And the award for Mrs. Ultimate Grand Supreme Vicarious Living goes to…
I have no clue what sexy means, but in my silver Hello Kitty stilettos I can tell I’m sexy. And I know it.
Dude. Hand in your Man Card. Just hand it in and we’ll never speak of this again.
I swear to Gawd, if I turn around and he’s still wearing that thing…it’s been like two hours.
There’s only one true Makenzie. Suck it like a Pixie Stick, bitches. Suck it.
Aloha.
From the tropical paradise known as Mississippi.
Toddlers & Tiaras finished off the season this week with a southern fried Hawaiian Luau kind of a thing, and it was everything we could have hoped for and more. TLC ended the latest round of pageantry with enough glittered palm trees and processed sugar to keep all of us buzzing until the next SUV full of Crazy pulls up to the check-in desk later this year.
It was the Mississippi Sweet Pea Party Pageant, and everybody knows that nothing says Southern Hospitality like a luau. Pageant Director Linda Brown excitedly got us all up to speed right away by explaining how the whole shindig was gonna go down.
This was a full on, in yo’ face Glitz pageant. That meant mounds of that gravity defying Closer to Jesus hair and enough spray tan and aerosol mist to smoke a terrorist out of his underground foxhole.
The clothes were most likely going to be too small, and the flippers too big. There’s probably a mathematical equation that Pageant Moms use to figure out the perfect ratio between the two, but that is way beyond my skills or attention span so we’ll have to save it for another day.
The Ultimate Supreme winner was going to take home a wicked sparkly 13″ crown for their tiny 10″ head, a 3 foot tall trophy guaranteed to tip over at some point in the living room and crush their 2 foot high body and $250 in greenbacks.
Since those crackly cupcake dresses normally start at $350 on the low end of the retail scale, it’s always nice to head into a pageant already in the hole. That one I will never understand, but I don’t make the rules.
Our first little contestant was 7 year old Liz and her Mom Jennifer.
Hollah to Liz. That’s how she rolls. Everyone called her charismatic, which usually means her personality is so boisterous that she gets kicked out of movie theaters. Charismatic just sounds better.
Initially I thought that Liz may actually sleep in an FAO Schwarz stockroom, because there were so many toys and stuffed animals packed into that one bedroom that it looked like the belly of the airplane that delivers Toys For Tots every Christmas.
A quick salute to the troops. If you’re short one teddy bear next December, I’m sure Liz can hook you up.
Elicia, the coach, seemed nice enough…but sorry, she’s no Katie Boyer. Shout out to Katie’s Kuties, and another troop salute to any woman who can go from coaching to the pageant to the award ceremony and not blink once.
Katie. Is. Into. It. True dat.
Mom and Coach both admitted that Liz can get a little obnoxious at times, which was another synonym for charismatic, I guess. Even Liz herself suggested that she may get a little angry if she doesn’t win Top Dawg honors. She then proceeded to bare her empty gums, growl like one of the Twilight wolves and fling herself into a stockroom shelf full of Beanie Babies.
Next up was 3 year old Emma and Mom Hope.
Right about here is when it started getting good.
Mom was a former Mrs. Mississippi United States 2011, which I guess must be different than Mrs. Mississippi Tokyo 2011.
Seriously. Why do they need the United States part? There are so many rules in this world.
As soon as Hope put on own her personal crown and did that Pride Parade wave, you knew that thing was staying on her head until someone pried it out of her cold, dead, bloody hands.
Once a Pageant Princess, always a Pageant Princess.
That pageant gene was clearly in Emma’s DNA, or had been injected in vitro at some point. Either way, Emma was in it to win it.
And so was Mom, who pointedly remarked that the haters out there are just jealous bitches. Pageant Dad Hank could probably support that mindset as well, since he was all about it as he worked his own pretty feet and plopped a crystal crown on his head like it was his day job.
Now I’m all for Dads supporting these kids, because most father figures are probably more apt to be tossing the pigskin out back with the nearly ignored little brothers than showing their girls how to pop a hip when you reach the painter’s tape “X” on the carpet.
But Hank seemed to already know his crown size and wore that thing like his lodge buddies wear their John Deeres. Let’s pause, scratch our chins and just go Hmmmm.
While Hank was tilting his crown slightly askew, someone had been hunting, because 5 year old McKenzie’s house was full of dead animal faces mounted on the walls.
This was McKenzie, like the hamburger. Not Makenzie, like the Ni-Ni.
I know that the blogs and the boards were getting all excited that the Princess of Meltdowns was coming back this week.
Psych.
Not doing it.
Hopefully T&T can figure out a way to sneak the original Mak Attak back in one more time before she outgrows the cute meltdowns and starts getting called a beeotch by the Mean Girls in the cafeteria.
Love you. Miss you. Mean it.
Golden Arches McKenzie was competing in Mississippi for the first time, so she and Mom Michelle weren’t sure what to expect. They just knew that Big Hair = Big Scores, so they hit the salon to get McK’s hair did for the pre-game practice session. They were planning to tease that ‘do into the military No-Fly Zone.
Elsewhere, rehearsals with pint-sized Emma were proving to be an effort in futility.
Between Hope still latching on to her fading pageant dreams and Hank matching tomorrow’s cowboy shirt to his crown, Emma was holed up in the closet waiting for a bribe. Seems that money and ranch animals are the only things that get this little kid to practice nowadays.
I’m not certain if anyone has ever done any long term research studies on the subject, but I can’t imagine that begging your 3 year old child to dance for a dollar won’t come back and haunt you later on in life. Mom and Dad have even gone as high as $20, which after taxes probably makes for a pretty good night at Hooters.
Luckily Emma has standards, and preferred horses instead of tips. Hopefully she won’t be riding that new pony while wearing her new silver high heel shoes.
That’s right. As part of her Marilyn Monroe costume for Outfit of Choice (…during a Hawaiian Luau theme, of course…) Emma was going to be wobbling across the stage in little Louboutins. Since she can barely balance her head at 3 years of age, adding heels into the equation was proving a little challenging. But she’s gonna make it work. Or make it Werk, Girl. Because she’s sexy and she knows it.
And she said it. Not me.
Apparently nobody in that house had been keeping up with TMZ to see how well that statement had worked out for fellow contestant Isabella Barrett.
Yeah. Just saying.
In one of the odder moments in television history, after Emma’s salon bleach highlighting and more practice on her hoochie shoes, Hope got all misty eyed about how kids grow up so fast.
I know, right?
I’m thinking the 3 year old girl next door who still blows snot bubbles while she watches Teletubbies reruns isn’t growing up quite so quickly. But I’m not here to judge. Or at least not so blatantly. This one is too easy.
To make up for all the makeup and stiletto strutting, and to keep Emma stunted at 3 years old as long as possible, Hope still lets her sleep in the bed with them at night. Another chin scratch and a Hmmmmm.
So if I’m doing the math correctly, that’s three people and three crowns all crammed onto that one mattress.
Again…too easy.
Pageant Day arrived with all the usual prep panic that I adore. McKenzie must have sold bootleg tickets to all her relatives, because half the audience was all in neon green t-shirts to show their support.
Emma spent most of the pre-show process with her head cocked back like a Pageant Princess Pez dispenser while Hope literally poured Pixie Stick crack down her throat. At one point Dad even poured it out into his hand and let her suck it up like a DustBuster.
(Not gonna lie. Part of me wondered if she was going to snort it when he first made the line. Another part of me wished that she had, because then this would have been the best blog post evah. But she just licked it up like the reindeer at Santa’s Village and then went SugarSpaz.)
The Beauty portion was all finger kisses and cupcakes. The usual. Liz’s flipper kept falling out, but she managed to keep it in her skull while she was on stage.
In between numbers Mom and her entourage worked some MacGyver magic on Liz’s palate with pink stuff from Home Depot and a french fry. For realz. No clue how it worked, but somehow it kept the rubber teeth from falling out during the rest of the show.
Outfit of Choice and the actual Hawaiian part were pretty low key aside from a few nuggets.
McKenzie was a naughty referee, complete with a sequined football and moves that would make the Dallas Cowboy girls blush. Liz did a Saturday Night Fever number while Emma did something or other on a complete sugar high.
During the luau, Emma finally started to come down from her sugar buzz right when they popped in the wrong CD. The Perfect Storm as they say in the biz.
She froze and almost made the show go 90 minutes over.
If there really are any Gods of Reality TV, they will immediately give a 13 episode commitment to Pam the Judge.
All rise, if you know what’s good for you, because Judge Pam was in session.
Part Mississippi librarian, part knuckle rapping nun in street clothes, Pam was deducting points right and left anytime one of the contestants lost eye contact with the judges.
Every time we went back to Pam for her play by play on the last tackle, she said the same thing. Every. Time. It was Mississippi déjà-vu and I loved it.
Granted, half of the little niblets on the stage haven’t even mastered full control of both eyes at that age, but that don’t matter to Judge Pam. Homey don’t play dat.
She can put up with that soft spot in a baby’s head, and maybe even some puréed Gerbers on the onesie…but get those eyeballs under control or you just lost yourself another tenth of a point. At least one of those wandering orbs have to be focused on the judges at all times, or you’re going home empty handed.
By the time the crowning took place, both the Moms and the kids were cranky.
Liz got a Mini Supreme, which I guess is like the 6 inch grinder at Subway. She always seems to get that crown, and she’s sick of it.
Sick of it.
Meltdown #1.
McKenzie got Grand Supreme and was pretty darn happy, and yet that still wasn’t enough for Mom who stomped her feet and justified it by stating “That’s what we do. We win pageants.”
Second place is the first loser, as they say.
Adult Meltdown #1
Emma scored the 6 inch grinder for her age category, and Hope had to sit on her own hands so she wouldn’t swipe the trophy and crown for her private display case. Mom pretty much got the vapors and let the glory of the moment pretty much take her to church.
And then the season was over.
As I pack up my gigantic tupperware container of crap and drag it back to the tour bus, I’ve gotta give one more shout out to all the great/crazy pageant peeps I’ve met since I started this mess.
Thanks to Paisley and Wendy and Blake and Katie and Mama and anyone else who didn’t try to sue me this season. You guys rock.
Until next time, as Hank would say…
Sparkle, baby.
