No way. That little boy is gonna pick her up? She better keep that fat suit on cuz girlfriend is going down hard.
Seriously? After last week she still wants to get all up in my grill? I am about to pop off my acrylics and just do this.
Toddlers & Tiaras in the hizzle, yo. Pretty feet or sickle feet, you know that Dolla still make me Holla.
Lemme break it down for all you bitches. There’s only one Ultimate. And Baby got Face. Mmmkay?
And Baby got Back, too. I think I just popped something I’m gonna need when puberty hits.
Holy S***! I am gonna freakin’ kill that chick from the salon who said this would make me look like Dance Mom Jill.
“American Extremes.”
As in: Too much junk food. Too much spending. Too much Reality TV.
Psych. As if.
We all know there’s no such thing as too much Reality TV. That was a test. I wanted to make sure you were really paying attention and not just skimming over all my hard work while eating lunch at your desk.
Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition jazz-handed its way into Week 3 with a salute to Extreme Excess, proving once again that whether we’re talking about pearlized Bare Escentuals eye shadow or crazy a** Mama Drama…too much is never enough.
As we all know by now, the party doesn’t really start until the mini Group Challenge. That’s the one where all the little dancers gets about 45 minutes to learn a new dance routine and Kevin Manno gets to show off his newest skinny tie or H&M vest.
I love that guy. Maybe it’s the Underdog Factor. Or the I Could Be Abby’s Lap Dog Factor. I dunno. He just wants a piece of that Ryan Seacrest pie so bad that sometimes I just want to go on Twitter and tell the dude to unclench before his legs give out. He’s just so into whatever Abby wants him to do that it makes me want to save up my allowance and rescue him from the Pound.
As noted earlier, this week’s theme was all about Extreme Excess…because we all know that America can’t make it through the day without a 64 ounce Slushie.
Too much of this. Too much of that. The only thing that Mom Erin took issue with was the definition of too much makeup. Raising those permanently etched-in-charcoal circus eyebrows, she chuckled that too much seemed pretty normal to her. Then she chuckled again, but her eyebrows never came back down.
Choreographer Kitty McNamee (…wasn’t she a Bond Girl? That name sounds so familiar…) was in the house to help put everyone through the challenge routine. Based on that go-to Dance Moms theme of outsiders vs. the cool kids at school vs. wanting something so badly vs. getting wedgies because you’re a dancer, the routine hit a little too close to home for Brianna and Mom Kris.
Brianna is often the outcast at her school and it did get a little touching when she totally lost it and collapsed, hysterically sobbing into Zack’s tender scarecrow arms, nearly crushing him like a pile of matchsticks. Hopefully my boy will take the notes from last week’s Strength challenge and get a GNC Gold Card in his stocking this year.
(Sidenote: Elisabeth and her big crocodile divorce tears could take a lesson or two from Brianna on how to sincerely cry and mean it. Just sayin’.)
Mom Kris, who for some reason thought it would be fun to show up at rehearsal in a full-on Snooki Jersey Shore Halloween costume, patted her ginormous poof and teared up as Brianna revealed the trauma of being Type A in a Type not-A school. It was a little ironic that Abby Lee Miller, the biggest bully ever to Kelly and Christi back in Pittsburgh, would be the one preaching No Bullying. But whatever gets the point across, I guess.
No kid should ever get bullied. Ever.
Unless you’re a bully. Then you should get smacked upside the head.
But don’t try that at home, kids. Do not.
Lexine ended up winning the mini challenge, which was nice since I almost forgot she was on the show. Mom Maria is too nice and normal, and I’m sure Abby hates that, so I can’t even remember if they were in last week’s episode. Maria is totally the kind of woman at one of those local-docal neighborhood restaurants who brings you more water before you ask for it. She’s that nice.
As winner of the challenge, Lexine got to pick her duet partner since it was Duet Week. I may have forgotten to mention that part earlier. It was Duet Week.
So she picked Hadley and then everyone split up into their twosomes to work on their routines and their faces. Yes, their faces. Because it was all about Character and Face this week.
Excessive Face, if necessary. Which was right up Asia‘s alley.
Despite her Mom Kristie pretty much throwing down JLo Style with smiley faced Yvette last week, Asia had managed to maintain control of her Diva Face and was planning on using it to her full advantage in front of the judges. Because Baby got Face.
Which could go either way as she grows into it. I’m never sure how I feel about mini divas when they have a growth spurt.
Don’t get me wrong. That sassy, Beyoncé on the playground attitude is redoinkulously cute on a 6 year old. But sometimes by the time 6 1/2 comes around it’s been well documented that Diva Face can turn hella bad.
I mean, you’ve all seen it. I’ll say it. Six year old Diva Face can end up being that girl skipping school in front of Burger King screaming “Where you at, Jerome?” into a blinged out iPhone. Which is always on speaker, thank you for that. Love hearing your convo, honey. And fix your shirt, I can see your BK muffin top.
Or Diva Face ends up being the breakout star on Real Housewives of Atlanta, gets really rich, bitch…and totally disputes my theory. So never mind.
Regardless of any potential future outcome, Asia was all Pageant Face as she paired up with little Tua for a little dance on Animal Rights Activism, which concerned Mom Shayna immensely. Not because they were clubbing baby seals for fur, but because even though Tua is equally as much a cutie patootie as Asia, she didn’t know how to Work the Judges, Smoochie…if you know what I mean. Holla.
So Mom was concerned, and Creeper Mom Yvette could smell that fur coat blood splatter in the water from all the way across the room.
Stay tuned.
Hadley and Lexine were paired in one of those Homeless girls meets Rich Snobby Girl numbers à la Maddie on Dance Moms, which gave Yvette yet another opportunity to make sure everyone within ear shot knew she was a dance teacher as she once again tried to take over the number. All while smiling.
Yvette likes to smile a lot. Like the Joker in Batman. That kind of smile. And you know how that story always ends. Batman Rules.
Amanda and Jordyn were paired in a hip hop booty pop routine, which was basically the opposite of everything they ever teach you in Ballet class. Needless to say, ballerina Amanda was stressing while Jordyn was poppin’ and lockin’ like a crimped out, pimped out Tupperware lid all over the dance floor.
Madison and Elisabeth were taking on the polarizing subject of Beauty Pageantry, which in my head immediately translated to Toddlers & Tiaras because…well…that’s just my thing. After having to listen to Elisabeth go on and on last week about how hard it is to be pretty (…I feel you pain, sister…) I’m pretty sure that I was also subconsciously hoping a chunk of her weave would come out if Madison yanked the crown off her head during the climactic last few seconds of the dance.
OhNoSheDin’t just yank my wig. Where’s my iPhone?
Brianna pulled it together and rehearsed her politically-themed number with Zack, which I found to be kind of ironic since her voice kind of reminds me of those TV commercials where the Lieutenant Governor bashes her opponent a week before elections. For real.
We love her, but her voice doesn’t seem to fit her face. Not a bad thing, but go back and listen with your eyes closed and I swear…
She should have Zack’s voice. We’ve already discussed this, so not hate mail. He’s my bro…I got his back. But dude has got to start benching or he’s never going to be able to hoist these dancers over his head during auditions. When he picked up Brianna and tried to plop her on his shoulder like that waitress when she put that gigantic rack o’ ribs on Fred Flintstone‘s car, the whole thing came crashing down and almost distracted me from choreographer Ricky Palomino‘s shorty shorts.
Almost. What was that all about? Dude. Please. No high kicks.
And then they showed someone dressed as Batman taking photos with the tourists out on Hollywood Blvd, which made my night. Batman Rules. End of story.
This time around, since the herd was thinning, all the kids got to do a group number as well. This would give them more face time with the judges and also allow a few more adolescent insecurities to manifest themselves on national television.
Brianna was chosen to be the featured dancer, which got her all excited until they wrapped her in a foam fat suit and sent her wobbling out on stage. Packed with more insulation than UPS would use to ship a piano overseas, Brianna was once again the outcast. But the starring outcast this time, bitches. So in your face. Diva or otherwise.
Throughout the rehearsals, Yvette and Kristie continued to chew on each other’s necks, egging each other on until Kristie was ready to go outside and just get this thing done. She was ready to cut somebody. But Yvette just sat there with her P-P-Poker Joker Face and plotted a different attack.
Sneaking into Shayna’s hotel room the night before competition, Yvette slithered up to her new BFF and tried everything except Dr. Phil hypnosis to coerce Tua’s Mom into breaking Asia’s knee caps before the curtain went up. There was a whole lot of Mean Girl hand waving and way too much discussion on the pros and cons of underage performance facials (…wha?…) before Yvette stole all the mints from Shayna’s pillow and hit the road. Her job was done here.
Mind games. No better nightcap.
Finally, it was Showtime!
I live for Richy Jackson every week. He’s no Bobby Newberry (…who was once again way too MIA…) but he’s still SlapYoMama fierce.
Sitting at the judges table wrapped in pretty much every in-stock colored handkerchief he could find at the Hollywood & Vine Army Barracks Store, Richy worked his two fingered Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy sashay until he got the 11 year old audience about one squeal away from a wet spot. Seriously. My ears.
Where do they get these kids? These 5,000 little girls have to be winners of some Facebook contest or something, right? Did you see all those Hello Kitty sweaters? Were they tricked into thinking this was a Bieber concert or what? I don’t know why I need to know so badly, but I do.
Not to be outdone, Robin Antin was working her best yellow Mad Men retro look, while Abby seemed to be channeling Priscilla Presley when she had really…really…big hair. If you were seated behind Abby, you didn’t stand a chance of actually seeing the show tonight.
Backstage, Kristie and Diva Face were missing in action, and Shayna was reaching her percolation limit on all this drama. Sending Tua out on stage to do a duet with only one person was not an option, and probably went against the rules. While Yvette smiled a little victory smile, Shayna hit the boiling point.
When Asia and Mom finally strolled in with their Starbucks (…was that kid drinking a mocha grande grande espresso or what? Did you see the size of that cup?…) Shayna blew her first official Dance Moms Nutty.
Welcome to the Club, Girlfriend.
Kristie did one of those Talk To The Hand things when Shayna approached her and then…Boom!….went the dynamite.
“Just let the damn kids dance!” No drama! Shayna went there.
Kristie tugged on her strapless top a little and then the damn kids actually danced.
You can Hulu all the good stuff.
I’ll just mention that Jordyn and Amanda’s Addicted to Technology hip hop number looked exactly like an Apple Store kiosk would look if it opened in the middle of a Hooters Restaurant during a weekend vacuum cleaner salesmen’s convention.
I got your iPod right here, Big Boy. Touchscreen.
No lie.
Zack didn’t drop anybody. Elisabeth didn’t lose any tracks. And PETA didn’t picket the auditorium.
When it was all said and done, Richy did a few more finger waves and Tua was sent home. Little Tua.
The awesome power of the Diva Face just squeaked Asia through this round.
Mom was relieved. Yvette? Not so much. This battle ain’t over yet, sister.
And then there were 9.
