Just a little more Rustoleum under the rims, Ma’am…
According to WebMD, I did not just have an aneurism.
I googled every possible symptom just to be certain, double checked the CVS website, called my Mom and could have sworn that I lost feeling in at least half of the northern hemisphere of my Pez shaped head. My eyes were buggy and my jaw seemed to be locked in a slightly dropped position. I thought Fred Sanford and I were going home to Elizabeth.
False alarm. Turns out it was only the new episode of Toddlers & Tiaras.
TLC, I just can’t quit you.
Exactly what kind of Tennessee casting call do they put out there on Craig’s List that gets them these people? Is it flyers posted at the strip mall grocery store next to the lost cat picture? The kind with all the little slits of paper at the bottom that you tear off when you’re looking for babysitters or compost poo. ”We’re looking for sad Moms who collect porcelain chotskies and live through their daughters, as well as some Dads who are borderline Moms. Tear off a stub, put on your Outfit of Choice and give us a call.” And how do they always end up South of…well, the South? Newsflash: We have Ramadas and gymnasiums in the Northeast as well, TLC. Where’s the love?
So tonight we all skipped right past Headline News on the Xfinity box and got to meet Haley’s Dad, who is psychotically proud to be a Glitz Diva Dad. Of course he is. He had the attitude that helped him compete in some kind of Mr. SheMale Dad pageant thing last year…crown, make up and all. He also had a pretty funky shirt. And he had a mani and a pedi before the pageant. The only thing he didn’t seem to have, or offer up, was the Maury Povich DNA proof that he was actually the Baby Daddy. He was fabulous and fabulously served up some mean Diva drinks to his little girl while she laid inflatable poolside working on her pre-pageant, pre-cancerous melanoma. He could have been an extra on Sex In The City, I swear.
Not to be outdone, Olivia stormed into our hearts. Give this princess 10 more years, and I promise you she will be bitch slapping somebody on VH1. Her Mom thought she was still in that “cute” stage where she could get away with hissy fits and hitting fits and general hysteria fits. Mom might want to rethink that one. She was a little delusional on her behavior, and definitely not thinking straight. Maybe it was the fumes from dyeing their miniature pony in the middle of the living room.
You heard me.
They have a miniature pony, Bubbles. And they let it in the house so they can flat iron his mane. In. The. House. Good luck getting all that nappy horse fur off the couch cushions, which were again the same fake suede that shows up in every episode of this series. I still swear they bring the furniture from house to house in a big TLC Extreme Makeover van. ”Move That Bus!”
Bubbles is purple, by the way. At least today he was, because they often change his color whenever the mood hits by hosing him down with food coloring. In. The. House. Seriously. My mother would not even let some of my grungy 4th grade friends in the house, much less the horse they rode in on. This poor pony should take a page from the other Bubbles, Michael Jackson’s creepy monkey friend, and go into hiding somewhere far away from pageant Moms, television cameras and the cake decorating aisle at Safeway.
Before we get off track, keep in mind that this was a full on Glitz Pageant night, so spray tans are de rigueur. And what better place to get a deep, dark, delicious Malibu Barbie tan than at the Auto Body Detailing Shop.
You heard me.
Peyton’s mom figured that the best person to coat her little girl with an even, bubble free, streak free orange tinted protective sealant was the Auto Body Guy. I know, right? Since he probably just got done detailing swirly Corvette flames all over Haley’s Dad, he must have already had the nozzle on the hose, so to speak. Sure enough, they drag her into the same bay where Jiffy Lube always tries to overcharge you for a new filter that you don’t need, and kickstart the air compressor. To keep Child Services out of the garage, at least they had the presence of mind to lay down a little corrugated cardboard so she didn’t get her tiny toes stuck in the oil drain grates.
Go figure. She pitched a fit. Not an Olivia-worthy fit – she wishes – but a pretty good one for a baby, though I was surprised that since they have been coloring Peyton since she born that she didn’t take to it with a better attitude. Instead she bolted, running through the garage while slip sliding away on oily slicks and air conditioning coolant puddles. Finally she took a face plant on a greasy spot, making it much easier for them to grab her and bring her back, kicking and screaming, for the top coat. TLC cut to a commercial before I could see if they actually stuck her in that hot room to bake the finish on like they did with my car after it got dinged by a shopping cart at Lowes.
All that drama could have been easily prevented if they had just taken her to Olivia’s and strapped her onto that pony. Two for One Pageant Special.
In. The. House.
