Monday, November 21, 2011

No, actually, everything sucks. EVERYTHING. In the entire world. Except kittens. (Well, they suckle. Which is entirely different, and cute.)

So has anyone but me noticed the world is becoming a giant fuckbasket? Is anyone like, trying to stop this, or something? Just wondering.

My life could not mirror the general mood of fuckbastry any better if it was run by Congress. (Okay, it probably could. Congress is the forgotten, left-out-in-the-sun-for-a-week Easter egg in the fuckbasket of life.)

I sincerely do not want to talk about it. ANY of it. I can't laugh at it, I can't make funny reindeer pictures out of it, I just want it to GO AWAY. I'll be in bed, under a pile of squishy blankets. If you bother me, I will tell you to go away. Unless you have pancakes. Maybe.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Crapening II: The False Alarm (Lamest sequel ever, but whew!)

Everything I thought sucked, does not actually suck. Well, not everything. Actually everything I think sucks pretty much does suck, except the stuff I thought sucked at 8:46 this morning. That's all good.

And I hate Twilight. Not because it's cool to hate Twilight, but because it sucks. It still gets an A for escapism but so does three margaritas, especially with the little umbrellas in. And you probably won't wake up with a vampire biting your pillow. ... probably. So here's a toast to things continuing to... not suck for the next 5 months.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

I think I understand now why people like Twilight, fuck.

It's escapism, and escaping is good. Or rather, it's not so much good as the lesser of two evils (reality being the great Cthulu in this scenario).

Yes the Crapening has returned, with great and mighty force. Crapening II: Revenge of the Crap.

Monday, November 07, 2011

So I had the terrible horrible no good very bad week from hell. In a hand basket. On a pogo stick. Even my RPG sucked. When things go bad in your imaginary world, where exactly do you go? Hint: it involved a lot of sleeping. And watching Hoarders and Toddler & Tiaras. And eating candy. I'm not proud. But things are much better now, after what I will refer to as the Weekend of the Great De-crapening, so I am back. My DVR kindly recorded the Chitlin Strut for me so... yeah, that is a really weird sentence. My DVR knows me too well in a sort of uncomfortable way. But that means more T&T posts, so woo hoo!

My DVR reads my mind while I sleep, doesn't it. :/ THAT'S HOW THEY WORK, ISN'T IT. YOUR TECHNOLOGY FRIGHTENS AND CONFUSES ME. But... thanks for the Toddlers & Tiaras episodes I would have never admitted wanting to anyone else. Actually you're kinda like my BFF, aren't you DVR? Let's... try on jeans together and eat pudding. Or whatever the hell BFFs do.

It may shock you from my posts, but I've never had a female friend *gasp!* I know, I'm so full of girlish goo. Can't you just picture me squealing on the phone all day? But seriously, I'm not bothered by this. I don't understand the way women act with each other and I don't miss it. I'm relieved to have my space. And my DVR, who never judges and also does a damn fine pedicure!



Oh DVR, Chitlin Strut and Rosy Pink Shimmer? You spoil me! (And yes, my feet ARE SO surrounded by flowers and water and... tea garden stones. SHADDUP.)

Sunday, October 30, 2011

You would not believe how many girls on LJ have usernames like HAYDENSMOMMY2003 and KADENSMOMMA09 and JADENSMOMMIE and well, I think you get the idea. First of all, I'm sure they're all giant MILFS. Have kids? check. Have breasts? check. Congratulations, you are now a fully qualified MILF. Go forth and... milficate.

Second, the supercoolspecial names like KADEN! and MADISON! are no longer super cool and special when EVERYONE HAS THEM. "I want to be original, just like everyone else! Ooh Kaden, only five of my friends used that name already, they're so cool and different, I wanna be cool and different too!" This is also how hipsters happen. Like hipsters, the only way to tell them apart is by punching one of them in the face. Try sporting that shiner "ironically," sunshine.

There's also a fair amount of lj fuckery/mean Christian overlap. Here are some charming userpic messages to brighten your day: "Bitch you're on my shit list," "You are classy with a capital cunt," "One classy bitch," "Sorry I'm prettier than you," "Honey you're a dirty slag," and last but not least, "Christ follower." Yes, they all belong to the same person. I hope she never gets confused and ends up with "Jesus is a dirty slag" or something. Or maybe Christ is her sexy neighbor she follows around with high-powered binoculars? *grasps at anything to try to make the world make sense* Apparently being a Christian is like being a MILF. You just have to say you are one, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

In case this person wasn't confounding enough, she likes... Doctor Who? And Big Bang Theory, and Harry Potter? But but... those are MY things! "Classy bitches" and MILFS and woo girls can't have those things, they have Britney Spears and Jersey Shore and America's Next Top Slag Housewife Dancing with the Stars! Get your mean girl face outta my happy place. :/

This stuff is very prevalent on LJ, for some reason. The "I'm a classy bitch and you are something demeaning that makes you inferior" school of thought. From these girls' journals you'd think they've had really rough lives, hoes and slags and cunts humping their man's leg at every turn, what's a poor classy bitch to do? It's tough out there on the mean streets of *checks*... San Diego. I don't know what happened to turn today's young women so hard, but I'd like very much to go back in time and shoot it into space.

The worst part is I feel like I'm the only one who gives a shit or even notices. Man, I feel old.

BUT I'M NOT OLD. I'M RIGHT, DAMMIT.

Friday, October 28, 2011

DAY 2937 OF OCCUPY: MY BEDROOM. DEMANDS STILL NOT MET.

Oh, fuckcakes. I had a terrible night. And a mostly terrible day, except for the candy-getting part. Oh and the burrito-getting part, that was pretty good too. But the parts that didn't involve putting stuff in my mouth? TERRIBLE.

When I'm sad I tend to roam the internet like a lonely hitchhiker, seeking out things from the past. The last thing I expected was the rare LLOL (LITERAL LAUGH OUT LOUD), but I sure needed it tonight. I looked up this girl I went to elementary school with, found her facebook and some other stuff, and this girl was like SUPER SMART so I wasn't surprised she had some long initimidating-sounding technical title at WeUnderstandYourComputerAndYouDon'tCo,Inc. And a Masters degree. And possibly a pony. So then I click on the myspace of a girl with her name, scroll down to see if it's her, and there was her occupation: MEAT PROCESSOR. So yeah... probably a different person. And OMG, I think I peed a little. Not that there's anything wrong with processing meat! But it sounds exactly like what I would make up to be the opposite of Technical Smartypants, so that made my night. Cause real life should sound like me more often.

My title is now officially MEAT PROCESSOR, if anyone asks.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011



This photo is totally gonna rock my journal now. It pretty much sums up everything I want to say about life that can be said with a bedazzler, ya know? The four exclamation marks really make it for me. Cause three just wouldn't have been enough! What would Jesus do? Punctuate!!!!

So I watched this episode again to confirm that the Glitz!Jesus lady and the lady who dressed her 4 year old up like a prostitute were one and the same, and by golly I was not disappointed. I wonder what happened to her to make the flow of blood completely stop reaching her brain. Clearly she is a miracle of science.

I forgot what a deep fried mess this one was. Nothin' but high-pitched twangs, screaming children and "unfortunate" mishaps. And it's the south, so it's all very dramatic! "Who wears a big bad wolf costume to a pageant to scare all the other little kids?" One mom cries in her best outraged twang. Um, a FUCKING GENIUS? Geez, no wonder the lil hooker* won. Everyone else was really terrible. I mean, they did NOT bring their A-game despite being thoroughly briefed on the necessity of bringing one's A-game. You'd almost think they were like, toddlers or something. And I don't know if these moms were a special brand of awful or if the INCESSANT TWANGING JUST STRETCHED OUT EVERY AGONIZING SYLLABLE LIKE A MEDIEVAL TORTURE DEVICE, but holy FUCK they grated on me.

*Lil Hooker doll, coming to the back alley of a store near you! Oh wait, they're already called Bratz.

Stupid name of the pageant: Brystol (also the girl scared by the big bad wolf. Probably unrelated). "We named her after the racetrack, but with a y cause you know, we're not rednecks or anything. These are her twin sisters, Daytonna and Tallydega. I swear we're really interesting, and I read a book once!" I dare you to figure out if I'm making that up or not. YOU CAN'T, CAN YOU? That's the beauty of T&T, folks. It's like living in a world completely populated by fairies and mermaids and elves; if a unicorn walked in would anyone really notice?

I had more to write tonight but I'm tired, so I'll be back tomorrow! It appears I've finally broken out of my recent blog funk. I might even be ready to tackle that chitlin pageant; I just need some earplugs to keep the twanging down to a dull roar.

The earplugs... they do nothing. :/
I was randomly searching people from my old hometown on facebook and came across the little boy of the woman who used to babysit me, who had grown into a very gay man. Now that's not exactly earth-shaking (well in El Segundo it might be actually), but this guy isn't just gay he is VERY VERY gay, he is King Gaynor of Gaystonia. His interests listed are "Gay Marriage, Gay Music Videos, Gay Movies, Gay Podcasts..." *deep breath* ... Gaytime: Television for Gay Men, Gay Hiking, Gay Decathlon, Gay Hunting, Fishing and Archery Association, Gay Australian Rules Football, Gay Book Club, Gay Astronomy, Gay Birdwatching, Gay Breakfast, Gay Cream of Mushroom Soup, Gay Playing the Guitar, and Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay.*

So yeah, he's gay a little. And considering I last saw him as a tow-headed 6-year old being raised by two straight, conservative El Segundo parents, I had a fleeting sense of... disreality. (Yeah, that's a word. MAKE IT NOT BE ONE.) This on top of the sense of disreality you always feel upon seeing someone you knew as a little kid as an adult. "You mean... they grew UP? What?!" After my brain processed the unexpected information, it felt happy. I mean, growing up gay in El Segundo must have sucked. I wonder how long it took him to come out, like if he waited til after he moved on to the gayer pastures of Santa Monica, or what. But while his interest list might be a bit excessively gay, he looks comfortable with himself, like an IT GETS BETTER ad. I'm happy for him. Hell, I'm GAY for him. Wheee!

*Gay Hobbies I considered and rejected upon rereading: Gay Fly-Fishing, Gay Deep Sea Diving, Gay Sandwiches, and Gay Sleeping with Other Men. Actually wait, I like that one. It's like the "Bob Johnson!" of fake gay hobbies. I had to keep Gay Cream of Mushroom Soup though. Now whenever someone searches the internets for "gay cream" - AND SOMEONE WILL - they'll be directed to my blog. And this makes me win. or something.

Love,
Punch Rockgroin (unfunnest gay hobby ever!)
I've been feeling kind of flibberty lately. I can't seem to focus on anything. Not even T&T, waah. So I bring you randomness, mostly lj and political fuckery.

A while back I made the post about Ye Olde Englishe Shoppeing a name up, as in adding random superfluous letters, wherein I christened myself Maelissah or some such silliness. At the time it was funny because it was hyperbolic, but now it's tragic because it's true. Ladies and gentleman, your lj mom name fuckery of the day... IZABELLAH!

Don't make me take the letter Z away from you people, cause I'll do it. Then I'll come for your H in all its proud, silent majesty. Look at it standing there, defying you to tell it it's doing nothing. I understand, letter H. You just wanna contribute something to the cause, you don't wanna die down there in no man's land. It's all you can do to stand up straight. Cheer up emo H, I'm taking you to a better place, at the front of a word, where you'll actually get to make a sound! Like HISS! Or HI-KEEBA! There, isn't that better already? *pats*

Me: Saving the alphabet from name fuckery, one letter at a time! The More You Know.

All the girls on LJ are named either Brittany/Britneee or Ashley/Ashleeee. ALL OF THEM. A lot of them are idiots and name fuckers. And a lot of these name fuckers are self-proclaimed MILFS. A MILF is a "mom I'd like to fuck," we all know this. Except, apparently, all these girls who don't understand "milf" is something SOMEONE ELSE calls you. You are basically saying you would like to go fuck yourself. I understand the sentiment, I'd like you to go fuck yourself too, but MILF: YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG.

So new rule. Don't call yourself a MILF if you're not a MILF. Don't call yourself a MILF if you are a MILF. If you are, in fact, a MILF you likely don't have to call yourself one, cause you're too busy being a mom, and... fucking people, I guess? If you call yourself a MILF, you likely have huge boobs (oh!), a huge gut (oh :/), wear tight clothes that squeeze random things out, are very horny and are sick of dealing with screaming and diaper rash and dream of a place where you're not wearing your sexy thong under size 16 mom jeans and you're not tired all the time and your hubby isn't a drunk redneck who knocks you up between NASCAR races, NO! You're a MILF dammit, just by virtue of being a mom, and you can prove it! Squeeze into your sexiest wal-mart jeans, show off that thong and tramp stamp, walk around for a while sticking your boobs out til some guy is like BLAM! GIANT BOOBS IN MY FACE! and makes the cartoon woogly eyes and lets out an involuntary grunt in the direction of your chest and TADA! You are now a MILF, because you're alive and have breasts and gave birth. I mean, you can see how she'd just naturally assume, right?



If you call yourself a MILF, this is how you'll appear in my head. You've been warned.

P.S. If you value, well... anything, do not google image "fat milf." EVER.

Side note: I do not understand thongs. Life is scary enough without your underwear constantly threatening to creep up your butt. :/

Political fuckery time! To the "comedian" who said the death of Khaddafy-Qidaffffblergh-Gesundheit-however-the-hell-you-spell-it-Libyan-name-fuckery means liberals need to kill Sarah Palin:

First of all, WHAT? Second, that's not even remotely humorous. Third, WHAT?



Mocking Sarah Palin: AWESOME, if a bit fish-in-a-barrely. Saying she, or anyone else a few ridiculous hats shy of being a dictator, should be killed: FUCKERY.

You know, I'm gonna skip over all the serious important stuff about WAY TO FUCK UP OUR STANCE ON NON-VIOLENT RHETORIC, JACKASS, and how really offensive and counterproductive and possibly dangerous that is (HI A WOMAN WAS ACTUALLY SHOT IN THE HEAD YOU MORON). Ok... I'm done skipping over that now. *cough*

Instead I will critique the "humor." Let's pretend for a moment it's ok to suggest killing innocent people. Ya with me? Good! The "joke" doesn't work because Sarah Palin has nothing to do with Qaddafiwhatsit. She isn't a crazed dictator, she doesn't kill people... and yeah, that's pretty much it. It's like saying hey, a kangaroo died in Australia today, everyone in Kansas must be shot! Kansas: Um, what? Kangaroos? Now if you were to suggest she be killed by say, a special ops caribou force, or a Fish Militia, or a Navy seal team of ACTUAL SEALS, that might be funny. Cause she kills that stuff! HAHAHAHA! Anything else is just random nonsense. (Ok, she probably doesn't actually kill seals. That's how you exaggerate without crossing the border into hate speech. Dig?)



Reindeer Green Berets: Whose head's gonna be hung over the mantle now, motherfucker?! *PEWPEWPEW*

Now that's funny. You're welcome.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Livejournal is also rife with name fuckery. From someone's userinfo banner: "I'm Brittany! Mommy to Aidynn and Rylan!" Hi, I'm VOMITING. Let's add extra letters for no reason and make random sounds! OOFBLURGH. There you go, you're welcome. "Brittany" is also kind of a puke name overall, but at least it's not "BRITNEE-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-" or whatever. I don't know why parents keep putting all those e's at the end of names, it sounds like their child is continuously rolling down a hill. "--EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-- ow."

Sunday, October 09, 2011

Dear Idiot Parents,

The name you are looking for is "Michaela." NOT "Makayla." Hooked on phonics did not work for you. Michaela is the feminine form of Michael. You wouldn't name your son "Makayl," would you... oh never mind, of course you would. I forgot who I was talking to.

Saturday, October 01, 2011

The 1.99? TOTALLY WORTH IT. I am so getting my money's worth out of this post. I bring you the RODEO PRINCESS PAGEANT in all its... let's just go with glory.

How every single episode begins (hence, my shiny new tags!): "There's gonna be some real stiff competition here at the (insert regional stereotype here) Princess Pageant. The judges will be looking for that total package (hi it's called Barbie and you can buy it at Wal-mart in an actual package. you're welcome) so be prepared to bring your A-game if you wanna take home the big cro-own (cut to giant pointy thing that looks like it should be docked somewhere at NASA) and win our Ultimate Grande Fiesta Burrito Supreme (hold the lettuce)!

We've got great girls coming in from every shitty small town where there's nothing else to do! We've got Madison, she's a real little diva (cut to the little diva making a face that would curdle milk), we also have Madison, who's sassy and really knows how to rock that stage (cut to her doing moves that would make Madonna blush), and finally Madison, who's new and I've never seen before." (Sorry Madison, I see a fako princess crown in your future).

Ho hum, heard it a million times. Except wait... this time, it's being said by a GIANT MIDDLE-AGED COWGIRL and her umm... femme life partner?
Stop! Everyone go up a shirt size.

This pageant is semi-slut, I mean, semi-glitz, which means no one has any fucking clue what it means. Let's start with Lynsie. This tragically-spelled name little girl wants to be a dancer in Vegas. I really hope she means when she grows up and not y'know, tomorrow, but honestly it's kind of hard to tell.
"We're going Borderline Glitz!" Mom exclaims. Ooh, a rebel. Just don't go too crazy girl, I don't wanna see what happens when you cross the border into GLITZ. I suspect your brain gets sucked out through a vacu-tube. "I like skulls, cause they're cool," Lynsie-dear-GOD-why-not-just-name-her-Lindsey says. So basically she's gonna be a Vegas showgirl who hooks up with bikers. Awesome. She's a cute little girl, dammit! Someone stop her before it's too late! Her dad looks befuddled by the whole thing, but he also looks like he might be befuddled by corn. It's Jimmy, Lynsie's dad! I bet all his friends call him Jimbo. Every single one. As Lynsie frolics in her stripper skull outfit that will one day win the heart of a lucky guy named Dirtbag, Dad muses "Ah guess it's lahk any sport, ya gotta wear the... protective gear... or somethin... derp." Yeah, let's just go with derp. Let's also hope Dirtbag decides to wear the "protective gear." And that's right folks, dad is chewing gum at the pageant. Well it's West Virginia so I sincerely hope it's gum... oh god it's not gum, is it. :( My favorite part? The T&T crew subtitling everything he says like he's speaking BULGARIAN instead of redneck English. Man, this guy is comedy gold. He should have his own show.

For her western princess whatever wear, she's squeezed into denim and sequins, given a "bag of sugar," and told to "rock that stage." REALLY. IT HAD NOT OCCURRED TO ME TO ROCK THAT STAGE. I WAS GOING TO SIT AND QUIETLY READ. THANK YOU FOR THE INFORMATION. She appears to lick sugar off mom's finger before going onstage. I know it's the rodeo pageant and all but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be the cowgirl, not the horse.
"This is my Daisy Duke outfit!" Um yeah... that's really not helping. I'm trying here! Oh hell, maybe you just can't fuck with destiny. Sorry, Lynsie. And I can't possibly type that name again without screaming, so moving on...

Kelci. AWESOME. You people do this just to annoy me, don't you? But pleasant surprise, this girl and her parents are normal and nice! I like them! Mom says "Kelci" (I'll grit my teeth and bear it) wants to be a model, and instead of the usual pageant mom delusion I can actually see this girl growing into a model. She has real natural beauty and grace, kind of how I imagine Gwyneth Paltrow or someone would have looked as a child. She has that pretty hair color too. And the best part? "I do natural pageants cause I want to show what I actually look like." HAL-LE-LUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLE-EEE-LU-JAAHHH! Why is this only just occurring to someone NOW?
Yay natural beauty! In case she wasn't cool enough, she has a pet HEDGEHOG. I'm JEALOUS. It's so cute and she kind of tries to pet it but it's too prickly. I may have said 'aww.' So yeah, nothing bad to say here except the dumb name and that's mom's fault, mom, you name fucker. But mom's nice too so I feel bad. BAH! Send me someone I can rip on before I start singing campfire songs or something.

Ah... it's Karmen with a K! Why a K? Who knows, maybe mom didn't want her to grow up to wear fruit on her head. The random K is really beside the point with this girl anyway, who gives us a coy look and says "sometimes I'm the devil." Ah, it's our resident Diva! Karmen is a FULL GLITZ girl in a SEMI GLITZ pageant. Clearly, something's gotta give.

The giant, possibly lesbian cowgirl comes out to remind us this is a SEMI GLITZ pageant, which means lots of sparkly shit but no orange skin, apparently. And uh oh, someone's been into the spray tanner! "Her hands give it away," a judge confides. "The hands are the toughest part to blend in." The judge seems pleased to have nabbed herself a tan rustler. I'm pleased because Karmen has a sneery 'tude that says, "I'm gonna beat all these ugly natural bitches!" Clearly she does not understand SEMI GLITZ. Well neither do I, but that's beside the point. The point is she has kind of a creepy Bad Seed vibe going on, like she wouldn't hesitate to beat another girl with her spangled cowboy boot to get that cro-own, so I'm glad she got caught, er... tan-handed.
"Semi this glitz, biotch!"

Gotta love a little girl who looks like she's always about to give you the finger. And now for something completely different, Karmen's "talent:" reciting the books of the Bible in a pink dress while pretending she's not the devil! I'm not gonna argue, that does take talent.
Stay tuned for the live exorcism!

Kelci was happy she caught her baton. Her mom was happy. Her grandma was happy. Her hedgehog was happy. And gosh darn it, I was happy too.
I kinda hope my daughter turns out like her. Sadly, she got stuck with runner-up. BOO. I didn't understand the titles in this one, which is to say I understood them even less than usual. There was no Ultimate Grande Latte with Extra Foam. The runner-ups got "princess court," and the winners got "princess," which usually means LOSER but I guess in West Virginia means WINNAH! Karmen got "Marion County Princess," which was the 2nd place supreme title. Lynsie won "Harrison County Princess" which in West Virginia-ese means ULTIMATE GRAND SLAM BREAKFAST, baby. "I guess they wanted a redneck beauty queen," she tells us. Truer words were never spoken.

One odd thing... the two rather um, large girls wearing cowboy hats who appeared randomly on stage throughout the pageant. It's not so much that they're chunky but that they're wearing brightly colored potato sacks instead of SEMI GLITZNESS, with inexplicable sashes.
I'm pretty sure this qualifies as NON GLITZ, LIKELY PURCHASED AT SEARS.

At the end they hand out the trophies, which is usually done by Miss Teenage Rodeo Queen or whatever in a slinky dress. Just what is going on here! Why are they dressed like tweedledee and tweedledum, only in less flattering outfits? What could those sashes possibly say? I kinda feel bad for these girls, they made me double take even more than Karmen's creepy emotionless singsong Bible chant. and that's saying something. Cause that will haunt my nightmares.

"Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, REDRUM, Numbers, Deuteronomy, YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"
I'm getting a distinct "chunky bat boy who's somehow related to the general manager" vibe here.

I also kind of wonder how 2nd place Marion County feels about that bitch Harrison County. I bet they secretly want to punch them in the face and rip off their cro-own. How was it determined who the lesser county is, anyway? Dance-off? Chili contest? Coin flip? Well next time bring your A-game, Marion County! You bunch of losers.

Tomorrow, I bring you Miss Georgia Spirit. And possibly something called the Chitlin Strut which I haven't watched yet because I'm scared. But for now, I leave you with this seemingly innocent news story. http://news.yahoo.com/recovery-mystery-pair-la-area-crashes-220449116.html - for within its bowels lurks the most awesome, horrifying, glorious piece of name fuckery I have ever witnessed. This kicks Sparkal and Makynli and even Saryniti straight to the curb. Ladies and gentlemen... I give you CHARDONNAY HOOKER. Go on, bask in it. No, it's not a private room at a strip club, it's not a girl trying to drum up business at a local vineyard, it's not even a hooker. At least, I don't think it is. To be fair they didn't mention her line of work. But I really, really hope she's something serious like a parole officer or Sunday school teacher or judge. "All rise for the Honorable Chardonnay Hooker!" bahahahaaha *falls off bed* ow.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Bleh. BLEH! I am having a perfectly awful night and I feel like ripping some pageant moms a new one. Let's see what I can find!

...ok, I just did something completely fucking ridiculous. There was an episode I really wanted to see and it wasn't on free ANYWHERE so I BOUGHT it. I feel dirty, like I've taken a first step down a dark, dark path. This is some kind of gateway drug isn't it? I NEEDS MY FIX! Soon I'll be buying flippers and glitz dresses by the kilo and parading around the room for my cat but it won't be enough, no, I can't stop til I have the CRO-OWN! Dear God help me. Help meee...

Hey, I had a bad day, it was only 1.99, and it's just this one time. JUST THIS ONE TIME. Oh god, that's what all the methface people say too... *sobs*





















Really, which one is scarier? Think I'm gonna have to call this a tie.

P.S. I made an awesome new list of PAGEANT TAGS! Now I've gotta stick 'em in all of my T&T posts.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Dear Prospective Parents,

If you name your son Maverick, I hate you. I don't care if you cure cancer, nurse an injured baby bird back to health and bicycle to Africa to feed starving children while hitting two home runs for the Red Sox (simultaneously) - I HATE YOU. Do you see what I'm saying here? Good. Ditto Hunter, Tanner, Pistol, Bristol*, Dakota, Wyoming, Outlaw, Shotgun, Palomino, Dry Gulch, Saddle Rash, Assless Chaps, or anything else that says, "I pretend I live in the Wild West instead of a soulless subdivision in Houston."

*Okay, Bristol has nothing to do with the old west, it's just a dumb made up name. And I can't say I'm surprised Sarah Palin was on the cutting edge of self-indulgent name fuckery. She's got "pageant mom" written all over her.

Actually, +1 if you name your kid Assless Chaps.
However, -1 times infinity with a backflip if you name your daughter any of the above names. "This is my little girl, Shotgun SueAnn Larue..." Actually wait, that's awesome. Excuse me, I need to have a conversation with my fiance re: baby names. Boy, is he gonna be surprised!

Shotgun Sue's awesomeness aside, I REALLY dislike those unisex last-names-as-first-names like "Chase" and "Payton" and "Reagan" and "Parker" and "Morgan." Seriously, are you trying to name a kid or a bank? If your family reunion reads like the minutes of a boardroom meeting, YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG. Yuppies who do this need to be punched in the face constantly. However, when you find something like CHASE FOSTER REAGAN WINSLOW and he lives in a trailer in Cudchew City, Arkansas, that is pure comedy gold. Nice try, folks! You almost had us convinced you live in a double wide! And you know he has a toothless grampy somewhere who insists on calling him "Jimbo" anyway.

So yeah... don't name your kid Maverick. It's douchey. If you wanted to live on a ranch that bad, you should have married a cowboy instead of a Dodge dealer in a Stetson.

... don't name your kid Stetson either. Or Dodge. MY GOD DO I HAVE TO COME IN THERE AND SMACK YOU PEOPLE.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

"I'm pretty when I'm all glitzed up," 11-year old Chelsea says matter of factly. No honey, here on planet earth you're pretty right now. Planet Glitz is a stupid place. Geez, she's not even a teenager yet. No wonder young girls are so screwed up. And it isn't just this glitz crap that tells them they aren't pretty enough, it comes from all sides. It's ridiculous. I'm not particularly feminist, I like the soft, old-fashioned ideal of femininity rather than this modern aggressive stuff, but that crap really burns my bra.

I guess I'll look on the bright side that mom named her Chelsea instead of Chelci or Czelsi...slovakia or something. Perhaps there is hope!

One of the contestants in this one, Arianna, is from Mount Morris, PA, which is hilarious because I used to live there. She's a total hick, which is pretty much the only option in Mount Morris. The town has one stoplight (I think?), a post office, and a small family of rabbits. Arianna gleefully recounts how much she loves hunting, especially gutting deer. She describes in loving detail how she cuts off each individual deer part. She's four. Damn, I better stop before I start feeling nostalgic.

Her grandma, the self-described "huntress," takes her to pageants. Grandma has a mullet. That sentence pretty much sums up everything you need to know about Mount Morris.
MAKYNLI? Okay, you people aren't even trying to make things that sound like names anymore. Makynli is not a name, it's a weird hybrid apple from New Zealand. We're in monkeys with typewriters territory now. I am disappointed. :(






















"Mommy, who's been eating all my bananas? And what's that incessant tapping sound?"

Nine months later: her baby sister is born! Her name is... oh crap, Madison again? Et tu, monkeys? ET TU?? :(

Love,
Diva LaRue <------- THIS IS MY PAGEANT NAME DO YOU LIKE IT?

Saturday, September 24, 2011

From the ridiculous to the... oh, let's just go with sublime. That's right, it's Toddlers and Tiaras time!

Ah, the Storybook Pageant. Brings to mind all the wholesomeness and innocence of childhood... that is completely missing from child beauty pageants. Let's begin how all fairytales begin. Once upon a time...

... there was a crazy lady who said, "behind every great pageant kid is a great pageant mom!" Oh yeah, you know you're in for it now. You can actually see the demons circling this lady's head. She has my name, which makes me sad. Her daughter is named Carly. Holy FUCK, a normal name for once. I would have pegged this lady as a prime candidate for self-indulgent made-up name fuckery. However, Carly has a pageant alter-ego named Darla. Carly is cute and totally brainwashed by Demon Mom and is possibly developing multiple personality disorder. I kind of want to kidnap her to a land far far away. :/

... there was also another kinda crazy lady, and some frozen embryos who became pageant kids. Or something. She may not actually be crazy, but I'm getting a serious Praise-the-Lord-creepy-televangelist-wife-who-secretly-reads-trashy-romance-novels vibe here.





















Remember, God loves you, and we take Paypal!

Before I mock this woman any further for her giant hair and gianter earrings and sort of general oddness, she's kind of awesome... in her odd, odd way. She doesn't want to spend $1800 on a pageant dress because it makes her think of all the hungry children that could feed. YES. THIS IS WHAT I'M SAYING. I don't care if it's coming from some weird televangelist place, she's totally right. So rock on Tammy Faye!















Actually she looks more like this lady. At least, I think that's a lady. Televangelist wives, drag queens = EXACT SAME LOOK. Ponder that as we move on.

Unfortunately, Tammy Faye's frugalness in the name of starving children leads to some unfortunate fashion choices. Apparently her idea of full glitz is FULL SCARLETT O'HARA HOOP SKIRT FROM HELL. One of the judges actually makes a PBBBBBBBT sound. Poor girl.

Fiddle-dee-dee! Mom's been making dresses out of curtains again!





















After... a unicorn puked a strawberry slurpee on a wedding cake? After... 7 shots this thing actually looks better? What, I give up.

From the "things you would only hear at a pageant" department:

"Heavenly father, please let her do her best. And let this party popper go off." Aha, we have a "pray over EVERYTHING" lady. I knew it! Unfortunately, the party popper was a party pooper (HAHAHAHAHA) and didn't go off, rendering the prop genie bottle smokeless and impotent. Score another pageant win for SATAN!*

Okay, I've mocked these poor people enough. This girl is so sweet, she bravely endures the mom-imposed hoop skirt and horrible makeup and Harlequin romance novel name (ALLESSANDRA! Sounds like someone about to get ravished by Fabio). When she is cruelly betrayed by the Lord re: party popper, she goes on with her routine like a trooper. And the best part? Televangelist mom shows she is an actual human being and says, "You did an incredibly awesome job. It doesn't matter if you get anything." You can tell she means it. Crowning time, and Allessandra has to stand way the fuck off at the end of the stage because her GIANT DRESS takes up so much room. She comes in 4th. Mom hugs her and says, "you did great." They win my coveted "Best Attitude" award. Seriously though... send the hoop skirt back to Tara and give the poor girl a chance at least!

*I am much more inclined to believe Satan hangs out at beauty pageants than the Good Lord. You know half these people would sell their souls for the Ultimate Grand Supreme (the other half already sold them so their favorite NASCAR driver would win). It's like a Country Kitchen Buffet of souls in there. Besides, God is way too busy helping the local football team score touchdowns.

Meanwhile, in another part of our enchanted, er, auditorium somewhere in Pennsylvania, things are not so peaceful. The wrath of the Demon Mom can be heard over the bustle of the crowd and the hum of the elevators and possibly from the nearest low-flying airplane. "YOU WENT TOO FAST! THAT WAS YOUR BEAUTY, MAGGOT! DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY!" "But mom... I'm four... I can't even tie my shoelaces yet..." "SHUSH! You're gonna have to STEP IT UP, YOU HEAR ME MAGGOT?" Mom stalks down the hall angrily, and the demons left in her wake say fuck it, I'm going out for a smoke, this lady is crazy. The little girl nods slowly, and with the sinking realization this is the only mom she's got, forever, plods after her. Ah... the Storybook Pageant.

Judge: "I would much rather the child look at me and not do as well than look at the mom coaching them from the audience. That's... really annoying."















I don't know what you're talking about...















What could possibly be annoying about having this flagellating bugwit behind you?

"WHY DID YOU RIP YOUR EYELASHES OFF ONSTAGE!" Demon Mom erupts as she yanks her daughter away from the witnesses, I mean audience. Um, because I'm four and you made me wear FAKE EYELASHES? Mom is just a barely controlled ball of rage at this point. She looks like she's about to huff and puff and blow this joint down. The storybook theme is finally starting to make sense.

The third girl on the show had a cold. She should have been home in bed. Instead, she wins my coveted stupidest made-up name award, from the "named after a random city" division: Berkeley! Her parents seemed pretty normal too. I guess you never know when or where Stupid Naming Syndrome will strike. Kind of like venereal disease.

Anyway! Despite Mom's public display of douchery, Carly wins Ultimate Burrito Supreme with Extra Cheese. I'm happy for her. Her mom sucks. As Carly accepts her crown, mom yells "I love you!" Oh, mom. The time to say that is before she wins. Now she's gonna grow up thinking love is conditional upon winning crowns. I see some very twisted shit in this kid's future. Chalk up another psychological disorder to Demon Mom.

"Maybe we shouldn't be so critical," she concludes philosophically. By "we" she means "I," and she doesn't really mean it. "We don't have big egos," she says. "We always strive to do better." Awesome, way to justify child abuse: "I'm just very humble, that's why I yell at my daughter all day!" She's a patron of virtue, you see. And who is this "we" she keeps referring to? Carly is four. She's playing with a piece of string. Her main objective for entering the pageant was getting "a kitty." I guess she's referring to the small family of demons that live in her head. They also tell her to burn things.

Man, I hope there's no such thing as Pretty Kitty pageants... RUUUN KITTY RUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!

Friday, September 23, 2011

Every time I see clips from one of the Republican debates, I think it's an SNL sketch. Seriously. That's how bad these people are.

Republican debate-goers have ramped up the repulsion even further. What's worse than cheering executions or sick people dying? How about openly booing an ACTIVE DUTY SOLDIER IN IRAQ who happens to be gay? Americans booing our own troops, this is where we're at. I don't like it when war protesters ("my side" politically, usually) do it and I sure as hell don't like it when the rah rah war bumper sticker crowd does it. "Support our troops... except that guy!" AWESOME FOLKS. WAY TO BREAK YOUR PREVIOUS WORLD RECORD IN DOUCHERY. And be sure to cheer real loud if the "queer" dies serving his country for your ignorant redneck lazyboy sitting tea party asses. You obviously like that sort of thing. I FUCKING HATE YOU.

And not one candidate stepped up and said, "Whoa this guy's in fucking IRAQ, have a little respect, you douchebags." No "thank you for your service," like a PRESIDENT would say, like Obama would say to anyone serving. Once again, the utter immaturity and carelessness of these people is staggering. This is not leadership. This is not the Republican party I could respectfully disagree with. This is the guy who pours blood into the shark pool. This is a party about egging on. And those who don't incite, someone actually serious like Romney? HE DID NOTHING. Not exactly virtues that come to mind when I think "Presidential." And that's our field, a stage full of Americans who couldn't even be arsed to defend a soldier who's out there defending them. UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE.

That it is now, apparently, worse political suicide as a Republican to be seen defending a gay man than NOT defending our troops is staggering in itself. I don't even know what to say anymore. I feel like I'm in some bizarre futuristic universe right before the world gets destroyed. And the last living person will be like Jean-Claude Van Damme or someone, and he'll ride a motorcycle down the deserted highway with a scrap of newspaper blowing moodily by, and that'll be how the world ends.
One more comment on the "Princess" titles before I move on to neeeeew stuff!

This "everyone's a winner" mentality is another example of the PC People gone horribly wrong. Don't get me wrong, I am all for raising kids' self esteem and making them feel special for who they are, but I believe this kind of thinking has the opposite effect. I also think it's really stupid.

Winning raises self esteem. Real, pure, "I came out on top because I worked hard" satisfaction. But learning to lose gracefully also raises self esteem. This is important. If you have the right attitude, you feel encouraged to try again, not give up. (Unless you really suck. Then you should probably give up.) Fako winning helps no one. Everyone knows who really won anyway, and it teaches the totally WRONG thing!

Where's the sense of achievement, of satisfaction, in winning an empty title? Only earned victories truly affect self esteem. Being handed a crown or trophy just for showing up does not make a kid feel special, it teaches them to expect something just for showing up. Teacher: "Madison?" "Here!" "Wonderful, you get an A!"

Kids have been losing ballgames and pageants and talent contests since the dawn of time, it's natural. They learn, they get over it, they try again or they try something else. What ever happened to "you tried your best, good job!" Parents make kids feel like winners, not some made up award.

Or if you want to give everyone an award, at least make it mean something. "Most sequins per square inch" or "prettiest forehead" or "best nose" or "wow, she's really orange!" Or seriously, something like "best attitude." If you recognize what's special in every child, win or lose, now that means something.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

I am now caught up on all the past episodes of T&T I had missed. In honor of my commitment to... being lazy and watching trashy tv, here's a roundup of things I forgot to mention.

1. The "Princess" crowns. I HATE them. I almost don't blame the contestants who get mad and throw them on the floor. Not because they lost, but because they have to pretend they don't know they lost and accept the dog show crown like they just won something amazing. You know they lost, they know they lost, even the dog knows they lost. So basically it's a system of announcing who lost, and then crowning them with the loser crown in front of everyone. What, you think they want a memento so they can relive the moment forever? (60 years later... "Ahh... the day I came in 6th at the Little Miss Poodle Puff pageant. I shall treasure it always." Madison* smiles fondly and places the crown back in her safe, next to the gold bars and her will.)

If I didn't win I'd rather just stand in the back smiling and clapping for the winner than be recognized for my losingness. Gimme some candy after the pageant for a consolation prize, not some fako title!

*Just think, in 60 years there will be hordes of Madisons and Jadens and Braylees rockin' out the early bird special buffet from Tuscon to Tupelo.















Old Country Buffet: Go Glitz or Go Home. And go to bed before 7PM.

2. Parents who wear their child's face airbrushed on their shirt. Seriously, it is creepy to have anyone's face peering out from your chest, let alone your own child. And if you're the size of most of these pageant moms... are you aware you're distorting your child's head into a funhouse mirror of horrors? Are you aware they haunt my nightmares, misshapen and chasing me with a spray tanner? No, no, I don't think you are. *sobs*





















I swear, I didn't pick the Inbred Twin Parents on purpose. They were just there! I guess those are his "special occasion" overalls.

3. Last but not least... the Pageant Mom Spastic Monkey Dance. STOP THIS AT ONCE. You are not helping little Kayden remember when to smile and when to turn and when to shake her butt at the judges, you are TRAUMATIZING HER FOR LIFE. The person behind you cannot stop staring at your undulating ass with a mix of fear and awe. There are so many parts flying around, the prospect of someone getting an eye put out is no longer a vague warning but an immediate threat. For the love of God, sit that thing down, chill the fuck out and just enjoy watching your kid.














There are not enough support garments in the world for this shit.

New episode tomorrow! Woohoo!!

Monday, September 19, 2011

The Rumble in the Jungle!

We open with a gaggle o' pissed pageant moms spouting what appears to be sour grapes. My daughter didn't win the CRO-OWN! It must be FIXED! (In the pageant world, the word "crown" has about 17 syllables. I can't possibly do it justice.) This one's gonna be like shootin' fish in a barrel. Which considering it's Kentucky, might be part of the talent competition.

"I's just like a boxing competition," the pageant director says, "but pageant style!" Who are you kidding, those prize belts are way glitzier than your cro-owns. "To win this pageant, you better have makeup, a tan, a flipper, a wig... a prosthetic leg..." Ok, I might have made one of those up. But in other words: WE DON'T WANT TO SEE ONE INCH OF YOUR ACTUAL CHILD. LEAVE THAT SHIT AT HOME. "In Kentucky," she continues, "we breed pageant children from fetus!" You heard it folks, crowns begin at conception. Also, eww. Kentucky is now officially creepier than Texas.

This thing is being billed as the World Championship... of pageants, I guess? I'm not sure what this means, but I'm guessing it has about as much merit as one of boxing's 700 "world championships." Also the world championship of anything does not take place in Kentucky, except possibly Distance Spitting.

Ooh it's EDEN WOOD. She's famous for being in pageants. Which is kind of like being famous for eating lots of hot dogs.



















Dear God I think it just took my soul.

Seriously, this girl is adorable natural but WTF IS THAT IT IS NOT HUMAN. :/















There, that's better.

Her mother has the Blow-up Pageant Mom expression down to a tee. I'm not really sure how people like this happen.




















"OMG do you know how much MONEY I've spent on PAGEANTS?" No, I don't, but I'm sure you're gonna tell us. ("At least 100,000 dollars!" She gushes. HOMELESS CATS. Fuck you.)

The pageant director is EDEN WOOD'S talent agent. Ah, this must be the source of the UNFAIRNESS! She does seem to confer with the judges a lot, and she's got a slick look I don't trust. RELEASE THE ANGRY PAGEANT MOMS! Oh wait, time to prance around in cheetah outfits first*.

This is our emcee. He has a thing in the middle of his head.





















I'm not really sure what this guy is supposed to be, so I'm going with "balding triceratops."

As the pageant goes on, I must grudgingly admit the sour grapey moms have a point. The whole thing does seem set up around Eden, who, surprise surprise, wins the Fiesta Grand Supreme con Carne. Her mother is... unskilled in the art of winning graciously. It's time to teach little Eden a valuable lesson about sportsmanship: it's for LOSERS, SUCKA! She proceeds to run laps around the room, bleating like a wounded hyena, demanding high fives and spiking the football all over the endzone. I throw a flag for excessive celebration, and weep for this little girl's future.



















YES! Ultimate Grand Supreme!

Some of the non-Eden moms just roll their eyes like LOLZ. Some of them look murderous, like they're sitting on a very hot and angry egg. I'm expecting shotguns will be drawn any moment. It's Kentucky, so this is pretty much a statistical probability.

Stupid names of the pageant: Karsyn and Caydence. These people seriously need to stop breeding, or the next generation is gonna have names like Sshryewr and Zxhdgrtp.

*No cheetahs were harmed in the making of this episode. Last I saw of tacky pageant mom, she was being run out of town by a mud-splattered pickup no one could quite identify. (This scene works better if you play bluegrass music in your head.) Little Eden was given to a family of friendly chimpanzees. She seems happy.
"When she grows up she wants to be an octopus or a photographer!"

I can't mock this. I can't! It's too awesome. It's usually something like "her favorite color is pink and her favorite food is pizza!" Which is like saying, "her favorite thing to breathe is oxygen!" So rock on, octopus girl.

Dare I say... I kinda liked this episode? Octopus girl was totally cute and sweet and the little girl who wanted to be tanned 10 times to look like Beyonce was adorable. It was so genuine and sweet, I kinda laughed and went "aww." Damn, I must be going soft.

This was a different kind of episode though. The 2 girls were natural and likable and the parents actually treated them like, you know, children they love instead of commodities. The 3rd girl was cute but reeeeally awful, and ended up winning Queen of her division for doing absolutely nothing. I can't imagine how bad the other kids were, we must be talking barfing or tinkling on stage territory here. Or maybe they award extra points for having stupid made up names? ("BAYLEN." Bleurgh. That would really explain a lot though...) Well I have nothing else bad to say about this one. Emerald and Allison won me over by being non-fako and actually enjoying themselves. I could grow to like beauty pageants...

GAH! THEY ALMOST GOT ME! I NEED A PURPLE PONY INFUSION, STAT.




Whew, I feel better now. Oh here we go, next episode... screaming child, check, pageant mom livid over screaming child's prospect of NO CROWN, check, moms accusing the pageant of being UNFAIR, check! WE HAVE A WINNER! I HAVE POTATO CHIPS! Let's rock it.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

I didn't think any man had referred to his spouse as "the wife" since about 1965. Apparently I was wrong. Ah T&T, it's like a little time capsule living among us. I almost find it charming, but that's probably because I hate pretty much everything about this fast-paced lookatme texting facebooking* uncaring about actual flesh and blood humans world. It also reminds me of The Starfighters MST ("I'm going home to The Wife." "We're going the have The Sex!") which is pure awesomeness. I don't really want to be called "the wife," though, so some good progress has been made. *nod*

*A particularly obnoxious side effect of this is making things into verbs that are not verbs. "I'll text you later!" "I'll facebook you!" My response: a very appropriate verb starting with "f", followed by "you." At exactly what point did people lose the ability to recognize they're being douchebags? We used to have a douchebag filter; everyone knew who the douchebags were and the douchebags didn't care, because they're douchebags. See:



Consider your future carefully, America. One of these things is enough.

But now the douchebags are everybody, or at least the majority of everybody. It all happened so fast, this douchebagification, we hardly knew what hit us. Our only hope is that humans' natural trigger that lets them know they're being douchebags will eventually kick in, and they'll go "Omigod what was I thinking! I'm so embarrassed!" And thus will "I'll text you" go the way of Hammer pants. But when I look at teenagers, I kinda lose hope. :/ I also kinda miss Hammer pants.

Thinking about teenagers makes me think about skinny jeans, which could pretty much be called douchebag jeans, and how much I loathe them and everyone who wears them. Teenage girls in skinny jeans always have myspace hair and perma-bitchface and walk like they're saying "get the fuck outta my way, I'm wearing skinny jeans and you're not." Teenage boys in skinny jeans... well, if a boy wants to experiment with different things he should be able to. Free to be you and me and all that. But guys in skinny jeans? DOUCHEBAGS. ACROSS THE BOARD. Gay, straight, bi, it doesn't matter. THEY ARE COOLER THAN YOU, AND THEY NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THAT FACT AT ALL TIMES.

My impression of every teenager today: skinny jeans, too-tight t-shirt with something "you've probably never heard of" on it, myspace hair (which should have died along with myspace), a piercing located somewhere on their face to prove they're unique, just like everybody else, a perma-snooty look or smirk, and a text-message thingy that you would have to PHYSICALLY AMPUTATE FROM THEIR HAND. They text their friend who is sitting right next to them because duh, that's so much cooler than talking to them. They are known to burst into loud laughter that clearly signifies they are in on the joke, and you are not. They travel in packs. They hate you. They hate your cousin, and they hate your grandma. And they're gonna breed and make little versions of themselves that are gonna get progressively worse. I'm gonna stop now before I get hopelessly depressed and decide I want to homeschool my children, or possibly shrink wrap them.





















Hello! My name is Douchebag McGee.

Hi. Your hair and very existence fill me with possibly irrational rage. :(






















Yours too. Unless you are the same person. I can't really tell. Also? I hope your face gets stuck in that retarded myspace pose FOREVER. Also? I hope you get eaten by wolverines.

(If you ever want to hate the world for a while, try googling "myspace hair and skinny jeans." Oy. :/)
OMG... these people are dyeing a horse in the middle of their living room. A horse! They're dyeing it purple! In their living room! And blow drying it! "We treat him like a member of the family," the insane Georgia-betwanged mom tells us. And I'm sure she's right. This woman probably dyes her family purple on a regular basis.
















You laugh, but he looks just like Mr. Ed without his makeup.

And I thought Judge "the trophy is somewhere in my pants, see if you can find it" was gonna be the creepiest thing I saw tonight. Damn you, Toddlers and Tiaras! I mean bless you... bless you Toddlers and Tiaras, for the cornucopia of "you can't make this shit up." My cup runneth over.














Unfortunately, he just runnethed over too. I hope they sanitize the chairs between pageants.


Insane mom: We had to stop doing local pageants cause kids with cancer kept winning. I don't think we'll have those problems at a glitz pageant.

Translation: Glitz people are soulless douchebags. I'll fit right in.

And you know mom, you've gotta go all out to win pageants. If you really love your little Madison (guessing here, but they're all named Madison), forget the flipper and the John Boehner tan and give her the ultimate pageant weapon: CANCER! What better way to say, "I'll do ANYTHING to make my daughter win."

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Dad: I try to support all my daughters on whatever they do. It costs a lot, it costs a lot just like maintainin' a car. You keep oil in it, you keep diamonds on the dress. *chuckles* (this guy is either the most good-natured, tolerant guy on earth or is about to crack and go on a murderous rampage across Texas)

Mom, to 3 year old wearing her glitz dress/flotation device: You're gonna sparkle, sparkle, sparkle!

Little girl: *picks her nose*

Other mom, after daughter places 4th runner up or something (the Neptune of the pageant world): "I don't want Hailey to feel she needs to be judged on her beauty." What exactly did you think was gonna happen at a beauty pageant, Mom? Holding hands in a circle and singing Kumbaya? Oh I get it... it's okay for her to be judged on her beauty if she wins. Otherwise it's a bad old mean nasty beauty pageant, and probably rigged too! By the Chinese! *storms out in a huff of glitter and indignation*

Glitter and Indignation would be a great name for a drag show. Just sayin'.

So this pageant featured a 10,000 dollar prize, and allowed 20 year old women to enter. This pageant also featured what seemed to be a very horny judge drooling over said 20 year olds. You can probably see where this is going... 10,000 dollars, horny judge... yup, a 20 year old blonde Amazon won Burrito Supreme with Guacamole.

I actually felt bad for the little "divas." I woulda been pissed too! I'm glad the little rich girl with the indoor water slide didn't win though. Rich people hoarding more money pisses me right off. If I was rich and won $10,000 I would donate it all to homeless cats, immediately. What else do I need, fancy wheels for my second fucking Lexus? HOMELESS CATS, PEOPLE. Anyway.

They showed the judges discussing the contestants and this dude, who was seriously sweating like a perv, gushes "I was particularly impressed with the 18 and up, there were some beautiful women there" *drools* "Maybe one of them will walk home with the crown heh heh heh" *sweaty sex offender laugh* "The one who offers to make nice with the Little Judge, if you know what I mean, heh heh heh." Okay he didn't actually say that. But it was implied, I swear! Maybe I'm wrong and he was just a normal gay pageant dude with a gland problem. But... HE DIDN'T SEEM GAY. HE SEEMED CREEPY. I guess the best thing to say for him is at least he wasn't sweating and drooling over the six year olds. And when that's the best thing you can say, it's really just time to move on.
Today for your enjoyment, I bring you Yahoo news headlines and stories. We have some doozies today.

On the TOP of the page: "Nobody wants ginger children"

I'm not sure how this counts as news, and also... nobody? really? My sweetie has red hair and I hope our kids do too! This is not at all because I want my family to look like the Weasleys... well okay, it is. But it's also because I love my sweetie and his red hair and I think it's very attractive! Maybe it's a less commonly desired trait, but "nobody" wants? Hello, hyperbole.* Someone should not be writing "news" copy.

*like Hello Kitty, but less pink and more angry.

Next up: "3 women report toe-sucking pleas to Ark. police"

"Police are trying to find out who has been trying to suck women's toes in central Arkansas." Well that sounds like a pretty weak episode, even for CSI: Central Arkansas. So let's go with... Law and Order: TSU (Toe Sucking Unit). I think it'll end in a massive shoe store sting, with the alleged sucker holed up in a Payless with a whatever-the-fuck-they-make-payless-shoes-out-of* high-heeled pump as his hostage. The SWAT team rushes in, knocking boxes to the floor - flip-flops flopping everywhere - and the obligatory hot female detective makes a deal that the perp can suck her big toe for one minute if he surrenders. Overcome with... let's just say joy, he dashes out and is immediately cuffed by the hot blonde cop and her sexy-but-platonic partner. "The shoe's on the other foot now, you sick bastard!" She says, and the credits roll.

God I love cop shows.

*I think payless shoes are made from the pieces of old dead shoes. Just mix 'em all together and see what comes out. Kinda like McNuggets (which are made from old shoes, and chicken butts).

Next up we have: "Dead Sea hosts mass nude photo shoot"

I don't understand one word in that sentence. I know what they mean separately, but put them together and they lose all meaning. I keep repeating it to myself and it just gets worse. I don't know who I am anymore. I'm scared.

From today's story about last night's air show crash:

"Last month, the pilot of an aerobatic airplane died in a fiery crash in front of onlookers at a weekend air show in Kansas City. In Michigan last month a wingwalker at an air show near Detroit plunged about 200 feet to his death as he tried to climb onto a helicopter in midair."

Now... loss of life is sad and all, but I'm thinking, maybe humans are not meant to climb onto helicopters in midair? There's a fine line between tragedy and Darwin Award, folks. I mean, that isn't even a sign from God to stop being stupid, it's just plain old gravity. And as we all know, gravity, thou art a heartless bitch.

And finally... "Former Senator Charles Percy, a liberal Republican, dies"

Sadly, liberal Republicans died a long time ago. I don't even know who you are dude, but I miss you already.

Friday, September 16, 2011

This just in: GOD ALSO FUCKING HATES AIR SHOWS. Let this be a warning to all pilots to... something to do with Obama... blah blah spending cuts... praise be to God. Oh wait, it happened in Nevada so it's clearly directed at Harry Reid. God demands a new Senate Majority leader. IT'S ALL SO CLEAR NOW. Fuck you, Michele Bachmann.

Yeah, that non-joke she made about Hurricane Irene really stuck in my craw, and I think I know why. It's a perfect example of my Mean Christian scenario. A decent Christian (or, y'know, human being), especially one RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT, would get up and say "My prayers are with everyone affected by this disaster; you are not alone. Your country is behind you." Something leadery and mature and responsible and respectable and comforting and kind and fucking HUMAN. In other words, everything the spoiled brats of the tea party are not. So Michele, every time disaster strikes I'll be here to mock your uncaring, unchristian, immature rhetoric FOR GREAT JUSTICE.

(As always, my sincere sympathies to the victims and families of this and any disaster. Any jokes I make are directed squarely at the Wicked Witch of the... North Midwest.)

So MSNBC switches to Lockup!, and I am left wanting more details of the crash. I turn to CNN - something about boxing. So in desperation I turn to Fox News, and there's Sean Hannity blaring about OBAMA'S GREEN SCAM. Wow, you got Obama AND the environment* in one scoop! Good for you! Try not to look too smug there folks... oh never mind, too late. Isn't there kind of a bigger story going on right now though? Oh here we go... OBAMA'S COSTLY JOB PLAN! Man, you really nailed him tonight. Hearty butt slaps all around. Thanks for the memories, Sean. *click*

*Why do conservatives hate the environment? Do they breathe different air than the rest of us? Perhaps they all run on robot hearts like Dick Cheney and do not actually have to breathe at all? EXPLAIN PLS. Somehow in their minds environment no longer means "that place we live in and that stuff we breathe," but "socialist hippies." HELLO SEAN HANNITY, YOU LIVE ON THIS PLANET TOO! *waves* We just wish you didn't.

Fook it, I am starting another episode of... you know. My horrible secret oh-so-sweet addiction. This one features a little pageant king who likes to dress up as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Seriously. Well, there's the joke that writes itself and keeps on writing. You know what though, the mom seems cool and supportive of her little friend of Dorothy, so I'm not gonna mock. That rocks. But what IS it about Judy Garland that makes her so universally adored among... Festive-Americans, even at the age of 5? It has to be genetic or something. This should be studied. By scientists.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

...No, not Michele Bachmann either. That high-pitched sound that only fanatics can hear. The one that acts as white noise, filtering out anything they don't want to hear until they no longer can hear anything else. Jesus could appear literally on a pogo stick with a big sign saying "Obama for president" and beseech them to stop the insanity, and they'd just blink stupidly and demand to see His birth certificate.
SARYNITI NOW!

Conservative Christian mom. Daughter named Saryniti, pronounced "serenity." Lord, if there was ever a time to bring on some good old-fashioned liberals-in-a-hurricane Michele Bachmann-style lightning bolt smiting, THIS IS IT. Not the innocent little girl of course, the wretched mother who thinks naming her kid something really stupid and then giving it a KRAYZEE SPELLING to boot is an AWESOME IDEA. I'm sure she prayed on it, long and hard.

"Dear God, what is a good name for my sweet baby girl? I ask for your holy guidance in this time of need.*" "Well," God says, "Sarah is a lovely name. How about Rachel, or Rebecca? Of course Mary is a personal favorite of mine." *hearty God chuckle* "Oh thank you Lord, I'm gonna ---" BZZZZZZT! "Nooooo, my child, you must name her Serenity, as in the feeling you get when you pray to er... me. And here's the really KOOKY part, you're gonna spell it like no one would ever expect - SARYNITI! And when people see it they'll think, what a nitwi - I mean, what a FUN lady she is, I'm gonna go convert right now! Isn't that a hoot? MUAHAH... *cough* I mean, go in peace my child. Praise my holy name. Peace out."

The woman looks up, confused. "...Satan? Is that you? Get thee out, foul demon of Hell!"

"Nope, it's totally me, God the Almighty. Look, I just made a kitten." A kitten appears. It is white and fluffy and adorable and totally not evil. "Now would Satan make a kitten? Come on!"

"Oh Lord, praise you, praise you!" The woman falls to her knees in rapture, nearly crushing the annoyed kitten. "I'm gonna name her Fluffi with an "i" to make her special!"

"That's my girl... that's my girl..." A low evil laugh is heard, and then fades away. The woman is too busy speaking in tongues and scaring the shit out of the cat to hear. Fluffi gets mad. You will not like Fluffi when she is mad. Fluffi's eyes turn a brilliant shade of red and she lets out an unearthly yowl and claws the woman's eyes out. The end!

There you go, my first ever Toddlers and Tiaras fanfic. I am so proud. That shit is inspiring, yo.

*she also prays for holy guidance over which brand of toothpaste to buy, what to make for dinner, and whether it's cool to put her little girl in beauty pageants (the last one is actually true, She also prays over each individual outfit to make sure it's certified Holy Pageant Wear). And surprise surprise, God LOVES pageants! That rainbow-tutu-skirt-thing, 100% Yahweh approved! Ok, kudos to the mom for not dressing her in hooker clothes. Awesome show of restraint... I guess? But GAWD, the extremes of this country. It's either putting thigh high vinyl boots on 4 year olds or praying over which way to put the toilet paper on the roll. CAN WE HAVE ANOTHER OPTION PLEASE? WHERE IS THE SWEET SWEET VALLEY OF SANITY?

I also get the feeling for these people "pray on it" means "kneel until I come to the conclusion that God wants the same thing I want." I like sane religious people. I really do. I am totally down with The Big Guy. But these people... just once I'd like to see them get a *hard* answer from prayer. One that actually contradicts their ridiculousness. Then I'd feel they were really talking to God instead of themselves. But since they think they're always right simply by *being* conservative Christians, that kinda takes God out of the picture. "I wasn't sure if cheating on my husband with the Domino's delivery guy was a good idea, but I prayed on it and God told me it was the right thing to do! Now I know what an orgasm is. Praise Jesus!" Boy, God sure seems to know exactly what you want to hear - it's almost as if you were listening to your own thoughts. But that would be preposterous.

God is listening - even to crackpots who pray over everything - but all they're listening to is that high-pitched buzzing sound in the back of their head (no, not Sarah Palin. The other one.)
Also - what is the deal with all the people (we'll call them "handlers") who orbit the pageant world being called "Miss (first name)?" There's Miss Lisa the dance teacher and Miss Tiffani the personal-coach-whatever-the-fuck-that-means and Miss Jackie the hair poofer and and Miss Lori the fake orange tanner (John Boehner actually got his start doing pageants - little known fact!) and in one rather disturbing instance, Mr. Todd. (He was the host. He liked glitz! He may or may not have been wearing a sequined vest, but when I remember him - AND I WILL - he will be wearing one.)

So, is this some kind of southern thing? Or is it how pageant people identify each other, like a code? "The crow flies at midnight." "London is foggy this time of year." "Hi, I'm Miss Debbie!" "My daughter Lynzee won ultimate grand supreme at the Rodeo Princess pageant!" (Okay, that only sounded like stupid spy code. Those are actually real things. But I think I'm on to something!)

Still hungry for Taco Bell... so hungry. *slips into coma*

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

And just to post about something else: OMFG Republicans. Remember the jeering Alan Grayson took when he made his famous hyperbolic REPUBLICANS WANT YOU TO DIE QUICKLY speech? Cue a Republican debate crowd CHEERING WILDLY when it's suggested an uninsured man be left to die. Wow... there goes the hyperbole. And there goes my lunch. Alan Grayson was right, not just morally right but ACTUALLY RIGHT. Never mind that insurance is prohibitively fucking expensive because big insurance companies don't care about ANYTHING but profit. LEAVE THEM ALL TO DIE. LET THEM EAT CAKE. AND IF WE DON'T GET EM THAT WAY, BY GOD WE'LL FRY EM DOWN IN TEXAS!

Yeah... Texas' record number of executions was met with a HEARTY ROUND OF APPLAUSE from debate-goers. And these weren't even the same debate-goers! Who ARE these people? Do I pass them in the supermarket buying cucumbers? I'm scared. :/ And I'm pro-death penalty for fuck's sake. I think it's just punishment for especially egregious crimes that have been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. In other words, RARELY. It should be one of those special things, you know? The sort of occasion you'd buy a bottle of Dom Perrignon for, were it a party and not, y'know, an execution.

But no, Governor Deepfry refused to hear solid evidence that one of his toaster strudels was innocent, and zapped him anyway. Presumably while firing off a six shooter and shouting yeeeeeee-haw! (Seriously Texans, if you don't want us to think you're a bunch of Yosemite Sams, please stop firing off your six shooters and shouting yeeeee-haw! You can see how it might be a bit distracting. We're trying, Texas. Meet us halfway?)

So... there are some really angry, bloodthirsty people roaming the land. I don't know where they came from or why, exactly, they're so angry that the mere thought of random people dying whips them into an excited frenzy, but I know we can't let them into office. Or into our homes. Seriously... maybe they can't get in unless you invite them. MY GOD MAN, DON'T LET THEM IN!

One final word on the insurance thing... Ron Paul's answer, before the mob frothed into KILL ALL THE POOR PEOPLE glee, actually made sense. Able people should make their own decisions and take care of themselves without the government. The problem is when the free market system they love so much jacks up prices to whatever the fuck they want and forty-two cents (and you better damn well include that forty-two cents, bub), it's no longer a choice. It's out of reach. YES we should be responsible for these things, but they have to be AFFORDABLE first! As long as dollar signs and the bottom line run the show, the rest of us are swimming with sharks. Given a choice between the government throwing me a rope to escape the sharks or swimming with say, dolphins instead, I'd pick the dolphins. Wouldn't you? The problem is, the insurance and pharmaceutical companies and their political fuck puppets see us as nothing more than chum.
Cealy... CEALY???

Okay, let's just stop right here and back this bus up. Parents: do not name your child after your MATTRESS, or anything else found on your bed. The last thing your little princess needs to be reminded of her whole life is WHAT SHE WAS CONCEIVED ON. That conjures up all kinds of images that, believe me, she DOES NOT WANT. This makes naming her after your favorite drink or car seem downright sensible, like calling her Mary.*

On top of that, her friend was named Salee. ...Yeah. What? Maybe her mother really enjoys the Sears annual white sale, and inspiration struck among the half-off towels? I just... I don't even know anymore.

So this blog appears to be about Toddlers and Tiaras now. It's just so DELIGHTFULLY HORRIFYING. I haven't enjoyed myself this much in years. Well okay, I enjoyed myself a bit more when my sweetie came to visit, but I knew he was leaving again! T&T is always right here, close enough to smell the hairspray and desperation.

*Available Fall 2011: The Toyota Mary! Comes with standard air, power windows, rosary beads, dashboard Jesus and pro-life bumper sticker.

Monday, September 12, 2011

No CL hunt. No boy. Bored. Lonely. Catching up on the episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras I missed this season because NONE OF THE PEOPLE I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW TOLD ME A NEW SEASON HAD STARTED. Err. Perhaps therein lies the problem. Anyway, I have a feeling I might like other "fans" of this show, mostly because I don't believe anyone watches this show seriously. I refuse to believe it. At least with Hoarders you kinda feel bad for the people as you gawk mercilessly at them, but these people... they're like clowns that are actually funny. I love them. This show is totally what's been missing in my life.

Yes, that speaks volumes more about my life than anything else. MOVE ALONG, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

One thing I have noticed about this show: almost all the moms have perma wide-eyed and open-mouthed stares, kinda like...


Coincidence?? It's as though they're in a perpetual state of offering a blowjob for another $3000 "glitz" dress from their long-suffering hubbies. All I will say about that is they probably deserve one, though they married Suzy Stuffums in the first place so who the hell knows.

Also? Whenever someone mentions "grand supreme" I get really, really hungry for Taco Bell. Since I usually watch the show late at night, not fair. Not fair to name your cheesy pageant title after a delicious cheesy burrito when I cannot have one! And don't even get me started on "ultimate grand supreme." I think that one involves guacamole. *wibble*

Sunday, September 11, 2011

And just to bring this blog around full circle... it seems my old "flame" Martin Gramatica turned out to be a really awesome person! http://www.nola.com/news/index.ssf/2009/07/gramatica_name_gets_better_spi.html

He could have retired and opened a car dealership or sold real estate or something football-related or pretty much anything. Instead, he chose to focus on Katrina victims. And the environment. He IS the man of my dreams! ;) All that time I was crazy about him, I didn't even know what a big heart he had. Well, it sort of came out in his kicking. That man kicked a football with PASSION.

So my kickin' cutie is a class act. I'm proud of him, his two (also cute) brothers, and myself for all the years I stood behind my "chipmunk." :D
Yes, I made a silly post about beauty pageant names on the 10th anniversary of 9/11. This was not deliberate, but not really undeliberate either. You can't swing a dead rat without hitting someone talking about 9/11. So, why not lighten the mood a little?

Also, that was pretty much my favorite post ever.

I forgot to mention the pageant mom with the t-shirt stating "I love Jesus... and bling too!" Cause y'know, Jesus was all about the bling. He even had rhinestone sandals he brought out for those special occasions. How else do you think he walked on water? Divine power? Nope, all about the bling baby! Sadly, his bedazzled robes were never accurately described and thus lost to history. I heard they had badass dragons on them, though.

Of course he had to give them all away to the poor to ascend back into heaven, which is why he wore a crown of thorns instead of his usual tiara. TRUE FACTS.

I believe this was the same pageant mom who dressed her little girl up in hooker boots and named her Paisley. Doesn't life just make sense now? I can hardly wait for her little sister Plaid's stirring scene from Leaving Las Vegas at the next Little Miss Mommy Pimps Me out to 50-Year Old Judges to Fill the Empty Void in Her Soul Pageant.* It's the PERFECT STORM... of awful.

*the pride of Shitcreek, South Carolina for over 30 years! Enjoy its sister pageant, Little Miss Daddy Drinks to Forget, in historic Tugnut, Texas.
Two things that make me happy, and one thing that fills me with senseless rage.

I watch the show Toddlers and Tiaras, as it's the most awesome mix of horrifying and entertaining since Hoarders. We're gonna bypass the fact that moms dress their 4-year old daughters in Pretty Woman hooker wear and Dolly Parton fake boobs - not because it isn't OMGWTFHEADEXPLODETASTIC, but because there's probably someone else out there outraged about it at this very moment, and I strive for original outrage. So today I am outraged over DUMBASS HICK PARENTS WHO GIVE THEIR CHILDREN NON-NAMES.

Watch Toddlers and Tiaras and you'll find an endless parade of little girls named Madison, Makayla, Jadelyn, Payton, Rylee, Kaelin, Ashlynn, Brooklyn (where's her sister, Bronx?), Morgan, Sparkle, Kianah, Hadyn, Baileigh, Queen, Paisley, and... I dunno, Argyle? Kahlua? Midori Sour on the Rocks with a Twist of Lime?

Sadly, very few of those sprung from my fertile imagination (and the last one was my drink order... make it a double!) I also expect to see a little girl named Argyle VERY SOON - do not let me down dumbass hick parents of America! I mean... please don't name your children dumb shit like Paisley and Argyle. Yeah. (Sorry, I got momentarily caught up in Schadenfreude.)

Real names are things like Elizabeth (not Alyzabethe), Abigail (not Abbagayle), Sarah (not Serrah), or Rebecca (not Rabbekkah). Do not give your children unnecessary letters like you are naming a Ye Olde English Shoppe. Do not name your children after your favorite alcoholic beverage, fabric, fruit, street sign, city, or car. (I am astounded there is no "Camry" yet. ASTOUNDED. Or pardon me, "Camreigh." Gotta Ye Olde Englishe that shit up!)

Or at least be authentic about it. Instead of trying to sound all unique and highfalutin' by naming your child Madison (like Madison Avenue, I get it!! You must be from New York City instead of East Twittlefuck, Kentucky*!!) Sterling Queen the IV, let your white trash freak flag fly and name her Pabst Blue Ribbon. After all, you might as well give tribute to what caused dear JadieLynn SparkleBrite's conception in the first place. Sounds like a ready made pageant winner to me! Just add wig, boobs and hooker boots, and maybe a cigarette so she looks *extra* sophisticated.

God I love that show.

Sincerely,
Maellissah's Ye Olde Cigare Shoppe and Gentleman's Clubbe.

Now that the horrid untraditional names are out of the way, here's something I love: the colorful plastic barrettes I had when I was a little girl are still sold!! I saw some in Target the other day and I was all OMGNOSTALGIAFACE! I almost bought some. Not to wear, more as a... talisman? I love when things I love don't change. Even though they'll be worn by a generation of Jadyns and Ashlees, I still love them. They deserve better. I hope my future Abigail enjoys them as much as her mommy did. http://www.totallyfashiontrendy.com/v/vspfiles/assets/images/000%20bh%2050%20036.jpg <------ small happy piece of my childhood right there!

Second, completely random thing I love: Autumn! I love Harvest Moons. I love the phrase "Harvest Moon." I love this picture of a Harvest Moon http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harvest_moon. I love pumpkins and apples and Halloween and hayrides and corn mazes and drinking hot cider in the evening with a slight nip in the air, the kind of air that smells vaguely of wood smoke. I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT AUTUMN. I might even consider naming my child "Autumn." I know I know, naming a child after a season is one step away from naming her after booze or a sock pattern, but DAMMIT! SO PRETTY! I would refrain from calling her Autumn Apple, or Autumn Hayride. (On a side note, those are some damn fine names for seasonal beers. USE THEM!) Okay okay, I will stick with Abigail and let my love for Autumn speak for itself. Paisley lovers, take note: I heard there's a sale on socks somewhere. Step away from the baby before you do something drastic!!

Love,
AutumnLeigh SparkleeSpice HarvestMoon,
2011 Lil Miss Deep Fried Turkey Leg
(And do not tell me there isn't a pageant somewhere in the south called Lil Miss Deep Fried Turkey Leg. You KNOW there is.)

*East Twittlefuck and West Twittlefuck have a VICIOUS football rivalry, so if you're ever in East Twittlefuck do not, I repeat, DO NOT wear West Twittlefuck colors or you'll be shot down like a crip on a blood corner. And then fed to goats.