Dance Moms: It Was The Beginning Of The End. Time For Rocky Mountain Highs…And Lows…As Abby And The ALDC Take Over Denver.

 

 

So you girls need to figure out what you want to do with your life, and what the f*** Mommy’s gonna do with her hair today.

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously. And they talk about mine?

 

 

 

 

 

OMG. Dying. There’s a cute boy in the room. Please tell me I don’t have Cheez Whiz on my face.

 

 

 

 

 

So you’re saying I either dance, or stay home and eat ice cream and tacos all day? I’m gonna have to get back atchoo on that one.

 

 

 

 

Ok. “Crazy” doesn’t even cover it. I should have read the contract.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, don’t you worry. I still got it, bitches.

 

 

 

 

 

Take a deep breath, sew your damn headpiece into your skull and get ready to Jazz Hand and Bitch Slap your way up the Pyramid to Nationals again, people.

Because it is on.

Dance Moms is back.  And in your face.

We barely had time to unpack our rolling zebra print luggage from that exhausting trip to LA for Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition, and now it’s already time for another season of Pennsylvania Mama Drama.

Abby Lee Miller and her crew returned this week after a break in the competition season, a little rusty in the choreography department, but totally en pointe when it came to talking smack and teasing hair.

The new season kicked off with a prequel of sorts; an odd little pre-game show that was half Real Housewives of Pittsburgh and half community access Star Search.

I really don’t know what was going on with that first hour.  But it needs to be addressed.

Now I love me some crazy Dance Moms (…the more cray cray the better, thank you…) and I love my BFF producer Jeff Collins.

Yes…in the BlogWorld, in case you’re wondering, if someone emails you (…even one time…) you are now legally allowed to reference them as BFFs in all future conversations.  I read that somewhere on the internet, so you know it’s gospel.

But even with all that love…seriously, dude?

It’s 2013, so I’ll start the New Year off on a positive and give them all the benefit of the doubt with this pre-premiere special.

Maybe they maxxed out Lifetime’s AmEx on that Phantom of the Opera-ish AUDC Los Angeles venue.  It was pretty fancy, after all.  And I’m sure that having to pay for the rights to mention The Pussycat Dolls every time Robin Antin opened her mouth on screen for ten weeks didn’t come cheap.  Miss Thang does love her PCDs.

Have you ever watched one of those national telethons where they cut back to the local network feed after a commercial, just long enough to count the dimes some kid collected in a jar and then have the announcer’s daughter’s grade school tap class perform something that doesn’t even remotely resemble a tap dance?

It was like that.

I’m pretty sure they just pushed the phone banks off to the side and let the audience use the same chairs.  And don’t even get me started on the two lonely teenage boys in the audience, clearly attending only in the hopes of scoring a prom date later in the school year, as they chewed on their wristbands and watched their youth slip away.

Yolo, as the kids like to say nowadays.

It was just whacked.  Every time I looked up from my snacks there was either a giant camera or a piece of equipment unintentionally in the shot, with some random dude holding a clipboard running in a circle trying to avoid colliding into all that machinery.

Coming off the elaborate Ultimate Dance Competition, it was just odd.  Even the rented trade show backdrop looked like it was hiding a weatherman’s green screen.

Like I said, it just needed to be addressed.

But back to Pittsburgh.

As the tiny dancers and their Moms all marched into the studio for the first Pyramid of the season, it was glaringly obvious that Kelly, her crazy Mom hair and her two daughters were MIA from the festivities.

The last time we had seen the three of them was at Nationals, when Kelly finished off the episode with a cliff hanger of a meltdown that left the entire world wondering Who Shot J.R.? and if Team Hyland would ever return to the ALDC.  It didn’t look good so far.

The combination of California jet lag and being down two dancers a week before the first competition clearly pushed all of Abby’s buttons as she tore every head shot off the mirror and proclaimed it No Pyramid Day in the Kingdom.

Dat’s rite.  No Pyramid.  Just mind games this week.

Turns out that while Abby had been schmoozing her way around LA, she had planted some spies/guest choreographers strategically throughout the ALDC to keep the girls busy and get them up to snuff for the new season.

The idea looked good on paper, anyway.

Unfortunately, it turned out that family trips and suburban strip mall Meet & Greets had distracted most of them from attending a majority of the rehearsals.  New found television fame can do that, I guess.  And that made Abby cranky.

Having a group number that consisted of four clearly out of practice young girls wasn’t helping, either.  So nobody was finding out much about who got what and when and where until Abby was in the mood.

This week they were headed to Denver for the In10sity Dance Competition, and seeing as how she had no idea whether they were ever coming back to the studio or not, Abby needed to find replacements for Brooke and Paige.

Abby needed new dancers, asap, and apparently setting up massive open cattle call auditions via cell phone while you are filming a show in Los Angeles was easier than just shooting Kelly an email asking if she would be there on opening day.  Whatever, Abby.

Naturally, the audition turned into the Million Mom March meets American Idol as everyone weaved their way around the parking lot potholes (…seriously?  You have TWO cable network shows and you still can’t get those things filled in?…) and into the cattle call holding pen.  Even the Mom Perch was so overloaded that it looked like the last day of the month at the DMV as some no name woman went off on looney tunes “Suck It Up” Mom Leslie.

When it was all said and done, New Orleans newbie Ally was chosen and matriarch Shelly couldn’t have been any happier.  Ally was a tall drink of water, at least when stacked up against the current roster, and all the other Moms had immediate Payton flashbacks before any solos were even announced.  I guess in the Dance World height is more important than seniority, at least in Pittsburgh and at the Radio City Christmas Show.

Abby immediately shifted Ally into the group number’s lead position, thereby knocking Chloe back into the chorus line and tightening another screw in Christi‘s carotid artery.  Poor Shelly didn’t stand a chance in her first attempt at the Mom Perch, and ended up running out of the room to take iPhone movies of her kid stealing Chloe’s routine which someday will probably be entered into evidence at some harassment lawsuit somewhere.

Shelly seemed nice enough, and I could totally picture her playing piano for the New Orleans Junior High Choral Ensemble at next year’s Food Court Christmas Concert.  But she was outnumbered in the Dance Mom Jungle.  Don’t put your N’awlins house on the market just yet, honey.

We also jumped over to Kelly’s house for a few minutes as Brooke and Paige tried to decide what to do with their lives.  The only thing that really got accomplished in that scene was that we got a chance to take inventory of all the new clutter that Kelly picked up at HomeGoods over the summer.  Lord, Girlfriend does love that accessory aisle.

Then it was time to rehearse, kiddos.

The Bump-It-less (…I think I just invented another new word…) Jill had some major issues with both her hair and with Abby this week, which resulted in Kendall ending up awkwardly plopped on Mom’s lap, hysterically sobbing while everyone looked around at each other uncomfortably.

I’ll say it.  The kid’s getting a little too old for these Mackenzie meltdowns, and it made me feel like I do when 9 year olds are still allowed to sleep in their parent’s bed.  Of all times for Leslie to be at Walmart when we need her.

Suck it up.

And speaking of.  Tiny space shot Vivi-Anne was having no problem whatsoever sucking down a monster bowl of Ohio ice cream as everyone’s favorite evil villainess Chaos Cathy Nesbitt tried to get her daughter all sugar buzzed before cutting her from her own dance company.

After two full seasons of sequined airport baggage handlers tossing Vivi-Anne around the stage at every competition, even Cathy realized that it was time for a change.  And maybe even some actual dancing.  Abby had been wiping the floors with the Candy Apples Dance Center at every award ceremony, and it was time for revenge.

Cathy’s Secret Weapon, spastically red haired Justice, was no longer at the studio so she needed to get back to the War Room/Jerky Cooler and devise a new plan to conquer the ALDC.  And it was going to be filled pre-teen testosterone, if there is such a thing.  The Apples were going Boy Band this year.

I’m sad that our little ginger nugget won’t be back, only because that means his bad a** red haired Mom won’t be back either.  And I was totally planning on a biker bar chick fight this season.  Cuz you know that Bitch can throw down if you cut her off at the light.  I loved her, and miss her already.  Call me, maybe?

Since Abby was down to almost no dancers, everyone but Sasha Nia got a solo, and I was all like Laquifa WTF?  But her time will come.  She is Diva Fierce, and pretty much the only one who finally has her hair under control this season.  Yikes.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Rangeview High in beautiful downtown Denver was the host and they finally  hooked up the ALDC with a prep area that was actually large enough to…I dunno…prep in, for a change.  Abby was psyched.

They also had an odd security system in place to prevent unwanted intruders from barging into a rehearsal.  Tell me you saw that note on the door?  Go back and check if you missed it.

Attached to the door that everyone kept slamming was a hand written construction paper note that said something like “If someone knocks, tell me.  Do NOT answer the door.”  Yeah, it was even underlined.

Tell who?  Now we’ll never know if this was a secret After Hours club run by that Home Ec teacher who seemed so innocent.  Damn.

Luckily, Abby disregarded all security measures and allowed some ManCandy to enter the Girl’s Club when her former school crush Mark showed up out of the blue.

El Scandalo!  This Mark was the Mark that Kelly had (…allegedly…) stolen from Abby back in the day when they were all at some one room school house on the prairie.

Christi swore that Abby had slashed his tires in a fit of Taylor Swift heartbreak, but Abby claimed that Kelly was only 12 years old at the time and made the whole story up for TMZ.

And you thought the Dance World couldn’t get any creepier?  Please tell me the tires in question were attached to a banana bike with baseball cards on the spokes, or that whole 12 year old thing just turned into an undercover Dateline story.

Anyone care for any iced tea or potato chips?

Moving on.

Abby tripped all over herself whenever Mark was in the room, and ended up shoving somebody out of their seat in the auditorium to make room for her man during the competition.  She even dragged him out for snacks after the show was over.

Oh yeah.  Mama likes.

Then some kids did some dancing.  I know you aren’t here for the cultural aspects of the evening.  That’s what Google is for.

It’s going to take a few weeks for me to completely shake off the LA show, because after that expensive extravaganza the In10sity stage looked like a basement comedy club.  If the technical people are still online…a few more spotlights wouldn’t hurt.

Chloe, MackAttack and Kendall all did their solos without forgetting too many moves.

Maddie was Maddie, of course.  The only thing Nia had to do this week was participate in the group number, but Diva werked that bitch until it hurt.

Even the judges looked like they might have to excuse themselves and have a cigarette after the routine was over, the way they were grinding in their seats and tossing their heads back like Meg Ryan.

If Kendall had been available to sit on their laps, the Awkward Fest would have been complete.

During crowning (…sorry, wrong show…) the ALDC scored again and took first place with their Angels & Demons group dance.  They won some other spots as well, but I was so distracted by the judges screwing off in the background that I couldn’t pay attention.

Seriously.  How much chewing gum do they give those people?  I know they wanted to go home, but they may want to try Leading By Example the next time they find themselves surrounded by the youth of America.

The return of Dance Moms ended with yet another backstage screaming match.

Christi and Abby went at it, Holly scrunched up a few Real Housewives of Atlanta OhNoSheDin’t faces and a horrified Shelly just sat back and wet herself before anyone really had time to notice her new blazer.

Abby even swore in front of the girls, which is second only to sickle feet on the infamous Never Do List.  Fix your feet, and then watch your mouth.

Because everybody’s replaceable.

Yup.  They’re back.

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One Response to “Dance Moms: It Was The Beginning Of The End. Time For Rocky Mountain Highs…And Lows…As Abby And The ALDC Take Over Denver.”

  1. bill Says:

    I tried. As God is my witness, I tried.

    But I simply could not get through that wretched pregame show.

    It’s easy to tune out Abby’s monstrously ego-driven “Hey, I spent the summer in LA swanning around with the swells while you broads were shlepping second tier retail malls in dying rust belt towns, peddling your daughters for a buck twenty-five a pop” schtick.

    And I was even able to put up with Christy’s inexplicably angry and hate-filled character assaults on the Queen of Rotund, although I don’t see writing $2000 a month worth of checks to a woman I personally detest and loath and who I think is demeaning and dismissive of my daughter, and frankly Christie isn’t fooling anyone. She’s not anything like as smart as she seems to believe she is but neither is she stupid enough to cut bait, go off to some other studio where her daughter could get the ballet training that even the Joffrey humps told her she badly needs and become just another anonymous minivan driving mom who people come up to in Bed, Bath & Beyond and ask “Hey didn’t you used to be Christy what’s-her-face on the Abby Lee Miller Show?”

    But when the after-the-commercial tease featuring Cathy came along, with the latter insulting Jill’s hair I realized that I just didn’t have the stomach for any more of it and I switched over to watch a few minutes of a really bored-looking Florida State team bitch slapping Northern Illinois back to the cold grey midwest where they belong.

    But I switched back a couple minutes early and so was privy to the news item of the week. Dan was apparently too busy slugging down cheap gin in an effort to purge the previous hour of TV to have caught it, but don’t worry man: I got your back.

    They did a sort of “coming this season” thing – since they decided not to do so in the, you know, one hour program which was supposed to do just that – and there, plain as day, working with Cathy’s new Boyz of Beef Jerky group, was Dan’s main man:

    Zack.

    He of the Olive Oyl body and Madison O”Connor’s heart tucked away in his back pocket, who was last seen hanging around the lobby of that hotel in LA with Jordyn, Lexine and the rest of the jettisoned dancers from AUDC wondering how a six year old with no discernible dance skills was still competing while they were back in Mrs. Crotchrot’s fourth period geometry class.

    I’m sure the producers will have some logical explanation as to why a kid from Arizona is suddenly taking dance lessons in one of the true armpits of the universe, Canton, Ohio.

    Well, OK, so they clearly won’t any more than they explained what “Black Patsy” from St. Louis was doing in Pittsburgh or why, just this week, Ally from New Orleans dropped in for a look see.

    We’ll just be expected to assume that Gina likes driving 4000 mile round trips every day in her hyperdrive-equipped Lexus. Or maybe they moved up north to the rustbelt so that his old man could get in on the ground floor of the coming Jerky boom that Jim Cramer has been yammering about.

    Either way, Zack on Dance Moms has to be a gift to Dan from his new running buddy Jeff Collins. Talk about having some pull.

    As for the show itself -which in truth seemed almost anti-climactic after the Zack sighting (and can Madison showing up in NE Ohio be far behind?) – I propose a new drinking game:

    Every time Abby says “national championship” you have to do a shot, and whoever is still conscious – as opposed to in an Emergency Room with an acute case of alcohol poisoning – for the end credits wins.

    Jesus with a side of slaw, enough already.

    Abby says “national championship” more often than she-who-cannot-be-named says “Pussycat Dolls”, a feat which you’d have bet the house was not humanly possible.

    On the lighter side, Cathy sitting there stuffing Vivi-Ann with sugar was a pretty cheap move. Little Vivi would have agreed to anything to keep the Butter Brickle coming.

    “So, Vivi, would you mind if I roasted your kitty up for dinner?” or “Would it be alright with you if I removed two or three of your toes with a pair of pliers?” or “How about we go set Grandma on fire?” would have gotten about the same response which, as near as I was able to transcribe it, was:

    “Murffle snork glummer boof”.

    Pretty sure that’s accurate.

    Kelly is thinking about leaving the show. Right. And I’m thinking about jumping off the Empire State building with a kleenex parachute while singing “Karma Chameleon” in falsetto.

    I can’t go on.

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