I am considering murdering you, woman. I hate stage mothers. Woman, your daughter is not even dancing. She is onstage for approximately three minutes, and for half of that she is pretending to be asleep. Stop trying to get her “special shoes” and a “principal’s costume.” And I hate to break it to you, but you are not in the show at all. Stop trying to get onto the stage, stop harassing the costume people, and stop, please stop, telling stories about how it used to be. I don’t care how many times you have been a super. I am really not impressed. This is not exactly a difficult job. Plus, you are too fat to fit any of ABT’s costumes. You’re freaking out all the dancers just by being in the same building with them. I feel a little like vomiting just sitting next to you.

Labels: abt, hatred