.

But if I can only bring one thing with me inside a bomb shelter to keep me distracted until the above ground radiation dissipates, it’s gonna be someone who’s a Hot Mess.

The hotter, the better.

As luck would have it, Toddlers & Tiaras somehow read my mind and delivered a priceless gift this week, because one half of their back-to-back double header was about as messy as they come.

And I’d like to publicly thank them before we go any further.

It was the California Tropic Sugar & Spice Pageant, hosted by crazy-faced Carol Fleming.  Gumdrops and googly eyes for miles.

I really like her even though she’s one of those women that you would normally go out of your way to avoid if you came across her at a Lady Grace bra clearance rack or the Estée Lauder counter at Macy’s.

As I have previously mentioned, everyone’s first impression of Carol is that she probably wears way too much of that purple Elizabeth Taylor perfume that comes in a big box at Christmas time and probably takes freaking for-EV-er to make her eyebrows look like that.  And that she is clinically insane.

But she’s not.  She’s a riot.  She has spunk and probably knows every piece of dirt on every person who has ever lived in her home town.  But she would never repeat it, of course.  Ladies don’t do that kind of thing.


Except at the salon.  And the grocery store.  And during Girls Nite Out before grabbing the waiter’s a** and then going face down on a table full of piña colada umbrellas.

Mark my words.  It’s the quiet ones.

This week’s pageant was all about the Sugar Buzz.  It was pretty self explanatory, complete with a table full of crowns that looked like they were constructed of rock candy and insulin syringes.  Bring on the sweets.

The first little princess was 3 year old Bailey and her Mom Cora.  And stay-at-home Dad Ron, who spoke when spoken to and proudly owned more aprons than anyone on the Food Network.  Nice guy, just a little too on the YesDear WhateverYouSayDear side.

Bailey was almost too cute.  She was a tomboy who liked to go 4 wheeling with Dad after he had finished all his chores…and gotten permission from Cora, of course.

Can you say Control Freak?

Our second contestant’s mode of transportation was a big hog of a motorcyle, which 4 year old Riley and Dad Ryan excitedly rode through the neighborhood, setting off car alarms and laying patches before heading back inside for arts & crafts.

Dad was a detective (…clearly not undercover since he was about three inches from the camera for the entire show…) and a former Marine.  He was a Man’s Man and I liked him.  He looked like he could be in an action movie or something.

Ryan could probably gut a spy in under 60 seconds, but go figure…he loved sewing.

And pageants.

Don’t Ask.  Don’t BeDazzle.  God Bless America.

The military had taught him his rockstar sewing technique and Mom Sheena (…just like the comic book Jungle Queen…) had somehow convinced Ryan to kick it up another notch with a glue gun and glitter.

I guess if you can take out insurgents with an M14 you can probably stick crystals on a headband without burning the house down.

Riley was cute, but had a nasty habit of spitting.  At you.  On you.  All over.

Unfortunately, since she was only 4 years old, she hadn’t developed the lung capacity required to properly expel all that goo, so most of the loogies never made it past her own chin.  Lots of stringy dingle danglyness.

I’m going to leave the etiquette discussions to the chat rooms, because we have way more important issues to deal with right now.


Ladies and Gentlemen:  Trystian.

2013 Mom of the Year and her 1 year old daughter Kelsie were the final contestants this week.  It’s called saving the best for last, people.

And Heaven.  It’s also called a little slice of Heaven.

I don’t even know where to start, it was so delish.

Let’s just say that for as little as I actually know about pageants (…as a matter of fact, I do hide that secret pretty well, thank you…) I know even less about weaves.

In all honesty, everything I know about getting your hair did comes from Real Housewives marathons on Bravo TV and maybe one or two VH1 smack downs.

And that Flava Flav show where he always looked like he had vaseline on his face.

So it’s not much.  But I do know a bad one when I see one.  And that one was so bad it hurt my feelings.  Lawd have mercy.

Seriously.  Riley’s Dad could have glued that thing on straighter during artillery fire.

For the first 90 seconds or so, Tystian seemed like a pretty nice Mom.  And Kelsie was stupid cute.  It actually kind of looked like Mom was just babysitting one of Will Smith‘s kids she was so cute.  Kelsie had the best fuzzy hair evah and giant eyes that looked like she was on catnip.  So cute.

But then Mom opened her mouth and it all went boughetto.  Without the ‘bou-‘ part.

Did you know that her baby girl wins just by showing up?  Cuz she’s better than everyone else.  Even if Kelsie was some famous 1 year old international celebrity and/or diaper model, Mom would still enter her in local pageants just to rub it in the faces of all the other Moms.  Just to be a beeotch to the haters.

And if there is one thing that Trystian hates, it’s other Moms who talk smack about other Moms’ kids.  That’s a No No in her book.


The book called Slap Yo’ Face, Bitch.  And the long awaited sequel F*** You Up, Bitch.

Because that’s what Trystian would do if any Mom ever tried to diss her daughter.  And that’s what tiny Kelsie already does to other girls at pageants, because that’s how genetics work.  And Mom is fine wid dat.

Seriously.  She said that.

Rewind:  Kelsie’s eyes don’t even both point in the same direction yet, but she already knows how to bitch slap a chick like Maury Povich just gave them DNA results instead of Grand Supreme crowns.

That ain’t right.  And neither was Kelsie eating half a jar of Mayo while Mom smeared the rest of it on her baby girl’s hair like a stylist at the Vidal Sassoon Salon & Deli.  I’m never having a lobster roll again.  I knew that wasn’t a piece of celery string.

Kelsie’s only real competition was a little girl named Tutu who was the Face of California Tropic, because I guess they do things like that nowadays.

While we tried to process all that, Bailey was in a garage or flea market or barn or airplane hanger or something, rehearsing her routine one last time before they all left for the competition.  There were tools and Nascar shirts and a covered boat all stuffed into whatever that building was supposed to be, along with a homemade plywood stage and pageant coach Cambrie Littlefield.

(I’m going to assume that Cambrie was probably the only thing that didn’t get locked up in there overnight each day when the sun went down.  But you never know.)

We love her and she was just as gorg as evah, but she wasn’t wearing her Naughty Girl thigh high boots so I was a little disappointed.

In her defense, she probably didn’t want to risk getting them dirty on the FOUR hour road trip to Las Vegas, since Bailey’s 3 year old bladder required they stop the car every time the odometer clicked a full cycle.


I’m really not even sure if Mom pulled the car over that last time, or just came to a full stop in the middle of a four lane highway to drag out Bailey’s hot pink Porta-Barbie toilet for another round.  Nothing like a little Number 2 on the Number 515 I always say.

Before Cambrie threw herself into oncoming traffic, she and Mom held up one of Snookie‘s old animal print bedspreads to shield Bailey from the paparazzi, not realizing that Trystian was already at the hotel with Kelsie trying to check in without paying her registration fee.

Allegedly, of course.

Some older gent, who thankfully turned out to be Carol’s husband Terry (…otherwise he kinda looked like he should be taking tickets at ComicCon instead of creepin’ a toddler thingamajig…) let Trystian know that she still owed $50 on her bill.  And that’s when the party started.

Trystian said she didn’t owe him nuthin.  He said yes you do.  She said something that got (bleeped) out and stormed down the hall with Kelsie under one arm, dragging another school age kid behind her while that skinny dude with a buzz cut who was always lurking in the background carried all the crap.

And why was he pulling his shirt up and down during all this awesomeness?  Whoa.  Did you see that?  Don’t be flashing your white meat in the hall, Cowboy.  And some sit-ups probably wouldn’t hurt while you’re waiting for your girl to stop swearing around her kids.

As Trystian passed Tutu’s Mom Loreal and a posse of urban suburbans, all hell broke loose.  Right there with the kids in the room.

Oh.  Hell.  No.  Somebody did not just call her “Bitch.”

Boom!  Screaming.  Yelling.  Git Out My Face, Bitch.  Who you callin’ Bitch?  You’re a Bitch.  You’re Hood Rat.  No, you’re a Hood Rat.  You Nasty.

Oprah even showed up.  You’re a Bitch!  You’re a Bitch!  Everyone’s a Bitch!

Carol got in the middle of it all, looking like that junior high English teacher who always tries to unsuccessfully break up a youtube fight between sistahs in the parking lot.  Then Trystian got all up in Carol’s grill, threatening to poke her in the eye and punch her in the face while little Kelsie sucked on a pacifier and swung around upside down like she was on the high speed Yo Mama Ride at Six Flags.

Literally.  Off.  The.  Hook.

And I’ve watched it about 100 times already.  So I know.


After everyone, including the concierge and one housekeeper who should have taken the elevator all called each other Englewood Hood Rats, Trystian headed outside to call the Hood Rat cops (…because I’m pretty sure they have a special Hood Rat division just for Hood Rat glitz pageants…) and had yet another meltdown.

Carol is lucky I had my kids with me!  I woulda (bleeped) her (bleepin’ bleep) right into the (bleepin’) ground.

Bleep Bleep Bleep Nice Role Model Bleep Bleep Bleep.

Loreal got one of the last zings in by describing to hotel security how bad Trystian’s weave was on a scale of Nasty to Nasty.

Bottom line, Trystian was no longer welcome at the competition after a positively delightful speakerphone conversation with Carol, during which we found out that Mrs. Fleming not only has expensive new veneers but also the most whacked out fingernails ever seen on cable television.  WTF were those things?

Terry finally booted Trystian out of the building after she was stupid enough to show up on competition day, which resulted in Hood Rat Meltdown #97 while that skinny kid just stood there holding a Tupperware container full of cupcake dresses, fake lollipops and his clipped manhood.

Let’s be real.  It doesn’t even matter what happened at the actual pageant.

Bailey’s Mom went all Control Freak and Cambrie almost went all Trystian on her a**.

Riley’s music got all messed up at some point and she ended up standing around long enough for me to go get a soda in the kitchen.

Back home in the (…alleged, again…) ‘hood, Trystian threw an empty mayo jar straight into the television screen when Tutu won Photogenic Supreme and that skinny dude worked on one of those Help Me signs that kidnap victims hold up in the window after everyone goes to sleep.

And dat’s pretty much how it all went down in the ‘hood this time, bitches.

Be sure to sign my online petition for TLC to create a new show where Trystian just goes hotel to hotel beating up Pageant Moms every week and the winner gets a new weave.

Like a cage fight makeover show.  Or something.

Gimme a break.  It’s a work in progress.

Don’t be such a…you know.


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