…but the exact moment Dance Moms lost all credibility to me was in Season 2, Episode 12, 28:55, when they showed a shot of a person who was identified as a scout from the Joffrey Ballet School.
Have you seen Dance Moms? It’s horrifically exploitive show that follows the travails of a dance troupe from the midwest as they go from competition to competition, being screamed at by their abusive dance instructor. It’s reality TV at its best. Capturing such awful moments of these girls’ lives on tape will only serve to help them one day, when they’re older and in therapy, and can just cue up the appropriate youtube video of them being humiliated, point to it and say to the therapist: See, that happened.
But once you start involving adults who are involved with legit institutions, it changes. Especially because, since when is this a ballet troupe? The girls on Dance Moms do back flips and dance around half-naked on stage, which is fine and all (I guess), but it seems a little unfair to suddenly have them vying against one another for a spot in a prestigious ballet school. I mean, we could take all the contestants on America’s Next Top Model and have them all take the LSATs and then laugh at them when they crash and burn, but that seems a little unnecessary. And also, since when is Joffrey so hard up for funds that they have to lower themselves to appearing on fucking Dance Moms? Ugh.
(Spoiler alert: Chloe gets the Joffrey scholarship, Abby cries a bunch and appears to go insane. And for the second time in a season – the first being when Intervention cast a bunch of seriously creepy new interventionists – I wonder if I’ve lost another one of my guilty pleasures forever. Also, Dance Moms Miami is a huge huge HUGE disappointment.)
I can only watch Dance Moms online, which means I have to wait until Saturday to see the new episode. Which is fine and all, but the sinking feeling all week that this show that I so enjoyed watching while I do craft projects had crashed and burned and everyone knew it but me while I sat in the dark waiting til Saturday, and it was more than I could bear. I found myself fixating on strange things, finally settling on: I need a loom.
I’ve been trying to embrace my inner fiber artist lately. It’s cool… I guess? Eyes on the prize: I’m going to make a killing on etsy. That means it’s cool.
I generally avoid other crafty (and especially yarn-y) women because things can get scary, quick, but I was in a yarn shop yesterday when some poor newbie knitter walked in and asked one of the women working there to help her. As always happens in yarn shops, the place fell silent as we all eavesdropped and prepared to judge her.
Newbie knitter: Hi, I need some yarn. I started a project and I ran out of the color I was knitting.
Employee: Ok, no problem. What number dye lot was it?
Newbie knitter: Wait… what? I don’t understand?
Entire fucking store: (all together now) SIGH!!!!!!!!!
Right, I know, but it gave me a sense of belonging and like maybe I’d finally made it into the Fibre Artistes Clubbe or something, and made me feel like maybe I do actually deserve to spring for a loom, at least as much as say, Chloe deserves to go to the Joffrey School.
Problem is, there’s a million kinds of looms and they start in price around $15 and go up to the thousands. Naturally, you want a cool one that costs thousands of dollars, but naturally also, I have neither space nor money for such a loom.
But seriously, how do you go down to something like this:
…once you know that somethin like this exists?
Well, I suppose I’m about to find out. Potholders for everyone!