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.

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.

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.

"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?

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!

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.

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!!

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.

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."

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.

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.

...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*

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.

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*

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.

http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/michele-bachmann-irene-gods-warning-washington-campaign-joking/story?id=14404962

This post is dedicated to Michele Bachmann, who I do not believe for one second was joking. (I am, of course, deadly serious.)

So if Hurricane Irene was God's warning to Washington to stop... something (not exactly sure what... stop Obama from caving to the tea party? Nah that probably wasn't it), what is the Almighty Significance of the Texas wildfires? God has a problem with Rick Perry? Or George Bush? Maybe Roger Clemens? Stetson hats? Um... Pace picante sauce?

Clearly, I took the wrong life lesson from Katrina. The real message was, GOD FUCKING HATES GUMBO. I MEAN OKRA, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I DIDN'T MAKE THAT SHIT TO EAT! *SMACK*

This just in http://news.yahoo.com/hockey-shock-russian-jet-crash-kills-43-185622176: Apparently, God also fucking hates hockey. Damn, God sucks. :( Or at least, Michele Bachmann's God sucks. Maybe Michele Bachmann just sucks. Yeah... let's go with that.

So stuff happens, and the president is playing golf.

Nothing ever really changes.

Every president, no matter the climate of the country or the world, ends up playing golf somewhere. It's like they're all the same person; different decade, same silhouette. The Figurehead of the Traveling Khakis. Air Force Polo Shirt.

I hate golf.

What is it about golf that turns people into smug assholes? It's like "I'm on a boat motherfucker," except "I'm on a golf course" and not funny. Why do presidents play golf while their country is in turmoil? There's something very let-them-eat-cakey about it. Bush personified it to the point of stereotyping it, as Bush was wont to do. "We're gonna catch those evildoers... now watch this swing!"

I guess I can't fault Obama, he's human and he needs a vacation. It's just... fucking golf! It fills me with rage. I'd rather see him on a boat, motherfucker. There's something real about a boat at least. Out in the elements, man vs nature. Golf is like... artificial nature. Like here's a tree and here's a lake and it's all real, yet somehow plasticy. They're spaced too perfectly and there aren't any weeds and you can tell some rich asshole put them there, probably digging up real nature to plant his imported fakey grass. They're beautiful I guess, but in the way an overprocessed supermodel is beautiful. Golf courses are the boob jobs of nature. You can totally quote me on that.

Golf courses are also the auto-tune of nature. Yeah, that's a good one.

I used to enjoy watching the PGA tour (somehow people who play golf for a living don't annoy me like politicians and rich assholes playing in their leisure time while the people who work for them are worrying how they'll make their house payment). Specifically, I enjoyed watching Tiger Woods. Then Tiger went from selling fancy razors to a massive trainwreck overnight, and the top players went from superstars to random names out of a phone book. "Joe Wilson wins the Masters!" "Who the fuck is that?!" Thank you, Tiger Woods' genitals, for ruining the only thing that was remotely interesting about golf.

So, this post ended up being about golf. Ok.

One more thing about Obama. I supported him and still do. I think more was expected out of him than he could ever deliver, especially with the crew of Cruella DeVilles the republicans elected to skin puppies, I mean, foil him at every turn. (Michele Bachmann has a coat made out of puppies somewhere. You KNOW she does.) However, he could fight harder instead of coming off as the Harried Dad from a Sitcom. The tea partiers might be spoiled, unruly children but that doesn't mean you give in to them. You stand up and say "I'm the father and I'm in charge here, BECAUSE I SAID SO!" It kind of feels like his campaign slogan should be "Obama 2012: Because everyone else is batshit crazy." Doesn't have quite the ring of "Hope and change," but it beats the hell out of his opponent's slogan "Cruella DeVille 2012: If she doesn't scare you, no evil thing will!" (Just substitute he for she in case of Rick Perry. Still totally works.)

And uh, no more golf, please? Can we put an end to the golf thing for politicians? Just because it fills me with possibly irrational anger? Thanks. (Okay, not so irrational. Because it makes you look like Lord Khakipants von Countryclub the Third instead of a public servant. That's right, I said it. LORD KHAKIPANTS VON COUNTRYCLUB THE THIRD. It has already turned John Boehner orange with privilege, do not let this happen to you!)

We now return to your regular silliness. No, I am not counting Lord Khakipants von Countryclub the Third as silliness. That is serious political discourse, dammit!

If I had a billion dollars, I'd buy back my old room.

This pretty much sums up my life lately. I feel so lost, and want to return to what's familiar. But sadly that was lost a long time ago. The town I grew up in is still pretty much the same, the house I grew up in is still there, but someone else lives in it. They have for a long time. Parents never consult the kids when they sell off their childhoods. Now I want it back. I feel like everything that's mine is still there, and everything that came after is fake. This probably comes from not having kids of my own yet and wanting them so badly. Their childhood will replace my lost one, and enrich who I am now to the point that maybe I feel real again. And I won't be so quick to sell theirs to the highest bidder, just in case they want to come back and visit. Reclaim that little piece of who they are whenever they start feeling lost in the foreign, adult world.

I grew up on a quiet, modest suburban street. Kids rode their bikes, dads watered the lawn, moms baked cookies in the kitchen. All the yards had fruit trees. You could walk almost anywhere in the town from my house, to the various parks and swimming pools, to the stores downtown, to the library, to school, to your friends' houses and back home again. It never felt anything but safe doing that, and no it wasn't the 1950s. Your house was... your house, part of who you were, not some transitive residence. You knew every nook and cranny. It was home.

I used to think this Everywhere USA of my childhood was cheesy, I took it for granted the way that only someone who "has" can. When everything is familiar, you crave unfamiliar. You feel like something must be wrong if you feel so content. Surely, there must be more to life than this!

And probably for some people, there is more. For me, that was bliss, but the kind you don't know you've got til it's gone. Like the Big Yellow Taxi. Paving paradise and putting up a parking lot. When I hear that song, I automatically think that childhood is the paradise, and the parking lot everything that comes after. It makes me sad. But then I think, you can plant a garden, you can recreate paradise. That's the answer. What you have lost, give to your children. Make sure they never lose it. Childhood isn't something to be abandoned but something to be built on. "Home" is important because you are important. I've lived in enough disposable apartments to know, after a while you start feeling disposable yourself.

I just wanna go home.

Here's something disturbing I've noticed lately: mean Christians.

We'll call them "Talk Radio Christians." I'm not saying one has to be all syrupy sweet and nice to be Christian, but I don't think men of the cloth should spout off like Rush Limbaugh. And I don't necessarily mean that politically, though I do think the unholy marriage between right wing politics and Christianity plays a part - the politicizing of evangelism. Or evangelizing of politics? Either way, scary stuff, and not just cause it got Bush elected twice, but because there is a hard edge to Christianity these days. Jesus embodied peace, humility, modesty, charity. He wore frickin sandals for pete's sake! I can hear one of today's oh-so-cool "politically incorrect" ministers making a whole sermon about guys wearing sandals being gay hippies, until someone kindly pulls him aside and explains.

These are not the majority of Christians, I know. But I think in a misguided, possibly unconcious attempt to be modern and hardcore, aided and abetted by political agendas, the soul and depth of spirituality is slowly being replaced by wordly hate and anger. And sneering. And if there's one thing Jesus would most definitely not do, it's sneer. Jesus would not be flippant. He would not be hard.

"For God so loved the world he gave his one and only son..." A prominent Evangelical politician made a bill about lightbulbs, and boasts about it as a big achievement. LIGHT. BULBS. You are seriously wasting God's time here people! Not helping the poor, healing the sick? You're really going with lightbulbs? What would Jesus do, you ask? Be fucking petty about anything that might have to do with hippies! Or queers! Damn straight! *fires off shotgun* Oh yeah, Jesus owned a gun, it's in the constitution!

When religion becomes too much about wordly things it isn't religion anymore. It's politics disguised as holy war. It's using God as justification for personal prejudices. Yes, the Bible has some anti-gay sentiment. It also has some anti-ham sentiment. And anti-tattoo sentiment. And pro-slavery sentiment. HI PEOPLE, TIMES CHANGE! That doesn't mean the basic teachings of the Bible should be thrown out with the bathwater, but if some parts are outdated it stands to reason others can be too. It's called THINKING OBJECTIVELY.

So enough enabling people to give in to their basest feelings and fears and call it virtue. Isn't spirituality supposed to lift people up? I'm tired of Christians acting the exact fucking opposite of what Christianity stands for. Be bold in your convictions, absolutely! No one's saying you have to be a cookie baking church lady. But... you do have to have compassion. This is not optional. It really, really is what Jesus would do. If it doesn't come from a place of compassion, I don't know where it comes from but it probably isn't good.

"A book? What is this shit?"

Dear universe,

I like books. Real, live, flesh and blood books. The kind with crinkly pages and an inviting woodsy scent. I do not want to read "books" on a cold, flat screen. I don't care if I can fit the entire works of Shakespeare into some little whojit the size of my bellybutton. Reading actual books is not hard! It's nice!

Just because you CAN do something with technology doesn't mean you SHOULD. Not everything needs to be "better." What's next, e-cheeseburgers? Who needs declicious gooey cheese when you can eat internet! We shall completely eliminate the need for napkins! And ketchup! And stupid BREAD!! Holy crap, I'm a genius. "Hahaha, you still eat bread? Buckle up Grampa, it's 2011 and if you're hungry, there's an app for that!" "But... food tastes good..." "SHUT UP OLD MAN!"

So please, awesome universe of the future, leave books alone and put your genius into curing cancer or something. Let's produce goods we can see, hear, smell, touch and taste before our nerve endings die off from lack of use.

"And now... new digital fingers, so you don't actually have to touch your new digital book!"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Sometimes I want to wake up and have it be 1962.

I see that whatever replaced my long-ago avocados (or limes) has been replaced by pink birds. That's cool. I can deal with that.

Now on to the point of my post which is - guess what - I'm ANGRY about something! RAWRRR! I am entitling this post "Attack of the pc people," with a caveat.

There are some very extreme ideologies in this world. Sometimes it seems the ideology-ridden far outnumber the reasonable, moderate people. Well maybe that's not true. Maybe they're just louder. Let's take the "comments" section of Yahoo news I mentioned briefly in my last post. Every story about President Obama, you can bet there will be two ignorant assfucks who post stuff like "don't trust barack HUSSEIN obama!! hurrhurr" for every normal person who posts something like, actually relevant to the topic. Oh fuck it, there's probably more like 3 or 4 of 'em. So there's that. Which sucks, and is SURPRISINGLY prevalent in 2011. Like it even surprises me, and I pretty much think people are ignorant assfucks to begin with, so yeah. It's SHOCKING.

But what I'm writing about today is the flipside. Which is equally ignorant and reactionary. And possibly even more annoying because it's done by people you'd think would know better. Or that's what I used to think. Then I realized, you can't reason with people who run on pure ideology. Whether it's ignorant redneck ideology or so-called enlightened ideology. It's the EXACT SAME THING - basically if you don't agree with my rail-thin life view, FUCK YOU. Ahh, enlightened right? So...

Attack of the pc people!

I'm a member of a social anxiety community on LJ. I never post there because I'm not keen on opening myself up to strangers, even in a so-called "safe" environment. I read and respond to other people's posts occasionally. The community rules specifically state it's a "safe place" and no personal attacks are allowed. But that didn't stop the pc people from attacking.

A girl posted about an experience that makes her socially uncomfortable, one that also happens to make me uncomfortable: riding public transportation, with the sort of people who ride public transportation. People who are often publicly drunk or high and do not respect other people's boundaries. Pretty awful for anyone I'd say, but imagine how that kind of unsolicited encounter feels to someone with SA. For instance, it annoys the fuck out of me when a "normal" random person comes up to me and says something like HOT ENOUGH FOR YA (no I carry a toaster in my pants so I can be EVEN HOTTER, dumbass) or some inane crap like that. I feel momentarily uncomfortable, but it passes. Y'know, like gas. (Aren't comments like that just like verbal farts, really?) But when some random dude with stale beer breath and hair that looks like it needs to be jiffy lubed comes up and starts rambling to me about communism or something, I feel REALLY FUCKING CREEPED OUT. And awkward, and ridiculous, even though I'm the sane one in the situation. It's an awful spot for someone with SA to stuck in, which is the point this girl was making.

CUE: the pc people! OMG you're ELITIST, you're CLASSIST (um no... I'm just saying these situations make me uncomfortable) you're a PRINCESS (no... really... I was just hoping for some understanding about an SA issue... in an SA community) NO YOU ARE AN ELITIST CLASSIST PRINCESS AND I AM A POLITICALLY CORRECT SAINT WHO WOULDN'T HURT A FLY CAUSE THAT WOULD BE FLYIST (well your attitude hurt me... actually) NO YOU DON'T COUNT! YOU'RE NOT OPPRESSED! (but I have SA... just like you) NO YOU'RE A CLASSIST RACIST ELITIST FLYIST PRINCESS!!!

See... it's just too much. They couldn't look past their own ideological knee-jerk response to see her point about people who can't respect personal boundaries, just because some of them happen to be homeless and have other mental disorders. So, she's supposed to just ignore something that triggers her disorder for the sake of political correctness? Being so-called socially enlightened while judging people in the exact same way you're accusing them of doing and WORSE, resorting to name calling, is REALLY LAME. Do not do this, lest you be a giant poopyhead. This has been a public service announcement.

Be nice. But not so "nice" it makes you a jackass, eh?

So I read something today that changed my life! Ok, it didn't. Nothing will ever change my life. But I really wanna start writing here again. Man, I used to write some good stuff here.

The secret to blogging when you have no life is:

Write about any and every random experience or thought that tickles your fancy. Like the 26 cents guy. The "bigness" doesn't come from the magnitude of the experience, it comes from inside your head. They always say "life is what you make it" (they being the sort of people who say stuff like that; I imagine they're also the sort of people who collect thimbles*). Blogging is the one case where LIFE ACTUALLY IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT. You can take that experience and make whatever clowns and confetti you want jump out of it, as long as it has a kernel of truth in it. The kernel of truth is very important.

Making things big in your head can be hard when your head is feeling very small, and your experiences are small to begin with. This, I think, is why I stopped posting. But I should try harder, because I actually don't suck at it. I wonder how you actually get people to read your blog.

The source of this life changing event is this http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/09/four-levels-of-social-entrapment.html
I've read this blog several times and been amused by its amusingness, but somehow this amazing kernel of truth eluded me. Til tonight. It's so awesome, it doesn't even need confetti. It's just true... if you're a person like me. Which I am.

I think the most astonishing part came in the comments section. Let it be said I never, ever read comments sections anymore after reading comments on Yahoo news stories. Or maybe they were "who can sound like the biggest redneck idiot ever!" contests. But I digress. Here was a place I felt safe reading comments and what do I stumble upon but... "I'm tired of social niceties making a recluse out of me."

I'M TIRED OF SOCIAL NICETIES MAKING A RECLUSE OUT OF ME! OMFG SOMEONE ELSE THINKS THIS WAY AND IS LIKE ME!!!!

You've gotta understand... I have NEVER seen anything like that expressed in my entire 30+ years of life. There is no way I can explain the magnitude of that moment without turning on capslock again. Suffice to say, I feel oddly vindicated. I, too, no longer want social niceties making a recluse out of me! I will express this by making a concerted effort to write down all those little things and try to make them big, instead of squishing them down because I feel small. Cause... there's a LOT of stuff in here, you know. And it needs to come out.

AND I AM SICK OF SOCIAL NICETIES KEEPING ME DOWN! THEY'RE LIKE THE MAN, BUT THEY KNIT YOU AN UGLY SHAWL! I AM HERE TO CELEBRATE AND THROW CONFETTI! AND CLOWNS!

*I have no idea what thimbles do. None. Zip.