Puhleez. Aside from all the F Bombs and disorganization, if Heather had sat on that Mom I totally could have taken her downtown.
The Hell? Now my toothpaste is gone? How many bitches you trying to cram into this one little bathroom, woman?
You wanna talk smack? Let’s talk about that stupid blue hat your boy was wearing. WTF was that all about?
Well, there we go. If you had told me that some grown a** man grinding his junk in a cartoon teddy bear suit would be the most normal thing I saw tonight…
I forget if you’re the pretty one or not, but somebody better win this thing or next time we’re switching from beach balls to bowling balls during rehearsal. Capisce?
I ain’t just dog walking that bitch. I’m taking her to the Vet, getting her neutered and then holding her head under the flea dip water. Watch me.
At Dawn…we ride!
Can you do me a favor the next time you go down to the hotel lobby?
Check and see if the TLC Gift Shop sells pocket calendars or day planners or racing forms, because my fight card is filling up so fast that I’m already having trouble keeping track of who threw the first punch at all these Glitz Pageants.
I mean…whoa.
Was it really only last week that we all witnessed The Hood Rat Hoe Down? (Shout out to all my girls at the Englewood Walgreens!) And now Toddlers & Tiaras is already back in the Ring hosting The Rumble of the Red Heads?
Remember when this show used to be about kids in cone bras?
Too boring, I guess. Been there. Done that.
Think about it. When’s the last time we actually saw an awkwardly inappropriate spray tanning session? I guess that after five seasons, that one kind of lost its shock value.
Which is fine. To be honest, after five seasons of How-To episodes, I can pretty much climb up on my own kitchen table and give myself a nice coat or two of Krylon without streaking, though sometimes I still forget to roll up my Speedo leg holes really high and end up with that annoying butt mark that looks like you sat on a coffee filter.
I also still get some grief when I have friends over for dinner, especially if I’m hosing down the good parts while they’re trying to have dessert. TMI?
But I’m not complaining. You know the rules around here. The Messier the Hot Mess, the better. If you really wanted to discuss which kid had the best lace ankle socks you’d be in the Baby Gap chartroom and not waiting for me to throw some shade.
This week was the Coastal Georgia Pageant Productions…errr…production of…the When I Grow Up Pageant, because everyone knows that anyone who has graduated from the 0 – 23 month category should have already charted out a pretty solid career path for themselves.
Pageant Director Chasity Saunders broke it all down in a fairly low key manner, unlike some of our previous Directors.
Hmmm. Perhaps Chasity was saving all her Krazy for later. You think?
The winner of this competition would receive the awesome Mega Face Supreme title and $1,000…which I’m going to assume could be turned directly over to a bail bondsman if the PoPo happened to be called at some point in the evening.
You might wanna hold that thought.
Our first contestant represented pretty much every progressive lifestyle and ethnicity on the US census form except for space aliens. If you were looking for the Ward and June Cleaver household, let’s just say you might want to get back on the highway and reset your GPS.
Tiny 2 year old Lyric and her 19 year old Mom Amber were both pretty darn cute.
True…all babies are pretty darn cute, but there’s something about babies with uncontrollably fuzzy hair that makes me smile. And when they look like someone just rubbed twelve birthday balloons on their head? Even better. And when they live in a veritable clown car full of family members? Gold! We loved this family.
Here we go. Take a deep breath and we’ll do this…
Lyric was a patootie of a bi-racial baby who lived with her Mom and her Aunt and her lesbian Grandma and her lesbian Grandma’s lesbian wife and her Great-Grandma who could make some of the best flustered Great-Grandma faces ever seen on TLC.
For the cherry on top of that awesome sundae, the lesbian Grandma Jennifer and the non-lesbian Great Grandma Valerie had been professional wrestlers earlier in their lives. They even showed old photos, gave us a few of their fight names and took Lyric to a Martial Arts Studio to show her how lesbians and non-lesbians can F*** you up if you’re talking on your cell and not paying attention. And then my head exploded.
For some reason, they all felt it was necessary to use the one bathroom at home all at the same time every day, so enjoy that one. If you’re claustrophobic or allergic to aerosol or the goo they put on fresh tattoos, or just don’t like crowded elevators, you might want to pass on the experience.
Moving on, the second and third contestants this week were sold together in a freshly sealed TwinPak from the local farm.
Dat’s rite. The Tiara Twins! So. Cute.
Alycesaundra and Giavanna were back and just as competitive as ever, though parents Kelly and Ron seemed to have discovered a top secret way to swap out their brains since we last saw them on the show, because the normal one was now the crazy one and the crazy one was now the normal one. Go figure.
It wouldn’t really surprise me if they actually had a SyFy Channel genetics laboratory somewhere on that farm/plantation/biosphere thing they live on, hidden underground below the 13,000 square foot practice building, the rockstar trailer garage and the airport hanger where they store that shrink wrapped Tiara Twins tour bus.
I’m too lazy to Google it, but whatever it is they grow or sell out on that farm certainly pays the bills. Mom did some quick math in her head and came up with a nice, round $1M that had been spent on pageant pimpin’ so far. Nice to hear as I nuked the Lean Cuisine that I bought with a coupon.
Adopt. Me.
There was also the ongoing 5 year old battle as to which little nugget was cuter, though Mom let us know that Gia was clearly the winner. Hopefully Aly was out playing in that field where they grow cow poo and mud when Mom dropped that bomb on the nation.
I’ll cut her some slack, though. Maybe Mother really does know best. But to the untrained eye, both girls still needed name tags. If I get a vote, they were both redoinkulously cute.
Prep work for any pageant is key. We all know that by now.
Inside the 13,000 square foot playroom (…don’t even ask me how many sq. feet my condo is…) Kelly and Ron had devised a new training technique that would hopefully prevent the girls from being distracted on stage. Designed to build razor sharp focus and help them acquire the Ninja-like skills required to join the X-Men, it was a cross between elementary school dodge ball and a Jimmy Buffett concert where everyone is bouncing inflatables in the air during the last song.
Basically, it was just throwing gigantic beach balls at children when they weren’t looking.
3 for $1. Knock one down, win a prize.
Over at Lyric’s home, there weren’t quite as many balls. Maybe none. It was hard to tell. I think they were probably just tucked away some place safe.
Yup. Drag Queen Miss Navonna dropped by to show Lyric how to be fierce.
C-List Drag Queens. Lesbians. Non-Lesbians. Pageant Babies. All attempting to shake it like a Polaroid picture…and a Vegas showgirl…at the same time.
It truly was The Perfect Storm.
Finally, it was Showtime! Too bad no one told the emcee.
Right out of the gate, the pageant was a hot mess. Chasity had picked what appeared to be the smallest hotel in the city and for some reason everyone was doing hair and makeup and When I Grow Up stuff in the middle of the hallways. And they were narrow hallways. There’s no way you could have gotten one of those maid carts through, so I guess nobody got fresh linens that weekend.
Lyric was crying before she hit the stage, and Mom gave her what looked like ecstasy or ibuprofen. It was a little sumthin sumthin…maybe they have pixie stix in pill form now.
The Emcee missed little Lyric completely in the MacBook Pro roster and had to go back and announce her. Goober #1.
Actually, it was the second, if you count his outfit.
WTF? I think I wore that same ensemble to my first boy/girl junior high dance in the cafetorium. And the Boy Band hat was a nice touch. Just enough of a shade off from the blue shirt that it kind of made my eyes sting a little. You know the tie came in the same package.
Along with a bonus swatch of fabric, of course, so you can go shopping for matching socks without having to bring the whole shirt to H&M.
Mom Kelly was a little wired when the party started. I think she was still mad at Dad for lifting up her shirt in the middle of the mud bog back home and almost showing all of America the other Tiara Twins.
Trust me…if you didn’t see it, you don’t want to see it. Just walk away.
Ali did poorly in Beauty, but she’s not Gia so it was no surprise to Mom. I still say they could have switched in the middle like an episode of The Brady Bunch and nobody would have known the difference.
Gia did better, because she’s Gia. That, and the fact that this time she wasn’t dragging a live turkey behind her. And Dad finally showed up with her flipper. That helped, too.
Seriously. Dude. How many flippers do you have on you at one time? He was pulling them out of pockets like a birthday party magician. Look! There’s one in your ear! And another one! And a quarter!
Kelly was pissed. No way to get around it. Pissed.
The When I Grow Up Wear was pretty much every Career Barbie outfit ever made come to life.
Ali wanted to be a pilot. A pilot who is going to miss every landing strip and dump 237 passengers into the Atlantic if she spaces out in the cockpit like she did on stage.
Gia wanted to be a Hunter in booty shorts, hunting down her Dad who was dressed in one of those life size teddy bear costumes with the giant heads.
Before you die, you really need to see him in action when the music kicked in. Check your DVR or look on youtube. Unless he was groping around for another flipper, there was a little too much bumping and thrusting for a Glitz Pageant. Especially when you have mitten paws instead of hands and you keep whacking your honey pot.
Why yes, Goldilocks. Trust me. This one is juuuuust right.
Of course, the emcee missed his cue for Gia as well and left the audience with nothing to do but watch the RonBear get down with his bear self at the edge of the stage.
Lyric’s showgirl routine was derailed by one of the emcee’s groupies who stood next to him and made crazy faces throughout the entire competition. Like the crazy faces you make in maternity wards or when the Beatles are on Ed Sullivan. Dial it down.
And then it happened.
Great-Grandma Valerie had gotten wind that Chasity was talking smack about their family to other participants and audience members. Something about them being low class and dropping F Bombs in every sentence.
Valerie very politely asked to speak with Chasity away from the crowds. And then Chasity disrespected Valerie. And then Jennifer smelled the blood and red hair dye in the water…and it was over.
Girl. It was on like Beer Pong.
Chasity had some big thick girl named Heather following her around everywhere and Jennifer got all up in her grill, too. I’m in Chasity’s face? Do it! Get me outta her face! Get me outta her face! Get me outta her face!
(Remember: According to the VH1 Book Of Popping Off, you always have to repeat everything at least three times and then clang a frying pan if you have one handy.)
Heather scooted off to call the cops and that pretty much pushed Jennifer’s final button.
Everyone just pig piled at the front door and screamed and yelled and cussed and got all low klass beeotch on each other.
Chasity kept dragging other people into the argument which made Jennifer’s nutty get even nuttier. Chasity even asked for a show of hands from anyone who had heard Jennifer swear during the competition.
Kudos to that one dude who was so mesmerized by the whole extravaganza that he just stood there holding his kid’s rolling pink zebra luggage and balancing about ten of those giant Rubbermaid bins on his shoulder. You know he was completely cutting off the circulation to his neck and risking a stroke, but he wasn’t leaving this shiz for nuthin.
Chasity screamed and then cried and then screamed some more. Some random girl on a cell phone even came up behind her and tried to take her by the arm back to the CrazyTown Sanitarium but she wasn’t having it.
Check it out. Chasity’s got some looney tunes eyes when she gets going. You know she thinks there are bugs on her when they’re not even in season.
Finally, Jennifer’s wife Shantae (…all 97 pounds of her, not counting the gel for her spikey motorbikey fauxhwak…) managed to get her outside before she cracked Chasity’s skull wide open and let all the spaz leak out.
Chasity asked who was glad to see them go, then joined the crowd in an unprofessional round of applause, followed by the whitest “Peace Out, Mutha” I’ve ever heard on cable television. Seriously. I’ve heard worse on PBS.
The PoPo showed up and proved useless, as well as a couple of pageant cameos.
Now I either watch waaaay too much of this stuff, or I’m just very observant…but Pageant Coach from Hell Nikki was hanging out in the lobby, as well as Honey Boo Boo‘s Coach Amanda Carter, who apparently still goes back in her Tiara Time Machine to get those tired old chunky highlights put in every six weeks.
Gah. Buy a Cosmo and figure it out. It’s 2013.
Chasity had a meltdown and the emcee tried to block the cameras like she was going into the courthouse. Nice try. She’s a Pageant Director, not freakin’ Lindsay Lohan.
And nice hat, by the way. Did I already mention that?
Somehow, amidst all the dramz, they still managed to finish the show and some kids won some stuff. But not Gia.
At least not what she should have won, which sent Mom to the judges’ table for her own little F Bomb Moment. A couple of them, actually.
Kelly flipped inside the building. Twice. Maybe three times.
Jennifer finished her own flip outside the building.
Frazzled Great-Grandma Valerie chewed her gum so fast that I thought her upper plate was going to come loose and Ron kinda looked like he was starting to dig that sweaty bear costume after standing in the lobby for two hours telling everyone he was Pooh.
But I’m not here to judge.
Yet.
Maybe when I grow up.
