Lawd…I swear that Mom is as crazy as her haircut.
Excuse me?
You know my Mom has been inhaling Magic Marker fumes all morning, right? She’s gonna freak on your a**.
You’re so fat I took yo’ picture last Christmas and it’s still printing out on my damn computer!
NO RUBBER STOPPERS?!?!
“You’re Fat.”
“You’re Crazy.”
For those of you looking for a shortened version of how this week’s Dance Moms went down…that was it.
You’re welcome.
Thanks for stopping by, and enjoy the rest of your day.
For those of you with a little more time to kill at work before the Boss catches on…here we go.
It was the Abby vs. Kelly Show and it wasn’t pretty. It was definitely loud and colorful, and a total hoot to witness, but not very pretty as all the years of pent up aggression between the two women began to blow out like steam from a busted radiator pipe.
After a not so great showing at their last competition, the Abby Lee Dance Company troupe filed in for what they knew would be a guaranteed Pyramid of Shame. Both the tiny dancers and the Mom Squad had that nervous fidget thing going on that we all used to get right before having to present a book report on a book that we lost on the first day of school and never even read.
You knew you were going to get busted for it, but you didn’t know how badly.
It was immediately apparent that not only had Abby Lee Miller invested in quite a few new outfits from Lane Bryant this season, but she had also managed to pick up a thesaurus on her way out of the mall, because our Girl knew every synonym for “LAZY” that exists in the English language.
The poor little dancers were called sluggish, boring, lifeless and every other adjective usually reserved for high school biology teachers.
(Ok…maybe I’m still carrying some old issues around. Maybe.)
Maddie and her endearing Chiclet teeth were on the bottom of the pile, which was a long way down from her usual top spot, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Mom Melissa.
Ever since Maddie bolted off that New Jersey stage a few weeks back after forgetting her choreography, the kid has been stuck in a little rough patch. With just that one on-stage goober, it was like the pilot light on her little mental stove got blown out and nobody had any matches to start it up again. She’s been moping around like all the spunk leaked out of her ears while she was sleeping.
Last week Abby had given her the opportunity to get it together and perform a last minute solo, but she instead chose to sit in the audience, staring blankly at the stage and crying like she had just watched Bambi’s mother get shot at the Cineplex.
The world doesn’t need another Brooke.
Smile, already.
Jack-o-lantern Mackenzie was also on the bottom. Her teeth are starting to come in nicely, but adult incisors don’t make up for only snagging 10th place with your solo.
Paige finished off the basement trifecta, because she forgot a step last time and doinked around for a second.
Oh. And Abby hates her mother. That, too.
Brooke and all her teenage angst made it to the second row, along with Sasha Nia.
Abby was happy with Nia and her fierceness and was even happier that she didn’t have to listen to her mouth that much last week, and somehow that was supposed to translate into positive reenforcement.
Nia just snapped her new braided weave and was all down wid dat. I love the bazoinkers out of that kid. Beyoncé better be watching her back, because someday when Blue Ivy Carter is home barfing up strained squash all over his Gucci onesie, little Nia is going to take over first place in the Diva Race.
Granted, Bey Bey will be wiping Blue’s chin clean with $100 bills, but still…
Cabbage Patch-eyed Chloe was sticking to her top ranking for a second week, which in AbbyLand translated into more stress than ever. Sooner or later Maddie is going to snap out of it and then it’s on like Donkey Kong. So it enjoy it while you can.
This week the gang was headed to Chicago for the Energy Dance Competition and that cost cuttingly lame lightbox Energy logo that they always beam up onto the stage.
Personally, if it were up to me, I would boycott the competition just for that graphic alone.
For all the money that you raise in registration fees, do you really need to use a grade school transparency? You remember that thing…what was it called? Where the teacher wrote with that erasable marker on a piece of plastic that got projected up onto one of those pull down screens? And it always wobbled when they wrote until you thought you would get car sick learning how to divide fractions?
If you have no idea what I’m talking about and all your schools have ever used are computers, then you’re too young to be ready this smack talk, fancy pants. Go back to Facebook and update your status.
Paige, Brooke and Chloe all scored solos, while Mack and Nia would be doing a Circus themed duet.
Since there is no such thing as simply being rewarded for your hard work, there was a little bit of drama surrounding Chloe, who got squealed on by one of Abby’s faculty members for not being in dance class earlier in the week. Turned out that Mom Christi had taken her to the doctor’s for something or other, but Abby wasn’t buying it for a minute. Unless there’s a visible open wound or an arrow sticking straight out of your forehead, there’s no excuse good enough for missing jazz class.
According to Abby’s new thesaurus, another good word for “LAZY” was zombie-like, so the group number was all about the Living Dead. You wanna act like Zombies? Then you better be prepared to dance like them, too. Cause this is Thriller.
In yet another attempt at getting a dig in at Holly’s expense, Abby pointed out that Nia’s Mom had so much spare time on her hands now that she should be able to whip up some Zombie Couture for the show. Knowing full well that Holly never had a sewing machine in her Principal’s Office back at school, Abby was obviously hoping that she would fall flat on her face with this wardrobe assignment.
I’m not quite certain Abby realizes yet that it was actually Holly’s decision to take a leave of absence from work to spend more time with her family. I think in Abby’s head she still believes that Holly was fired and is loving every minute of the delusion.
At least she didn’t give her another Al Jolson number to costume, so maybe we’re making some progress after all.
Melissa did a lot of crying and almost crying this week. When the Moms questioned her about no longer working at Abby’s front desk, Melissa got a little teary realizing how much she missed everyone. And even more importantly, how much everyone missed her. Apparently she receives multiple emails everyday from people professing their love, and how much they miss seeing her around.
Considering that while all her old coworkers are downstairs at the desk Melissa is barely 20 feet away upstairs in the Mom Perch, I’m not quite sure how the missing you part really comes into play. It’s not like they need GPS to locate her, right? I think they need to be more concerned about cleaning that landfill of a front desk than about texting Melissa, but maybe that’s just me.
While everyone worked on their various solos, Melissa went all the way back downstairs to her old stomping ground and asked Abby to give Maddie some one on one private time to see if that would slap her back into reality. Since Abby loves Maddie almost as much as she loves IHOP, she agreed to sneak her in after hours for a quickie.
There was also a brief moment when all of the sudden we found out that Brooke had been harboring a secret desire to be the next teen singing sensation.
I know, right?
Lucky for us, and for youtube, Abby has an on call vocal coach just down the hall who took time out from sending more love notes to Melissa and worked with Brooke on her vibrato. Where this whole singing thing came from is beyond me, because I don’t think we’ve ever heard Brooke string together more than 12 words into a sentence in two whole seasons, and yet all of the sudden she thinks she’s the next Rebecca Black.
The big meltdown between Abby and Kelly began as poor little Paige tried to focus on her solo.
The prop for the dance was one of those Broadway chairs like they use in the musical Chicago. The kind the hot chicks always straddle. They’re like ice cream parlor chairs gone bad.
Kelly was supposed to put rubber stoppers on the bottom of the legs so the chair didn’t go flying out into the judges’ table during the competition, but she spaced out and had forgotten to take the chair home the night before.
(Again, maybe it’s just me, but wouldn’t it be easier to just bring the four little rubber stoppers to the studio in a True ValueHardware bag instead of shlepping a giant chair home in the van. But, you know….)
When Abby flipped over the chair and saw that it was sans rubber, as they say in France, she flipped out. And then she flipped the chair. And then Paige flipped out, quickly followed by Kelly, who was quickly followed by some poor cameraman schmo who had to try and keep up as Kelly tore downstairs.
It was like the camera guys who follow the cops into a drug bust, all wobbly and blurry as they try to keep out of the line of fire.
Then it was a whole bunch of screaming and fat jokes and girl, you so crazy slams before Kelly finally scooped up all her kids and left the studio, pausing just long enough to request a full refund on her contract and a parking validation stamp.
Krazy with a K.
But like any good Dance Mom Meltdown, everyone always come back the next day…unless they end up going to Ohio to dance with the Candy Apples contingent. So Kelly came back with her kids the next morning, but chose to stay outside and spray paint zombie daywear with the other Moms like they were doing arts & crafts at a Summer Camp for Dead People.
That same spray paint would have come in handy the day before on that Pussycats Doll chair, but for some reason they all decided to use black Sharpies for touch ups.
Somebody needs a course in time management, don’t you think?
This week I also started to wonder if Melissa is part-Ninja, because she just shows up out of the blue as if she dropped in through the air duct vents.
During Maddie’s one on one with Abby she was suddenly there…in tears of course, sobbing how her heart hurts when she hears the other Moms talk trash about Abby.
And then she dropped out of nowhere again at the competition as Abby tried to motivate Maddie into getting her act together. That time both Maddie and Melissa were crying, which only babies do according to Abby.
Seriously. Melissa is like some X-man or something who can blend into shadows and then just materialize. Go back and check it out. Even Maddie was all like “Gah..go away. You keep showing up.”
Speaking of the competition. There was actually a little bit of The Dance in the episode.
Kelly had another MomSpaz and pulled Paige and Brooke from their solos at the last minute. Both kids were good to go right up until the last minute, but it became apparent as Paige was rehearsing that Abby couldn’t be bothered to even look up from her laptop to acknowledge either Paige or her newly rubberized chair. So Kelly snapped another nerve and yanked them both.
But conveniently enough, Abby had already snuck Maddie back onto the registration page, so at least somebody represented the Hood.
Then there was some more dancing. And then some zombie dancing. You might want to check out a legitimate dance site if you’re looking for the deets. Or the truth.
After the awards, there was just enough time for one more screaming chick fight.
Abby accused Kelly of screwing up, like she always does, with that whole chair stopper fiasco and most likely a subliminal jab at her haircut.
When Kelly accused Abby of not caring about her kids, Abby countered with something about going to the hospital after Kelly’s husband ran down her own kid in the driveway.
Say wha…?!
I have no clue what that one was all about, but it was Gold.
And you know it’s already the most Googled question out there next to Kim and Kanye getting engaged.
Oh, yeah. It’s going down between Abby and Kelly. Going down.
All the way down town going down.
It’s enough to make you want to get in the van and back over somebody…again.
Honk if you love Dance Moms.
Honk twice if you’re backing it up.
Safety First, bitches.
