Hey, bitches. Sup? Fix yo’ face, cuz the Tight & Right tag team is about to get all up in it. Mmkay?
Oh. Hell. No.
Can she spell Rond de jambe? What the hell does that damn genie on Pee Wee’s Playhouse have to do with krumpin’?
Do NOT get all ethnic on me, or I’ll whoop yo’ a** with my doctorate AND condition that nasty hair while I’m at it.
OMG. And then Holly was all like this and she went all like that up in her grill. Realz.
Umm. Yeah. I’m all set with Black Patsy. Thanks for asking.
Hey, Pittsburgh.
You might want to stock up on non-perishables and head to your Safe Room, because a big, sassy chunk of meteor from Planet Fierce just entered the atmosphere directly above the Abby Lee Miller Dance Company, and it looks like the shock waves from impact could potentially reach as far away as that joint in Ohio that sells beef jerky and tap shoes.
Dat’s rite.
St. Louis is in the hizzle, bitches.
Meet Kaya and Nicaya.
Dance Moms just took a page out of the Poor Man’s NeNe Leakes Handbook and unleashed a big a** bag of OhNoSheDin’t all up in our faces this week, with the arrival of a potential new Mom and her sassy braided daughter.
As you’ll recall, last time at the party following the ALDC Recital Of All Recitals Ever In The History Of Recitals, Abby had mistakenly assumed that Kaya was one of the hired help waitresses and struck up a conversation in an attempt to score another plateful of those little wieners on a toothpick. After realizing that the woman wasn’t wearing an apron or sensible shoes, Abby discovered that Kaya and her daughter were actually in Pittsburgh trolling for new studios.
Much to the dismay of dancers around the planet who have spent the last 15 years of their lives sweating away at auditions and open cattle calls just for a slim chance at handing off a headshot, Kaya had somehow managed to get her daughter invited to Abby’s Garage for a quick check under the hood in the first two minutes of face time.
Sister’s got it going on already and she ain’t even through the front door. Dang.
But even Fierceness has to wait for the Pyramid of Shame. Rules are rules.
As the little dancers all fell into their Bob Fosse Army lineup (…in strict formation, but with one hip popped like you do when you hit the end of the ramp on Project Runway…) and the Moms all headed to the back looking like that JCPenney specialty catalog insert with all the crazy, blindingly bright summer handkerchief patterned dresses, Abby got down to business.
The lowest level of the Pyramid was the official landing strip for the Paige, Brooke and Mackenzie airline.
Paige was there once again because she had spent yet another long week dragging that big Quasimodo foot behind her waiting for her Hugh Jackman mutant healing factor to kick in.
(That joke is only funny if you know that Hugh Jackman played Wolverine in the X-Men movies and that he’s also a Broadway song & dance guy, and that in the comic books Wolverine had the ability to regenerate broken bones. I’m not sure if dancers actually have time to read comic books, so in hindsight I may have just used up some valuable story time. If I was going to Monday Morning Quarterback my decisions, I probably just wasted a paragraph. My bad. But if you can find me another Reality TV website that can get football, dance, comic books and a movie star who gave up his adamantium claws to jazz hand like a gay Peter Allen all in one story…well…yeah, good luck with that.)
Now I forgot where I was.
Wearing one of those enormous walking boots may help your toes all heal in the same direction, but it isn’t much help in your jazz hands routine. So another week of non-dancing meant Paige’s photo was now officially rubber cemented to the bottom row.
Brooke was there because she was in a Hip Hop number, and she can’t do Hip Hop.
That’ll do it.
To find out why MackAttack was on the bottom, simply replace Brooke’s name with Mackenzie’s in the previous sentence. Second verse, same as the first.
Sasha Nia and Chloe were bunkmates on the second row, mainly to allow Maddie top billing again. Granted, Maddie won the scholarship at the Recital, but Abby would probably stick her girl on the top even if she was wearing two of Chloe’s boots and a neck brace.
Kendall got nada again, and Jill‘s Snookie Poof completely deflated.
MackaDoodleDoo, Nia and Chloe were all handed solos this week, and then in a psychotically split personality moment, Abby refused to give top spot Maddie a solo because she was still holding that grudge from when she and Mom Melissa refused a last minute solo a few weeks back.
Or maybe it was 2009. I dunno. That one seems to be going on for a long time now.
This week the gang was headed to beautiful California for the iHollywood Dance Competition. For those of you who missed it last time, iHollywood is the one with the ginormous movie camera backdrop graphic that looks exactly like Beaker from the Muppet Show is undressing you with his eyes.
Check it out. Big creepy eyeballs that follow you wherever you walk in the ballroom. Even when you go to the bathroom at intermission.
The group number was another spoken word coffee house routine, similar to the now infamous Where Have All The Children Gone? Except this time there wouldn’t be 72 pounds of Sand Bag Vivi-Anne aimlessly swinging on a swing set waiting to get abducted.
National exposure and my face on the opening credits of a television show about dancing without ever having to actually dance? Hell, yeah. I’ll be down at the playground if you need me.
No worries, though. This time around the spirit of Vivi-Anne would still be ever present, because the dance was based on inmates in an insane asylum. So yeah, it would almost be like she was still back there sucking on a Life Saver waiting for somebody to pick her up and toss her off stage.
Once all the busy work was done, the Moms headed to the MomPerch and the girls got to practicing.
And then it happened.
Kaya and Nicaya entered the building.
Sashaying her ’70s Dy-No-Mite hair and ’80s pink track jacket all over the studio, Kaya handed off her daughter to Abby for a consult and joined the Moms in the Perch, where she was greeted by whatever the opposite of open arms is called.
MmmHmm. Introduce yo’self, bitches.
After a quick run through on the Moms, Kaya was asked what she thought of their kids in the Monster Truck Pull Recital last week.
Boom goes the Dy-No-Mite.
Kaya tried to break it down for them. The girls all had good technique and could dance, but they weren’t entertaining. They didn’t have no Divatude.
Jill, who was uncomfortably sitting as far away from this new Cup o’ Crazy as she could, didn’t know what to make of the whole thing and went back to figuring out what to do with her new hairstyle while Christi leaned forward and worked on a few new facially flabbergasted expressions.
Melissa then tried to lighten the mood by asking what the embroidery on the front of Kaya’s 3D track jacket boobage was all about.
MmmHmm. It said “Black Patsy.”
Like Patsy Ramsey. But Blacker.
Wha–? I just can’t.
Google it. And then come up with 400 reasons why you would never want that thing anywhere near your own jugs.
To break the silence, Melissa awkwardly mumbled “I love that name. It’s really pretty” mainly because she couldn’t think of anything else to mumble.
Lawd have mercy. Please let her be talking about “Nicaya” and not one of the Patsy Ramseys. Please.
As Kaya threw shade all over the Perch, Abby put Nicaya through a few drills only to discover that the girl couldn’t spell or demonstrate most of the requested dance techniques. Once Kaya joined them in the studio, Abby laid down a few rules and sent them home to buy a dictionary.
MmmHmm. And now you want us to learn how to spell them stupid a** dance terms? Just put in the damn CD and watch my daughter dance, bitch.
The next day, Jill had located her Bump-It and it looked like things might calm down a little, until Kaya showed up at the front desk telling Abby that she would do whatever it takes to get her daughter on the dance team. Personally, regardless of who made the offer, I would have taken the opportunity to get that hot mess of a front desk cleaned and organized, but turning Kaya into the token sassy ALDC maid probably wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest, even though I would so love to see Abby Lee Miller go head to head with Al Sharpton.
(And you know he’s such an ambulance chaser that he was probably driving around and around the parking lot just in case anything went down on Day 2. I’m pretty sure that was his ironically white station wagon out front.)
Real Housewives Marathon, anyone? In what would normally take Andy Cohen about 4 to 6 weeks to fully reveal, somehow in under 10 minutes we found out that Kaya had loads of kids, was working a job while the other Moms were texting on their iPhones, was either divorced or no longer with at least one Baby Daddy and now a lesbian with a weird Gaydar take on Melissa. Oh, Snap. NoSheDin’t.
MmmHmm. You got a problem wid dat?
Somewhere in the middle of all this fierce chaos, Paige was cleared to dance without her Hunchback foot and Kelly had yet another meltdown because Abby was doing the usual Mind F*** with her kids.
Turned out that Paige could dance, but not do tricks. That meant she couldn’t balance a ball on her nose or do whacky back flips until competition day, and when she asked to wimp out a little and just mark her moves during rehearsal, Abby implied that she may just stick Nicaya in Paige’s spot at iHollywood and then began messing with her brain.
As Jill and Kaya both visualized their daughters’ faces superimposed over Paige’s body on stage, Kelly blew a major nutty.
I seriously need a spreadsheet or something to keep track of how many times Kelly blows a major nutty, because it’s gotten to the point where I can’t tell if they are all separate ones or just one long drawn out spaz that has been going on all season.
And then it was Showtime!
Back in the makeup and screaming room, Abby had still not decided if Paige was going to dance or not, and Kelly was either getting ready for another nutty or just pausing the current one for a second.
When Abby asked about Kelly’s behavior back at the studio, Kelly denied that anything really dramatic had happened.
MmmHmm. That’s a lie, bitch.
Yeah. Kaya went there. And then it was on like NeNe Donkey Kong.
Hard as it is to believe, at some point they did manage to get some dancing done. Nicaya and Paige both ended up dancing. No big surprise since they both shlepped all the way to California. That would have sucked.
But the dancing hardly mattered with all this good dirt flinging around the room like monkey poo. Sorry kids, but this week it was all about the Moms.
Before and after the competition Kaya managed to head snap and finger wave herself right off of everyone’s Holiday greeting card list so hard that the Moms were starting to line up alphabetically for a chance to slap that constant half smirk off her face.
MmmHmm. Where’s my Sistah at?
Yeah. She even tried to pull the LaQuifa Card on Holly. The same doctorate-holding Holly who has spent the the majority of the last two years trying to get all the afro picks out of Abby’s supply closet and let Nia just be a freakin’ dancer regardless of her ethnicity. The last thing you wanna do is start any conversation with Holly that is going to include the words “As A Sister…” and then try to drag a school principal down to the ghetto on your Crazy Bus.
Black or white or John Deere green, I love Holly. And she gave it right back to Kaya without taking her earrings off, losing a track or popping one single nail.
All she had to say was “Do NOT…” and I ran behind the couch.
MmmHmm. That’s how we do. You stay classy, Girlfriend.
Yup. The Real Housewives of Pittsburgh are getting ready to rumble. And it ain’t gonna be pretty, ladies.
But it’s gonna be fierce. Cuz Kaya’s in the Dance ‘Hood.
And she don’t play.
MmmHmm.
