I am way too over accessorized to take your crap anymore, lady. I’m outta here.
Girrrrrl. Yo’ Momma is one loose cannon.
Something’s not right here. Did I forget underwear again?
I’m taking this kid and you can’t stop me. I hope I got the right one. This one’s mine, right?
The only thing tastier than Candy Apples…Fresh Meat on a stick. Come to Momma, baby.
Abby Lee Miller said it. There are no rules in the Dance World.
True, there are rules on the performance stage regarding technique, pointing your toes and not running with scissors. I also vaguely remember from Dancing with the Stars that your foot shouldn’t come off the floor in a dance with no lifts unless you want Carrie Ann Inaba to blow a nutty. But that’s all show stuff.
Abby was talking about the cruel reality known as the Dance (Moms) World.
No rules out there. Nada. Probably should be, if for no other reason than to preserve the species. But nothing yet.
Personally I’m too busy watching TV, but if anyone has some time on their hands and feels the need to compile a list of potential guidelines, Kill or Be Killed would be a good starting point.
Seriously.
Oh, Dance Moms.
In all honesty, sometimes I forget what show I’m watching. I know it’s America’s Guilty Pleasure, and I know I shouldn’t bring it up when the guys are over for the Big Game.
But sometimes I just forget.
Between some rather unfortunate jungle print wardrobe decisions, loads of faux fur and a pack of Moms that constantly chew on each other’s throats, there have been more than a few times when I actually thought I may have unknowingly laid back on my remote and flipped over to the National Geographic Channel.
If it wasn’t for all the glitter and that sissy dog being pushed around in a pink baby stroller, I would swear I was watching one of those NatGeo specials where the Momma lions shred everything around them to protect their young.
Luckily that dog in the baby stroller always brings me back to reality.
This week was the Fire & Ice Competition just down the road in beautiful, land locked Pittsburgh, so Abby and her crew could finally save some travel money, do some laundry and stay local for a few meals.
But local or not, everything always begins with the How Many Weeks Is Kendall Going To Be On The Bottom Before Her Mom Loses It Pyramid of Shame.
Answer: This week should do it.
Sure enough. Numero Uno on the bottom is Kendall.
Again.
And back on probation.
Again.
Not even four minutes into the episode and Jill went off like a Macy’s fireworks rocket.
That big sparkly one that shoots up really loudly at the end of the show. That one.
It was a classic Real Housewives of Pittsburgh moment as Jill busted out every dramatic pose in her repertoire and basically melted down in front of everyone.
Again.
She also used the opportunity to practice her celebrity imitation skills by dramatically screeching “What…More…Do…You…Want…From…Her?” in the best William Shatner staccato that I have heard since that TV Land Star Trek Marathon.
While Jill’s hysteria toggled back and forth between Captain Kirk and Teresa Giudice, Abby pointed out every flaw in Kendall’s performances until the poor little thing started to cry.
Jill was Over…It. She and Kendall are going to find a studio…That…Appreciates…Them.
Hopefully little Kendall can still dance with her dislocated arm after Jill grabbed her and dragged her out the door and down the hall like she was a knock off Louis Vuitton bag.
Warp Speed. Engage.
When the dust settled, the remaining girls all looked around at each other not sure whether they should leave or stick around for the rest of the Pyramid Game. Abby didn’t even skip a beat as she revealed Paige, Mackenzie and Brooke finishing off the bottom row.
As Moms Kelly and Melissa rolled their eyes, Abby explained that Paige pretty much forgot where she was during the last Trio Dance which resulted in her bottom row status, Mackenzie just needs adult teeth and more practice, and Brooke’s onset of puberty…well…that just pisses Abby off. Teen angst is one thing. Not knowing how to smile is another. Turn that frown upside down or you’ll never dance or date again, sister.
Middle ground was Maddie with her enormous smile, and Chloe with her not so enormous eyes. I love those two kids.
Top row? Wait for it….wait for it…
NIA!! Laqueefa Wha–?!?!?
Finally. And the crowd goes wild.
Christi better watch her back, because Holly may soon be taking over the title of Best Proud Mom Face Ever very soon. When you least expect it, you might get a rolled up PhD doctorate in the back of the head and suddenly there’ll be a new Queen in town.
This week’s group numbah is a Wedding Dance complete with bouquets and questionably age (in)appropriate garters. Abby wanted all the Dance Dads (Spike TV…are you listening? Spin off anyone?) to show up at the competition to give their daughters away to the Dance, so to speak. Sounded a little sacrificial, but whatever sells tickets.
As the girls started working on their bridal boogie, the remaining Moms scooted upstairs to dish about Jill. While Holly struck a seriously reflective Oprah pose and took it all in, Melissa got a text from Jill in her getaway car swearing that she is gone for good, suckahs.
Speeding down the highway, Jill put in a call to the Evil Dance Lair, better known as Candy Apple’s Dance Center, home of the villainess Chaos Cathy and her League of Mall Moms Gone Bad. Cathy will stop at nothing to bring the Art of the Dance to greater Ohio, and if she can stick it to Abby Lee Miller at the same time…even better.
Somehow Cathy has the ability to smell blood in the water even over a cell phone, and she pretty much drooled out a little candy apple juice at the thought of stealing one of Abby’s Moms. Especially since she was headed to Pittsburgh this week to do the whole bring the Art of the Dance/Stick it to Abby thing on Abby’s home turf anyways. Bonus.
While Cathy was wiping caramelized spittle off her chin, all the Moms headed down to the neighborhood Bridal Boutique. The trip was in the name of research for the wedding costumes, but quickly turned into an episode of Pre-Menopausal Say Yes To The Dress.
Melissa, best known for doing whatever…whatever…it takes to pay the dance bills, is now secretly engaged to her new beau. Except everyone knows already, so I’m not really sure why she thinks it is a secret. But she does. So she was playing coy around the dresses.
Kelly, on the other hand, was more than happy to jump into a Vera Wang number and do some impromptu modeling.
And like any good model, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Thanks for sharing, Kelly.
All I could think of were all the girls who make that mad dash during those Running of the Brides Wedding Dress Sales, and frantically pull the gowns over their heads in a race to find The Dress.
Yeah. You just think about that one for a minute. And then think about it some more, and then cover that stuff up. That’s just nasty.
As Kelly was proving that you don’t need panties to be a blushing bride, Jill was finally arriving at Candy Apple’s in a scene that was part child hostage situation/part Kids from Fame. Cathy could still smell Abby’s scent on Kendall as she greeted them in her creepy, lick your face kind of way. She didn’t. But I thought she was going to for sure.
It was those hyenas from Lion King again. Just circling and smelling you.
Let’s be real. Even if Kendall had shown up on crutches, doped out on children’s cough medicine and wearing an eye patch Cathy would have put her on the team. It’s Cathy. And she wants to stick it to Abby. Even if that means using kids as pawns.
And it does.
But let’s talk about those Candy Apple’s Dance Moms. I know, right?
Love. Them.
It’s like someone drove around picking up Moms at random Walmarts and then suddenly changed their mind and went to that store that only sells hair dye and biker chick stuff.
That red haired Mom is still bad a**. She will cut you in a heartbeat, in her off the shoulder Flashdance shirt, and not even blink those jet black lined eyeballs.
Plus they have snacks. Sparkling apple cider and a veggie platter. Even in a blizzard.
Cathy gave Kendall a solo in the Pittsburgh show, which would put her up against Nia in their age category. Let the drama unfold.
Jill filled her purse with carrot sticks and cheese slices and hit the road, gloating in her victory against Abby. Kendall finally has the solo and attention that Jill has been trying to get for her, and they also got free cider. Life is good.
On Competition Day Chaos Cathy and her Mom Squad strutted down the hallway like WWE wrestlers going into the Ring. When they came face to face with Abby and her Posse, they were ready to rumble.
Between that fake leopard Wilma Flintstone jacket that one of Cathy’s Moms was working (…she may be my new second favorite, after the bad a** one…) and Abby’s little dog in his pink stroller, I thought my head was going to explode.
Everyone got all “What the? Who the? Oh Hell No” all over each other. Trust me. It’s a DVR keeper.
Did I mention Abby’s dog only travels in a baby stroller? A pink one?
This whole event was just asking for trouble. And trouble showed up.
Nia’s solo was great. Holly totally swiped the crown off Christi’s head during that one. She was beaming.
Kendall pushed all of Abby’s buttons by doing Abby’s choreography, while wearing Abby’s costume and breathing Abby’s air. That didn’t go over too well.
The Wedding Dance was all good. No guns this week.
The Candy Apple’s troupe did a dark, moody Funeral Dance, complete with casket. Cathy probably dug it up with her bare hands.
As they did during the last competition, to skew the age category down a few notches, Cathy had daughter Vivi-Anne and her little red haired buddy run around the stage while the older dancers did the actual dancing part of the number. Last competition Cathy let them toss Vivi-Anne around like a Whole Foods potato sack. This time at least she let her get some exercise and run around on her own.
I say it every time, but I swear that kid goes to bed wearing glitter eye shadow. Her Princess Ariel pillow must be a hot mess when the alarm goes off.
There was more crying when Nia lost out to Kendall in the solo category. But the Wedding Dance beat out the Funeral Dance, which rubbed Cathy the wrong way again.
Finally, in the Be Careful What You Wish For category, Cathy presented Jill with her honorary Candy Apple’s BeDazzled denim jacket. The thing had more bling than a hip hop hoochie on a Friday night, and was made out of that pale blue denim they only use for elastic waist Mom jeans.
Yeah. It was as pretty as it sounds.
That should look nice with your fur vest and Snookie poof down at the Galleria.
Jill’s fake smile said it all.
It’s on, bitches.
