Searching for something to watch last night, I shuffled through our DVRed programs and happened upon the recorded episode of Crowned (which, again, I had completely forgotten even existed). “Oh, what the hell?” I said to myself. “Let’s give it a shot.”
Oh. Mah. Gahhhhh. You must watch this train wreck of a show.
Oh, what’s that you say? You’re too good for Crowned? You don't want to waste your time with what is possibly the crappiest reality show ever? I was once like you, you know. And I suppose I can’t force you to watch it. So in the event that you don’t heed my advice, I’ve taken the liberty of recapping it here.
So where to begin?
The show opens with the contestants arriving at their fabulous mansion, and doing the obligatory “oohing” and “ahhing” at the classiness of it all. (In point of fact, the overabundance of gold and marble looked cheesy and Trump-esque, but whatever.) Then it was time to mingle with fellow contestants. I’m sure many priceless conversations took place at this time, but personally, I couldn’t get past the unironic Princess Leia bun-wearing lady. You can’t really see it so well here, but this was the best shot I found after many
hours minutes spent scouring the internet:
Seriously, this was all I could focus on. I’d be trying to listen to the women chatting, and then she’d pop into the frame, and I’d enter this trancelike state until she left. Believe me when I tell you that her hair wasn’t much better when she took it down. I believe the exact words of the judges were “Mom, think about your hair.” More on them later.
After meeting, greeting, and passive aggressively bitching each other out, the ladies all retired to their bedrooms.
Which contained bunk beds.
For girls and their MIDDLE-AGED MOTHERS.
The challenge for each mother/daughter team was to come up with a team name that represented who they were, as well as a “routine” to introduce themselves to the judges.
After hours of practice, dress selection, and environmental annihilation via the ninety bajillion cans of hairspray that the teams used to get ready, it was time to meet the judges. Let me just say, it’s a sad, sad day when Carson Kressley is the most insightful and entertaining person on the panel. To wit: he (very rightly) pointed out that one team looked like Amish hookers. Ha! He was joined by Shanna Moakler and “television personality” Cynthia Garrett. (Side note: Isn’t “television personality” basically a show’s not-so-subtle way of saying “no one knows who you are or what the hell you’re from?” Also, isn’t “television personality” the phrase that’s always used to describe Charles Nelson Reilly?)
The teams all introduced themselves to the judges. I’d be remiss if I failed to point out that the judges didn’t address the mothers and daughters by name when speaking to them, but rather as “mom” and “daughter”. Almost as if to say, “Despite stressing to you the imperative of conveying your individuality and personailty to us, we really couldn’t possibly care less, and to prove it, we won’t even bother to use your names. Suck it.”
The teams, by the way, were (for the most part) precisely as disastrous as you’d imagine, but two were particularly godawful: One mother/daughter team, named the “Redhead Bombshells,” opted to do an original poem for the judges to describe themselves…wherein the mother pointed to her skeletal daughter and said, “She loves to eat!” and the skeletal daughter pointed to her overly-face lifted mom and said, “Momma loves her hamburger meat!”
Um, oh my God?
Before I could recover, Team “Silent but Deadly” (yes, really) introduced themselves. As Shanna Moakler visibly bit her lip to keep from laughing, they explained that when they were selecting a name, they chose this one because they’re quiet, but powerful, or something to that effect. All I know is that they came up with a name, which (in the immortal words of an openly giggling Mr. Kressley), reminds everyone of “stinky, silent farts.” I am not making any of this up.
The denouement of any good mother/daughter reality show pageant competition is, of course, the desashing. I need to say it again, because, well…it’s awesome. THE DESASHING! Say it with me now! It’s fun!
A desashing (again! Wheee!) consists of the losing team getting their sashes cut off with an alarmingly large pair of bedazzled scissors. It’s all very dramatic. Especially when there were two teams left standing and the team that was described by
Things took a turn for the hilarious when Team Amish Hos gasped, shook their heads in disbelief, and sobbed “We just can’t do it!”
Did I mention that all of this was unfolding to what I SWEAR was the music from Schindler’s List? Because it was.
(Encore presentation is Tuesday at 8 on the CW. Come on, people. If for no other reason, than so that I have someone with whom to discuss it.)