Check it out! I found a cave etching from the Lower Paleolithic Pirouette Era. Bam!
Safety first, sweetie. Always practice your acrobatics on a squishy, shock absorbent surface.
Child Services is gonna love this one. I’m totally putting it on Facebook.
With this disguise, anyone can sneak past Border Patrol or leave a restaurant without paying.
I find that last joke only slightly less inappropriate than my girl having to duet with that kid What’s Her Name.
I know, right? My boobs look amazing in this dress!
Hmmm.
Something didn’t smell right in Pittsburgh this week, and I don’t think it was just that dead rat in the back of the garage.
After driving most of the Replacement Moms out of the ALDC and back across state lines, it was a Dance Moms episode filled with intrigue and fatigue as the Original Recipe ladies whipped out their iPhones and reclaimed their spots on the Perch.
Following a stampede of new faces thru the front door…and then right back out again before it even swung shut…the only newbies remaining were little squeak toy Sophia and her Mom Jackie.
The little WunderKid with the 8 pack belly and a voice that only dogs can hear had already succeeded in winning over Abby Lee Miller and the entire Dance World. But by her third week at the ALDC, she was already MIA due to some lucrative movie deal going down on the West Coast. Or maybe she was chillin’ at Sundance with Jennifer Hudson. I don’t know. Abby was a little vague.
But regardless, Sophia and Mom were not in the hizzle as everyone lined up for the second official Pyramid of the season.
If you can even call last week’s Pyramid an actual pyramid.
Remember? It was basically Sophia’s glossy headshot on top with every single other dancer pig piled down at the bottom, all looking up her skirt.
So if we’re really splitting hairs, this week was technically the first Pyramid, since it was the first time the photos were actually in the shape of a triangle. You decide.
After gazing in amazement at the assortment of MomCouture (…seriously, where do they shop?..) it was time for the Big Reveal.
Chloe, Nia, Paige and MackAttack were all at the bottom.
Turned out that Chloe had forgotten part of last week’s solo, which no one else in the Free World would know unless they had actually created the choreography for the routine. But Abby said she spaced. So that meant some quality time in the basement.
Sasha Nia hadn’t been applying corrections lately and got busted for it. But at least that gave Chloe some company at the bottom, along with Paige, who didn’t get lifted up high enough or some nonsense.
And since Mackenzie had spent over 20 minutes trying to unroll the gigantic red carpet for the group number entrance, it was a quartet. Her spot at the bottom didn’t really have anything to do with actual dancing, but I guess a tangled rip cord can be deadly in both parachuting and on competition day. We can all learn from that one.
The second row team was comprised of Maddie and Kendall, both victims of the Sophia Curse.
Kendall had not been able to keep up with the WunderKid, and Maddie had stolen her hairstyle. Because we all know that Sophia invented the Ballet Bun.
So shame on both of you.
Of course, top spot was reserved for Sophia. You don’t even have to show up anymore to get prime real estate.
Brooke didn’t even score any face time on the Pyramid because she likes boys, or something. I don’t know. She was gone for most of last week.
This week the gang was headed to Greensboro for the Dance Troupe Challenge, which for some reason gets abbreviated as DTI. Just as a public service announcement, if you happen to go on their website, turn your volume down or you’ll get the same ringing in your ears that you get after a Bieber Fever VMA performance.
Kids today. No wonder they can’t hear you when you yell at them in Burger King.
The group number was going to be all about immigrants, which I thought would be an Ellis Island kind of tribute, but somehow Abby had morphed it into a combination of “Sophia is Way Better Than You” and angry people raising their mops in defiance in front of the public library while dressed like backup dancers in a Thunderdome musical.
Oh, Abby. Always sticking it to the Moms.
Paige was handed a solo, while Maddie and Kendall were pegged for a duet. You can imagine the talk in the MomPerch as that party got started.
Because of the rip cord fiasco, Mackadoodle was now banned by the Olympic Committee from all group routines unless the number specifically called for a little nugget doing backward somersaults, but she seemed ok with it and was excited to find out that she was going to get plastic lemons hot glued to her head for her own solo.
Brooke was stuck doing splits on the floor and hitting the iTunes PLAY button as punishment for liking boys so much. That’ll teach you.
Playing the role of Sophia, like they do when soap opera actresses are sick or get pregnant, was Mackenzie. So she’s not allowed to dance with them, but it’s ok to stand there like an orange DOT cone to mark a spot. Go figure.
Then it was off to Abby’s house. Well…her garage, anyway. I don’t think the Moms are allowed inside the actual house.
Abby had enlisted everyone’s help in cleaning out her giant fire trap of a carport in the hopes of discovering some ancient Indian artifacts and a few props for future routines.
The place was a dump.
Kelly found one of those old vintage photos of Abby when she came over on the Mayflower, and Holly found half a dead rat stuck to the cement floor like they always find on Hoarders.
Girrrl, pleez. Holly don’t do rats, which would probably explain why Principal Frazier went off like she had just seen Michelle Obama‘s new bangs for the first time and then scooted out the door like some fierce diva Roadrunner.
Bloop Bloop. See ya.
After a complete disinfecting head to toe hose down, everyone got back to rehearsals.
But before we get into that, can we just talk about the braces?
Apparently a few weeks back when all the rebel Moms took their kids to do that Mall Flash Mob, they also had time to swing by the orthodontist. For realz.
Every time a girl opened their mouth this week, another one had new braces. I’m not even exaggerating. But I’m a big fan of oral hygiene, so it just needed to be said.
Mack’s lemonade-themed solo required not only the aforementioned Carmen Miranda headpiece, but also that she be air lifted onto Abby’s ample bosoms for a moment.
I’ll break that one down for you. Take that giant rack o’ ribs that the waitress tossed up onto the roof of Fred Flinstone‘s car in the opening of the show each week, replace it with Mack doing an awkward split, and there you go.
Honestly, Abby could have completely let go of the kid and Mack would have stayed securely in place up there until closing time. I wasn’t even sure what to make of that visual, but Melissa felt it deserved a photo opp.
Paige had noodly arms in her practice session and the term made me snicker. As she string beaned her way around the dance floor, Melissa headed down stairs to stir things up a little and figure out how to get Maddie’s picture taped back up over Sophia’s face.
After showing the girls a few pointers on how to dance their way past armed border patrol guards in the group number, Abby found Melissa out back in that half storage/half gift shop mess of a room.
Always more than happy to rock the boat, Abby asked Melissa what she thought about her daughter having to duet with crazy Jill‘s daughter…and Melissa was not happy.
Spoiler Alert: Those words were about to come back and bite her in the a**. Trust me.
By the next day, Jill had begun to get wind of the fact that Melissa was not thrilled her rockstar daughter was stuck dancing with Jill’s roadie daughter. Duets are like being downgraded on a flight. Or fake Times Square Louis bags. She even tried to put some pressure on Melissa up in the Perch, but Melissa did that YouSoCrazyGirl face she does when she gets caught in a lie or doesn’t want to talk about something and Jill let it go.
For now.
As everyone packed for the bus trip, Jill was itching for a fight and I was already popping my popcorn for another cowboy hat wearing, shoe throwing hoedown. I secretly live for Jill’s meltdowns.
Finally, it was Showtime!
The DTI competition is one of those crazy ones with no stage. Just bar mitvah flooring dropped onto the ballroom rug, and every time they do this I pray that housekeeping rolls across the dance floor during somebody’s routine with a cart full of fresh linens.
I thought maybe this time someone might pick up on the lemony fresh scent of Mack’s headpiece and enter stage left looking for supplies, but no such luck. I forgot it was plastic fruit.
Considering that it was a fake stage, it was fairly well lit, though probably half of the illumination was just reflecting off that one judge’s sparkly Ed Hardy hat.
Seriously. Do people still wear those?
That hat was almost as distracting as Kelly’s new boobs.
Almost.
Ok. Maybe they weren’t new. But I don’t remember ever seeing them before. Or at least not laid out like they were in her new JLo dress. You could literally swipe an ATM card between those babies.
Well played, Mrs. Hyland. Well played. Mama still got it. We get it.
Mackenzie made some serious lemonade out there as she backflipped and front flipped and got all Pucker Face for the crowd. They ate it up.
Paige’s solo went well, too. Abby actually thought she was wonderful, and I thought I was on the wrong channel.
And then we paused for a Jill Spaz.
You knew it was coming. As Maddie and Kendall ran through their upcoming duet one mo’ time, Jill confronted Abby with a laundry list of issues, which were all tossed back in Jill and Melissa’s teary eyed faces.
Then Kendal cried because Mom was making it stressful.
Kendall cries a lot. And Jill’s tops never fit very well, because even in the heat of the battle she always seems to be tugging on the shoulders or yanking at something.
Somehow Maddie and Kendall actually made it to the fake stage and did their thang. It looked like they also split Sophia’s patented 54 spin routine between them, because there were certainly a lot of pirouettes going on up there. Take that, Squeakie.
Then some kids won some stuff.
They all did really well, and Abby was a happy camper back in the makeup room. But it didn’t last too long thanks to JillSpaz: The Sequel.
With Abby planted on some hotel throne like visiting royalty, Jill swatted at her with whatever came to mind until Abby finally got up and hit the road.
Jill was mad at Abby. Abby was mad at Jill. Jill was mad at Melissa.
Melissa was on her phone. The usual.
Did she say that? Did the other one really say that?
Somebody ain’t telling the truth.
Things that make you go Hmmmm…..
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