Thursday, August 27, 2009

In which I am culturally illiterate. And catty.

One thing I'm sure we can all agree on is that Miss America is The Best Pageant. It's actually not a pageant at all, but a scholarship competition. With swimsuits. But there's a talent competition. And all the contestants have to be in, like, you know, college.

The one thing Miss America lacks is any sort of state costume competition. And in that way, Donald Trump's Miss Universe has the upper hand.

Now, to be Miss USA and Miss Universe, you don't have to be literate. You have to be pretty and want to be a spokesmodel. There is no talent competition. For some reason, the top five finalists have to answer questions about health care reform or Apartheid, which is totally unfair. They should be questioned about stuff they know, like laser hair removal versus waxing. It's not like Miss Universe will serve next to Yoda in some sort of intergalactic United Nations.


The questions are stupid. But the national costumes? Divine. Let's review some of the noteworthy submissions from Sunday's pageant.

Miss Honduras
Now, this is a nice example of your traditional national costume. She's displaying the cultural heritage of her people. She looks feminine and fresh.

Miss USA
Ah. I'm proud that our git-r-dun heritage was well-represented for the whole world - nay, the whole universe - to see. Miss USA is neither fresh nor feminine. She looks like a waitress at a NASCAR-themed Hooters.

Miss Ukraine
Feminine. And graceful. I just didn't realize half-bird, half-mermaids lived in the Ukraine.

Miss Germany
A for effort, Miss Germany! Any national costume that requires you to walk sideways through doorways is a winner in my book. But, let's be honest: the poor girl looks miserable.

Miss Albania
Umm ... I'm sort of scared to comment on this one. I'm afraid that Miss Albania will come for me. In the night. Sort of like Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty.

Miss Panama
I'd actually like to know the cultural significance of this one because it's ... wow. I know she's representing Panama, but our friend is obviously part Vegas. Or at least has a future career there.

Miss Montenegro
It's a strong statement to represent the people of Montenegro's rich cultural heritage of ... wearing bows.

If I had to design a costume representing my cultural heritage, I think it would be jeans. No, wait - sweatpants. And covered in dog hair. Yeah. And an orange t-shirt my parents got me in St. Maarten in 1988 that is the softest t-shirt in the whole universe but that I only wear when I really need it because I now consider it a frail antique. And more dog hair. Because dog hair? The new feathers. So suck on that, Miss Panama.

What about you? What's your cultural heritage costume? Best comment wins a fabulous prize pack. Seriously. Because I feel like giving some cool shit away. And I'm hoping it will atone for this post.

Send your costume descriptions by August 31. In the event the winner is unable to fulfill her duties as Miss Noodleroux Cultural Heritage Costume Queen, the first-runner-up will assume those duties. You know the drill.

All photos courtesy of


Iron Needles said...

National Costume d'Iron Needles depicts comfort and ease and freedom of movement. Women living in Iron-dom wear jeans (or shorts, depending on season/temp) and tees (long or short sleeved, see above) with the occasional sweatshirt overlaid in cold seasons. This look is so loved it is worn on all weekends, and changed into immediately upon arrival home from labor, even though labor costume is jeans with casual shirt, with comfortable shoes...Iron-dom is not very glamorous but the general consensus in Iron-dom is that glamour might just be overrated and hard to garden in...

Patti said...

How did I not know about this? I thought it was some boring, stupid beauty pageant with the stupid sparkly gowns. This is fantastic! I can't believe I have missed it all these years. One more thing, why are Miss Panama's boobs looking at me like that?

Anonymous said...

That is hilarious. I wish we were neighbors--I'd totally watch more TV with you on my couch snarking away.
My heritage would be accessorized with a coffee mug and a hoe, I'd wear my green rubber Wellies and a t-shirt 'cuz I'm a dirty girl that way.

hope505 said...

...for a second I thought Miss Germany was giving the ol' 'heil hitler', then I saw that her palm was facing up instead of down. Well played, Miss Germany. *haha!* and...look out, Miss Panama! Your coustume is about to devour your head!!

My national costume would have to include some sort of tinfoil hat...
* ; )

Have a great weekend cha cha!! !!

Julie said...

I want to live in Iron-dom.

In my corner of the world, common dress is a t-shirt dotted with clorox spots and running shorts (which have never ever been used for running) holding a scrub brush in one hand and a bottle of multi-purpose cleaner in the other. For there are little people in my corner who are messy. All. the. time.

Jenny said...

My cultural heritage costume - a pair of badly-fitting at least two years out of style jeans. Salt-stained black shoes. A plain long sleeved shirt with some sort of food/drink stain right between the boobs. Because this how we roll in the upper midwest when the nearest mall is 2 hours away, the roads and sidewalks are covered in salt half the year and during that time the only fun thing to do is sit around with your friends, drink, eat and spill food on your boob shelf.

Kim Palmer said...

Here in the land of Maternal & Domestic Bliss we too have a national costume. Worn by women everywhere and at all occasions both formal and informal it consists of a tee shirt upper (cause we're big on comfort and practicality and adore that it comes in a colour that leaves every woman looking like a godess regardless of individual skin types and colouring). This is completed with a traditional skirt constructed from a belt to which are attached a gorgeous array of terry cloth nappies attached by safety pins resulting in a handkerchief flowing effect that has never gone out of style here. This brilliance in design allows for said goddess to easily remove a skirt panel as emergency requires from time to time to change the wee ones odour challenging bottom or wipe up any unsightly spills as the youngans are apt to make at the most inconvenient of times without the need for stress or anxiety caused by pondering over where the hell is there a cloth to fix that now! This fabulous outfit would never be complete however without the necessary accessories required to complete the national costume de Maternal and Domestic Bliss. Attached to said belt are a number of items which must include a dustbuster grey of course, one small garden trowel complete with garden soiling (it is a requirement that the trowel not be for display purposes only but a truly useful item), one small doggy bag of treats for pets and children (emergency use only), one nearly perfect bandaid (for all those little scrapes) and one frying pan utensil (cause you never know when you might be required to whip up a little emergency nosh for those univited guests). No national costume however would be complete without those finishing touches. In her ears the representative of Maternal and Domestic Bliss must have on the left, one set of car keys (for ferrying the outpourings of one's loins to all and sundry places they frequent) and in the right, one pacifier of universal appeal. On her feet one pair of drop dead gorgeous 3 inch heels colour to match that fabulous tee shirt so that the male members of Maternal and Domestic Bliss know that their women dress to please and always, but always are thinking only of them. And no outfit could ever be thought complete without one filled ('Cause life here is always about being fulfilled) wine glass colour choice optional to cater for all tastes. Ahh, yes girls, we have it all here in Maternal and Domestic Bliss.

Sara said...

The dress code for my event tonight is "Business or national dress." Oh, the possibilities.

~annie said...

Cultural heritage? I am descended from a long line of refugees. The resultant quasi-nomadic lifestyle has left me with no roots to speak of. For all practical purposes, I might as well have been raised in a barn. I also embrace a semi-hermit existence. I am decidedly rough around the edges. With peri-menopause wreaking it's havoc, I routinely feel the need to go without shoes and/or pants. Will that do?