Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition: If You’re Flexible And You Know It, Clap Your Hands. And Then Stick One Leg Behind Your Ear. Bend It Like Abby.
Let me just get some of this nasty Bitter Jealous Mom Hate off your face, baby.
Are you kidding me? You’d think that after 8 weeks she would know my name.
I know, Honey. But trust me, it doesn’t hurt as much as your neck will if you make Mommy go home early.
Not saying who, Boo. But someone in that direction needs to take all that Pussycat Doll s*** and shut it down.
And Lord, when I open my eyes…please let that little Beyoncé kid finally be gone. Amen.
She’s just a bitch, baby. You’ll always have the prettiest Mom. Trust me.
OhNoSheDin’t. Momma JLo just went there?! BOOM! I got yo’ Boyfriend!
We’ve all been there.
Reality TV is cray cray. Really cray.
So sometimes you just need to pause the DVR and scratch your head at all the moist, delicious lunacy you’ve just witnessed.
And if you’re lucky enough, you’re one of the limber few outside of a Cirque du Soleil tent able to complete the scratching process utilizing only the back of the big toe on your right foot after pulling one leg up behind your ear like Stretch Armstrong.
In sparkly spandex.
Process that disturbing visual, and you’ve pretty much just captured the essence of the latest installment in Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition.
This week it was all about hip flexor-defying flexibility and craziness.
It was the kind of crazy that we’ve come to expect from anything touched, pearl dusted or blinged out by Abby Lee Miller, paired with the kind of awkward strip club flexibility that was once reserved for single moms with home perms “just working their way through night school” one wet dollar at a time.
It was kinda like that. But more kid-friendly.
Only 5 little dancers still remained in the race by now, and as the herd dwindles in number the drama somehow increases exponentially.
After witnessing Hadley and Mom Yvette pack up all their leotards and lunacy last week and hit the road, there had been a lot of rumbling behind the scenes regarding the judges’ decision. Sending Hadley out the back door while sassy Asia and her sassy AsiaFace got to booty pop through another round of competition wasn’t sitting well with Coreen, who had no problem voicing her concerns.
Thirty seconds into this week’s episode, it was clear that Madison‘s Mom was going to be throwing shade for the entire hour. Someone woke up with cramps, fo shizzle.
In that expressionless, monotone ramble that you usually only experience when calling to get 511 road closure information, Coreen had no problem telling the world that Asia should have gone home by now.
And since the heavily eye-lined apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, word on the street was that Asia had overheard Madison repeating the same smack, and it made her cry.
Which made Mom Kristie upset. Which in turn got me upset, because whenever Jennifer Lopez‘s big earrings start swaying around I know it can’t be good.
Honestly, until Coreen explained that Madison had hurt her achilles tendon in last week’s dance number, I had incorrectly assumed that she was limping because Kristie roughed her up in that back alley where everyone goes to flip out.
False alarm. It was dance related. My bad.
But even if you have both legs and both arms and your forehead in an Ace bandage, nobody gets any pity until the Group Challenge.
I could hardly wait to see what my boy Kevin Manno would be wearing this week as he escorted Abby and all her astronomical star jewelry into the rehearsal space.
Gah. I love this guy. And this week he scored at H&M.
Seriously. Scroll back up and look at that photo. Soak it in.
Standing next to sturdy Abby, all wide eyed in his pleather jacket and graffiti t-shirt, all I could think about were those horny suburban cougars who go to Backstreet Boy concerts even though they don’t have any teenage daughters. The ones who buy a new Chico’s outfit just for the concert and then stand out back by the stage door smoking those skinny Joan Collins cigarettes hoping to get a little sugar before the boys bolt onto their tour bus.
You tell me that slim jim Kevin doesn’t look like the one guy who got cut when Backstreet decided to stick with only 5 dudes. Love. Him.
This week’s show was brought to you by the word: Flexibility.
In your legs. In your back. Physical and mental flexibility. The ability to not only turn yourself into a Mall Food Court pretzel, but to also be able to adapt to ever changing choreography and all the crap that Life throws in your face when you’re not looking.
Choreographer Gina Starbuck (…how sick do you think she is of all those Gina Grandé jokes?…) put the girls through some pretzel making high kicks while the Moms got all shifty eyed in the back of the room.
Dinky Diva Asia once again had trouble picking up on some of the moves, which resulted in a so many disgusted eye rolls that I lost count and made JLo’s earrings boink all around again. Madison tried to press on with only 50% of her feet really up to the challenge, even though all the other Moms were recommending that she sit this one out.
Whether the Moms were sincerely concerned for Madison’s safety and future orthotics is one of those Questions for the Ages that will probably never be definitively answered.
Even with their best p-p-p-poker faces, we’ll never really know if they were showing maternal compassion or just trying to politely shove one more child to the side before tossing their own kid through the goal post.
Naturally, Coreen cramped up again and made it clear that they just wanted her rockstar daughter out of the way. Mom didn’t seem to be having much fun this week.
Brianna ended up winning the Group Challenge, which gave her first dibs on what ethnically influenced dance she would perform as her solo.
Because you see, it was Internationale Week (… just like at Costco…) but instead of simply sampling free food from around the globe on toothpicks, the girls would all dance for their Curry Chicken.
Brianna picked African Dance. I might have expected her to choose that style if it was Opposite Day in some Alternate Dance Universe maybe, but not for this challenge. But she picked it anyway, and I never saw it coming. Up until she announced her decision, I was pretty certain that if you typed in “African Dance” Brianna’s face would not be the first photo to pop up on Google.
As the girls all scooted off to rehearse their routines, Madison’s achilles was really starting to act up and some random film crew medic showed up to save the day and tape one of those Igloo cooler ice bags to her foot.
I’m almost positive that the dude’s name wasn’t really “Medic,” but that’s how they referred to him on the scroll under his face. Poor schmo. Couldn’t even get any love from the Lifetime graphics department. He got an ear piece like they had on American Idol this season, but no name.
I was hoping he was going to sing something to break the tension in the room, but no such luck. He did tell Madison to stay off the foot, but she refused. And Mom wasn’t going out of her way to stop her daughter from performing either, now that you mention it. She didn’t come all this way to go home a loser. Momma needs a scholarship.
They both told Mr. Medic that the show must go on, despite his advice. So now he got to be on national television with no name and no respect. I love America.
Amanda’s dance was a Latin hoochie coochie salsa thing, choreographed by Mr. Fedora himself, Anthony Burrell.
Whenever he’s on screen I wish I had a better Hat Head. Dude can rock the chapeau.
Between Anthony and Mom Mayelin begging Amanda to “Give It Up, Girl” and “Represent the Latinos” it was like being at one of those rallies outside the town hall where everyone waves flags and plays Telemundo videos on a loudspeaker. Wepa!
Asia got a little French Moulin Rouge number that started out as a saucy Can Can dance but ended up reminding me of one of the animatronic RoboKids who sing on the Small World Ride at Disney.
c’est un petit monde après tout.
So there. The More You Know. Knowledge is Power, kids. Stay in school.
Madison got saddled with Bollywood, which once again cramped up her Mom who complained that her daughter got the short straw and had to dance out of her comfort zone. I gave choreographer Molly Long my permission to slap Coreen just once, but she didn’t take me up on the offer. Her loss.
Jordyn finally put down her crimping iron and picked up a Samurai sword for an Asian influenced routine, but even a weapon in her hand didn’t stop Mom Kelly from blowing a mini nutty everytime Jordyn forgot to fix her legs during rehearsal. Mom is relentless.
We got a brief little history lesson when Brianna started work on her African number.
Turns out that her family had lived through the Armenian Massacre, and Anthony Burrell wanted her to use all that hurt and personal connection in her dance. So basically, the outcast Armenian white girl with the red hair whose great grandmother had lived through the Armenian Massacre was going to turn all that backstory into a dance to help the rest of us understand African slavery.
It really did make sense when he explained it. And she killed it in the final performance. It just sounds odd when you say it all together. We love her.
When no one was looking, all the Moms took off out the side door and went for a snack, which immediately turned into one big hot mess.
Kristie pointed out that Asia was still crying over the hurtful things that Madison had said, and that if you do the math, the Actions of the Girls is equal to the Actions of the Mothers.
Coreen swallowed another fistful of Midol and flipped out on Kristie, kinda sorta suggesting that Madison may or may not have actually said what Asia had thought she heard when she thought she heard Madison talking about Asia.
Geezis. Get to the point, lady. Spit it out.
Then all of the sudden Coreen and Kelly are going at it, calling each other retarded, which I’m pretty sure is a word that people frown on nowadays. Adding “Why yes, I must be F***ing retarded” was a nice touch, too.
Kristie just sat back in awe while they chewed on each other’s faces for a few moments, and then Kris summed it all up with a tidy “Whoa, Kelly…you’re a Beeotch” because that’s how people with big Snookie poofs say it.
Finally, it was Showtime!
Robin was all beachy hair waves and slick lip gloss at the judges’ table. Since last week, Richy had apparently enlisted in the Lady Gaga Army and had been awarded enough military stars on his camouflage vest to support all the generals at the UN. Good luck getting back home through airport security wearing that ensemble, dude.
My main man Kevin was back in his skinny tie and asked Abby what she was looking for this week before the girls hit the stage.
She was looking for legs behind the head, thank you.
Instead of noting that I don’t know one person out there who isn’t looking for that, I’ll just move on and keep it PG.
Amanda busted out some serious Gloria Estefan and put most of those Dancing With The Stars ladies to shame. But she forgot to get her face into the routine, and Richy wanted her to show them “AAAAAHHHH,” whatever that means.
On the other side of the coin, Asia’s Français Dançais (…I just made that word up by the way…) was all Face. Abby wanted more than just Face. Coreen wanted to help her pack and get her on the next bus.
Madison’s Bollywood shimmy didn’t have the same funky fingers that I learned about on So You Think You Can Dance, so I would have deducted some points for that before I even started trying to figure out the Frankenstein stitches that Mom hot glued all over her face.
For real. What the…?
And of course…wait for it…The Pussycat Dolls! Robin managed to slip another one in there when no one was looking by telling Madison that 5 years from now when she comes in to audition for Robin, she’ll be a PCD. Pimpin’ ain’t easy.
Brianna’s Armenian African dance brought the place down. Naturally, in the Green Room Coreen had nothing good to say, and pointed out that there was not a lot of stuff in the routine. I was hoping that Molly Long would burst through the door and finally use the slap I gave her…but still no such luck.
Jordyn’s Samurai sashay was more anime fight scene than dance routine, and she got called out for it at the end. Richy loved it though, and was waving his two fingers in the air like he just don’t care. I actually thought he might need to go out in the back alley for a menthol with Kelly and Jordyn when it was over. Not really sure why everyone feels the need to go out by the dumpster when it’s time for a pep talk.
When it was all spread and done…pun intended….it was Asia and Jordyn in the bottom.
Since they both had some issues, Abby put the two girls through a grueling…and borderline Dateline: To Catch A Predator…flexibility test.
Seriously. If they had laid on their back with one leg up on their ear for 5 seconds longer I was afraid that Chris Hansen was going to show up with a bowl of Ruffles potato chips, some ice tea and a camera crew asking what was in the shopping bag.
Thankfully, Abby cut to the chase and sent Jordyn home.
You guessed it. Coreen was not happy.
Asia, on the other hand, was fearless when it came to facing off with 13 year olds as they approach the finish line and let us know how it was all gonna go down.
Sleezy Peasy Lemon Squeezy, bitches.
And then there were four.
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