Well, if you haven’t already heard, Miss America was crowned giving the rest of the world yet more of a reason to laugh at us. As if Tom Cruise, Rosie O’Donell and Paris Hilton don’t already produce enough chagrin. Nowadays it seems everyone else across the pond has more of a right to snicker in our geographical direction.
But now the votes are in and we have another tarantula-eyed-peroxide-blonde hussy to represent America.
I mean, what is there not to love? She cares about world peace, she can walk in heels while looking forward and…. and…
Well, I really can’t think of anything else good about her.
On Monday, thousands watched as Lauren Nelson burst spot-on into undoubtedly rehearsed tears while accepting her crown.
With the recent scandals surrounding the Miss USA and Miss Universe pageants, Miss America has managed to keep a pretty clean name. For now.
Maybe it’s because the contestants are forced into signing away their rights to be Girls-Gone-Wild in a morality clause… Maybe the nude photos just haven’t surfaced yet? I’m counting on the latter…
At least we know the standards of the pageant haven’t changed. Miss America doesn’t like to be referred to as a beauty pageant. Ya see, swimsuit and evening wear only calculate as 35 percent of the ladies’ overall score; which definitely proves that the contest is really all about brains.
But what makes me question Miss America’s classiness is not the authenticity of the contestants hair color but the contests newest dimensions. For the first time since the competition originated in 1921 they’ve changed it’s location from classic Atlantic City to trashy Las Vegas.
I suppose we weren’t supposed to notice the sly correlation between Show Girls in LA and Pageant Girls in LA….
Maybe the producers have sniffed too much aerosol hair spray because no ones foolin’ me.
Other chic attributes to the pageant include text message voting, downloadable ringtones and Mario Lopez! Even I can’t think of a better way to get American Idol fans to watch their show. Better yet, maybe they could make a reality show about it!
Pure genius! Get a confessional, some tequila and a slew of wanna-be models and throw them into a Las Vegas hotel. Presto! They’d make millions. I mean, what is more entertaining than a bunch of drunken former-prom-queens slurring their words and smearing their lipstick on camera? I can just hear it now:
“Fifty-girls, picked to compete to represent all of America’s ideals and standards about beauty, grace and intelligence. What happens when people stop being real and start getting fake?”
I know I can’t wait to see it.
You can email Amy at [email protected], but she’s bleaching her hair right now.
