DanThat'sCool!

 

 

You heard me. Hold on to your hats and your panties, girls. The Z-Man is back.

 

 

 

 

 

OMG. It’s that boy from that show.

 

 

 

 

 

That Dad is totally checking me out, right? He can’t take his eyes off all this.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh. Hell. No.

 

 

 

 

 

 

ManCandy? Mama likes them Apples.

 

 

 

 

 

I know, right? It’s like this hat makes no sense whatsoever.

 

 

 

 

 

Drink up, Pookie. Then we’ll go meet with that nice man from the Pittsburgh Board of Health.

 

 

Where’s all my girls at?

They better be practicing in Studio A, cuz there’s boyz in the hizzle and they ain’t playing.  No, sir.  They don’t play.

They’re here to spin it and win it.

It was Dance Moms doping this week when their arch rival injected Bboy enhancing testosterone into four bite-sized Captain America super soldiers and unleashed a totally girl-free team straight up in the judges’ faces.

Because judges eat that s*** up with a spoon.

But first, The Pyramid of Shame.

Needless to say, after coming in a whopping 4th Place at last week’s competition, the mood during the military lineup was a little gloomy.  Everyone was nervous about how well Abby Lee Miller was going to handle coming in 3 notches below the top spot.

Let’s just say she didn’t handle it well, and keep this thing moving.

This week they were headed to Voorhees, NJ for the On Stage America competition, and 4th Place wasn’t going to cut it this time around.

Bottom floor of the Pyramid was reserved for Mackenzie, Maddie, Paige and Nia.

MackAttack was cut from the group number again.  Poor little noodle, she can’t seem to catch a break lately.  She’s in.  She’s out.  She’s too young.  She’s old enough now.

She’s also related to her Mom Melissa, who is currently on Abby’s Naughty Girl list, so that probably had as much to do with her current low standing as her signature circus flips did.  Maddie also shares the same DNA, and since Abby had grown tired of poking Kelly with a stick, she has apparently moved on to Melissa’s family.

Paige was also on the bottom because apparently Abby wasn’t quite as tired of poking Kelly with a stick as I had originally thought.  My bad.

Nia was on the bottom just because.  It wasn’t really explained very well, but it did give Holly time to make one of her delightful MomFaces.  OhNoSheDin’t.

Second row was all about Kendall and Chloe.  No surprises.  Except for when Jill did a handstand and three somersaults to celebrate her kid finally making it out of the basement.  When she stood back up her hair still looked the same, though.

The top spot reveal was a blank piece of white paper, not Brooke‘s face as many Vegas oddsmakers had predicted.  I’m going to assume that somewhere along the line a production intern must have misplaced Brooke’s headshot, because the poor girl hasn’t been taped up on the mirror for most of this season.  Since none of the Moms ever put down their iPhones, you’d think someone would have the sense to snap a quick photo just so Miss Hyland can play along with the other girls.  But, whatever.

Then I thought that maybe the blank sheet was one of those optical illusion things where if you stare at it long enough you see the face of Jesus or Sophia Lucia.

But nope.

And speaking of, how long does it take to film a movie cameo?  It’s not like she’s out at Sundance fer cryin’ out loud.  Do your thing and get back home before Maddie has a stress induced aneurism.

You two kids need to settle this in the parking lot like good thugs, crown the victor, bury the loser and then we can get back to fixing our sickled feet.

When Abby claimed that nobody deserved the top of the Pyramid, Kelly’s mouth got (bleeped) out AND blurred out.  They don’t even do that on Mob Wives, so she must have had some serious potty mouth.

Kendall, Nia and Chloe all got solos.  Maddie got another nervous tick and then they all got sparkly hats for the group number.  The routine was yet another Bob Fosse-ish jazz handy fedora kind of dance with a Survivor-like twist.

You drop your hat…you’re kicked off the island.

As the girls began rehearsing, Melissa’s guilt and regret for supporting the other Moms during their sit-in a few weeks ago began percolating again.  Having your friends’ backs is one thing, but at the cost of losing your place in line behind Abby’s butt?  Maybe not.

Transitioning from kissing butt to kicking butt…we were then whisked off to Ohio and the Evil Dance Lair known as Candy Apple’s Dance Center.

We’ve never really discussed it, but what is the real deal with the apostrophe in that name?  Anyone?  Is the studio owned by some stripper?  Because that’s the only Candy Apple I’ve ever heard of besides the kind you eat.

(Yes…I have a couple of jokes in my head right now, but we’ll move right along before I get blurred out like Mama Hyland’s face.)

Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein had combed the Earth and pulled together a fresh crop of juvenile boy jerky for a newly created All Male Revue.  Judges love boy dancers, and usually give them high scores just so they won’t jump ship and go play football.  That’s just a fact.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m all for boy dancers (…that didn’t come out quite the way I intended it to sound…) but it’s a fact of life.  And Cathy knew it, so she was ready to shove some new sticks into them candy apples, if you know what I mean.

There was Bryant, who kind of looked like he thought he was going to be on MTV’s Dance Crew when he showed up that morning but was koolio with it and stuck around anyway, and Gino who was all braces and boogie feet.

The third Bboy was legit Bboy dancer Jalen, who at 2 feet tall has a bigger social media presence than Ryan Seacrest.  No lie.  Check it out.  Jealz much?

He’d probably be a lot taller if he didn’t spend all day spinning on his head, but he is seriously playground gangstah and killed it on stage.

And then there was Zackery.  Commence swooning, girls.

He’s the same Zack who devastated the entire female species when he was eliminated way too early on that Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition show.  Remember that?  All the crying and screaming and collapsing on the floor when Robin Antin pimped out the Pussycat Dolls and then sent the kid packing?

He’s back, bitches.

I’m going to assume that the producers either knew a good thing when they saw all those unconscious little girls in the lobby of that Los Angeles hotel this summer, or that Cathy chloroformed Zack and tossed him into the back of a waiting van after he and Mom Gina flipped off his marquee light.  But either way, he was back.  And Trapper Keepers everywhere just got a new I Heart Zack glitter doodle during homeroom period.

Choreographer Nick Anthony (…a lot of porn names this week, huh?…) made the horse & buggy trip to Ohio to teach the boys some dope hip hop beats, and while they all got jiggy wid it, Cathy licked her chops like she was at a Costco international food sampling weekend.  It’s well documented that Mama likes her boys.

Back in PA, the female group routine was not going quite as smoothly.

Maddie was gradually coming unraveled and nobody could seem to figure out how to keep a hat on their head for longer than two 8 counts.  Even holding the chapeaus wasn’t working very well.  I see why Abby doesn’t let the girls juggle chainsaws on stage.

And then Abby’s little sissy dog drank out of the public water fountain.

With the same mouth that he licks his own butt with.  I wasn’t sure if that was an everyday occurrence, or if Abby was just playing a mean joke on Jill the next time she gets thirsty.  But since Jill’s mouth was pretty much all over Abby’s butt by now, it probably was less of an issue for her than I’m making it out to be.

Buying Chanel gift sets and lobby benches didn’t really get her anywhere last season, so Jill had moved on to straight up slave labor in an attempt at getting on Abby’s good side.

Including squatting alongside a little puppy while it does a tinkle on national television.

Watch Mama show you how it’s done.  Good boy.  Now let’s go have some water.

That would have been awarded the episode’s Oddest Moment Award for certain if Jill hadn’t next shown up in her confessional camera shot wearing a hat.

I can’t.

Moving on.  Solo rehearsals were going ok.  Not great.  Just ok.

And the group routine wasn’t going much better.  There were hats flying everywhere like some unintentional tribute to the opening of the Mary Tyler Moore Show.

Sing it:  You’re gonna make it to 4th Place after all, girl.  Hat toss.  And scene.

During their final dress rehearsal, Kendall’s costume hadn’t been delivered yet and it turned into big drama.  Instead of picking something out of Abby’s fire trap of a costume shop, Jill had commissioned a designer to create a masterpiece like they do on Toddlers & Tiaras.  And it was late.

Abby flipped.  Kendall cried.  Jill double flipped.

Chloe just stood back in her dirty Raggedy Ann outfit and watched, looking like a toy shoppe version of that sad kid in Les Misérables. 

Jill had yet another full-on cowboy hat meltdown and called it destruction of the children while proudly proclaiming that she was a grown a** woman like they do on VH1.

Yeah, Bitch popped off.

Then some more screaming and then she yanked her daughter out the door, thinking that the other Moms would follow her as backup like they all did during the min van sit-in.

Umm.  Not so much.

Once you’ve been burned, you tend not to touch the stove again.  So Jill was on her own for this one.  Thanks for nothing, ladies.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Everyone made their Rock Star entrances down the hallways, surrounded by screaming Justin Bieber fans all clutching cell phones and souvenir ALDC bumper stickers.

Craziness.

One of the benefits of Dance Boys is that they occasionally come with matching Dance Dads, and Cathy found herself a keeper with this dude.

Loved this guy.  Not only did he support his boy 400%  but I think he also thought he was at a Knicks game, because Dad spent the entire episode pointing and fist pumping and high fiving everyone around him.  If you don’t blink you can catch him chest bumping Zack’s Mom.

My boy’s a dancer.  Booyeah!

Sniffly space shot Vivi-Anne even showed up with Cathy, most likely because she forgot that Mom had kicked her off the team during their ice cream social earlier in the season.

But it’s always a hoot to see what she is chewing on each week.  So drop by anytime, sweetie.

The same intern who misplaced Brooke’s 8×10 glossy was also apparently in charge of the On Stage America backdrop, because that was missing as well.  There’s no way that could have been their official backdrop, right?  It looked like someone with a car ran out to Lowe’s for spray paint twenty minutes before the curtain went up and then it was all hands on deck as everyone tagged the back wall like it was a dumpster.

Girl, that was boooooghetto.

As for the dancing, it was what it was.

Solos were ok.  Only Kendall managed to even place.

The boys weren’t exactly a well-oiled break dancing machine, but the audience freakin’ loved it.  Or maybe it was just the spray paint fumes.  But they were all cheering their brains out.  Ten years from now they’re doing Bachelorette parties.

They’re dudes, and Dad went completely Superbowl on the back of Abby’s head.

The all-girl version went well, too, except for when Chloe dropped her hat.  And you know the rules.  Even though they ended up beating the boys by 1/10th of a point.

You know the rules.

Backstage, Abby blew a nutty.  Christi blew a bigger nutty.  Christi’s been losing it all season if you go back and watch the videotape replay.  And this was her best nutty yet.

Then she quit.  Someone has to quit every week.  It’s in their contract.

Replace us!  Go ahead.  Replace us!  Dramatically awkward suitcase slam.  Even more dramatic hallway exit that looked like she and Chloe were pushing their way through CNN reporters after leaving the OJ Simpson courtroom.

Christi was either yelling at the camera guy, or the Bieber Fever kids or her own kid.  It wasn’t really clear, but I’m going to go with the camera guy.

Bad cell reception.  No cab to the airport.

It was pure Dance Moms dramz.

And scene.

 

 

Lawd, give me the strength to not pop off on that woman while the cameras are still rolling.

 

 

 

 

 

I think that last batch of turkey jerky gave me a rash. Mama’s itchy down there.

 

 

 

 

 

I am well aware of what’s going on with my hair. I don’t think it’s necessary to point it out every week, thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

Why yes, as a matter of fact, I am a crazy whack job. And I’m baaaaack, ladies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m kind of a big deal in the Dance World. And I rock a side pony like a Boss.

 

 

 

 

 

What’re you looking at, bitch? How about you take a picture. It’ll last longer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

If anybody asks, your name is Nia. I’ll explain later, honey.

 

 

 

 

Seriously.  What was that?

What did I just watch?

My DVR said it was Dance Moms.

But then all of the sudden it was Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition again.  And then it was either Survivor or So You Think You Can Dance.  There were even so many crazy chicks climbing out of cars that I thought it was the premier of The Bachelor.

Let’s regroup and take a closer look.  Maybe together we can figure out what just happened, because somehow Abby Lee Miller managed to take the best (…or worst…) of every other show out there, bake it up into one sloppy pie and then curve ball it right in our faces.

The whole thing started out calmly enough with a 1960′s style sit-in outside in the pothole-filled ALDC parking lot.

In a kind of backwards show of solidarity for the currently estranged Kelly, who had refused to bring her two daughters back for the new competition season, the other remaining Moms all decided to set good examples for their own children and give Abby the hissy fit silent treatment.  Because that always works so well in junior high, right?

Talk to MY boyfriend at the dance, Britney?  I don’t think so.  What?  I can’t hear you.

Anyway.  The Mom Posse just didn’t feel right without Kelly crying and melting down at their side each week, so they all decided in a high level, top secret bathroom stall meeting (…why do women always go in there together? Is it like a War Room or something?…) that the only way to make Abby realize Kelly needs to be back at the studio was to go sit in their cars all night and eat Sweet Tarts.

Considering that it was Kelly who made the choice to leave, not Abby, I’m still not positive where they were heading with this one.  But thankfully they had hit up Costco before the sit-in and had enough snacks to hibernate for the winter in their SUVs if the whole thing backfired on them.

When Abby realized that there was nobody in the studio for Pyramid, she began to put the pieces together.  Which also leads me to a secondary point.

How do all the other dancers get into the building?  I mean, I’m pretty certain that Abby can’t cover all her expenses solely on the tuition from seven little girls, and I do vaguely remember seeing a few other no name dancers hanging out in one episode.  But that place was literally deserted when Abby was waddling around looking for Maddie & Company.  And now that you mention it…you never see any unfamiliar tap dancers coming in and out the front door during any of the good stuff.

I’m going to have to assume that the rest of the ALDC community must be contractually obligated to enter the structure through an unseen servant’s entrance or drop through the air ducts with their gym bags, because there was too much dramz going on outside to deal with this right now.

Newbie Ally and her dazed Mom Shelly were the only two warm bodies in the building as Abby tried to pick up Christi‘s scent.  You didn’t have to be in the dance biz to know that would guarantee Ally a solo by default.  Hide the bodies and then it’s all you, honey.

Bloodhound Abby finally tracked down all the MIA Moms at their tailgate party in the parking lot.  I actually thought the protest was being held at a Drive-In movie theater until I realized that I was looking at a mailbox and not a detachable speaker pole.

(You tweeny bop dance fans may want to Google that one…)

Armed with her cell phone and some front desk back up, Abby blew a nutty all over the side of Melissa’s van and then headed back inside to file a police report on a pack of belligerant trespassers who refused to share their candy.

Oh.  And to find some Ringers for the weekend.  That, too.

The Xpression Dance Competition in Fort Wayne was going on with or without the Dream Team, so Abby needed to make some calls.

I guess in the Dance World you always have one overnight bagged packed with pointe shoes and math homework (…as if…) sitting by the front door, because as soon as Abby reached out to some stray Moms, they were on a plane.  I can’t even get out the door for work that quickly, so I bow to their lightening reflexes.

Next day, Jill somehow found herself in Ohio “running errands” and dropped by the Candy Apples Evil Dance Lair to say hollah to Chaos Cathy Nesbitt.  Really?  No clue what she could possibly have needed in Ohio (…other than a working GPS…) that she couldn’t have found in Pittsburgh, but it did give us a chance to see Cathy in all her erratic splendor.

Somewhere around Ohio was where all the action started to get a little staged.  Maybe not necessarily Jerseylicious Gatsby Salon staged…but a little pre-planned.  There were a lot of…shall we say…coincidences in this episode.

The two women bickered back and forth about nothing while looking at each other’s messy hair until Jill finally gave up and headed back to Pittsburgh.  It was never really explained why Jill was even there, or why she was wearing that ostrich vest.

Always needing the last word, Cathy slipped one more zinger in and noted “That’s an awfully small Louis Vuitton bag you got there.” as Jill exited Candy Apples Land.

“It fits in my big one,” replied Jill.

That’s what she said.

Badabing.

And then The Bachelor cars started pulling up to the ALDC curb full of little dancers and crazy chicks.

Bella and her Mom Marcia tumbled out, all ready to take on the world.  Kaeli and Mom Gloria also arrived, all ready to unleash a fake Nia on the competition.  A third Mystery Guest would be arriving later.

It was totally like The Bachelor, except that there was no booze…and the women were wearing bras.  At least Gloria was, because it kept poking out of her dress on Competition Day.  Just saying.

All the booze was over at Christi’s house as the Original Recipe Moms got together and decided to put on a show of their own.  Just like Andy Rooney and Judy Garland always did on the spur of the moment when they needed money for an Easter hat.

Except this was going to be at the Mall over by Brookstone, and not in a barn.

But it was totally the same.

(You Drive-In movie Googlers may want to look up that reference as well.  I swear I’m really not that old.  I’m not.)

Then it was back to the ALDC for another awkwardly staged phone call between Abby and bat s*** crazy Mom Yvette from Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition.

You knew Yvette was way too good to toss out after she and Roadkill daughter Hadley got cut from the elusive Joffrey scholarship.  Yvette just wanted to let Abby know that she and her emotionally scarred daughter would be at the Xpression competition, providing Hadley could get past all the terrible things Abby had said to her on a nationally televised stage.  And in front of that Pussycat Dolls lady, of all things.

It was like a network cross-over on the same network.

I see what you’re doing here, Lifetime.  Well played.  Well played.

The staging and the editing got a little weird during this call as well, when Abby was caught styling in a delightfully juvenile glitter heart headband that she was supposed to be wearing on what was supposed to be the following day in the next scene.  It appears that there was so much tasty goodness in this episode that the Continuity Guy lost track of his checklist.  Whatev.  I’ll give him one Get Out Of Jail card because the headpiece was so bad it was good.

To continue the Reality Mash-Up, Yvette had a touching Mother/Daughter moment with Hadley in what appeared to be a Toddlers & Tiaras bedroom.  It had to be.

Please tell me that a girl of Hadley’s age can’t possibly have a bedroom that looks like that.  Please.  Between the floral wall borders, beanie babies, trophies and Outfit of Choice banners, I expected a cupcake dress and a spray tan tent to accidentally show up in the camera shot.  Sparkle, baby.

I watch way too much TV.

The fourth and final member of Abby’s new bootleg competition team finally showed up the next day.  Sophia was in the building, along with token Hot Mom Jackie.

The way everyone yelled and screamed and bumped into each other, it appears that Sophia Lucia is a pretty big deal in the dance and cartoon voice over industry.

That little squirt had some mad dancing skills, and a voice that sounded like the squeak a balloon makes when you purposely let the air leak out.  Abby kept calling it a helium kind of voice.  But it was better than helium.

It was like a Disney movie.  On helium.  With the soundtrack sped up.  After you popped Extacy in the restroom.  Like that.

All the Phase II Moms immediately got up in each other’s grills because Sophia scored a solo and the other kids didn’t.  There were so many old and new Dance Moms this week you needed a spreadsheet.

But honestly, I was so distracted by Marcia’s cowhide Crocs that I missed everything else that happened in that first scene.  I’m not sure if I was more fascinated that somebody actually manufactured that footwear, or that someone got in their car, drove to the store, looked around and then spent real money on purchasing a pair.

And then wore them in public.

Finally, it was Showtime!  And Mall Walking time!

Dance Moms: Miami even made a brief rise from the grave when Abby entered the venue in one of those cut-out sleeve numbers that half of Florida inappropriately wears after menopause.  It was like one show after another.  Like my entire DVR started playing everything at once.

Ally’s solo went off just fine, even with Abby mouth breathing the entire time.

Sophia basically flipped off Maddie and then danced her baby butt off in a fringed costume that looked like a brush roller from the vacuum attachment you use on hardwood floors.  She is redoinkulously Gumby flexible, and reminded me of that Elf on a Shelf toy with those long skinny legs that go in every direction imaginable.

Sophia’s Mom had a seriously Jersey Shore-ish leopard top on for some reason.  It’s a Hot Mom thing.  Show after show, I tell you.

Gloria decided that she hadn’t put on lipstick for nothing, and went downstairs to try and sneak in a solo for Kaeli without Abby catching on.  But Bella started to cry on cue, which alerted Abby to the indiscretion and ignited loads of Mama Drama.

Back at the Century III Mall, the real Dance Moms had pulled together their own bootleg presentation in front of Cinnabon.

Umm.  This is also where it got extraordinarily staged.

I happen to know from years at JCPenney (…before it turned into JCP and just got all hot mess…) that you can’t even roll a 4-way rack out onto the parquet floor during your annual Sidewalk Sale without a blessing from the local Fire Department and the Pope.

And yet somehow five suburban Moms had managed to set up the same stage that Jennifer Lopez uses and then filled an entire mall with the same screaming girls who had just blacked out at Justin Bieber‘s Madison Square Garden show.

I want their Twitter followers.  Whatev.  That’s two Get Out Of Jail cards in one show.

And don’t you think that was a lot of work for one dance?  Right about then is when the Moms realized that they might still need Abby.  Might.

Back in Fort Wayne, Yvette’s dance team beat Abby’s team in the Group category.  So you can imagine how that one went down.

As the new Moms all imploded in each other’s faces, the old Moms hit the Food Court and tried to figure out what their next step was going to be.

And someone got a crown, or a rose, or got kicked off the Island.

I forget.  There was a lot going on.

 

 

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.