Dance Moms: Don’t Ask, Just Tell. It’s Time To Get Your Nails Did And Bust Out Some Camouflaged Maneuvers.



OMG! No…YOU hang up first. Ok. On 3 we’ll both hang up. OMG you still didn’t hang up. You are such a stupid head.





That Chippendales boy doesn’t stand a chance. That’ll teach him to keep his nozzle in his own tank from now on.




No clue what the dance is about, Mom. All I know is that gay people would never leave the house without doing their hair first.





Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.






Don’t Ask. Don’t Tell. And please don’t ever do that in public again, sister.





Umm. Yeah. Probably could’ve lived without the Vertes Vajayjay. Gangnam Style doesn’t seem so bad now, does it ?











Be All You Can Be.

As long as it’s not Second Place, because that’s like the First Loser.

You can rest easy America.  This week our country just got a little safer.

And a whole lot crazier.

That’s right.  Dance Moms joined the Army.

The kinda sorta Gay Army.  But the Army nonetheless.  So you might want to put on your goggles and government-issued headgear because enemy fire never hit this close to home before.

After last week’s poor showing in Bernardsville, when the ALDC came home with nothing more than a bunch of 2nd Place certificates and a 5th Place slap in the face, Abby Lee Miller was getting ready to play military hardball as everyone scooted in for the Whatever Happened To Chloe? Pyramid of Shame.

Except she was doing it Ninja Style.

Calm and cool and collected.  So calm that it was freaking out the Moms.  Freaking them out to the point where I thought it was making Jill’s hair stand up on end until I realized that it was just her normally misbehaving ‘do.  I miss the Bump-It, honey.

Bottom row of the Pyramid was all Mackenzie, Nia and Paige.  MackaWhacka had come in with an 11 point difference between her score and someone else, so she got booted to the basement when Abby did the math on the front desk calculator.  Nia had been sick last week, which explained her high fever and Bird Flu-like double vision, but couldn’t justify any sloppy feet.  And Paige was on the bottom again because Abby still hated her Mom Kelly.  Even Abby seemed to know it was almost time to come up with some new excuses to poke Paige in the eye every week.

Second row was reserved for Maddie and Kendall.

Maddie dropped from three weeks on the top spot because of some bobble head move she made after 4 turns in her solo routine.  If that MIA squeak toy Sophia can do 519 turns without blacking out on stage, than the least Maddie could do for Abby was come out of her 4 without a face plant, right?  Abby was disappointed, to say the least.

Kendall was actually given some props for letting Mom Jill help her out so much last week (…covertly, or otherwise…) which jumpstarted Holly to an early lead in what could possibly be a new record for the most HollyFaces ever in one episode.

Granted, this one was a two hour Danceapalooza, but Dr. Holly was on fi-yah from the opening credits right through to the end when she was rockin’ some fiercely curled hair.

I see someone got her hair did for the competition, MmmHmm?  You go, girl.

We love that sassy faced Mom.  Two snaps and some Jazz Hands.

And at the top of the Pyramid was Brooke.  I know, right?

Shut up.  A smile would have been a nice touch.

There are two things that you never want to do when you’re in Pittsburgh.  One is stick your hand in the lion cage at the Pittsburgh Zoo.  The other is raise that same hand and ask Abby why you still aren’t on the freakin’ Pyramid after all these weeks.

But our girl Chloe is fearless.  She got nowhere, but she is fearless.  And at least she went off to rehearsal with all 10 fingers still attached.

The group routine was entitled Don’t Ask, Just Tell.

Like the military’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.  But tweaked a little, in support of the two remaining closeted gay boys on Broadway.


It was a little more involved than that, but you get the drift.  Abby wanted to make sure that with the help of the Moms, all the little dancers would learn early on that it is ok to just be who you are, and to love who you want to love, and to accept everyone, regardless of their own personal views or choices.

It’s called Equality, people.  Learn it.  It’s time.

It was an edgy statement piece on acceptance and understanding and gay rights and Rhythm Nation dancing in army camo.

Miss Jackson, if you’re Nasty.

And speaking of nasty.  Abby went on a date.

Turns out that last week on her way home from the Moms’ less than successful attempt at Speed Dating, Abby had pulled off the highway to get some cheap unleaded Exxon and a 64 ounce Slushie, and somehow ended up hooking up with a random stranger who offered to cap her gas hole.

Because you know Ms. Miller don’t pump her own octane with those acrylics.

Bitch, pleez.

Her Mystery Man dialed up the studio to finalize their date, and when Abby got the call on her cell she went completely 7th grade study hall on the dude.

Giggles.  More giggles.  Blushing.  Whispering so her Mom wouldn’t hear her in the closet with the phone cord stretched to the max across the bedroom.  OMG.  I’m pretty sure she even went back to the front desk  after he hung up and practiced writing her new married name on the back of a sparkly spiral notebook.

OMG.  He’s so dreamy.  Totz drmy.  TTFN.

Abby admitted that she needed a little Hubba Hubba.  It had been a long dry spell.  I don’t really remember what happened after that, because I hit my head on the floor when I slumped off the couch.

When I came to, Jill, Holly and Melissa were at the Nail Salon with Abby getting her all gussied up for Date Night.  You would have sworn they were taking their SUVs in for a fresh undercoat spray the way they were trying to polish up Abby’s chassis.

Remember the scene in the Wizard of Oz where everyone is buffing out the Tin Man and re-stuffing The Scarecrow?

Yeah.  Like that.

And then to seal the deal, Jill previewed the evening’s potential final score by unleashing a scissor legged Bump-It & Grind Pussycat Dolls kind of thing in the nail tech’s face and then flashed some of her MomStuff on my 50″ plasma.  I’m pretty sure I hit the other side of my head right about then.

This time when I came to, Abby and gas station attendant Louie were at dinner.

Louie was an odd cross between Wolverine, the Phantom of the Opera, a Bloomingdale’s perfume sample guy and that dude who dresses like a gladiator and throws beads off a Pride Parade float.  Don’t Ask.  Don’t Tell.

He took Abby to some gift shop-looking antiquey restaurant type of place that looked liked one of those stores that only sells potpourri and frames made out of marbles.  But it was a restaurant, I guess, because somebody brought some food over to the table.

Abby laughed.  A lot.  Nervous laughter.  With her mouth full.

Louie even fed her a Chocolate Eruption (…you can’t make this shizzle up…) off his own fork, proving that he clearly had never been to the Pittsburgh Zoo to read that sign next to the lion cage.

When asked if he had any dance background, Louie stated that he had done male stripping and was a proud 180 pounds of twisted steel and sex appeal.

Really?  Let’s just note that 52,310 tons of Titanic still went down when it hit that big iceberg and leave it at that, ok?

While Abby was recovering from a face full of Chocolate Eruption, the Moms all headed to the Bridal Boutique for Round #2 in the Melissa Wedding Dress Search.  Since it didn’t go so well the last time they all hit the racks, the Moms were determined to get Melissa into a dress and get this wedding party started.

And nothing guarantees a good time like liquor.

As Melissa tried on every gown in the joint, Moms Gone Wild passed around the champagne and caused general dress disarray.  Kelly almost pulled a Maddie face plant when she dove for a test-run bouquet and Holly dumped her cocktail in her lap.  So all in all, the day was a complete success.  Melissa even found a dress that made her cry.

Oh, those crazy Moms.

In case you had forgotten, the show also involves children who dance.  So it was back to the studio to check on Mackadoodle, who had been having some foot issues over the past few weeks.

Seems there was some controversy and dramz surrounding MackSnackAttack’s foot.

Word on the street was that she was too scared to do the elaborate hip hop Army dance, so she and Mom were making the injury seem worse than it really was to get her out of the routine and still save face.  Mom said No Way, José while the rest of the Moms begged to differ.

There was a lot of whispering going on back there.  So Melissa scooped her up and took her to the doctor and magically came up with a No Dance clause in her contract.  Things that make you go hmmmm.

On the final day before the In10sity Dance Competition in Minneapolis, Abby wanted to make certain that the Moms all knew how important the Army dance was when it came to understanding equality and their daughters’ acceptance of extreme Shangela fabulousness.

Laquifa What?  Secrets are just Lies.  Tell the World.  And then Werk.

Kelly even took it upon herself to have a pretty decent talk with Paige and Brooke while they thumbed through glittery hot pants in the costume shop.  (The irony of that scene was not lost on me, by the way.)  But it was a good talk that waaaay more parents should be having with their kids today.

Well played, Mrs. Hyland.  Well played.

Finally, it was Showtime!

In10sity still had those annoying on strobing onstage light grids.  Seriously.  Doesn’t anybody read this blog?  Stop.  It.

To prove an overly dramatic point, Abby brought in a wheelchair for MackJack to sit in while the rest of the girls got ready for their dances.  If your foot is really as bad as you say it is, then sit in the chair and don’t move.

So I guess the moral of the story is that it’s not cool to make fun of gay people, but it’s ok to pretend you’re paralyzed.  Abby must have still been digesting Louie’s Eruption when she came up with that one.

Maddie’s solo was flawless according to somebody.  I forget who.  And Abby had no time for Brooke, who had to get dressed and practice all by herself…sans Dance Teacher, as they say in France.

The mystery of MackFootGate continued as Brooke busted out her solo with no help from Abby.  She did great, but admitted to not doing Tony The Tiger Grrrrrreat!  Abby felt that Brooke should be stepping it up now that she is 14 years old.

Grow up.  You don’t need me to hold your hand anymore.

Then somebody blurted out that MackaYakka had somehow miraculously regained the use of both legs and had been doing somersaults in the back room.

A Shangela Halleloo!  She’s healed!

Uh Oh, Spagetti-O’s.

The group routine went off pretty well.  Not quite a tightly, well oiled military machine, but pretty good.  More like a bunch of young white girls trying to do hip hop in one-size-too-big army boots when they are all classically trained contemporary dancers.  That kind of hip hop.  They did a really cool coordinated flip thing that looked pretty slick from the audience though.  So there.

Back in the army green room, Abby needed to get to the bottom of the whole MackFootJack issue, and lined all the girls up like they were shipping off overseas.  One by one she picked them off the line to drop and do pushups until they finally cracked and all admitted that they had seen some somersaults going down behind enemy lines.


Then some kids won some stuff.  And again…it wasn’t the ALDC.

Clearly, something ain’t right in the Pittsburgh barracks.

Something that General Miller needs to fix ASAP.

Next week…we go to Dance War, soldiers.


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