Posts Tagged ‘Abby Lee Miller Dance Studio’

Dance Moms: The Real Housewives Of Pittsburgh Just Got A Fierce Dose Of Rude, Shrewd, Divatude Named Kaya. There’s A New Girl In Town.

Friday, August 31st, 2012




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.


Dance Moms: It Smells Like Jerky And Peroxide At The ALDC. Guess Who’s Back From Ohio? It’s Death Drop Diva Time When Jill Blows Back Into Town.

Wednesday, July 25th, 2012



Look at this mess. We are one bad dye job short of turning into the Hefner Playboy Mansion.





All I know is that I’m finally not the one with the craziest hairdo. Halleloo!






One: You people all suck big ones. And Two: NO this is not a mullet, thank you.






Seriously. Somebody gnawed on some baaaad jerky while she was out in Ohio.




Oh. Hell. No. You did NOT diss my girl Nia’s decision to weave in them sassy braids. And while we’re on the subject, you need to fix your face, bitch.




Why can’t someone invent Smell-O-Vision Television?

It can’t be that difficult.

I mean, if they can put a man on the moon, make gum that changes flavor and shut off my cable with one switch, how hard could it really be to make a TV that emits odors?

Then we would all finally know what Crazy really smells like.

Trust me.  Dance Moms has had no problem over two seasons showing us what Crazy looks like…and sounds like…but now I want to smell it.

Someday, maybe.

But until that day, if the latest episode is any indication, I’m betting that Crazy smells like beef jerky breath, one of those Walgreens cologne holiday gift sets and any randomly chosen strip mall salon after a full day of root touchups.

That’s right.  Jill is back.

Everyone’s favorite studio hopper returned to the Abby Lee Dance Company this week all loud and blonde and uninvited, and it pretty much registered at a 9.5 on the Rockette Richter Scale.

But before we get all excited, let’s start at the beginning.  Before the Storm.

Fresh off their Redemption Tour 2012, Abby and her little posse of posers were back in Pittsburgh basking in the glow of their Top Spot Group Routine at Starbound.  After recovering from a previous stumble and loss to the dreaded Candy Apples, the ALDC had managed to jazz hand their way back to the top and brought home more shiny hardware to display on those rickety old Container Store shelves.

Seriously.  Have you ever noticed the wire shelving that Abby has wrapped the entire rehearsal space with to display all their trophies?  It’s the same wobbly closet organizer stuff that you put up in your first apartment, or that always comes preinstalled in every freshman dormitory.  The stuff that is always missing one screw and eventually pulls out of the sheetrock and dumps all your winter sweaters on to your hidden kegger.

How all those heavy plaques and statues don’t come crashing down on some poor kid in the middle of Tap Class is a mystery.

So without putting anyone at risk by making them stand directly under those trophy death traps, Abby gathered her little dancers and bigger Moms together in the center of the room to unveil the latest Pyramid of Shame.

You know how in the movies right before a natural disaster all the birds always go ape s*** berserk and fly into skyscraper windows, and the deer and bison and escaped zoo animals all stampede in every direction across the highway causing mass transit chaos?

Well, I’m pretty certain that if we could have found a window and gotten a glimpse outside the studio right before the Big Reveal, it would have looked like the freakin’ opening scene from The Lion King.

Hurricane Jill was blowing back into town and most likely toppling any tree, small automobile or mobile home in her newly bleached path of destruction.

Before Abby could even pull off the first piece of logo paper and crush a young and impressionable ego, the studio door flew open and in stormed Jill, accompanied by her incredibly easy to upset daughter Kendall and a souvenir headshot which they had apparently spray glued to foam core prior to their arrival.

(Always come prepared, because you never know when you might encounter a rogue Pyramid of Shame.  I think that’s in the Boy Scout Handbook, actually.)

The last we had seen of Jill, aside from her brief stint at the Candy Apples Evil Dance Emporium, was the now infamous Texas meltdown where she had thrown a shoe and run out the door while wearing an odd little iParty cowboy hat.

In her defense, she had claimed that the mall western wear was to make her look like a local and embrace the culture, much the same way any tourist with no social skills would apply black face or a dot in the middle of their forehead to try and fit in with the city they are visiting.  Because they saw it in a magazine.

Seriously.  Why do people do that? Stick with the bermuda shorts and fanny pack.  You’ll still look less ridiculous.

 Now Jill was blonde.  Really blonde.  And had lost the Bump-It hair accessory.

(Spoiler Alert:  Next episode’s preview shows that it already makes a return appearance.  You can cut off a worm’s head or yank out your Bump-It, but they always grow back.)

She wanted Kendall to be put back into The Group immediately and proceeded to present her case like Alexis Carrington did when she pulled off that big hat and laid into the judge on Dynasty.

Oh, the drama.  Eventually Jill took the hint and scooted her blonde hair, big mouth and new caftan top fashion sense into the corner and let Abby get the Pyramid started.

Mackenzie and Nia were on the bottom.  MackAttack’s low standing was due to all that sugar causing her to dance faster than the other two girls in last week’s trio.  We’ve never actually seen it happen, but you know Mack is one of those cute kids who always chomps on those gigantic Jawbreaker candies until her tongue is blue and she has trouble swallowing all the juice.  Tell me you can’t totally picture that scenario.

Nia fell on her badonkadonk last time, and that can’t be good.

Third spot was for Paige, who didn’t really do anything wrong other than get picked as the third person in that sloppy trio.  Guilty by association.  Punishment?  Bottom row.

I won’t even go off on another rant about her age inappropriate hairdo this week, even though it did seem to have gotten wavier and even more age inappropriater, if that’s even a word.

All I’ll say on the matter is that I’m amazed that between eating, sleeping, dancing and going to school Paige still had time to get her hair done for next month’s Vogue cover shoot.  Now I’m done.

To make room for Maddie at the top, Abby stuck Chloe and Brooke on the second row.  She barely even tried to cover that one up, and couldn’t really fabricate any reason for them to be there other than Maddie’s photo is adhered to the mirror with Super Glue.

This week the gang was headed to Starpower, which I guess is somehow different than Starbound or Starpalooza or Star Search or Star Trek.  They all sound the same to me, which probably explains why I don’t run a dance company.

Abby was quite excited that lots of people from Jersey would be there.  I tried to picture pregnant Snooki doing that one leg straight up in the air thing but then immediately stopped trying to picture it before I did any permanent damage.

Maddie, Paige and Nia were all picked for solos, but the big news this time was the group number.

Twilight.  Like the vampires.  And there was going to be a boy vampire.

I would appreciate it from now on if Lifetime would run a warning disclaimer at the bottom of the screen before they unleash anymore tween-age boys on these girls, because my ears are still bleeding from the arrival of senior ALDC dancer Nick.

As the Moms retired to the Mom Perch, Kendall snuck her way into the group number until Abby did a head count and booted her upstairs.  It was clear from the start of rehearsals that the Twilight theme was not going to work with so many girls on the field.

It was like a marching band all going in different directions at half time, with poor Nick in the middle racing around trying to lift up all the girls before biting their necks.

Between all that disorganization, Abby tried to squeeze in some solo work with the girls.

Paige made it through about four measures of music before Jill busted in and sang that song about Kendall getting to dance in The Group.  After a few rounds with Abby, except for the missing cowboy hat, it was pretty much the same result again as Jill stormed out the door for the evening.

Nia’s solo was titled Return to Laquifa.

Ok.  Maybe not.  Maybe it was Werqin’ Girl.  But either way, it was Sasha Nia getting her Shangela Death Drop on again, and it was a little slice of drag heaven.

Side note:  Abby Lee Miller is no drag queen.  Make her stop doing that head snap thing and just sashay away.  Immediately.

Then we paused for a little station identification alert and a bit of network cross promotion.

The results from the Lifetime Drop Dead Diva auditions were revealed, and it was Maddie who scored the coveted guest starring role.

And not one single Vegas odds maker even blinked in surprise.

The whole thing then turned into exactly the kind of Mom vs. Mom favoritism song & dance number that we have come to expect every time Maddie snatches something from the other girls.  Between Melissa getting angry at the other Moms and Maddie not sure how she was supposed to react in front of her friends, the casting call didn’t feel as big and important as they made it sound last week.

What was big and important this week however, was Nia’s hair.  It was outta control fierce, girlz.  And Abby wasn’t liking it.

When Abby told Holly that Nia’s new big a** braids were a hot mess, Mom went on the defense and channeled some serious NeNe Leakes.  Kinda.

Given the fact that Holly is still more school principal than bitch slapping hater, it wasn’t quite an ATL Reunion throw down, but it was fun to watch.

Fix her hair, Mom.  Fix her hair?  How ’bout you fix yo’ hair?  And then how ’bout you fix yo’ face?  And yo’ fat body?  And PS…I got approval for these braids, bitch.

Whoa.  Wait.  Did she say approval?  Someone is in charge of hair braid approval?  You mean that’s someone’s job?  How much does it pay?  I’m always looking for ways to make some easy cash, and approving hair weaves seems like something I could excel at.  Hmmmm.  Girl, pleez…I think I’m on to sumthin.

The next day, Abby was still a little miffed at everyone’s reaction to Maddie’s new Drop Dead Diva role, so she figured she needed to rub some faces into it to prove a point.

Long story short, Abby had Maddie bring in all her crowns from every competition and lay them out like a flea market table display so all the other girls could ogle them and wish they were Maddie.

I guess it was an attempt at showing how it’s ok to be proud of your successes, but it turned into a very uncomfortable Toddlers & Tiaras moment as Maddie unzipped what looked like one of those vinyl hot/cold lunch bags and pulled out a clown car’s worth of mini tiaras.  It was like the bag was a bottomless sparkle pit as Maddie revealed crown after crown after crown.

After crown.

The Moms did their song & dance again.  Melissa tried to stop the show.  The other girls wished they were Maddie.  Melissa cried and Maddie just wanted to crawl in a hole.

Well played, Abby.

Finally it was Showtime.

Kendall must have hidden in the luggage compartment of the bus because somehow she was there in the green room, even though she wasn’t scheduled to do anything.  Jill used every minute of down time to ramble on and on about earning a spot on the team while Abby used every minute of down time to poke Jill with a stick.  It’s funny, but suddenly crazy Kelly was like an old chew toy that Abby didn’t want to play with anymore now that Jill was in the room.  Go figure.

The solos went well.  Nia dropped it like it was hot again.  Paige nailed her dance.  Maddie was Maddie and will probably need a bigger Igloo cooler pretty soon for all that new headgear.

Abby trimmed the Twilight number down to Brooke, Chloe and Maddie at the last minute, thereby giving Nick fewer girls to pick up and allowing her to give Jill another poke in the eye at the same time.

Seriously.  I can’t.

There was so much Jill vs. Abby screaming that I can’t even get into right now.

Abby accused Jill of stealing a $2 bow from her secret stash and slapping it on Kendall’s head before any decisions on the Twilight number had even been made.  Apparently hair bows and the Hope Diamond are both high risk security items that nobody should touch without government clearance.

Jill went all cowboy hat on Abby…again…while Kendall cried…again…and Maddie tried on crowns.


Nick actually got to speak one sentence, and he sounded like Peter Brady when his voice was changing.

Pork Chops and Apple Sauce.  Google it.

Jill said that everyone sucked.

Looks like someone needs to fix their attitude.

And their face.

It was Drop Dead Divalicious.

Dance Moms: I Know What You Did Last Competition. A Cheating Scandal Rocks Pittsburgh! Scratched CDs, Alleged Favoritism & Baggy Dresses Suck The Energy Out Of…Energy.

Wednesday, June 20th, 2012



Excuse me? Who you calling a big fat cheater? It’s the pants that make my junk look like this, thank you.





Lawd. You’d think with all these mirrors in here, somebody would actually use one once in awhile.





Girl, pleez. Do not make me unleash my Nia Face on you. I ain’t no cheater.






Forget that. Check it out…I’m just about to unleash my crazy face on somebody’s big ol’ a**.





Why did she get to wear the green dress? You’d think just once I could be the star. This sucks.




Scandalous, I tell you.

Did she or didn’t she?  It was the question that nearly brought down the ALDC.

Forget voter fraud, frivolous Wall Street stock scams and all the drama surrounding the new Facebook Timeline.  We’re talking scratched CDs here, people.

This week, Dance Moms…which pretty much felt like an hour of filler squished between 95 commercials for the premiere of that hot mess Bristol Palin reality show…was so chock full of cheating accusations, crazy faces and whining that I’m surprised they found the time to actually get to the dancing part of the show.

After bringing home a steamer trunk full of trophies, plaques and dusty Zombie couture, Abby Lee Miller was obviously looking for another victory the next time they hit the stage.  The troupe was a big hit at last week’s Energy Dance Competition, and now it was time to see if lightening could strike twice.

But you know the rules, by now.  First was the Pyramid of Shame, formerly known as the Duh, It’s Not Rocket Science – Maddie Will Be On Top Again Pyramid.

Since the lowest spots on the Pyramid are basically reserved seating for any offspring sprung from Kelly’s loins, Brooke and Paige were scotch taped right down at the bottom.  Again.

Neither of them had really done anything wrong other than unintentionally share their mother’s last name.  Abby has basically chosen them as sacrificial lambs in her Anti-Kelly campaign, and not even Paige’s still too old for her age haircut could save them.

Paige is a patootie, but somebody backstage keeps curling her up into a 1940’s starlet, and she’s starting to look like Brooke’s older sister just back home from college with no boyfriend and a baby.

Both of them were on probation, with big Dynamo label maker “Probations” stuck to their photos like those internet black boxes they put over the eyes of anonymous hookers, but only lower.

The bottom row was finished off with Chloe’s face, who became another lamb innocently sent to slaughter.  Last week Mom Christi had yanked Chloe from rehearsals to take her to the doctor, the chiropractor and that new Avengers movie, and Abby wasn’t happy at all.

As previously discussed in depth here in past weeks:  Unless something that should be on the inside of your body is suddenly showing on the outside, there is never a good reason to skip rehearsal.

Not even Robert Downey Jr., thank you.  He’s dreamy, but you’re gonna have to wait for the Director’s Cut Blu-ray.  Sorry.  Now back to the studio.

Middle of the pack was set aside for Nia and Mackenzie, who let out a big excited gasp right through one of the gaps that will soon be filled with a big girl tooth.  We love her.

Mack Attack just needs more ballet classes, and maybe one of those Simon light up games from Toys ‘R Us that help increase your memory skills.  Abby would like her to make it through an entire number without spacing out or leaving the stage before Adele finishes the song.

Speaking as someone who couldn’t even remember to put shoes on at that age, I think she is doing just fine.  Lay off, lady.

Nia just needs to keep being Fierce.  That’s my call, not Abby’s.  I don’t really care what Abby thinks.  I don’t even remember what she said.

Team Nia in yo’ face, bitches.

And sho nuff, lookie there…Maddie was on top!

Last time, even though the CD skipped during her performance, the Maddie Soul Train kept chugging away until the commercial break.

And that’s when the whole El Scandalo Thang started to percolate.

Word on the Mom Street was that Abby had put Maddie through rehearsals with a skipping CD and even gave the judges a bootleg scratcher as a guarantee that she would score highly.  I guess the deal is that if your music has a big goober in the middle then that somehow gets you some kind of high score on the Pity Point scale.  There must be ways to keep track of these kind of things though, otherwise I’m going to assume that everyone who ever entered a dance competition would tie their CDs to the mini-van trailer hitch like beer cans on a wedding day and show up ready for First Place.

Everyone just let that one stew for a bit longer while Abby handed out assignments.

The gang was headed back to yet another Energy Dance Competition, this time in Michigan.  I could hardly wait to see that poorly lit, out of focus Power Point backdrop logo again.  Not really sure why it bothers me so much, but it does.  Get used to it, because every time we go to one of their events you’re gonna hear it again.

The group number was going to be a Silver Spoon theme.  I immediately got all excited that maybe Ricky Schroder would be making a cameo since he seems to have a lot of spare time on his hands these days.

(I’ll pause here so the younger set can Google “Ricky Schroder” and see why the Silver Spoon reference is so hysterical.  Gah…when did I get so old?)

But then I realized that Abby meant silver spoon like you’re born into a spoiled, gifted life with the spoon in your mouth.  And we’re supposed to call him Rick now, anyway.

Nia, Maddie and Mack Attack all got the thumbs up for a solo number.

Maddie was doing a Helen Keller dance, which I won’t make a joke about because that would be in bad taste.  I just hope they put crib guards up around the edge of the stage because it’s a long way down.

Nia was going to be channeling her Sasha Nia again, which I love, and doing a more mature dance.  Looks like Abby has finally…finally…given up on her dreams of an Aunt Jemima Broadway Revival and Nia can now dance without an afro pick in her hair.

Holly was thrilled.  She and Christi are tied for who has the best Proud Mom Face.  I can’t decide.

Mack’s routine was a Daisy Chain number.  While you’re Googling “Ricky Schroder” you might want to just take a quick drive-by and see what the porno definition for that term is all about.  I really wish Abby had called it something else because…well…just because.

I know it was innocent enough and Abby just wanted to dress Mack up like a character from H.R. PufnStuf and let her roll around…but…just Google it.

And how about all my TV Land flashbacks this week?  What’s up with that?

I’m dying to say something about some of the tight pants on selected Moms this week, too…but I’ve already dissed Helen Keller, slammed Rick(y) Schroder and talked pornography and we’re still on the Pyramid, so I’m not really sure when I’ve crossed the line.

Let’s just say that some of them camels need to put their shoes back on and leave it at that.  If you get it, you get it.

Up in the Mom Perch, everyone was talking about how China makes pants so small this year and how Melissa ratted out Chloe for going to the movies.  (Ok…I made up some of that.  You figure out which part.)  All the Moms ganged up on Melissa about the bootleg CD until she couldn’t sit still anymore.

Melissa bolted downstairs and burst into the duet rehearsal to confront Abby about the allegations of cheating.

Blah blah blah…Abby’s reputation.  Blah blah blah…Abby’s good name.  You can figure it out.

Abby swore she didn’t purposely nick or scratch anything, but I kept looking at her new Morticia Addams extra-long nails and I can totally see where she could slice off an entire song just trying to open the CD shrink wrap.  As Melissa and Abby went a few rounds, the Moms were glued to the action like Chloe at the Avengers.  I thought I even smelled popcorn.

The Ricky Schroder number was based around a prop.  A ginormous prop.

Somewhere in Pittsburgh Abby had tracked down a massive 3 foot tall spoon that appeared to be made of solid lead.  The poor girls could barely hoist it up over their heads.

After Maddie almost blew out her thoracic vertebrae trying to fling that thing around, Abby decided to take it home for private ice cream nights and replaced the prop with a smaller piece of flatware.

Throughout the rehearsals there were many…many…of those special Kelly “Abby hates my kids” moments that I won’t bother going into detail on.  Same song.  Different outfit.

By the time it came to finalizing the costumes, Kelly was firing on all 8 cylinders.

The individual and duet outfits weren’t too bad.  Mack looked like a Springtime Muppet while Nia looked like Beyoncé tangled up in sailboat rope.

That group number on the other hand.  Yikes.

The pastel dresses were just an odd combination of Sound of Music meets Nutcracker meets Easter Parade meets that Cult where everyone had the same hair and all married one dude.

The one with the uni-brow ladies.

Those dresses were bad.

I’m praying they’re not burned into my plasma like the freakin’ QVC logo.  Seriously, as they argued and swapped colors and tried to get it together, I was expecting Anderson Cooper to burst in and do an exposé on the ALDC Compound.

Since Abby hates Paige, she stuck the poor thing with a dress 5 sizes too large, while Chloe was forced to squeeze into green sausage casing that almost collapsed her right lung.

Kelly went completely Kelly on that one.  Twice, actually.

Finally it was time for the competition.  We’ll speed this thing up since you’re not really here for the technical play by play anyway.

The duet was great.  Abby said the two girls never danced together better than they did this time.  Christi was scribbling like crazy in her program the entire time like the people who are always at the greyhound park keeping track on their racing forms.  No score gets by this woman.  I smell a spin-off….Bookie Moms.

The best part of the group number was the very end.  If you freeze frame it and really study it, the scene pretty much sums up everything that Abby lives for…

Maddie standing tall and proud, silver spoon (…complete with newly added fancy bow…) held high over her head after clubbing all the other girls into unconsciousness.  It was like the crazy caveman who beat down all his opponents for that one juicy piece of wooly mammoth meat.  Last man…or dance girl…standing.

Check it out.  I’m not lying.  It was either a really strange coincidence, or Abby Lee Miller’s best subliminal jab into Kelly’s eye sockets ever.

They scored a second place even with baggy dresses and that creepy OB/GYN spoon, as did the duet.

Solos on the other hand…not so much.

MackAttack came in first place for the Preemie division after remembering where she was and keeping that big daisy on her head.  She even got a little crown.  It was pretty anemic by Toddlers & Tiaras standards, but it was her first one and she was poking her tongue every which way through all those endearing empty spots in her mouth.  She is too cute.

But Nia and Maddie didn’t pull in the high scores that Abby wanted, so you can imagine the kind of mood Ms. Miller was in by the time Kelly went in for the kill.  Kelly definitely needs to work on her timing if she ever expects to walk away from a fight with more than a black eye.

Everything spinning around in Kelly’s head all came out at once.  The favoritism.  The bad costumes.  The whole hating my kids thing again.  Same song.  Different outfit.


It wasn’t their best fight, but I have faith.  Kelly is a ticking time bomb and I’m living for the day when Abby starts tearing off her nails like she’s about to throw down on the Jerry Springer Show.

You already know she can toss a chair with one hand.

Say it with me:

Abby!  Abby!  Abby!

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