Well, I’m ready to recap. I’ve got my avocado and hummus sandwich, I’m wearing my Snuggie, and I’ve taken my amphetamines and caffeine pills. Also, a bottle of Zinfandel just in case. Let’s hit the play button on the DVR, shall we?
OH MY GOD MY EYES, MY EYES!!! WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY IS THIS ABOMINATION STARING AT ME FROM THE SCREEN?!?!?!? Oh, it’s merely the opening credits, and I have seen one of the contestants.
Don’t worry, dear. It won’t hurt you.
Before we start, I’d like to take a moment to talk about my thoughts before we get to the meat of the matter:
- There are three things that no self-respecting straight man should ever do, EVER. They are, in ascending order of importance: never carry a purse for a woman, never give your penis a nickname, and NEVER EVER EVER watch Toddlers in Tiaras. Oh well.
- As I do this over the next God-knows-how-many-weeks-this-show-lasts, I will do my best to distinguish between the children and adults. Grown up dudes should refrain from saying horrible things about little girls. I will try to reserve my vitriol for the parents. But I suspect that the line between the adults and the children will be… blurry. I apologize in advance.
- If, after a few episodes, I am compelled to scratch out my eyes, then again, I apologize. I’m sure you’ll recover, and we’ll both be happier.
Now, let’s get RRRRRREADY to RRRRRUMBLE!
In the 30-second pre-show summary we see a driveway full of luxury automobiles, a mom that says her daughter is a “diva” (OH! I have an idea for a drinking game!), and what appears to be a three-foot-tall mannequin crying and sucking a pacifier.
The credits show little girl faces, cut horizontally in thirds, and mix-and-matched with each other, like Fashion Plates. So either these girls are being torn apart and evaluated on their constituent parts, or this is a preview of the deconstructionist absurdism that the show is going to embody. Either way, it’s not very feminist.
If there’s one universal truth, it is this: orange leggings are always chic.
And now, your contestants:
Contestants #1 and #1a: Heralding from Lake Havasu City, AZ, are twins Scarlett and Isabella. Mom Kelli has sleeve tattoos, and it should be mentioned that this family was introduced AFTER we see their Rolls Royce, Maseratti, Cadillac Escalade (black, of course), and Ferrari. I’ll call Scarlett Trophy Daughter #1, and Isabella Trophy Daughter #2. Kelli has a huge mouth, which makes her look like a killer clown. Kelli tells us that she has spent over a quarter million dollars ($250,000!) on her daughters’ pageants so far. Money well spent, since the girls are now a whopping ONE YEAR OLD. (Gina is the nanny. She is vaguely foreign, and I suspect we’ll hear some gems from her.)
Contestant #2: From Kingman, AZ, is Danielle, 8 years old, and is the “beautifullest.” Mom Tedi describes Danielle as competitive, and Danielle says she is perfect. Danielle doesn’t need her beauty sleep, because she is “always beautiful.” If she doesn’t win, she tells us that she will trash her hotel room. I’d love to see this little sweetheart channel her inner Keith Moon. (Maybe she can drive Kelli’s Rolls into the hotel pool?) In this household, beauty apparently runs almost skin deep.
Contestant #3: We now head to Montgomery, LA, where we meet Makenzie. Mother Juana, who appears to have just exited rehab, calls her daughter “unforgettable,” which makes me wonder how many of her other daughters she has forgotten thus far. She calls Makenzie a DIVA, and I have a shot of whiskey. We see a flashback to last year’s pageant, where Makenzie screams out “Don’t push me!” “No, I don’t want to!” and various other endearing turns of phrase. If you are barking orders through a pacifier, you are too old for a pacifier. Mom’s in for a long week. She calls Makenzie a DIVA again, and I take a shot of whiskey.
I pause the DVR to go get more booze, take moment to question man’s place in the universe, and shed a tear. We return to the show…
Welcome back to Mrs. Moneybags’ house. They have a room with about 75 dresses for her one-year-olds. The trophy daughters pick at the sequins, mom looks like a killer clown, and the nanny wonders silently how she makes $8 an hour while the one-year-olds get a room full of $2000 dresses that they will outgrow by December.
Danielle, as it turns out, isn’t a big fan of the process of eyebrow waxing. The mom continues to insinuate that her daughter is a yeti, but Danielle is ready to stop. No pain, no gain. This is OK, because Danielle tells us that she is PERFECT.
Makenzie is doing her glamour shot. She looks forward to “puttin’ own mah may-khup, and puttin’ a clee-yip in mah hay-er.” At one point, she tells the over-groomed stylist that she’s gonna be higher than a bird. Is this a reference to her post-rehab mother? By the way, they have her dressed as a Flamenco dancing whore with a fetish for Dr. Frankenfurter style makeup. Makenzie sucks her pacifier.
Danielle is a perfectionist, and has very little patience. She will grow up and marry a man who has no self-esteem and must be told how and when to do everything. Oh, she also has a Carmen Miranda outfit. She smiles like a Chiquita Banana when she shakes her maracas (not a euphemism), but when the hat falls to the floor, the idea of imperfection reduces her to a seething cauldron of barely repressed fury. I will not let my son marry her.
Mrs. Shits-bricks-of-gold recounts how she met her husband (she was a single mom with five kids, he had a thing for the stuffed clown from Poltergeist). She won’t say how many husbands she’s had, but it appears that the Trophy Babies are actually Insurance Policies. The Joker ain’t going back to the streets, no sir. Arizona, deal with THESE anchor babies.
Will you marry me? Hey, where you goin’? Come back!
Danielle is getting her nails and spray tan done at the local salon. Danielle is unable to look away when there is a mirror in the room. She practices her smile in the handheld mirror for what seems like hours. Danielle loves being perfect.
Makenzie has been insisting to Mama Rehab that she is NOT going to the pageant. Mom continues to talk over her to the camera, hoping to one hears. Sorry, Winehouse, the audience is getting every word. Maybe some crack would help to ease the pain?
We’re back in Havasu, and Pennywise is getting into their PRIVATE PLANE. It’s not cheap, and Lady Wayne Gacy makes sure that we are fully aware. She mentions, yet again, that it takes MONEY to win pageants and that everyone is jealous of them. They are the envy of the pageant circuit. And of killer clowns everywhere.
And now, the big event! It’s pageant time! The Gold Coast Pageant is in Phoenix, and there is an amazing dearth of Hispanic people. The theme this year is “Blast to the Past.” Fabulous fifties wear? So authentic! The fifties were all about sequins.
I’ll let you guess which family’s matriarch shows up in a stretch limo and asks the following question: “Where’s the Louis Vitton luggage?” Hint: the pageant director calls her lifestyle “lavish.” That’s right, it’s Mrs. McBucks and her brood of child-support guarantees.
Danielle shows up in a minivan, and is perfect.
Makenzie arrives screaming. If Makenzie can keep her shit together it’ll be a fucking miracle.
So the Infant Insurance Policies are now throwing a fit while being forced into their dresses. Mom discusses strategy of getting them on and off stage before they know what’s happeining. Never mentions strategy of paying cash for cooperation.
Makenzie is in full tantrum mode. Little miss radiant needs her Ni-Ni (pacifier). Turns out Mama Lohan is trying to wean sparkle-child off of the Ni-Ni. She hides it; she “forgets” to bring it along; she accidentally “loses” it. And the girl goes fucking APESHIT. And here is what she has to say, I swear, word-for-word: “When I have Ni-Ni, I don’t care about nothin’.” Suck away the pain, Makenzie, suck away the pain.
Danielle’s mom is too cheap/broke/sensible to hire a hairdresser, so she does it herself. Danielle overhears mom describe hairdo as “rat’s nest.” The looming specter of imperfection causes her to freak the fuck out.
We are now in the competition room. First, as always, is the “beauty” portion. Pennywise asks for vodka, and she looks like she needs it. Her twin daughters are barely conscious lumps of pseudo-human baby flesh, but mom is convinced that one will win Grand Supreme. Keep dreaming, Krusty!
Win the big one, kid! Mama needs some new boobies!
As she is about to go onstage, Makenzie gets very “independent,” which is code for “turns into a three-foot-tall Stalin.” If my child ever says “Go! Back it off! Shoo! Shoo!” to me, I will lock him under the attic stairs for a month. Apparently, Makenzie will suffer no such fate.
Mackenzie hits the stage. Ni-Ni has given her a horrific under bite and she is not wearing a flipper, so there is no way she can win. The announcer, reading from mom’s cue cards, calls Makenzie a “DIVA!” I have a shot of whiskey.
Danielle’s mom describes her as a “little bit of a DIVA on pageant day.” I have another shot of whiskey, and notice that my typing is getting sloppy.
Now Danielle takes the stage. Mom gets choked up, and then full tears, about how gorgeous her girl is. Forgets momentarily that her daughter abuses her regularly. Stockholm syndrome?
Makenzie’s mom admonishes her for trying to take her clothes off in the hotel hallway. Mom has experience, kid; learn from her mistakes.
Makenzie collapses in protest like a giant pink slug.
Mrs. Juggalo shoehorns her babies into their 50’s outfits. Babies scream in misery. Foreign nanny goes fucking berserk in audience while Trophy Baby #2 drools and stares off into the distance. Trophy Baby #1 is able to focus her eyes, so she gains mother’s approval. Sibling rivalry in the making? Meanwhile, every time Pennywise bends over, she shows her cleavage to the camera. Well, if you bought em, flaunt em!
Talk about Juggalos!
Makenzie is dressed as a 50’s waitress. She looks like she’s dressed as a slutty nurse.
Danielle admits that it will be hard to compete against “all those pretty girls.” Not because the competition will be stiff, but because it’ll be hard to see them cry when they lose. That’s perfection for ya!
And now, the crowns!
Foreign nanny looks nervous. Maybe her job depends on the success of the children. It’s OK, you can keep your job. Trophy Baby #2 gets second place in her division, Trophy Baby #1 gets first. Doing some quick math, I realize that each crown cost about $125,000.
Makenzie gets 2nd runner up in her division. Mom is bummed that she didn’t get grand supreme. It’s OK, Whitney Houston, do some crack. It’ll ease the pain.
Danielle wins about ten prizes, including the overall high point for junior division. She recognizes out loud that she is one of the prettiest girls in Arizona. On the outside, anyway.
Grand Supreme goes to Scarlett! The baby! Trophy Baby #1! She didn’t even do anything! She did little more than drool. Danielle points out, correctly, that it totally sucks that the winner can’t do much more than poop or pee. Then Danielle cries, but she cries perfectly.
But I’m happy for Scarlett’s mom. That thousand dollar grand prize will really help to offset her costs.
Maybe next year they’ll let mom compete too!
Makenzie ends the show by crying about some stupid shit, and her mom tells us that she’ll grow up to be famous.
Roll credits.
