Posts Tagged ‘Holly Frazier’

Dance Moms: Potty Mouths And Body Shots, Hip Hop Flops And Booty Pops Can Only Mean One Thing…It Must Be The ALDC Recital To End All Recitals.

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2012



This is Abby, your Captain speaking. Please turn off your cell phones because this s*** is about to get real.





I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been to Walmart today.





I can count on one finger how many times I’m gonna do my hair like this again. WTF?





Do I remember the Class of 1985? Girl…Seriously? I don’t even remember what shoes I put on this morning.





Oh. Hell. No. The bus driver told me this was Bravo TV. I can already tell these bitches are Cray Cray.




Overture, Curtain, Lights.

This is it…the Night of Nights.

…On with the Show, this is It!

Before we proceed with this week’s Dance Moms hilarity, you need to Google youtube and the musical opening number for the classic Warner Brothers Bugs Bunny Show.

Then you need to find someone who knows Photoshop and have them cut & paste the faces of Abby Lee Miller, Holly, Kelly, Christi, Melissa, Jill, Cathy and bat s*** crazy Leslie over the bodies of all the cartoon characters.

And then you need to watch it again until milk shoots out your nose, because that pretty much sums out how it all went down this week during the 2012 ALDC Concert.

Which was really a recital.  But I didn’t ask why Abby kept calling it a concert.  Maybe because it had music.  I dunno.  By now, we all know I don’t make the rules.

But, whatever.  It was the annual ALDC tribute to…well…ALDC, and a chance for anyone in Pittsburgh without basic cable to buy a Xeroxed paper ticket and watch every dance number that the rest of us had already seen on Lifetime.

As Abby explained it before the Pyramid of Shame was revealed, every dance aficionado in Pittsburgh would be in attendance, which would explain the four folding chairs set up around a card table at the front of the stage.  Count ’em.  Every one.

Not that I would recognize an aficionado if I stepped on one, but the way she went on and on about it before rehearsals began I expected at least two of the So You Think You Can Dance judges to show up.  But nada, unless the aficionados were incognito or something.

Regardless, even the Concert of all Recitals had to wait until the Pyramid was unveiled.

Rules are rules, people, whether I make them or not.

Still hanging tight at the bottom were Paige and that big, clunky boot.  Turns out that breaking your foot when you’re on a show about dancing doesn’t really open up much opportunity for advancement.  Climbing stairs and pyramids are just way too much work nowadays, so Paige was content to lean on her pirate leg and let the other girls fight it out for top honors.

Fallen Angel Maddie was also on the bottom row because last week she had refused to learn a new number in under 42 minutes and then retain it long enough to go head to head with those scruffy boys from Candy Apples.

She told Abby NO.  And people don’t tell Abby NO.  Nobody tells Abby NO.

Proof of that fact can be found not only in the crumbled dust of broken young dancer souls that Abby keeps in a mantel urn, but also in the increasing number of Pennsylvania All-U-Can-Eat Country Buffets now filing for bankruptcy.

Whaddayamean I can’t have any more ribs?

Third spot in the basement went to Chloe, because she had ruined any chance at a Starbound clean sweep when she lost by 1/10th of a point.  Which had to suck.  I would rather lose by a bazillion points and then fall off the stage head first than lose by 1/10th.

I hugged my television.  Poor peanut.

Second row went to Brooke and Mackenzie.

Brooke took some heat for last week’s Children of the Corn dance when she was supposed to tie a bonnet on Maddie’s head at a Star Trek warp speed of mach 8, and she nervously fumbled the ball a little.

Cut her some slack, lady.  I’m pretty sure that Amish people are in no hurry when it comes to putting their bonnets on.  It’s not like they’ve got anywhere to go…the cabinet shop will still be there no matter how long it takes to strap on their head gear.

But you know Abby.

MacAttack beat 2 boys and her front teeth were coming in nicely, so it was all good.

Top spot for the second week went to Miss Sasha Nia, cuz that’s how we roll, bitches.

But before Nia could even bust out a celebratory Death Drop, Real Housewife of Pittsburgh Jill got all up in Abby’s grill about Kendall once again not being scotch taped to the mirror.

Kendall deserved it.  Kendall deserved this.  Kendall deserved that.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m a big supporter of parents who cowboy up for their kids.  But Jill is the kind of Stage Mom who would show up unannounced at the U.N. and shut down half of New York City under a suspected terrorist threat as she melts down over Kendall not being able to perform with those multi-national kids who are always in the Radio City Christmas Show.

Somebody needs to spend a little more time figuring out her new hairdo and a little less time making her daughter cry on national TV.  Just saying.

The new number for the recital was a hip hop bootay poppin’ thang.  Please pause here and Google a group photo of these little ALDC dancer girls.  I’ll wait.

Got it?  Yeah.  I can pretty much guarantee you that this is the only time you will ever see the words Gangsta and Chloe in the same sentence.  If you really need to go, you basically already figured out how that one was gonna work out.  Thanks for stopping by.

Paige had previously been told by her doctor to not dance for 4 weeks, but since she seemed to be able to stay upright on her own, Abby wanted her to participate in the hip hop routine.

Never having broken my toe in a backward handspring on cement flooring, I can’t really verify any assumptions, but I’m thinking that on a tiny girl like Paige, that gigantic boot probably works much like one of those sand-filled deck umbrella stands.  Girl ain’t toppling over in a wind storm if you know what I mean, but thinking that she could pop and lock and grind and stomp on stage may have been a little premature.

The next day, as Jill arrived at the studio, she was intercepted by NutWad Ninja Leslie who literally came out of nowhere and pounced on Jill with a bucket load of crazy.

Seriously.  Where did Leslie come from?  I swear she dropped out of the trees like that monkey did in James Franco‘s Planet of the Apes movie (…which was sooo not how the Apes really came to rule Earth, thank you…) because as soon as Jill hauled her junk out of the car, Leslie was right there in front of her babbling gossip.

It’s no wonder Leslie makes such a great Walmart greeter, because you can’t walk by her without getting an ear full.  She went on and on about loyalty and backstabbing and warnings and something about Melissa not having enough Milky Way bars for Halloween and having to take Leslie with her to CVS and then driving past CVS and taking Leslie to meet her Secret Lover and his enormous big package…of bank checks.

And Leslie talked just like that, but with fewer punctuation marks.  I swear.

Finally Jill bolted inside and Leslie scurried back up the tree with her Walmart bananas.

Only 65 cents a pound.  In a smiley face bag.

Quick change of scenery to Cow Country and the Evil Dance Lair, better known to the locals as Candy Apple’s Dance Center, where we found Chaos Cathy mulling over an envelope of ALDC tickets that had mysteriously been delivered to her studio.  Should she attend? Mmmuuuahahahaha.

A bigger mystery should have been why Candy Apple’s felt they needed that security camera set up that was above Cathy’s messy desk.  Did you catch that?

It was one of those split screen television monitors you see at convenience stores and nuclear plants.  Or like they hang at Burger King over the fries to track how long it takes them to get one lousy freakin’ Single Stack in the bag.

Is there a whole black market out there I’m not aware of that specializes in stolen tap shoes and jazz canes?  I’m checking ebay tomorrow.

If I don’t find anything, I’m going to assume it’s to protect all that valuable beef jerky next door.  Or maybe it’s just Cathy monitoring Canton’s Jerky King.

Because you know…nobody jerks it like the King.  I saw it on TV.  Cathy might want to keep an eye on that one.  Just a suggestion.

Since the teeny bop hip hop number was not going so well, Abby whistled for Amazonian Payton to join the group and show the little white girls how a big, tall white girl gets it done.  Taking a cue from her Mom, Payton also apparently dropped right out of a nearby tree because she was there before Abby even finished calling her name, and immediately started doing the Sprinkler, Windshield Wiper and what I assumed was her awkward version of the Dougie.

Hollah Back, Girl.   And duck when you go through the door.  Word to yo’ Crazy Mother.

Next it was time for the Tech Rehearsals.  Abby was up in the light booth like some exhausted air traffic controller, trying to keep her headset from falling off into her pudding while she screamed at everyone within her orbit.

Since Leslie and Kelly cannot breath the same oxygen without breaking out into an argument, they were chewing at each other’s face the entire time they were down in front of the stage.

Screaming.  Yelling.  Bleeping.  The usual.

When Leslie made the sweaty hike all the way up the auditorium into the booth to insist Abby change the dance lineup to give Payton more time to change costumes, the coffee really started to percolate.  After blasting Leslie for her smart a** mouth, Abby made a new Clubhouse Rule:  NO parents allowed!

She even had one of the hired help boys scribble out a treehouse sign on what I assumed was unused homework binder paper which the girls should have been using for their book reports.  But you can’t chest pump and worry about Catcher in the Rye at the same time, so the dude swiped a sheet and taped it up on the door like you would if you wanted to keep Girl Cooties away from your pillow fort.

Klassy.  With a K.

After way too much jammin’ and gettin’ down on it, Paige’s one remaining good foot finally realized it couldn’t do all the heavy lifting alone, which caused her to overdo it on the bad one.  It didn’t take a medical degree to figure out she needed to take a chill pill.

It also didn’t take a psych degree to know that Leslie would be all over that one, since her motto has always been “Suck It Up.”

Screaming.  Yelling.  Bleeping.  The usual.  Again.

This time, though, Kelly snatched up her two kids and headed out of Dodge, vowing to never come back.  With Brooke looking out the window like those kidnap victims do when they try to blink SOS in code to a gas station attendant, Mom layed a patch and was gone.

Then in a strange spliced in snippet, all the Moms suddenly hit the Club to unwind after their hard week.  And apparently, when Dance Moms need to unwind, they hit the Gay Club because I only saw two girls in the whole joint, and I think one of them works at Jiffy Lube.  All the other club kids were boys trying to kiss Christi.

Jill even did a body shot off the 12 pack of that guy on the Abercrombie shopping bag, which was wrong on so many levels.

After witnessing…and processing…all of that, my vision returned and the Show of all Shows actually kind of paled in comparison.

Kelly showed up with the kids.  No big surprise.

The Candy Apple’s Brigade showed up, looking like a bad catalog photo from some local store specializing in Mother of the Bride dresses.  What the F*** were they all wearing?  Get out of Ohio much, girls?

Jill was spread out all over her chair in a really…really…yellow dress, still apparently feeling the residual after effects of gnawing on too much Abercrombie ab.  She did manage to find the strength to present Abby with two dozen kiss up roses, to go along with the previously sucked up lobby bench and cologne gift sets.  Jill does like to get her bribe on whenever possible.

After the curtain call where Maddie and Nia were presented with dance scholarships and Brooke and Mackenzie wandered around in Toddlers & Tiaras, everyone headed outside for a few cocktails and photo ops.

Lucky for us, Andy Cohen just happened to be driving through town and shoved a potential new Dance Mom and her kid out the passenger side of his Reality TV Escalade and then squealed off into the night before they even hit the sidewalk.

Kaya and Nicaya have arrived.

Girrrl, pleez.  Not only the best new Girl Group name ever, but more than likely the best new OhNoSheDin’t Mom & Daughter act to hit Lifetime in a Longtime.

MmmHmm.  I feel some sassy coming on.

Oh, snap.

And another snap.

Dance Moms: Boyz In Da Hood? It’s The Revenge Of The Candy Apples When Cathy Unleashes All Her Man Candy On The Starbound Stage.

Wednesday, August 15th, 2012



We’re gonna rid this town of every Candy Apple in existence, even if I have to eat them all myself!






Please. When I open my eyes, Vivi-Anne is suddenly a mean dancing machine. Is that really asking too much, Lord?





Umm. Hellooo? My Mom said there’d be M&Ms on stage…? And shouldn’t someone be picking me up by now?






Sweet Jeezis. This really is my life.






You go there. And honey, you go there. Now just pretend to be as Fierce as we are…and good luck with that, bitches.




This week’s Dance Moms DVR Drinking Game?

Take a shot every time Abby Lee Miller said “Clean Sweep.”

Just be sure to program your Comcast box to keep the recording for a future viewing before the festivities begin, because the first time around it’s pretty much a guarantee you’ll miss approximately 55 minutes of the show due to blacking out from alcohol poisoning before the first commercial break.

It’s true.  Abby wanted a Clean Sweep this week when she went up against her Evil Nemesis Chaos Cathy Nesbitt and all those rotten to the core Candy Apples dancers.

And she made certain that we all knew it.

Over.  And over.  And over again.

After wiping the dance floor with most of the other studios at last week’s event, Abby was looking to continue the winning streak as the ALDC headed to Myrtle Beach for what I believe was their 4,386th trip to a Starbound National Talent Competition.

Though the trophies and bragging rights are always a nice touch, this trip to Starbound was not going to be complete unless Abby could return with Cathy’s head securely mounted to one of those Things Remembered mall plaques that they always give out with that folded t-shirt during the award ceremony.

(See…and you didn’t think I paid attention during the last five minutes of the show.)

But even plotting the downfall of an adversary has to wait until the Pyramid of Shame is revealed, so in pranced all Abby’s little dancers.  All the little dancers except for Paige that is, who did more of a Budweiser Clydesdale kind of clomp due to her left foot still being strapped inside that walking boot.  The injury from her backwards somersault belly flop onto concrete seemed to be healing nicely, but it was definitely cutting into her dance routine and sort of slowing down the cafeteria line as well.

But they all made it in eventually, and Abby immediately started ripping off the photo covers like an exceptionally sturdy Price Is Right girl.

Bottom row was made up of Brooke, Paige and Mackenzie.  No real shockerzzz.

Brooke was in the basement because her back was still sore from slouching and moping around about boys.  Anyone who ever got dissed at a Junior High cafetorium dance can relate to her teen sourpuss face, so I won’t get all up in her grill just yet.

Been there.  Done that.  Just knock it off before Graduation Day.

Paige was right there next to Brooke because of the whole concrete face plant fiasco.  If you don’t dance, there ain’t many spots available, so she was ok with her third place status.

MacAttack was bringing up the rear because she cried like a little kid.  Which is what she is.  But for reasons that escape me, that logic doesn’t fly in the Dance World.

Second row was all about Maddie and Chloe.

Now even though Maddie had basically taken every trophy off the lobby display table last time and still somehow found the time to clog my television screen with 57 commercials for Drop Dead Diva, she had actually only won her title by 6 1/2 points…and Abby wanted 20.  So hang on the second row and see how that one feels, missy.

Chloe needed more intensity.  And she also needed to get her a** out of the way because Sasha Nia was coming through, beeotch.

Dat’s rite.  Girlfriend made it to the top, thanks to her channeling RuPaul’s Drag Race and getting all LaQuifa Part II on the judges.

Mom Holly chest bumped a few of the other Moms and almost went into her Arsenio Dawg Pound impersonation she was so excited.

I love when Holly puts the Doctorate back in her purse and goes all VH1 on people.

Since Kendall still fell under Abby’s “guest” status, and Mom Jill was still having some pretty serious styling issues with her new haircut, they both got nothing but attitude.

Sorry.  No room at the Pyramid Inn.

Besides being top o’ the heap, Nia was also named Dance Captain, which I honestly thought was a title only given out on Gay Cruise Boats.  But I was mistaken.

As she explained her duties, I was so distracted by her headpiece that I missed most of the deets.

Now I love me some Nia.  It’s well documented.  But WTF was that thing on her head?

Seriously.  If that wasn’t a BeDazzled Maxi-Pad I’m quitting my blogging job.

As the Moms all trotted up to the Perch, everyone got down to rehearsing.  The group number was another one of Abby’s poorly veiled salutes to Maddie’s superiority, this time disguised as a Children of the Corn Cult thing where the other mediocre girls try and bring Maddie down to their level by tying a funeral bonnet on her head.

Christi smelled that one coming, and quickly jumped right up Melissa‘s skirt and down her throat at the same time.

Now I watch a lot of Bravo TV.  Probably too much.  But let me tell you, a few Jersey Housewives could take a page out of Melissa’s Flip Out Book, because somehow a discussion on Amish headwear suddenly turned into a full on BitchFest.

You’re a Bitch.  You’re a Bitch.  And you’re a Bitch.  No, you’re a Bitch. Oprah says you’re all Bitches and here’s your present!

I lost track of what happened about midway through the argument.

But trust me, I was paying full attention when Christi accused Melissa of living with a married man.  And by the time Melissa shrieked that she did NOT have an affair with her boss, I expected Andy Cohen to burst through the glass doors and push Teresa back down in her chair.

Say it with me:  Prostitution Whore.

It was like all my worlds were colliding.  If I smoked I would have gone out on the fire escape to regroup.

The next day, needless to say, Melissa and the girls were a no-show, much to Abby’s chagrin.  Do the math.  They were now short two dancers.

As the Great White known as Jill once again began circling the blood in the water, we jumped on the tractor and headed to Ohio and the Evil Dance Lair, where Chaos Cathy was unveiling her plan to bring down the ALDC.  Again.

Noticeably missing was my favorite bad a** red haired Mom, who must have been getting her roots done or the Harley detailed.

Love.  Her.

Luckily, though, she was replaced by one of those women you always see in country music videos standing on the porch with a baby on her hip, waiting for her cheatin’ no good man to come home smelling like restroom perfume.

No clue who this Mom was, but she needed to get a better grip on that infant, because he looked like he was slipping off the burp rag on her shoulder.  Being blessed myself with a substantial noggin, I know how hard it is to maintain an upright position after a warm bottle.

To guarantee a win at Starbound, Cathy had brought back everyone’s favorite plain and peanut M&Ms, Mitchell and Michael, to choreograph the Candy Apples dance numbers and to just generally wander around the Jerky Store being fabulous.

Knowing that male DNA almost always ensures a higher judge’s score, Cathy had also snagged some stray boy that she found dancing down at the General Store and was pairing him up with that little ginger kid Justice in a Mad Men kind of office routine. 

Cathy and the M&Ms wanted to give Justice a…“male friend”…which sounded a little too Dance Captain for my liking, considering that the kid doesn’t even own a hair comb yet.

Inappropriate Skee Ball on the Lido Deck, anyone?

Back in civilization, Nia had finally tracked down the MIA Maddie and everyone got back to bidnezz.

After chastising Maddie for being born into a family where the parents still decided what the kids can and cannot do, Abby received a top secret call on the BatPhone from a Starbound snitch who filled her in on all the Candy Apples dirt.  When she realized that Cathy had put an Apple into every category that the ALDC was signed up for, she made a bee line to Melissa and tried to get Maddie an overnight solo routine.

Since Melissa was still peeved about the whole sleeping with her Boss thing, she refused.  Insert more drama here _____________.

Two totally unrelated points before we hit the actual competition…

What is in that big, fat envelope that Melissa always carries around with her?  Is it a coupon thing or something?  It kind of reminds me of the envelopes that New York City vagrants always carry that are stuffed full of every lost or stolen bank card they find still sticking out of the ATM slot.  I just need to know for some reason.

And secondly, did you see Mackenzie’s Snookie hair?

You tell me that Jill didn’t have Bump-It envy.  I don’t know how that little tyke even sat up straight for that camera shot.  It was the Über Snookie.

Finally it was Showtime.

It was hard to make the usual windblown Desperate Housewives entrance that Abby always likes to make into the hotel lobby, given that this shindig was being held at a high school.  Getting there is usually half the fun for Abby, so I could tell she was a little disappointed in the venue.

The Candy Apples have apparently adopted one of those fraternity type rituals, much like the Olympic athletes who all get matching tattoos.  But since none of the Moms would sign the waver for getting inked, all the kids showed up with one lone curler in their hair.

I know, right?  Say it wasn’t just me that saw that.

I swear even Justice was styling his carrot top with a foam roller.  The cheap kind that Monique would pop into your weave down at that salon next to the Target store.

I won’t lie.  Sometimes my attention to insignificant details tends to keep me up at night.

There was no actual high rise stage for this competition, much like the last hotel ballroom set up.  But instead of that rogue housekeeping cart I obsessed about last week, this time I was waiting for one of those AV Club rolling TV stands to wobble half way across the gym floor and then come to a stop right in front of Vivi-Anne.

Oooh.  Cartoons!

At least that would have finally given her something to do on stage, since Cathy has yet to figure out any significant purpose for her daughter being out there once the music starts.  Sooner or later there is going to be a number that does not require hoisting spacey Vivi-Anne up like a bag of Columbian coffee, and Cathy is gonna be screwed.

Chloe did a good job on her Leave the Lights On solo.  I think it would have been funnier to have her dressed in a Motel 6 chambermaid outfit, unless you don’t live near a Motel 6 and have never heard their “We’ll Leave The Light On” radio commercials.  Then it wouldn’t be as funny.

Justice came out with no shirt and lifted one leg up a lot.

Sorry dude.  That’s Dance Moms: Miami territory.  And you’re no Lucas.

Plus it was a little creepy given all that Dance Captain innuendo.

The ALDC Amish Corn Kids number went well.  Brooke managed to tie Maddie’s grey bonnet on without cutting off her oxygen supply, so that was a good thing.

Right when the Candy Apples were going to lug Vivi-Anne onto the dance floor Cathy realized that the prop was missing from center stage.  Screaming from the audience was a nice touch.

One of the M&Ms flitted around like a Pride Parade grand marshall, grabbed a Staples folding office chair and flung it onto the stage.  Crisis averted.

I’m not sure if he was the plain or peanut M&M, but there was definitely some hard candy shell going on down there during the whole process.

Then some kids won some stuff.

Backstage, as usual, the whole thing deteriorated into Cathy vs. anyone and everyone.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for Jill’s weekly hair style updates, I would swear I’ve been watching the same episode for two years.  Do you think Lifetime is just messing with us?

Screaming.  Yelling.  Cathy suggesting that the ALDC kids never go to school.

Needless to say, Melissa was just having an all around bad week and therefore had no problem laying into Cathy, which resulted in more screaming and yelling.

Someone get Andy Cohen on standby, because it was almost Bravo-worthy.


Dance Moms: Paige Gets The Boot And Jill Gets Her Bump-It Back When The ALDC Heads To Starbound. Break A Leg, Ok? Or Maybe Both Of Them.

Wednesday, August 8th, 2012



Sing along. I’m Bringing Bump-Its Back. Them other Dance Moms don’t know how to act.





Shut. Up. I would kill for a juicy drumstick as big as that boot Paige is wearing. Literally. I would kill someone for it.






Soon. Very soon, baby girl. My Master Plan is slowly falling into place…bone by broken bone.





When I close my eyes, Kendall is a really famous dancer. And I’m on “Knots Landing” wearing shoulder pads and fur.






Just. Shoot. Me.






Alouette, Gentille Alouette.

That’s French.

French for “I’ll break ALL your legs if it will help my kid get in the Group Number.”

Knowledge.  The More You Know.

So stay in school kids.  And run like the freakin’ wind if you see Jill Vertes coming in your direction, because Mama will do whatever it takes to get Kendall into the ALDC and you do NOT want to get in her way.

That also pretty much just summed up the latest episode of Dance Moms, so if you’re short on time you can go now.  You’ll miss all the hilarity, but you got the gist of what happened.

For the rest of you with time to kill at work, here we go.

Fresh off a victorious trip to Lancaster, where Abby Lee Miller and her tiny tot dancers brought home oodles of high scores and displayable shiny hardware, it was time to prep for yet another Starbound National Talent Competition.

But as you know…and say it with me…nothing can get done until the Pyramid of Shame is revealed, so Abby whistled everyone into the studio like livestock at a farm bankruptcy auction and got down to bidnezz.

However, during the pointe shoe platoon of mom and daughter soldiers falling into formation it was glaringly apparent that they were missing Kelly, her crazy a** haircut and Paige.

As you will recall last time in Lancaster, Paige had decided to rehearse her backwards whatchamacallit in the makeup room.  Now, personally, I didn’t need to actually see the hotel construction blueprints to know that there was probably nothing but solid concrete under the synthetic carpet squares, but for reasons we may never know Paige shot backwards like a Slinky when you flip it down a staircase and immediately doinked her toe.

Turned out she didn’t just doink it, she really doinked it.  Which explained why she and Mom were still at the doctor’s office having all the little piggies on Paige’s left foot scoped out.

But even if the doctor had to cut that thing off at the ankle with no anesthesia, the Pyramid must go on.  So chop chop, girls.

The bottom row was all about Paige, Mackenzie and Chloe.

Proving that even when you’re MIA you can get knocked down a peg or two, Paige was at the bottom because of that backwards whatchamacallit.  I guess Abby’s reasoning was that compared to a potentially career ending face plant on solid concrete, having your photo taped to the bottom of the Pyramid wouldn’t seem so bad.

Mackenzie was there basically because she was Mackenzie.  Love the MacAttack.  No matter how many times Abby pokes her with a stick, Mack just pokes with her tongue through one of those missing tooth spots and goes on like a trooper.

Chloe was there to make room for Maddie at the top, even though Abby didn’t actually verbalize it quite like that.  But I’m psychic, and I knew.

Middle row was all about Brooke, her teenage angst and Nia.

Now that you bring it up, even Brooke’s headshot looks a little mopey.  It’s a pretty photo and all, but it kind of looks like something that would be attached to the resumé of some young soap opera ingenue who’s had a rough start to life in Pine Valley, if you know what I mean.  She’s already really pretty, but Girlfriend needs to get her smile muscles to work as hard as her core.  She also needs to pop an Advil and foam roll her back muscles, because she was hurting this week.

Nia werq’d it last week with her Laquifa What? sequel, but again…the whole Maddie thing threw a wrench into that climb up the hill.

Finally, Top Spot was again reserved for Maddie, and I hope you all do a better job of faking a surprised look when they throw you a birthday party in the office breakroom next year than you did at that reveal.

MackAttack, Brooke and Maddie all got solos for the competition.  But more importantly, for the first time after begging for years and years…Chloe finally got her duet with Paige.

One minor KidSpaz later, the excitement was quickly dialed down about 100 notches when Paige klunked into the studio wearing one of those Terminator walking boots on her busted foot.

Yeah.  That duet wasn’t gonna happen.

At least not for 4 to 6 weeks anyway.  No dancing for Paige.  Just soft beachy curls and note taking.  Breaking her toe also seemed to have cut into her age-inappropriate hairstyling regimen, because Paige’s ‘do didn’t seem to irritate me as much as it had in the last few weeks.  Granted, it was still borderline fake I.D. photo that you buy on the pier at Hampton Beach and then try to scuff up to make it look like you’ve had it in your purse forever, but yeah…it was definitely more chillaxed.

So, have you been reading about how all these baby seals are congregating on New England beaches this summer?  And how all these great white sharks are now smelling them and swimming really close to the shore to try and eat them all?

Well.  Stick a Bump-It on one of those great whites, shove it in a mini-van, set its GPS for Pittsburgh…and there you have it.

Jill was back.  Again.  And she smelled the blood in the water.

The podiatrist had barely even licked the x-ray envelope shut and Jill was already in the building trying to slip Kendall into the group number.  She actually swooped down so quickly I thought she might break Paige’s other foot in her haste to get some lipstick on her kid and shove Kendall into Abby’s face.

Under the guise of being there to “take a class,” Jill booted Kendall out of the studio and then swam up to crippled baby seal Paige, who I’m pretty certain started to scribble Save Me in her notepad and then slowly held it up towards the camera lens like a kidnap victim does in the back window of a getaway car.

After telling Paige how sorry she was about her foot, in much the same tone of voice I would use if I was proclaiming how sorry I was that all those Krispy Kreme donuts fell off the truck onto my doorstep unharmed and still warm, Jill scooted up to the Mom Perch to get under everyone’s skin.

Side note.  If this whole dance thang doesn’t work out, it’s probably good to know that Christi has a future in cartoon voiceovers.

I’m just throwing this one out there in case she is ever looking for additional income to put towards all her glitter tops, because I swear the woman channeled Grover from Sesame Street when she started worrying about Kendall now having a spot on the Pyramid.

Or Yoda, maybe.  I couldn’t decide.

Place on Pyramid, She Has.

In the midst of all this hub bub, Maddie had to fly out to Atlanta to film her scenes on Drop Dead Diva, because otherwise Lifetime wasn’t going to be able to run 72 commercials for the show during this episode.

Seriously.  Lifetime.  We get it.

On the other hand, Kelly didn’t get The Diary of Anne Frank, which was the theme for Brooke’s solo.  Going forward, she may want to keep in mind that Holly is a school principal and the freakin’ book was required 5th grade reading, because Holly’s face alone was worth the price of admission.

Not to mention that they even made a comic book out of it, lady.

Since someone else was now going to have to shimmy around with Chloe in the duet, Abby threw together what I guess you would call an audition.  She figured it would be in her best interest to fake one out instead of just telling Nia NO and then giving it to Kendall, because you know how Al Sharpton somehow always magically shows up like an ambulance chaser every time something like that goes down.

While working on the costumes for the Alouette themed group number, Holly saw what was happening in the auditions and wasn’t liking it.  She probably also wasn’t liking all the distractions of the Secret Moms on the other side of the Perch.  They were exceptionally active this week.

And who are these people?  Do we ever get to see them?  They’re like that other side of the island on LOST or something.   If one of them doesn’t do an impromptu puppet show off the back of the couch or stick a sign up behind Melissa‘s head pretty soon, I’m going to be really disappointed.

Finally, all the Moms put down their French costume scraps and went downstairs to get all up in Abby’s grill about Kendall and Jill again.  The usual.

The best part was Holly twirling Nia’s beret around on her finger like some crazy Mime who’ll cut you if you don’t drop 5 Euros in her tin can.  I love Holly.

Then there was about 15 minutes of Jill hissy fits, Jill outfits and Jill hairstyles.

Not for nothing, but I’m starting to think that the girls down at the salon didn’t really walk Jill through what to do with her hair when they’re not around, because every time we saw her she was trying something else in an attempt to get a handle on it.  But she brought the Bump-It back, and that’s really all that matters.

Maddie’s trip to Atlanta was just a show within a show for a few minutes, and a cleverly disguised commercial before we broke for the real DDDiva commercial.

Well played, Lifetime.

Finally it was Show Time!

This time around, the competition was set up in the hotel ballroom on one of those parquet floors they roll out for bar mitvahs and receptions.  No platform.  No nuthin.

Full disclosure, I was secretly hoping that a rogue housekeeping cart would roll across the middle of the stage at some point, with one of those delightfully crazy women with Windex in her apron pocket and a pillow under one arm running after it screaming like she works at Taco Bell.

But no such luck.

The group Mime number went off without a hitch, or a Room Service tray, so that was a good thing.  I wasn’t quite sure what was happening with Abby’s hair when they cut to one of her interview shots right after the number…guess somebody forgot their conditioner that day.  Whoa.

Brooke’s back continued to act up until all she could do was lay face down on the floor, which seemed kind of counterproductive since most chiropractors tell you to lay on your back when it hurts to align your spinal cord.  But whatever.

Kelly finally got her Mom Courage up and pulled Brooke’s number, figuring that risking paralysis is probably not worth the souvenir Starbound t-shirt.

That resulted in another throw down between pretty much all the Moms, the kids and that lady with the Windex.  Abby swore that Kelly and Brooke were in cahoots to pull the number because they were scared of the level of competition that was out on the parquet, which deteriorated into Abby’s declaration that “Lazy Gets You Nowhere!” which in turn gave us one of Holly’s patented Whatchoo Talkin’ About Willis? faces.

Did I mention that I love her?

Maddie’s solo was entitled “This Is Me Over You” which was Abby’s poorly veiled middle finger flip to all the other girls.  And it didn’t go unnoticed.  I feel sorry for the kid, because she hates that Abby keeps rubbing her successes into the faces of all her little friends, and she really does try to not get all Mini Diva on them.  But Abby won’t let up.

It’s really gotten to the point where I swear that if Abby had any upper body strength she would pick up Maddie like the Lion King baby and let all the other gazelles gather ’round in awe.

By the way, if you want to know the results of the competition, you may want to Google a site that has a clue what they’re talking about.  All I know is that the emcee changed his tie in the middle of the show.  What was that all about?

By the time it was all over, Brooke was still face down, Jill was still phutzing with her hair and wishing that Brooke had been in more severe pain earlier in the week so Kendall could have moved in for the kill and Abby was still hugging Maddie so hard that I thought the kid’s head would pop off like one of Kelly’s wine corks.

For a little more salt in the wound, Abby then requested that Maddie show everyone her DDDiva routine.  Because she’s Maddie.  And they’re not.

Next thing I knew there was so much Mom Meltdown going on that my next door neighbor pounded on the wall thinking I was having a party.

Somebody screamed something about Role Models.  Christi accused Abby of sabotaging her daughter.  Abby called Chloe a Sneak or a Snake or both.  Christi called Abby a Whore.  Four times, I believe.

Oh Snap.  She went there.

Then Chloe cried, which set off all the other girls like dominos.  Melissa yanked Maddie out of the room like there was  a shoe sale in the lobby and Holly did another ‘Willis face or two.  Maybe more.

Abby then implied that Brooke was past her prime and may never dance again.  You can figure out how Kelly reacted to that one on your own.

Jill just sat back and took it all in, knowing that the more blood that they spill in the room, the closer to the shore she and Kendall can swim.

It got tense.  The kind of tense that smelled like dancing baby seal meat.

And Mama’s hungry.

%d bloggers like this: