Dance Moms: It’s The Revenge Of The Replacements, And Studio Bleu Sends The ALDC Home With A Black Eye.
Keep it up, lady. I’ve got five friends right here dying to meet your fatty face.
Ok. Did that skinny bitch seriously just ask how old my baby girl was?
Just turned 11, my a**. I’m pretty sure that little cracker was in my last post-doctorate Women’s Studies course.
Siri…find me a liquor store with curb side parking. I got my fancy shoes on.
Question my kid? You really want to go there? Kelly ain’t the one with crazy hair, trust me…
I forgot my damn readers at Arby’s! What the hell does this sign say?!
Oh, look. And they brought five more friends. It’s on.
Dear Abby Lee Miller,
The next time you’re restocking that hot mess of a front desk gift shop, could I make a suggestion?
Instead of more 17 thread count bedding that says “Save Those Tears For Your Pillow,” would it be possible to add some Dance Moms branded foam ear plugs to your inventory? Like the kind the guys from the DOT wear when they jackhammer asphalt after a manhole cover explodes.
Because lately I’ve been going to bed with my ears ringing, and I’m pretty sure it’s your fault, so any assistance in this matter would be greatly appreciated.
And if they could be an on-trend shade of turquoise like Mackenzie wore when she just laid down on the stage and forgot her choreography this week, that would be even better.
Yup. Another week. Another Dance Moms.
This one started with a bitch fest, then had some random stuff in the middle, and then ended with another bitch-fest. Clean and simple. Why mess with a format that works.
Honestly, I’m kind of losing track of what is scripted, what is kinda sorta scripted, and what is just cray cray. I’ll leave that to you. I just report the news.
After last week’s Dance Troupe Challenge performance where the ALDC had done just meh so-so, the gang was all back to get ready for the next competition when The Call came in. And everyone knows that getting The Call can never be good.
It was some random dude from the DTI which somehow, despite my online petition, is still an acceptable abbreviation for Dance Troupe Challenge. It appears that not only is this competition company a little uncomfortable using spellcheck, but they also aren’t so great at basic math skills, which is not surprising considering that everyone in the dance world seems to think that you should spend more time at the studio than at the library.
Even Abby stated that she had no problem with early dismissal if it meant you could work on your standing back tuck until 10pm on a school night.
But anyway. The Call.
Turns out that Maddie and Kendall‘s first place duet trophy needed to be returned post-paid, because they actually came in second.
There was an error in tallying the score sheets. And second place is the Biggest Loser, according to Abby. So after a quick Pee Wee Happy Dance, Abby ran down to Macy’s to rub it in everyone’s face during the Pyramid of Shame.
Well, actually it wasn’t Macy’s, I guess. It was just their normal studio. But all those new gigantic red stars on the wall always remind me of Macy’s and I keep waiting for Jessica Simpson to waddle in, all terminally pregnant and flustered, with a box of her shoes and some Weight Watchers lasagna.
Squeak toy Sophia was still MIA out in Los Angeles on a book tour, or whatever the f*** it is she keeps doing out there, so at least this week she wasn’t on the top of the pyramid.
You’ll remember that everyone had some issues last week when her hologram managed to snare the top spot even though she was off on Planet California fighting for the Rebel Alliance.
Help me, Obi Wan.
Maddie and Kendall were on the bottom of the Pyramid this week because the DTI doesn’t know how to work a calculator, along with Nia.
Nia? Is she even on this show anymore? Where is my Sasha Nia?
I’m not very happy with Girlfriend’s sudden back-up dancer status. Have we even heard her voice this season? I don’t play. I’m giving the producers one more week to slap a politically incorrect Good Times afro wig on Miss Mini Thang and put her back front & center where she belongs, or I’m doing my own Mom sit-in right in the middle of the Studio B floor. And don’t think I won’t.
Paige and Chloe were on the Pyramid mezzanine for no real apparent reason, followed by giggly Mackenzie on the top.
This week they were headed back to In10sity in Woodbridge, VA as soon as Abby and Christi finished up their first bitch-fest.
Abby wanted Chloe to do one of those infamous standing back tucks during the Arabian Knights group routine, but Mom said OhHellNo. That was the move that nearly crippled Paige last year and left her in that clunky boot for most of the competition season.
Granted, it gave her time to work up some truly stellar grown up hairdos while she was sitting around icing her foot, but Paige was born to dance, not become the Mistress of the Hot Roller.
End result of the first bitch-fest was that Abby took away Chloe’s solo because her Mom was pill and she wanted to make sure that everyone suffered for that parking lot sit-in a few weeks ago.
As the girls all practiced their authentic finger cymbal movements, which on little kids always looks less like that Pussycat Dolls Jai Ho video and more like you just glued your fingers together making macaroni pictures in second period art class, the Moms hit the Perch for some snark.
Abby was making everyone pay for the sit-in, especially Melissa and Maddie. She had put MackAttack on the top of the Pyramid and given her a solo, while at the same time pushing Maddie down the stairs into the triangle basement.
And now that you mention it, she hadn’t really given Maddie much of anything to do the last few weeks, all because she had chosen to sit in a van with her mother for 12 hours eating Sweet Tarts and the poor little kid was ready to lose it.
As Melissa began second guessing her decision to support the Moms instead of pimping out her own children, several of the girls started randomly crying in different corners of the downstairs studio while upstairs nobody even bothered to mention Jill‘s crazy a** ostrich collared whatever-that-was shirt extravaganza.
Where does she keep finding this shizzle? Seriously.
Scripted or not, all the little crocodile tears seemed pretty real. These kids need a hug.
This week’s competition, besides being a chance at redemption, was also the first time that the ALDC would come face to face with a few of the Replacement Moms who had been called up into active duty while the Original Recipe Moms were holed up in their vans during the sit-in. So Abby was exceptionally on edge as they got closer and closer to performance day.
Abby made Chloe cry after giving her back her solo. She made Maddie cry when the two of them discussed why Maddie had cried in the car the night before. So that one was like a double-cry, I guess.
Even Abby shed one dramatic soap opera trickle, turning away like Susan Lucci always did in Pine Valley, as she and Maddie tried to come to terms with everyone’s behavior during the sit-in. Abby didn’t deserve the sit-in. Maddie deserved a solo. Child Services almost deserved a call with all these children crying. There was a lot of crying.
Crazy little heartbroken girl kind of crying. Yet another good example of why 10 year olds shouldn’t date boys or wear mascara during the day.
While Maddie took off to pull herself together, Mackadoodledoo went to work on her solo. Our little nugget was 8 years old and playing with the big boys now, so it was important that Abby start sneaking in more complicated choreography in order to prevent the Curse of Vivi-Anne from striking down yet another innocent victim.
But poor Mack was having trouble with anything that didn’t involve somersaults and Teletubby faces, and Abby wasn’t in the mood. They were one day away from a confrontation with Studio Bleu and the cracks in Abby’s XXL armor were starting to show.
Finally, it was Showtime!
Mackawhacka was first up with her solo, and she was scared stiff. Even 14 people prepping her like she was Jennifer Lopez before a performance didn’t help.
Check that scene out. She’s like 8 years old, and she had hair & makeup people tugging at her, and someone putting in her earrings, and someone else yanking on her JLo bun while another person fluffed her outfit.
She’s like 8 years old. Totally jealz.
Until she got out there and forgot her routine. Then I wasn’t quite so jealz.
Chloe’s solo was going to be in the same age category as at least one of The Replacements, depending on how old the kids were. On that day. Or that hour.
As the ALDC troupe finally encountered Studio Bleu in the hallway, there was some initial confusion as to what month we should all be sending birthday cards to Bella and Kaeli based on Melissa’s iPhone height chart app.
Bella stated that she was 11, even though she was just 10 during the open auditions back at the ALDC. She even turned back to crazy Mom Marcia to confirm that it was ok that she had just answered the question on her own like a big girl, and if she had given the correct answer. It got a little awkward.
Something about a party, a cake, a pony, a college acceptance letter and a missing birth certificate.
Like I said. Awkward.
Crazy Mom Gloria didn’t participate in the conversation too much, but it was clear that she had somehow gotten even crazier on the flight back to Virginia.
Pick an age and stick with it, kids. Things that make you go Hmmmm.
Chloe’s solo was ok but not great. I’m going to cut her some slack and blame it on those nasty strobing light grid contraptions off to each side of the stage.
Who’s idea was that? They didn’t even flash to the beat of any particular song. It’s like they were just pre-set on some QVC Christmas tree flash cycle or something.
Set It and Forget It. On two easy payments.
The Arabian Knights routine definitely turned into more of a glued together finger klusterf*** and then Abby finally snapped.
Bitch-fest #2 was in full swing.
Actually, by the time Studio Bleu came in First Place and the National Championship ALDC team slipped to Fourth, it was more like bitch-fest #2 thru #10.
It was humiliating. It was humbling. It was all Christi’s fault.
Abby screamed and yelled and then yelled and screamed.
Christi called Abby Fatty Fatty Fatty Fatty Fatty. Abby told her to bring it on.
Through some Freaky Friday alternate-reality kind of thing, Kelly was suddenly the level headed Mom and realized that little girls should not be witness to this kind of dramz and before they all set any more bad examples in front of all those impressionable minds, she scooted them all out the door.
Then Chrisit and Abby started rolling around on the floor.
It got pretty ugly. From start to finish this week.
A bitch-fest sandwich. Two slices of bitch-fest with a whole bunch of nothing in the middle. But it didn’t matter because the bread was so thick and delish.
Somewhere in all the chaos were also references to Melissa’s many men and something about lipstick on a pig. I think they were two separate conversations, but it all blurred together by the end so I can’t be certain.
It got crazy.
Foam ear plug slap your fatty face kind of crazy.
See you back at the Pyramid, kids.
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