So you really think it’s a good idea to do this right now? You do know who my mother is?
I know, right? If you squint I totally look like Vanna White.
Me? Just Grandma pillow fringe, some Spanx and a squirt of jerky juice. What are you wearing?
Imma need one of you to hold my Ph.D. cuz Mama’s about to shut this thing down hard.
Forgot his costume at home, but I got a 3pack of Hanes and a crayon. Guess it’s time to MacGyver some warrior s***.
I told you NEVER shoot me from this side unless you want me going all Mariah on your a**.
Can one of you stop yelling long enough to fix whatever’s going on with my hair right now?
Srsly. If this chick doesn’t stop talking I’m going right over the back of this seat. Today is NOT the day, sister.
With apologies to the other Beyoncé…
Abby, can you handle this?
I don’t think you can handle this.
Because like the song says…I don’t think you’re ready for this smack down.
I know I wasn’t.
Trust me on this one. Don’t mess with Holly Frazier.
Just don’t.
If you’re pressed for time, that’s the short version of this week’s Dance Moms episode.
Thanks for stopping by. Be sure to enjoy the rest of your day.
But if you’re sticking around for all the details, you’ll probably want to grab a snack and pop a B-12 or a couple of Stresstabs, because it’s gonna be a long one.
With only two competitions, a concert and a couple of recycled Director Cut edits to go before Nationals (…which you get to via that infamous Road to Nationals…) the tension was already on the rise inside the studio as the gang rolled in for the Pyramid of Shame.
Seriously tense. To the point where you could almost peel it off everyone’s skin like that ratchet paint job on the outside of the ALDC building.
Which, if we weren’t so pressed for time and space this week, would open up a whole other ironic discussion on how Abby managed to criss cross the country on Lifetime’s dime rescuing every podunk studio in America but couldn’t find one painter on Craig’s List to fix up her own damn house. Really?
I’m being serious. If that little pip squeak Sarah Hunt eats one flake of lead paint I’m calling Child Services and shutting this entire production down.
This week it was back to just the Original Recipe Moms and Daughters, minus the Hyland contingent, of course (…Holla back, gurlz. We miss you!…) which made it much easier to keep everyone’s names straight once the drama really kicked into gear.
Because let’s be honest…after four seasons half the viewers probably still don’t know which Christi/Christ-y/Kristie is which until they start yelling at each other.
The Pyramid started out positively enough with a quick celebration of last week’s winning (…yet questionably maybe racist or maybe not depending on your chat room preferences…) Native American group routine.
Nia had proven that 2014 is still clearly the International Year of the Nia by killing the lead dancer spot in her big Village People headdress. Even Abby gave her props, which made her get all smiley and do that shoulder thing she does when she gets all smiley.
And then Melissa and my MomCrush Jill did a quick palm-of-your-hand-on-your-mouth Indian Scalp ‘Um White Man Tomahawk Dance in the background that somebody probably should have pixelated out before Tuesday night, given all the recent controversy on ESPN.
Live and learn, I guess. But since Jill only goes to football games so she can wear bulky sweaters and watch her daughter do cheerleading tumbles, I’m pretty sure that neither of them have even heard of the Washington Redskins.
And can we just pause here to properly acknowledge that the Jill Vertes Fashion Watch was totally on-point this week?
Because it was. Dang, Miss V.
Bottom of the Pyramid was reserved seating for Kendall, Chloe and MackZ. Nothing new to report there, except that having only five dancers on the clock clearly made it difficult for Abby to create an actual working Pyramid since Nia and Maddie ended up side by side above the other three girls.
Geometry and Dance were never my favorite subjects in school. Let’s just leave it at that.
This week the Old Team would be headed to Wayne, NJ for another performance at the Sheer Talent Competition. Just like the Candy Apples.
Yeah. Those Candy Apples. Here we go again.
Abby had some inside scoop (…those producers just can’t keep their mouths shut any more, can they?…) that Cathy would be bringing back Gino Cosculluela for a solo.
You remember Gino. He’s that kid with the TV News Anchor forehead who gave Maddie her first BoyKiss during a duet a few weeks ago. The duet that ended up sending her running from the studio in search of two tins of Altoids and a year of psychotherapy.
That duet.
I swear Gino and his Dad Mickey must live in their car, because all they do is zip back and forth between Ohio and Pittsburgh. Can’t you just picture the trunk of their Mazda all full of school books and hair gel?
To compete against Gino and prove that he totally kisses like a little boy wearing braces, Maddie scored a ‘Fool Me Once’ solo. Except that she might not even be around for the competition by the weekend, due to some mystery Miami Project that may or may not actually happen.
Or even exist.
It was a little vague. But just to be safe, Abby pegged Chloe and Kendall as Maddie’s understudies. That way, should Miss America no longer be able to fulfill her duties, some one else could step in and take over the role for the remainder of her reign. Or something like that.
Side note: Melissa made this face a lot this week…
The group routine was entitled Playing With Matches. Pretty self explanatory, even though Abby felt the need to point out that the girls would not actually be torching any buildings in New Jersey since that state already has enough problems.
We get it. Mess with Abby, you get burned.
As the girls started flicking their Bics in the studio, the Moms hit the MomPerch and quickly realized that Abby was crossing the line when it came to comparing all the girls to Maddie. Enough already.
Maddie this. Maddie that. Maddie this. Maddie that. Why can’t any of you be like Maddie? You’re not as good as Maddie. Maddie is better than you. Way better than you, actually. Like Infinity & Beyond better. That much better. Which is a lot.
Holly was getting agitated. Jill pointed out that the girls were looking defeated. And Christi kept eating what appeared to be a box of those Goobers you get at the movies. At least that’s what they looked like to me. Girlfriend definitely had the munchies.
Everyone agreed that they should start keeping track of how many times Abby compared their child to Maddie, because that shizz just ain’t rite. The Moms were at maximum capacity when it came to all this MaddieTalk. Over. It.
(Except maybe Melissa, of course. Who I always feel bad for when this kind of thing starts happening. She gets all squinty like there’s dust under her contact lens. We love her.)
And then Holly started using Big Words.
Holly: “We need a Quantitative Analysis.”
Christi: “You mean, like a chart?”
Thank you for dumbing it down for the rest of us, honey. Not everyone can afford Harvard.
Apparently there’s an App for That, because Christi immediately whipped out her iPhone and started tracking how many times Abby said the word ‘Maddie.’ So basically, what you’re telling me is that Apple can help you chart how many times your child is humiliated on national television but can’t get my f***ing mail down from the Cloud. Nice.
The next day, it got even better.
Jill showed up with one of those gigantic white boards that you always see in the deli when cheese goes on sale. The kind of board that only comes clean with that special spray from Staples that smells like nail polish remover? Do you know what I’m talking about? No?
Have you ever accidentally pushed the wrong buttons on your remote and ended up on that cable public access channel where the guy is doing math in non-HD?
One…who watches that? And two…he uses the same white board.
(Weekly Kamryn Beck-ism: I bet she uses one in her bedroom when she’s calculating something that us normal, non-glitter headband wearing types will never understand. Where has she been lately, anyway? #BringBackTheKiaKamster.)
The next 90 minutes or so were taken up with Abby yelling and screaming at everyone in the studio (…except Maddie, duh…) while Jill stood up in the Perch ticking off hash marks like she was counting down the days until her parole hearing.
It kind of looked like a cattle auctioneer and the final round of Wheel of Fortune and that lady score keeper from the Summer Olympics who couldn’t speak English all rolled into one. I forget if I already knew that Jill was left handed or not, but it certainly explained all the bling on the right one every week.
There was also some drama with Abby and Gia trying to figure out what that white board was all about, even though all I really wanted to know was why Jill carries around a tripod easel and dry erase markers in her SUV. Who does that?
If you watch South Park then you also got a pretty good chuckle when Abby said “Respect My Authority!” My Authoritaaaaah!
Hilarious. But I guess if you don’t know who Cartman is then I just wasted your time.
Finally, it was Showtime! And Meltdown Time!
But first…
That little 12 year old bride having a complete spaz when the ALDC bus pulled into town.
That one right there.
What the what with that kid? Did she just get left at the playground altar or something? Please tell me you saw that. Buying the complete Season Four box set at full price is gonna be worth that 5 seconds of your life. I promise.
(Spoiler Alert: 12 year old bride. Hold that thought.)
As Abby and Company filed into the high school venue, Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein had somehow commandeered the front office and was squawking over the P.A. system like today was Fish Stick Day.
(Monday morning when the janitor opens the supply closet looking for those little urinal cakes, you know the principal is gonna fall out on the floor all terrorized with an apple duct taped in his mouth. You just know it.)
Back in the makeup room, Jill wanted to know why all three girls couldn’t do the same solo in the competition.
Did I forget to say that Maddie didn’t go to Miami and was there with the ALDC? My bad.
They also brought the deli board with them. Because why not?
Flashback: Even though Abby had previously put two girls into a competition doing the exact same routine before, somehow the rules were different in Jersey. So it wasn’t gonna happen. No other solos besides Maddie’s. And no trio with a bunch of Maddie wannabe understudies bumping into each other and bringing down the scores.
And then Gino danced in his underwear. I swear.
I think Gino is da bomb. And a total playa just like Lady Killer Lucas Triana. But I’m not putting Gino’s photo in this recap or I’ll end up on some government Offender Watch List somewhere. Uncomfortable much?
Let’s just say that Cathy certainly saved money by cheaping out on costumes this week.
He rocked his solo, though. And gave me some great moves to use the next time I BathroomDance in my tighties.
If I did that kind of thing, I mean. Please. I’m focused in the morning.
Maddie was up next with her I Kissed A Boy And Hated It two step. Abby couldn’t find anything wrong with the dance and Jill had to switch to a new dry erase marker because the old one ran out of ink.
And then it all went downtown.
Holly tried to explain to Abby what the board represented (…an ‘Observable’ for all you scientific MIT types…) but Abby wasn’t buying what Dr. Beyoncé was selling.
I can’t really even do it justice, but basically Holly stood loud and proud for all the other girls, past and present, that Abby continually beat down with her Maddie Mallet.
And it got real.
The ticks on the board represented disrespect. And it was a big a** board, BTW.
Disrespect! For Nia. For Kendall. For Chloe. Even for MackZ, yo.
And then suddenly Abby announced some big Maya Angelou (…in an afro wig, no doubt…) extravaganza for Nia next week that nobody had even heard of up until this moment, but was now being benched because Holly had just confronted her in front of the other Moms like a Boss.
Nobody would know Nia if it weren’t for Abby Lee Miller. You’re a grown woman taking it out on a kid. You’re a baby. Where’s the baby? There’s a baby! Got your nose.
Nia’s 12. She’s not a kid.
She can have babies and get married in some countries.
Stop. Stahhhp.
What. Just. Happened?
Melissa’s dirty contact literally popped right out of her head as Holly stormed out the door. You’re ugly. What you say is ugly. And you just crossed the line.
Truth.
I don’t know where the Moms actually go when they storm out of a room. They never take their purse or bus ticket, so I know they’re not getting very far. But all the other Moms ran after Holly to make sure she was ok and didn’t assault that camera guy who was all up in her face like it was some Jersey Housewives Reunion.
Dude. Back it up a few. Mama is not in the mood.
Even Melissa tore down the hall, because at the end of the day, Friendship and Support is how they all roll even when they’re losing their nutty on each other.
(In case anyone cares, I also got up off the couch, put on my big hat and testified to Holly for Keeping It Real and saying what all the other Moms have been feeling for so long.)
Eventually everyone made it back into the auditorium to watch the Candy Apples bust out their group dance tribute to The Fault In Our Stars. Cathy even gave the little girl one of those oxygen nose plug things like in the movie, but thankfully decided against the kids all dragging IV bags around the stage. Probably a safety issue.
Not gonna lie, though. The ALDC Moms could probably have used some of that purified oxygen by the time they found out that Abby pulled the group routine from the competition.
Because that’s what she did, just as they were about ready to hit the stage in their Li’l Abner acid wash denim overalls.
Side note: Overalls are never an option. Ever. I would have cut the number just for the Farmer Pants.
Needless to say, backstage was not much fun after that move.
Holly and Abby went a few more rounds but Abby wasn’t even listening. It was Her Way, or No Way.
It got heated.
How much is too much when it comes to taking somebody’s crap? Melissa was obviously caught in the middle. Jill and Christi sat in the choir getting all like MmmHmm while Holly ground her back teeth into chalk dust.
Aretha even stuck her head in the door and said R-E-S-P-E-C-T. The Queen of Soul.
And then it was Abby’s turn to storm out of the room with one last zinger, leaving Holly and the other Moms to decide if this was even the right place for them anymore.
Holly: “Get Some Class.”
Me: “This is probably why they say never poke a bear cub while the Mom is standing right there in front of you spitting Big Words and dripping foam from her mouth.”
And then I did my celebratory HollyDance.
Which is way different than my BathroomDance, FYI.
Oh, yeah.
Don’tchoo be touching the babies.
Not while Mama’s in the house.
Tick. Tick.
And Boom.
