Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition: It Was Time To Get Your Swagger On And Dance For Your Life. You Got Me Buggin’…It’s The Grand Finale.
Is it just me, or does anyone else smell sweat and hair gel? I’m kinda digging it.
Can I get a Whoop Whoop if you wanna see some sass tonight? Holla.
The PCD Cougar Tour. Coming soon to a mall near you. Momma still got it.
Two haters have left the building. And that means more booze for the rest of us, Girlfriend.
Told you so. Proof that Lady Gaga and MC Hammer did indeed have a Love Child. Too Legit.
Crimpin’ ain’t easy, Miss Thang. Okay?
I forget. Did I already call Kristie a Bitch?
The Few. The Proud. And the Sassy.
It was down to the Final Three as Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition got ready to crown the first evah winner.
After 10 grueling weeks of jazz hands and Mom dramzz, one lucky girl was going to exit stage left with a cheeta print suitcase stuffed full of money and a scholarship to the Joffrey Ballet.
It was the Grand Finale. The End of the Road. And in the tradition of other great Results Night competitions (…are you listening, Dancing With The Stars?…) it was time to milk a 12 second announcement into a two hour extravaganza.
Only three little dancers remained in the Ring.
Well, actually…two little ones and one really little one. And they were all ready to rumble.
Brianna aka Big Red. The former study hall outcast who had shown all those Mean Girls watching back home how it’s really done. I’m on TV. What are you doing tonight, bitches? Suck it.
Madison aka Stone Cold. Originally presumed to have been born without facial muscles, she was finally learning how to make the corners of her mouth go up and show the emotion within each dance. They call it “emoting” in the Dance World, by the way.
In case you’re ever on Jeopardy, I just gave you a freebie. And you’re welcome.
Asia aka Sassy Pants. Genetically bred from a swabbed culture stolen from a medical storage unit in the basement of Beyoncé’s California mansion, Miss Monet Ray had not yet fully mastered all the required techniques to make it to MTV.
But really…when you can booty pop a boy off the see saw and into the side of the monkey bars without even looking up from your Hello Kitty iPhone, does it even matter?
Whether it’s the first week or the last, though, nothing starts without the Group Challenge. Rules are rules.
For the final time, the Kevin Manno Fashion Show escorted Abby Lee Miller into the rehearsal space for a breakdown of the last challenge as the girls and Moms all gathered around like someone had just wheeled in one of those Hickory Farms holiday kiosks.
It was Casual Tuesday at the AUDC offices this week. Abby rolled out of bed and into her trademark track suit (…yet still managed to accessorize it with enough bling to blind someone during the final turn in a 5K…) while my hero Kevin attempted to wear as much blue denim as the human eye could handle without any long term damage.
Dude. My man. Love you. But you kinda looked like that pile of Back to School jeans in the middle of a JCPenney aisle that’s never folded correctly on a Saturday.
But the Kevster still had those nervous hands and zig zagging puppy eyes that make him so endearing (…What’s that? What’s that? Gotta pee…) so you know where my checkmark is going on the People’s Choice Awards ballot.
Kevin was also rocking yet another yellow crew neck tee. At first I thought the dude just did laundry every night and really liked his soft touch Hanes since he’s worn it almost every week, but now I’m starting to think that he might just be some kind of Superhero and that the yellow is his spandex popping out under his collar.
Seriously. How cool would that be in the middle of the last dance if some gigantic “K” flashed in the sky and he ripped open his tuxedo and flew out the window? That would be so cool. You know it would be.
To shake (…and wobble…) things up a little this time, Abby herself was the choreographer for the challenge, and I’m ashamed to admit how excited I got at the prospect of finally seeing her…umm…I dunno…choreograph maybe? We all know that back on Dance Moms she spends most of her time sitting on that black box full of whoknowswhat, so the thought of seeing her actually work her alleged magic got me all excited. I almost moved the coffee table so I could participate in the festivities.
But no such luck. She still walked and talked her booty pop like an early morning Mall Walker. No dancing for you.
But that was probably because the heat was so high in the rehearsal space, right? It must have been, because Abby was sweating like a whore in church.
A whore wearing a snorkel jacket over her wool sweater.
Sitting in the pew that was directly above the floor’s heating duct. Wrapped in one of those electric blankets from QVC that shut themselves off when you pass out from dehydration so you don’t burn your house down.
That whore. But I’m not here to judge.
Madison won the 15 minute challenge and got to pick the order that the three girls would perform their solos. Cash would have been nice, but you get what you get.
All three girls then scooted off to work on their solo numbers.
Brianna and Gina “Mocha Grande” Starbuck tried to figure out how to unleash the Softer Side of Brianna while Ricky Palomino ran around just being Ricky.
Because being Ricky is faboooo enough. The spiked music video jacket he wore in the audience during the final competition? It gives me life.
Molly Long tried to channel Asia’s inner Fashionista, which as far as I could tell just required popping in a CD and going out for some snacks. Miss Asia doesn’t seem to have any problems being a Diva, y’all. Picking up choreography? There’s a few issues.
But the whole Diva thang?
Then it was time for one more twist. Just like on Project Runway when some Drama Queen spits out a straight pin because he/she has to make a third outfit with only $14.75 worth of fabric from Mood.
If you put your ear to the ground you probably could have heard the oncoming stampede of dancing buffalo as Zack, Elisabeth, Hadley, Lexine, Jordyn and Amanda came bounding down the stairs.
Cue the hysteria.
There were hugs and screams and cries so high pitched that dogs ran in circles and that newly launched North Korean missile fell back into the ocean.
Kristie did some quick math in her head and realized that six more kids probably meant six more Dance Moms must be parking the cars. And unless Hadley drove herself to LA, Kristie’s arch enemy Yvette couldn’t be far behind.
Oh, s***. And then it just got ugly.
You know when you haven’t watched your favorite soap opera for a really long time, and then you finally get the chance to tune in and it’s like they’re still on the same day?
As in: nothing has changed? It was like that.
Maria started right in on how unfair the judging was because Lexine kept getting hip hop and she doesn’t do hip hop. And that rant got Gina so excited that she jumped right onto the pig pile and did some Asia bashing of her own while Kristie did that squint thing she always does and swung her tea bag string around.
You ever notice how that woman is always holding a Starbucks? I mean, always. I swear that if you pull the cup out of her hand, her fist is still curved like an army action figure when you lose the plastic gun.
I love me some JLo, but I’m worried that she’s going to end up with a heart murmur. She is a little wide-eyed already.
Abby basically shut down every Mom and then sent them to the Green Room to get their champagne buzz on while the kids rehearsed the group number. That worked out about as well as you would imagine.
One minute on the couches and the only thing missing was a cardboard Andy Cohen cut out and some 3×5 cards as everyone went all low-rent Real Housewives on each other.
Maria wanted to toast all the kids and Moms with her iParty click-together champagne glass, but Kristie wouldn’t toast with haters. Yvette got all Crazy Smile and everybody flashed back to a medley of their throw downs.
Go ahead. Hit me. Hit me.
Yvette even tried to toast them all, which drove Kristie, her tea bag and Kelly out the door and up the stairs to wherever that place is that everyone always went when they were having a meltdown.
Before the final show, we had some quality time with the judges as they mentored the three remaining dancers. Just like on The Voice.
It was pretty predictable and uneventful, though it did give me a chance to really study Richy‘s crop circle hair carving and notice his chin strap beard thing that all the boys on Jerseylicious used to sport. If it’s good in the ‘hood, as they say…
We also got to see Robin almost flash some side boob in her tiny tank top, which also reminded me of The Voice and momentarily distracted me from the fact that there were children in the room.
The final rehearsal before the big event was the trio, which was a hot mess according to Coreen…and probably anyone with a television. Let’s just say that it was pretty easy to figure out which dancer was the 7 year old as the other two kicked over her head with legs that had to have been at least 3 feet longer than her little catwalkers.
Finally, it was Showtime!
The Green Room was fully stocked with more sugar and liquor than the Jersey Shore house and everyone immediately face planted right into the goodies. In all honesty, I’ll admit to having a Junior High Prom flashback when the little kids came in all squeaky clean in their fancy grown up clothes. It was Dress Up Day, fo’ sho.
After all the screaming audience members and their American Idol glitter glue signs were seated, the judges plopped it down and got the party started.
(Can you believe it took almost ten weeks for them to finally put the logo sticker on the front of the judges’ table? Somebody’s fired.)
The group dance, complete with scaffolding and grinding poles, was a salute to all the Moms…in an odd sort of Pussycat Doll Hallmark Moment. I’m sure Robin was psyched.
So psyched, that she actually took to the stage next with her PCD second string and basically did the same dance that the real girls do every time they perform anywhere.
God help the PCD if they ever show up at a venue that doesn’t own café chairs.
Then the hot mess trio dance happened, and it certainly lived up to it’s hot mess reputation. Oy vey. Moving on.
Not to be outdone by Robin, Richy and two Bobby Brown types hit the floor and got the crowd buggin’. Stop. Hammer Time.
Jordyn and her permanently crimped hair then rushed the stage and gave her opinion on the routine like she was a hairdresser on BET. Mmmkay? Mmmkay?
Three solos to go, and Abby could finally wrap this thing up.
Asia did her pink feathered runway routine in what appeared to be invisible stilettos and werked it. Laquifa What?
Brianna’s Angels Watching Over Me dance was a tribute to her Grandparents and got everyone misty.
Madison was all legs and finally, on her last number ever, came out of her shell and showed some emotion. Just under the wire, honey. She’s got a really bright, happy smile when she uses it. She just needs to use it more often.
After a lengthy deliberation at the table, a winner was chosen.
Kevin, who had busted out his best Seacrest yet with a fancy tux and exceptionally shiny shoes, gathered the girls and Moms back on stage for the final decision.
Confetti. Tears. Screams. Smiles. Mob scene on the stage.
She did it! You go, Girl.
Now it’s back to Pittsburgh. There’s some Dance Moms to slap around.
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