Dance Moms Miami: Don’t Take That Tone With Me. I Don’t Think I Like Your Attitude, Or Your Boy Cooties. It’s Lucas & Kimmy, Sitting In A Tree.Wednesday, May 9th, 2012
Seriously? The Nerd got the love letter? That is messed up.
Korroga…Krogography… No, wait. Really. This time I got it. Korahgraffi.
It says your butt’s too big and that top is still too small.
I did NOT put on my Big Boy Bib to be disrespected by a crazy Mom.
Screw artistry. That dance needs more technique. And more eyeliner.
Find out what it means to me.
And when you figure it out, can you please explain it to a few Moms I know before I send Aretha down to Miami and have her start bitch slapping somebody?
This week it was all about Respect and Survival on Dance Moms: Miami.
You need those skills out there in the real world, or the jungle…or that grey area in between known as the Dance Moms world.
It’s eat. Or be eaten. Just don’t eat a lot, because the scale doesn’t lie.
Back from their great showing at the Energy Dance Competition, Victor and Angel were already chomping at the bit for their next chance to grab some trophies for the case. This time the gang was headed to Access Broadway in Orlando and there was a lot of work to get done. If their team was going to make it to Regionals, or Nationals or whatever it is Dancers and Gleeks always go to, they would need to step up their game.
After The List, of course.
Even if the building catches on fire, nobody leaves until we finish The List. Is that understood?
As the little dance troupe stacked up in their army line and the Moms lurked in the back of the room, Victor got the presentation started. This week he—
Hold up. Before we go any further.
Seriously? Five weeks into this mess and nobody can find a 5th chair for the Moms?
One Mom is still left standing in the back while the other four take a load off? You mean to tell me that huge studio doesn’t have one stray chair laying around somewhere?
How about they dump Mayra off her cushy front desk/receptionist chair? Until we really get an explanation of what it is she does all day, she can read magazines on the floor.
Top of the hit parade was Jessi. Kudos to her. The same powerful, greedy paws that only a few weeks ago had ripped an award right out of another dancer’s hands have now helped her claw her way back up to the top.
I’ll give her one thumb up. She has been working on her attitude. Sporadically.
I still think she has the potential to cut someone if they cross her, and I’m not really sure if it’s the heavy eyeliner or allergies that make her squint. But when she’s not mouthing off, the girl can dance.
The number 2 slot was all Kimmy. Last week she managed to remember choreography, do a great dance and get all her advanced BioChem homework done before the Today show came on…so you go, girl.
Third was LadyKiller Lucas and his new haircut. The L Man got a trim. Keeping it tight and right.
Lucas had a few problems in his dancing last week and had to hang in the middle this round. No biggie. He’s still dope.
Fourth place, better known as second to the bottom, was Hannah. Victor actually wanted her at the bottom, because she was too chicken s*** to fall backwards into Sammy’s arms during the Death Drop trust game.
Last week’s whole skinny girl/not so skinny girl duet thing was still a touchy subject and immediately got the eyeballs rolling around Mom Debi’s head like pinball marbles.
Last place was Sammy, because they ran out of room.
Mainly, the Mom’s lack of respect. Angel’s big gripe the last few weeks has been that the Moms are questioning their choreo…korograph…krrooga..
Choreography. It’s called Choreography.
Seriously, dude. Hooked on Phonics. Sound. It. Out.
The boys are in charge. The Moms are just their to carpool and swipe their credit cards.
End of story.
Since she didn’t hurt anyone or get arrested, Jessi got a solo. An artistic kind of So You Think You Can Dance kind of solo. Victor was definitely going back to his roots. I almost called in to vote when she finally performed the number.
Hannah got a solo as well, which had Debi positively giddy when she wasn’t bitching out Abby for everything from the duet to the duet and then the duet.
Kimmy and Lucas were paired up in a romantic duet. Or as romantic as 9 year olds can get, I guess.
Kimmy got a little skeeved out by the whole Boy Germ thing, while Lucas finally realized that having all that Game might actually net him a chick some day.
The group number was a Survival theme, which came complete with jungle drums during Victor’s unveiling. It was like you were watching Dance Moms, but the audio track was from Survivor. I was waiting for Brigette to pull out her lighter and get the tiki torches blazing.
My psychic powers told me that Lucas wouldn’t be wearing a shirt for that number.
As the kids got their Lion King on, the Moms chewed on each other like hyenas. Abby and Debi continued their bickering which was basically a continuation of last week. I should probably just cut & paste last week’s blog post into this paragraph, but I still haven’t figure out how to do that yet. But you can imagine the conversation.
Seems the dealio at the studio is that everyone should come with about 27 more outfits than they actually need, in case a number gets cut or changed or Jessi cracks somebody in the head. Apparently everyone knew that rule except newbie Abby, so Angel had sent her a text which she took to mean that last week’s half skinny/half not so skinny duet might not happen.
You know how that played out with Debi.
Abby flashed the text and here we go again. Don’t show your texts to other people, whether they’re drunk texts or naked texts or dance texts. Der.
Since Kimmy hadn’t had any real relationships yet, and Lucas didn’t know where his uncle kept the box of Playboys, the romance part of their dance wasn’t happening. Their homework was to write each other love letters, put on a little Luther and get their groove on.
Naturally, Kimmy’s homework came complete with a bubble gum scented paper, a stamp, glitter stickers and a Trapper Keeper. Lucas’s looked like he was mailing his Macy’s payment.
But it was cute. Mom Ani had obsessively/compulsively helped Kimmy, so her love note was a little more on the Desperate Housewives “I love the way you take control” side of the spectrum, while Lucas said he would pick her up if he dropped her.
Chicks. Go figure.
Then the whole thing suddenly morphed into an ABC AfterSchool Special on body image and eating disorders when Mayra put down her OK Magazine and came into the studio with a scale to weigh all the kids.
Yeah. Like cattle at an auction.
I guess they do this in the dancers world a lot. At least that’s what Angel said.
Apparently they don’t do it in the choreographers world, though, if you know what I mean. But that’s what big scarves are for, right?
Oh snap. I went there.
But they do it in the dancers world, I guess. Abby was not a big fan at all and yanked Sammy out kicking and crying to the car like any good dramatic Dance Mom would do.
I’m Team Abby on this one. At that age, unless the cafeteria is going to stop serving fish sticks and whoopie pies, I wouldn’t be weighing kids in front of each other. Plus I don’t think Lucas could even make the needle move unless he put his big sunglasses back on.
In between all the rehearsing, Susan and Jessi managed to get plenty of disrespectful Mother/Daughter face time in as they argued about all the usual stuff.
Finally it was showtime.
Access Broadway was held in some hotel ballroom better suited for a Glitz pageant, where they just laid down a temporary wedding reception floor and hung a bazillion blinking starlights from those black fabric rolling backdrops they use to cover crap that nobody wants you to see.
Again…well documented. I’m not a dancer, though in my head I am a dance authority. I just thought the layout was odd. You tripped on the carpet. The edge of the dance floor was raised up just enough that you could trip on that as well if you were 5 open bar drinks into the reception. It was eye level to the ballroom chairs. Like floor seats at a concert that couldn’t afford a stage.
I was waiting for a baby to crawl across during a performance, or someone to drop their soda and watch the can roll under some ballet pose. But it was incident free from my vantage point on my couch.
For all of Jessi’s issues, she nailed her solo. It was simple and yet intense like any good cheese, or dance, should be.
The duet was cute. Lucas actually came the closest to wearing a shirt that I’ve seen so far this season. Yes, it was unbuttoned. But at least it was a shirt. On his body. I’m surprised Victor didn’t just spray glue the clippings from Lucas’s new haircut onto his chest to Man him up a little.
(Side note: Is it me, or does Victor pick up Lucas a lot? Like his own private stuffed animal or something.)
Susan and Jessi went a few more rounds in between numbers. This time Susan busted out her Spanish smack down, which made it feel more like you were watching a telenovela on Univision.
Or Dance Moms: Miami on vacation in a hotel in Spain.
Hannah had a little preemie meltdown before her number in the hallway when she forgot part of her routine. Victor told her to improvise if she forgets. Angel showed Hannah his Louis man purse and told her to accessorize.
Seriously. Take that thing off. Unless you’re a mailman delivering a package during Fashion Week, nobody needs to be rocking a cross body Vuitton Murse.
The Survivor group number only had one goober when Lucas’s jungle head piece flopped down onto his face. But he kept on dancing like a trooper. The show must go on even if you look like a shirtless jungle platypus. Hakuna Matata.
I’m not really sure why all those other dance companies even made the trip to Orlando, because the team from Stars took all the good stuff and went home.
Hannah maintained enough short term memory to pull in 1st place. So did Jessi. So did the duet. So did the group number.
Bam. Read ‘em and weep, people.
Everyone was psyched. Jessi and Susan even hugged it out.
Then Angel reached into his lovely purse, pulled out some duct tape and stuck it over Susan’s mouth as a symbolic representation of shut the f*** up or something.
By the time the show ended at that late hour, I didn’t even question why a grown man would be carrying a half used roll of duct tape in a designer handbag.
I’m more than happy to give you my thoughts on the matter, but that would just be disrespectful.