I know, right? With my Kim Kardashian pouty face, crazy a** hats are totally the New Black.
Oh. Hell. No. Bitch did not just go there.
Lawd Jesus. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Not at this hour.
Bitch, you’re lucky I don’t have my thug hat on, or I’d be all up in your grill like it was going down at a PTA meeting.
Bitch, pleez. You ain’t returning a blouse to Talbots. You’re in da ‘Hood.
No. Your kid can’t dance, Bitch. And close your legs to married men.
What? Seriously. Like I totally didn’t even understand that last joke. Sometimes being little sucks.
The following television program is rated TV-DM. As in Dance Moms.
It may contain one or more of the following:
Intensely suggestive dialog. Coarse language straight up from da ‘hood, Bitch. Some sexual situations and/or poorly styled booty shorts that cut you off at the thigh and make you appear shorter than you really are.
And the kind of moderate pop-off in a bitch’s face kind of violence that used to be reserved only for greasy hoes trying to marry Flava Flav.
Parental Guidance is suggested.
Strongly suggested, actually. And a cocktail probably wouldn’t hurt, either.
That can only mean one thing.
Black Patsy is back, Bitches. And she’s not taking any prisoners. Or crap from any of the Moms. Especially that studio hopper Jill.
Oh, yeah. It was on. On like dancing gangstah Donkey Kong.
And amidst all the resulting collateral damage, two people probably took it harder than anyone this week when the ALDC foolishly crossed the tracks onto Black Patsy’s turf.
One. The Lifetime Network censor dude responsible for hitting the Swear Button up in the sound booth, because that poor guy was assigned the task of (bleepin’) out a good two thirds of this week’s show. Give that boy a raise and a thumb massage.
Two. Whoever heads up the St. Louis Department of Tourism, because after witnessing what went down at this week’s competition, I am never setting foot in that city. Ever.
And neither is most of America. Oh Hell No.
Using only her ‘hood mentality and racially inappropriate nickname, Kaya Wiley single handedly did more damage to the Anheuser-Busch brewery bus tour business than any bad rating from the Missouri Board of Health could ever hope to accomplish.
Cuz she’s ‘hood. And you’re in the ‘hood. Her ‘hood, Bitches.
HoodBitchHoodBitchHoodBitchHoodBitch. There was a lot of that going around this week. You might want to send the kids out of the room before we go any further.
But even a turf war has to start with the Pyramid of Shame.
As all the Moms and kiddos filed into the studio, Abby Lee Miller was MIA. And she’s never late when it comes to bruising egos and crushing dreams, so you knew something wasn’t right in Pittsburgh.
When she finally showed, visibly shaken, it was revealed that little Broadway Baby had passed away. Abby’s 16 year old puppy with the exceptionally runny eyes had died.
So that was sad.
Finding out that he had kidney failure was also sad, but I’m leaning towards blaming that part on Black Patsy, because in all honesty when I heard that she was coming back I wet myself a little, too.
But dog or no dog, the show must go on. They were all headed to Black PatsyVille for the Dance Xpressions Competition and there was a lot of work to do, so Abby blew through the Pyramid in record time.
Bottom row was a Hyland family photo opp, with Paige and Brooke taped side by side, and tiny Mackenzie keeping them company.
Kendall and Nia were chillin’ on the second row, which left room for Maddie‘s second time on top. Even Abby didn’t seem too concerned about who went where this time around.
Chloe was still on suspension, because Abby needed something that would put a smile on her face while she mourned the loss of her dog, and watching Christi’s Paranoia Pot slowly boil over was just what the doctor ordered.
With everything going on this week, there really isn’t time to properly do justice to all the Mom Ensembles that were modeled during the line up, so I’ll just say that…yes…mixing prints and patterns is very on trend. I watch Project Runway.
But I also watch What Not To Wear, and I know that when it starts looking like you got dressed on Laundry Day, it’s time to edit.
Seriously. No idea what was going on with Jill’s polka dot and plaid medley, though I’m thinking that someone is spending so much time picking out what new crazy hat to wear that it turns into crunch time when she finally has to get dressed and get out the door.
Oy vey. My eyes.
As the Moms headed to the Mom Perch, all the girls got working on the ballet group routine until Abby suffered a Broadway Baby Breakdown and had to leave the building to pull her shizzle together. While assistant choreographer Niyala worked it out, the Moms all huddled in formation upstairs and decided that the girls should not only design a homemade sympathy card, but that they should also toss the whole group number out with the bathwater and create an entirely new Dog Memorial Dance to cheer up Abby.
Because you know that nothing cheers a person up like changing their music and their choreography and their costumes and their headpieces behind their back three days before competition, right?
Anyone wanna place any bets on how that all worked out before we get the results?
While everyone was sabotaging and sympathizing all over Abby’s hard work, Miss Miller was actually home with her own Mom mourning little Baby.
And, excuse me. Why didn’t anyone tell me that Abby lived in Superman‘s Fortress of Solitude? Cuz I’m sure that’s what it was.
Remember in the movie when Clark Kent walked through the front door and it was all blinding white light and white walls and white ceilings and white bookcases and white photos? I was literally waiting for Abby to move a bottle of Cheese Whiz, pick up one of those hidden magical ice sticks from the kitchen counter, hurl it on the floor and start talking to Marlon Brando. For realz.
And Abby’s Mom had the same giant silk bow in the back of her head that a crazy lady I see in the subway station every morning wears while she talks to her mitten.
What can I say? I’m blessed with an eye for detail.
As the competition grew closer, Abby was once again MIA at the studio, and the Moms were getting concerned. Even Christi and Kelly were concerned, when they weren’t chewing on each other’s necks.
They still weren’t getting along too well. I guess that telling your former BFF to go eff herself will do that.
While everyone tried to figure out how to magically create a completely new dance based on Jill’s favorite iPhone ringtone, Black Patsy was up in St. Louis setting the Civil Rights Movement back about four decades.
Cuz she’s ‘hood. And the ALDC was coming to her ‘hood.
HoodBitchHoodBitch. Trash with a Title. Abby’s big on feet, even if she can’t see her own feet. Doctor Holly has a edjukashun that she don’t even use. HoodBitchHoodBitch.
Girl, pleez. You are wearing me out. And NeNe sez Fix Yo’ Face, Bitch.
Back in PA, there was just enough time to work on Maddie and Nia’s solos. Abby finally returned, because nothing makes her happier than working with Maddie and ignoring Nia. So Maddie got a private tutorial, and Nia got another hat.
Is it just me, or is this show big on hats lately?
Right about now was when Abby realized that the group number had been completely changed, and the whole Tribute to Baby thing backfired so hard it almost knocked Jill’s hair back into place. Abby was not happy. Not happy at all. And definitely not thankful for any of the work that had been put in while she was home kissing dog photos.
With only one day left before Dance Xpressions, Abby activated the ALDC Panic Switch and morphed the group routine into kind of a DIY Night at the Improv dance.
Here’s the CD, kids. Now go on stage and keep yourself busy. Mama ain’t in the mood.
Oh. And Christi and Kelly went a few more rounds in the Ring.
Finally, it was Showtime! And time to meet up with Black Patsy in the lobby.
The competition hadn’t even started yet, but you could tell BP was already looking to rumble. And you knew she meant business because all her big a** braided weave was pulled to one side like they do on VH1. That makes it much easier to head butt a bitch without losing a track, by the way.
The More You Know, kids.
After mocking Dr. Holly for being a Dr. Holly and then calling all the Moms boughetto, Black Patsy headed to her seat and the competition began.
Nia and Baby Black Patsy, Nicaya, busted out their solos. Those damn signature Dance Xpressions backstage light grids were plugged in again, flashing like Kmart window displays, and they were so distracting that I can’t remember how the solos turned out.
I remember that nobody fell down, and that Nia still had a hat on when it was over, so I guess they both did ok.
Maddie’s solo was only marred by this odd off-centered glittery heart appliqué that made it appear as though she had been stabbed in the chest with a prison shiv. When the dance was over the emcee announced that Maddie’s routine was dedicated to Abby’s dead dog and the crowd all clapped their paws together one last time for Baby.
And then the whole thing just went downhill from there.
Melissa scored a major brownie point by sneaking that one in past the other Moms, but it blew up in her face after it was over. The original dealio was that the group number was to be the dead dog tribute. Not Maddie’s solo.
But Maddie is Maddie and Melissa is Melissa. So do the math.
Then the group Improv hit the stage. And the ‘hood shizzle hit the fan.
After mumbling smack talk behind the ALDC Moms throughout the entire dance, all the Black Patsy dramz finally spilled out into the lobby. And it was on.
Surrounded by millions of those Justin Bieber fans that follow dance competitions like they’re on some kind of religious crusade to Stonehenge, Kaya went total Bad Girls Club meets Sam’s Club right up in Jill’s face.
She trash talked Kendall. Who is Jill’s daughter.
Jill Vertes. The same Jill who threw water on that crazy Candy Apple’s woman . The same Jill who threw a shoe across the room. The same Jill who clearly can’t dance Gangnam Style to save her life, but proudly does it like a Boss anyway and holds the record for the most consistently bad hair days in one television season.
The same Jill that used to drive me crazy but now completely captivates me with her insane ballsy-ness, if that’s even a word. The same Jill who tries to fight like she has a gang tattoo on her butt cheek even though it’s really just the tag from her Spanx.
That Jill.
In 3…2…1. Boom.
HoodBitchHoodBitch. You wanna go there, Bitch? You don’t wanna go there, Bitch.
Screaming. Yelling. You got kicked out of the studio, Bitch. No, Bitch…I left. You went crawling back.
Seriously, the only thing missing was Maury Povich running on stage with a DNA test and Kaya going all Baby Daddy on that pudgy guy who kept trying to break it all up.
They both did a lot head snapping and OhNoSheDin’t finger waving. Jill’s version had to be seen to be believed.
And when all the dance kids are all grown up and this show is no longer on the air, you can bet that Christi has already received an offer to do impressions at the Comedy Connection. I know I’d totally buy a ticket to see that crazy blonde chick pretend to be all ghetto and pat her weave like Beyoncé. It was so wrong it was right.
Then Black Patsy was finally kicked outta the hizzle, and outta the competition.
Granted, she misplaced her own kid and it took awhile for her to actually realize it and leave the premises, but she finally made it outside and disappeared onto the mean streets of St. Louis.
Haters gonna hate.
Abby apologized to all the girls putting videos up on their youtube page, and the emcee apologized to everyone during the awards ceremony.
And then some kids won some stuff and Christ and Kelly hugged it out.
Cuz that’s how they roll in the ‘hood, Bitch.
