Except for my Twitter account, Dance blog, Pinterest page & national TV show my personal life is no one’s business.
Don’t think I won’t, cuz I will. Right here. Dance Mob Style. Badabing.
So you’re positive none of the Dads on Dance Moms:Miami are in the mob? I need a hit put out on these bitches, asap.
Abby Lee Corleone can make it all go away. They’ll be dancing with the glitter fishes.
Seriously, Girlfriend. When did this become our life?
I’m not even sure what show I just watched.
It was either Toddlers & Tiaras, Mob Wives, Perry Mason, Beverly Hillbillies or one of those PBS pledge week specials featuring Cirque du Soliel.
Or maybe it was just Dance Moms.
Yeah. That’s what it was. Dance Moms…all chock full of tasty goodness and enough crazy to fill at least five other networks.
Seriously. There was enough legal mumbo jumbo, Ohio livestock, tight wire clowns and babies wearing lipstick that I’m sure you can relate to my initial confusion.
I don’t know how they even had time to dance this week.
Fresh off the Abby Lee Dance Company’s so so performance at…I forget…wherever that wooden gymnasium floor was located, Abby Lee Miller is ready to lay down the law and get the party started for the next go round. It’s the Company Dance Competition in Chicago and the joint will be jumping with top notch jazz handers and judges that know their stuff.
Spoiler Alert: It will also be crawling with Candy Apple Dancers.
That’s right. Chaos Cathy Nesbitt is bringing her A Team from the Evil Dance Lair. Better known as Candy Apple’s Dance Center, located in the heart of No Man’s Land USA, Cathy and her League of Sneaky Strip Mall Moms are looking to take down Abby and her tiny dancers at any cost.
Since her nemesis with the crazy skunk hair would be in the hizzle, Abby needed to make sure the Why Do We Have To Do This Again When It’s Always Maddie At The Top Pyramid of Shame was set up for success.
Poor little Diva-in-Training Nia was stuck at the bottom again, thanks to her now infamous Mime in a Box routine last week when she blanked out on her choreography and just stood there until someone threw change in a hat. It was heartbreaking to see that mini Beyonce in full-on panic mode. Props to her for getting a second chance and making it through the number.
MacNugget Mackenzie was also on the bottom, basically because she wasn’t born first and named Maddie.
Brooke finished up the trifecta. She’s Brooke. Boys are cute and life sucks. The End.
Chloe and her Beanie Baby eyes were on the second row again, along with Paige.
I need a tape measure, because I swear Chloe is taller every week. Unless I’m sitting closer to my television, that kid is having a spurt.
Paige has been rocking a pretty sassy, wavy kind of layered haircut which makes her look like the up and coming Wild Child compared to all the Ballet Girl ponytails in the room. You know she totally head bobs that thing all over the cafetorium when Justin Bieber comes on during the chaperoned school dances.
Nothing like that perfume that comes with a matching doll and the smell of fish sticks to bring back some fond memories. But I’m showing my age and getting off track.
Taking a break from pre-teen stripping and booty popping, Abby had created a group number about a homeless child. Rather than being excited that their girls would be exposed to a very polarizing issue in our country right now, the Moms were psyched that they didn’t have to spend the night BeDazzling any leotards. As Kelly excitedly proclaimed, homeless people don’t wear rhinestones.
Yikes. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure that homeless people watch TV in shelters…and they just changed the channel.
Have another Budweiser, Kelly.
Meanwhile, back at the Evil Dance Lair…
Chaos Cathy was breaking down her plans to destroy Abby in Chicago.
The Moms (…in their Secret Identity clothes…not the evil spandex that I hope we get to see this season…) were hanging on Cathy’s every word like she was the Penguin plotting to Kill The Batman.
That bad a** Mom with the red hair was totally wearing a latex Catwoman suit underneath her street clothes. You couldn’t see it, but she was. I could just tell.
Runaway Mom Jill and her poof were there as well, and it was good stuff.
Since Jill jumped Abby’s ship, each day she has had to pack up Kendall and cart her across state lines like a Fed-Ex shipment for rehearsals in Ohio. Just seeing Jill standing there next to all the other moms, looking and feeling so out of place, is worth the price of admission.
I mean, look at her. You know the type. Those women who shop Nordstrom’s online and think they are so much prettier than the other ladies in the neighborhood. But sometimes you just need a lightbulb and have to go to Walmart. And there they are, standing in line and you can pick them out a mile away even before you see the sweat on their upper lip.
That’s Jill. Doesn’t want to be there. But she needs lightbulbs. Just please, Lord, don’t let my friends see me in line.
Cathy’s daughter Vivi-Anne apparently still doesn’t have a humidifier in her bedroom, because she was her usual stuffed up self complete with early morning Revlon Red lips and glitter eye shadow. It must take her 90 minutes to get ready for school in the morning if she has to apply all that paint before the bus honks outside the farmhouse. I hope she has an early bedtime.
Cathy picked messy haired Justice to go head to head with Maddie in the solo division. He seems like a nice kid, and I’m not gonna talk too much smack about him in case his mom is the bad a** one. I’m not really sure who belongs to who in that crew…they don’t really match them up very often. Name tags would be nice. But until that happens, I’m just going on hair color.
Justice dances like a marionette with one broken string, but he’s cute in that tousled boy who stuck his finger in a socket kind of way. And he’s a boy. And boys kick a** at dance competitions because only four ever show up at one time. He and Vivi-Anne also skew the age down in the categories when they run across the stage, so there’s a method to Cathy’s madness.
The Candy Apple group number is Ode to a Clown.
Think Cirque du Soleil minus Celine Dion and her styrofoam piano flying overhead, throw in a little Tim Burton oddballishness (…if that’s a word…) and hit it with some spray glue and Martha Stewart glitter. There you have it.
And some umbrellas, because…well, I don’t know why. Just do it.
Ode to a Clown.
While that mess was being rehearsed, the Moms were back up in the Mom Perch at Abby’s, finding out that Holly would be taking a leave of absence from The I Have A Doctorate School of Holly to spend more time with her family. There just isn’t enough time in the day for working and working and working and sitting in the Mom Perch, so Holly announced that next year she is full time in the Perch.
Then it got cra-cra-crazy.
Even though everyone in Pittsburgh knows that Melissa is engaged to her booty call boyfriend Greg, for whatever reason she still refuses to discuss it. So naturally, the Moms called her out on not wearing her engagement ring anymore and the whole thing just got messy. Melissa Messy.
She didn’t want anyone up in her business, and had a Triple M.
Major Melissa Meltdown.
She flipped out, bolted downstairs and tried to pull Maddie from the competition. Kids started crying. Everyone ran around like spooked hamsters. More kids cried. Melissa grabbed one kid and stormed out of the building. I’m not sure she really even checked to see if it belonged to her, but she wanted out NOW.
In simple texting lingo, everyone was all like totally OMG WTF?
Next day, after the dust settled and Melissa realized she had taken the wrong kid, she came back and pretty much pretended the whole thing never happened. Everyone was going to Chicago now. Crisis averted.
Or so they thought, until the legal mumbo jumbo part started.
The rest of the Moms were served with Cease & Desist papers from a lawyer. Papers that basically stated that they could not gossip, mention or discuss Melissa’s life at all, in any way, any form or any manner.
A lawyer? No gossip?
I’ll be looking for my papers by tomorrow morning. Just slide them under the door. My mailbox is pretty small.
As usual, the competition itself wasn’t even the highlight of the episode.
Maddie’s solo was great, and kind of looked like it gave Justice his first Boy Tingle. Did you see him watching her? Like he just saw the girls’ gym class for the first time. I’m pretty sure his hair got curlier, but it could have just been the heat from the stage lights.
His solo was ok, in a missing string marionette kind of way. Shove him in a Time Machine, age him about 10 years and stick a red Solo cup in his hand…you just witnessed his first Frat Party White Boy Shuffle. Justice needs to work on his stage face.
But he’s a cutie, just in case his Mom is…you know.
During a break in the festivities, the Moms headed out for a snack and in between cocktails got all WTF on Melissa in regards to the legal papers. In typical Melissa fashion, she shrugged it off and oddly mentioned that it wasn’t her attorney…it was Greg’s. As they discussed how any friend could serve papers against another friend, they completely lost focus on what they should be debating.
What was going on with Kelly’s turtleneck sweater?
Like a turtleneck that you pulled over your head and your head was too big and the neck part ripped off. But you were running late and kept it on anyway. Like a turtleneck necklace or something.
You need to find that scene and figure it out. I’m the biggest fashionista snob around, but that thing was just whacked. Or maybe it was her hair and crazy eyes. She was not happy with Melissa at all.
Back at the competition, awards were handed out. Blah blah blah. You’re not reading this for that stuff.
One of the main Candy Apple Dancers busted her foot during the performance. Painful to see, but it gave Jill an opportunity to do her Walmart Happy Dance and shamelessly push her kid to the front of the line.
After it was all over, Chaos Cathy showed up back in the make up room with an engagement gift for Melissa. I’m pretty sure it was ticking.
Either that or it was Melissa’s blood pressure, because she had a mini Triple M, refused the gift and directed all questions, lingerie and Cuisinart blenders to her attorney.
She bolted again, and the door slammed shut like it does on The Celebrity Apprentice.
No wonder I don’t even know what I’m watching half the time.