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Beauty pageants.

These are the two words in the English language which pique every man’s interest and make every feminist wince.   Especially the ugly feminists.  (sorry, that was redundant)

Imagine my surprise when I learned that I would actually be attending just such an event … which I did this past Monday.  The event was the “Miss USA” preliminary contest at the Planet Hollywood Theatre for the Performing Arts.

I’ve seen probably a hundred of these pageants on TV … but never in person. And by “seen on TV”, I mean that I have come across them while flipping through channels.   I don’t think I have ever watched one from beginning to end.  The primary reason for this is because the women talk.

Now, I typically don’t have a problem when my televised eye candy talks.  As a matter of fact, I quite enjoy it.  Especially “Oh Mr. Plumber, I know I called you to fix my kitchen sink, but there is something in my bedroom that needs screwing …”  There is definitely a place for female dialog on the tube.

That being said … “I like cute kittens, helping children, and I want to put an end to the scourge that is racism”, is not something I want to hear from a hot chick.  Their political views and personal preferences are of no consequence to me whatsoever.  That didn’t stop the Miss USA contestants from telling me, though.  Unfortunately, I was on cliché’ overload throughout the contest.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one:

Judge: “Who would you say is your greatest role model?”

Contestant: “My greatest role model is muh mom!”

Really?  Your mom?  Did she parade around the house in high heels and a two piece bikini with her ass cheeks hanging out?

Because honestly, if she did, then she’s my hero too.

The introductions of the contestants were a tiny bit painful as well. The emcee would try to introduce a little bit of biography as he announced each contestant.  A few lines that stood out as being particularly bizarre were:

“Hey everybody, please welcome Miss Something … she once went on vacation, and spit off of the Eiffel Tower.  Look out belowwwwwww!”

I scratched my head on that one for awhile.  But there was more.

“Here comes Miss Something … she used to be an avid surfer until she saw a shark.  She hasn’t been back in the ocean since.  Her rule is, if you see a fin, don’t go in!”

Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not her rule.  I think not going swimming when you spot a man eating shark off-shore is kind of everyone’s rule.

There were 49 more of these biographical excerpts, but I honestly made an effort to distract myself.  I was this close to breaking into mock hysterical laughter as I do on the Monorail when they make the PA announcements, but I do make a sincere effort not to be rude.  This contest was a test of my willpower, though.  I felt like someone with Tourette’s trying my best to hold in an offensive outburst.

I had 51 chances to make snide comments … and I had some really, really good ones, yet I took a pass on each and every one.

I realize that the word “hero” is often overused, but this time, I think it earned this designation.

After the intros were over, the swimsuit contest was next.  As the name implies, each contestant was re-introduced … only this time they came out wearing a swimsuit.  This got Mr. Winkie’s attention, but I have to be honest with you … after the 5th girl pranced by in a bikini, they all pretty much looked the same to me.   Same body type, similar hair, same bikinis, same … well, everything.

Now, everybody has their own areas of interests, and I make it a general rule to never speak badly of shows/events.  People who can … do.  People who can’t … critique.  Frankly, this town has enough critics who have arguably never accomplished anything of actual substance in their lives.   I’ll leave the performance-bashing to them.

I am quite sure that the women onstage worked long and hard to get where they were.  I am sure there is some kind of higher art and purpose to these pageants.  However, much like figure skating competitions … I just don’t personally know what to look for.

I would give everyone a “10” if they didn’t fall, and even if they did fall, I would give them a “10” for busting their ass in front of thousands of people.

All of the girls were very poised and pretty, and it is of no consequence to me who wins.  For the record, The Miss USA pageant finals will be televised live from Las Vegas on Sunday April 19th.

Technically, I was rooting for Ms. Nevada while I was in the audience.  Every time her name was mentioned, the entire Planet Hollywood Theater erupted in cheers.  Unfortunately, she did not make it to the finals. That leaves me with Miss District of Columbia and Miss New York to battle it out for my hometown loyalty.

I would vastly prefer they fight for the crown topless in a tub of Jello, and in my mind they will be doing exactly that … but I think they have to go through the whole speaking and walking formality again.

I have an offer to attend the final televised event on Sunday, and I may or may not go depending on my schedule, but my congratulations go to whoever wins the thing.

Even though these events may not be everyone’s thing … the exposure is a shot in the arm for the city, and Planet Hollywood is working hard to make the event a success, so maybe throw a little love their way and flip NBC on at 7pm Eastern.

If support for the city is not a good enough reason to tune in, you can always cross your fingers and hope for a wardrobe malfunction.

That’s exactly what I’ll be doing.

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