Dance Motha’s Gone Wild

During this week’s episode of Dance Moms, we learned that Abby Lee Miller is the ringleader of a boozed-out, botoxed, mean girl group of stage mothers.

For those of you that have never seen the show, it revolves around the Abby Lee Miller Dance Company. This dance company consists of a group of ten girls who have a combined total of twelve teeth because they basically all refuse to get braces. Apparently braces off-balance a twelve-year-old dancers composition.

While the dancers are entertaining by themselves, the real drama starts when you look at the cracked-out moms. Every week at least one mom flips her shit because Abby psychologically mind-screws their daughter.

You would think that the moms would simply switch dance companies, but alas, either for the exposure or the thrill, each week the moms stick it out to prepare for a dance competition at the end of the week. Most dance groups practice their dance routines for at least a couple of weeks, but not Abby Lee Miller’s girls. They have three days to practice a routine.

This week on Dance Moms, the dance company traveled to a competition where a fellow mom’s dance company was also competing. Instead of giving you a run down of all the events, I will break it down by each mom.

Kendall’s Mom – As the newest member of the Abby Lee Miller Dance Company, this was Kendall’s week to prove herself. Her mom, Jill, has a face filled with latex and the personality of a Beverly Hills Real Housewife. Jill had a rough week with the fellow moms. Unfortunately, as the newbie, she was due for a little bit of hazing. With a scene straight out of Mean Girls, the moms encouraged Jill to confront Abby about the pressure that her daughter had to endure. As you can imagine, this confrontation ended with Abby breathing fire and Jill’s face melting.

Cathy – Cathy is the owner of Candy Apples Dance Team and a rival to every single dance mom affiliated with Abby Lee Miller. Every episode, the Candy Apples attempt to win any solo or group number and fail every time. This week was no different. Cathy’s thirty-year-old dancers entered the twelve to thirteen age division and lost. That fur-wearing bitch was defeated once again.

Kelly – This is the mom with the teased hair and the acrobat kid. Every episode she gets drunk and cries. The only difference in this episode was that Abby called her out for it. Apparently getting drunk and taking your daughter to dance class is no longer accepted in the dance field.

Big-nosed mom – I don’t remember her name, but I do remember her nose. This week, she wore Ralph Lauren, convinced poor little plastic surgery mom to confront Abby, and bitched about her daughter having to wear things called “rats” and “snoods”…whatever the hell those things are.

Abby – This week, Abby was her normal, crazy self. She yelled at the bus driver, counted numbers loudly, and told the moms that they were drunks, idiots, and failures at “finding matching snoods.” Just an average week for Ms. Abby Lee Miller.

This week was filled with tears, trophies, and tons of “rats and snoods.” The lesson I learned this week: Don’t fuck with Abby Lee Miller and “dance like you want a puppy.”

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Yearbooks are for fatties…

In my yearbook class, (yes, there is actually a class to create a yearbook) I was recently assigned a research paper. What could possibly need researched to create a yearbook? Sadly, we all asked ourselves this very question as we diligently “googled” the words “yearbook research paper” into the search engine. Because of our incessant talking and “powWows”, our teacher decided to give us the topic of The History of the Yearbook to write a something-paged research paper on. The exact details of the assignment are mostly a blur due to the previously stated “powWows”…nevertheless, I sat down to attempt a masterpiece that would impress my demanding yearbook teacher.

This is one of our powWows in yearbook. That is me in the blue.

 After hours (minutes) of research, I have come to the simple conclusion that the yearbook doesn’t have a history.

Did no one record this history because no one cared? …you can reach your own conclusions.

So, here I sit…my word document is STILL blank, my research is still at a deadend, and my grade in the class is slowing creeping down the alphabet.

I tell you all of this not to humor you, but to beg of you to research this topic for me. How dedicated are the fans of Bowties&Booze? I guess we will see 😉

Fatty McChicken Patty

Recently, while talking to one of my best friends, she began to describe her childhood and her experiences growing up as “the fat kid.” What she told me was one of the most honest accounts of being fat that I have ever heard. Before you start to think that this is going to be a sappy story about body image and how it’s really the inside that counts, think again. Luckily, my best friend is hilarious and not someone who pities herself or others around her. I decided to write her observations because they are both truthful and hilarious. So, if you think making fun of fat kids is mean, go to www.jennycraig.com and stop reading this while sitting on your couch eating Ben & Jerry’s and watching Cake Boss.

This is a collection of my best friends observations about the overweight. Don’t feel guilty when you laugh.

1. Why is it that during elementary school games, the fat kid ALWAYS has to go chase whatever ball rolls away? During four-square, even if the fat kid didn’t bounce the ball out of the square, the little fatty always has to waddle/run over to the ball that a little skinny bitch (purposely) threw out of the square. Adolescent fatties are always forced to catch whatever ball the skinnies decide to throw. Though I am not a historian, I believe that these very games are what drove skinny bitches to throw balls at grown up high school fatty-cakes. Once the fat kids decided that they weren’t going to retrieve ANY ball that a skinny kid threw, it was then decided that balls would just be thrown directly at the fatty. If the fatties of the world had just continued to retrieve balls that the skinny bitches threw, the skinnies would have eventually gotten bored and moved on to…..I don’t know…people in wheelchairs. A fat kids impatience is what led to their high school torment.

2. Watching a fat kid fall is an awkward moment for all involved. Think back to your childhood, or maybe a few days ago, and try to remember a time when you have watched a fat kid fall. Because of their obvious padding, it isn’t the harm of the fatty that we are worried about. Watching a fat kid fall is equivalent to watching a kid in wheel chair roll down stairs. Where is a fat kids dignity after they face plant into the gym floor? What if the gym floor cracks? It is an all-around awkward moment and should be avoided at all times.

3. While all playground equipment is awkward for the fat kid, the most obvious is the teeter-totter. Unless two fatties board a teeter-totter together, hilarity ensues. While watching this occur, I feel bad for both children. The fat kid is forced to sit on the ground with their legs crouched. The fatty has no other choice but to stare up at the little skinny hoe that they have propelled into the air with their fat ass.

4. When complimenting the fat kid about her body type….just don’t. Skinny people have a way of using compliments that sound nice at first, but then make you look like an asshole. For example, saying that a fat kids body is like a pillow…is not a compliment. People sleep on pillows, why don’t you just say that the fat kid reminds you of your Serta mattress? This leads me to laying on fatties. Sometimes if your best friend or significant other is a fatty-cake, you end up laying on their lap. Never say that they feel like a water bed. Saying that your bestie feels like a squishy, watery piece of rubber, is not complimentary and not appreciated by the average fatty.

5. Watching a fat kid eat is possibly the most awkward event you can watch a fatty participate in. For a skinny person, it is a hard decision on whether to stare intently, or pretend that you don’t see it happening. A happy medium is always the best path to take. The most awkward observation I have noticed about certain fatties, is that they attempt to eat so delicately. We all know that they want to shove that plate down their throat and moan in accomplishment, but yet they force themselves to eat like Princess Diana.

In conclusion, there are many hilarious things about the fat kid. While these observations may seem mean-spirited, please remember that these came straight from my best friend…a fat kid. Others mope about their weight and try to hide behind it. Skinny people can be just as awkward. If you didn’t laugh while reading this, you take things too seriously. If you can’t laugh at everything, you shouldn’t laugh at anything.

Farmville Hoes.

As I scrolled down my Facebook News Feed, looking for the latest relationship changes and FB brawls, I began to notice something. What the hell is Farmville?! Why are half of my friends buying tractors and herding sheep on my favorite social networking site? This was nonsense. So I investigated.

Apparently, Farmville is an online community of housemoms and babysitters who take care of imaginary farms. To me, this sounded like a waste of time. Why would anyone want to take care of pigs without receiving the obvious reward of a check at the end of the month? A person doesn’t earn anything from investing so much of their time. What the hell draws a person to this game? Is it the child-like fantasy of owning a farm? Personally, as a child, I never dreamed of milking cows and washing my clothing on a washboard. But I would never squash someone else’s dreams. So I thought to myself, there isn’t any harm in letting strangers waste their time…why am I so against Farmville? Then it hit me. I constantly have to hear about it.

Every time a person buys a new pig, I am alerted. Whenever someone has an imaginary drought, my news feed blows up. Can these fake farmers not keep their farming business to themselves? I finally got over the fact that certain people constantly farm online, when I started getting invitations. I have never talked to a pig farmer, but I am pretty sure they don’t invite their Facebook friends to start their own pig farming business. Do Farmville players not worry about competition? What if I sell my pigs better than they can and bankrupt their imaginary business? If they constantly play this game, why can’t they maintain the “realism” of it? Don’t ask me to buy you a shovel. I’m not a Farmville Catholic Charity. Buy your own damn shovel.

After hiding ALL Farmville updates and deleting the friends that constantly asked me to join, I calmed down and went back to my Facebook creeping life. I could now view my Facebook fights in peace and didn’t have to worry about hoes buying imaginary hoes for their gardens on Farmville. All was good…until people started inviting me to join something called Cafe World.

The nightmare had started again. Now instead of babysitters harvesting crops, they were cooking imaginary Thanksgiving meals. This problem hit close to home. I walked into my living room one day to find my mom sitting on the computer baking a cyber apple pie. I looked at her with shock in my eyes and said, “How about you go in our actual kitchen and bake a real pie instead of waiting thirty minutes for a pie that you will never taste to finish cooking?” Apparently this ACTUAL baking concept seemed abstract to her. I remained starved for weeks while my mom fed cyber-nerds a buffet of online treats. After a few meetings at a local church, my mom recovered from her online baking addiction. I have been fed on a daily basis this then.

Legal Note: My mom never actually attended addiction treatments for Cafe World.

P.S. The above note was to ensure that my mom will continue to feed me.

Text back or Choke.

People who don’t respond quickly/at all to text messages. This is the topic of my post today and possibly my biggest “pet peeve.” There is possibly nothing that pisses me off more than when I text someone and they take an hour and twenty minutes to respond.EVERY TIME. I am a magnet for people like this. They swarm to me like bees. Here is an example conversation. The times are estimated but sadly not exaggerated and the name’s changed to keep the jackass safe.

(9:00) Me: Hey. What’s up, I just got out of dinner theatre.

(9:48) Josh: Nada.

(9:50) Me: Well that sounds fun. Do you have plans for tonight.

(10:34) Josh: Nope

(10:37) Me: Well I will let you go, you don’t very enthused to talk to me.

(11:03) Josh: No, I’m fine. I want to talk.

(11:04) Me: Ok 🙂 Good.

(11:52) Me: Do you have a death wish?

(12:02) Josh: Huh? 

I don’t know if I blow things out of proportion but this infuriates me. He said he  was doing NOTHING. Why was he so busy, doing nothing, that he took forty-eight minutes to respond?! You may think that I am exaggerating for comedic effect, but sadly this happens to me constantly. I am apparently also a magnet for the people who give shitty excuses for why they can’t respond back to my text within a decent time. Here are a few examples of the excuses I have gotten:

1. “Sorry, I don’t have my phone on me all the time.” 

I don’t care if this is true, CHANGE IT. I don’t want to be able to watch four episodes of Paula Dean in the time it takes you to respond to ONE of my texts!

2. “I get busy a lot”

Um….please do not insult me and try to tell me that I don’t get busy. Somehow between Paula Dean and Maury, I find time to text you. I don’t let finding out the results of the paternity tests distract me from talking to you. So please do not give me the excuse of you are busy unless you are delivering a baby. And in that case, have one of the nurses text for you.

3. “I don’t like to text all day.”

This may be the worse excuse of them all. This is a more subtle approach to saying “I’m NOT busy, I just don’t want to talk to you.” and to this I usually respond. “Choke” 

All of these excuses mean nothing. I don’t care if you are painting your basement or having lunch with the pope, I want you to text me. Even worse than people who take a long time to respond, are the people who text and then abruptly stop for no given reason. Here is another example conversation. Again, not exaggerated. Sadly.

(4:30) Alex: Have you seen that new movie yet?

(4:32) Me: What new movie?

(4:36) Alex: Bridesmaids

(4:40) Me: Oh, ya. It was really good. You?

(5:20) Me: Hello?

(5:43) Me: Did you drown?

(6:04) Me: Choke.

This happens to me ALL THE TIME, it’s ridiculous. If you have to stop texting for ANY reason, here are some sample texts that you should have the courtesy to send:

“Hey, my grandma just fell and broke her hip. I have to go to the ER. I will text you once I get to the waiting room. Promise.”

“Hey, I’m on the lake and our boat crashed. Don’t worry, only a few of us are badly injured. I will text you as soon as they find my hand. I think it’s on shore somewhere.”

These texts show that you CARE and want to talk to me. I need this constant reassurance. Get over it.

Britney Spears: Role Model of the Summer.

Ever since the day that I was born in that beautiful wooden manger, or however it happened, I have been infatuated with clothing and the way that people dress themselves. Often times this gets me in trouble. When I see someone looking like a mess from hell, I find it incredibly hard to contain myself. I want to jump out my Subway booth and help the woman donning a distressed leather jacket, pajama jeans, and purple cowboy boots, while she chooses what bread to eat. I want to shake her and ask why she spends more time deciding what to put on her meatball marinara sub than what to put on her body. It is very difficult for me to sit back and watch this woman choose her chips and walk out the door. As the tiny bell that is tied around the door handle sounds, I sulk and wonder why I can’t help people all around the world release their inner fashionistas. Thus, my career choice. After graduating next year, I will attend the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising and study fashion design. One day I will be able to help that pajama jean lady. But until then, I can only hope that she finds my blog and reads my top 3 summer fashion misconceptions.

1. Uggs.

Let me remind everyone that it is summer. It gets hot in the summer. Why would anyone want to wrap their feet in two inches of sheep fur in ninety degree weather? Other than the obvious fact that Uggs are warm and the fact that warmth isn’t needed in the summer because there is plenty of it, Uggs don’t even look good with shorts. Daisy Dukes and Uggs are not friends. They certainly do not compliment each other and whatever clerk at Macy’s that told you they did, lied. So invest in a pair of cute sandals and stop looking like Britney Spears.

2. Pocket Exposure.

Look at the above image. I am going to make a statement that will probably be correct 9.8 times out of 10. If Britney Spears does it, it is probably not socially appealing. Example 1: shorts so short the pockets hang out. I don’t really know if this was ever a fad, but I do know that it doesn’t look good. To me, they look like those bags they attach you to at the hospital to pee in. Why would you want two drainage bags dangling on your thighs? I am a fan of short shorts. But I am not a fan of short shorts that look like they were obviously jeans in a former life. The sad thing is that those pockets actually distract from the fact that her shorts are slowly creeping up inside her. Soon they will disappear completely. Take a note from the Magician Britney Spears and stay far away from any shorts where pockets are an “accessory.”

3. Tank Top Double Up.

Once again, Britney Spears is a perfect example of my third summer fashion blunder, doubling up on tank tops. I hate to break it to all of the teenage girls, and hopefully not grown women, out there, and tell you that two tank tops aren’t better than one. Usually the saying goes that two is better than one. This is pretty much ALWAYS true. For example, two margaritas are better than one. But in this instance, two tank tops = disaster. One is bad enough. I don’t consider a strappy tank top to be proper summer attire unless you are just coming back from the beach or are washing your car. If you are out in public for more than thirty minutes, put on a real shirt. I do agree that some tank tops are stylish, but two Old Navy tanks stacked on top of one another ISN’T. Just because the colors are complimentary doesn’t means it compliments YOU.

-Zac