DanThat'sCool!

 

 

Sing along. I’m Bringing Bump-Its Back. Them other Dance Moms don’t know how to act.

 

 

 

 

Shut. Up. I would kill for a juicy drumstick as big as that boot Paige is wearing. Literally. I would kill someone for it.

 

 

 

 

 

Soon. Very soon, baby girl. My Master Plan is slowly falling into place…bone by broken bone.

 

 

 

 

When I close my eyes, Kendall is a really famous dancer. And I’m on “Knots Landing” wearing shoulder pads and fur.

 

 

 

 

 

Just. Shoot. Me.

 

 

 

 

 

Alouette, Gentille Alouette.

That’s French.

French for “I’ll break ALL your legs if it will help my kid get in the Group Number.”

Knowledge.  The More You Know.

So stay in school kids.  And run like the freakin’ wind if you see Jill Vertes coming in your direction, because Mama will do whatever it takes to get Kendall into the ALDC and you do NOT want to get in her way.

That also pretty much just summed up the latest episode of Dance Moms, so if you’re short on time you can go now.  You’ll miss all the hilarity, but you got the gist of what happened.

For the rest of you with time to kill at work, here we go.

Fresh off a victorious trip to Lancaster, where Abby Lee Miller and her tiny tot dancers brought home oodles of high scores and displayable shiny hardware, it was time to prep for yet another Starbound National Talent Competition.

But as you know…and say it with me…nothing can get done until the Pyramid of Shame is revealed, so Abby whistled everyone into the studio like livestock at a farm bankruptcy auction and got down to bidnezz.

However, during the pointe shoe platoon of mom and daughter soldiers falling into formation it was glaringly apparent that they were missing Kelly, her crazy a** haircut and Paige.

As you will recall last time in Lancaster, Paige had decided to rehearse her backwards whatchamacallit in the makeup room.  Now, personally, I didn’t need to actually see the hotel construction blueprints to know that there was probably nothing but solid concrete under the synthetic carpet squares, but for reasons we may never know Paige shot backwards like a Slinky when you flip it down a staircase and immediately doinked her toe.

Turned out she didn’t just doink it, she really doinked it.  Which explained why she and Mom were still at the doctor’s office having all the little piggies on Paige’s left foot scoped out.

But even if the doctor had to cut that thing off at the ankle with no anesthesia, the Pyramid must go on.  So chop chop, girls.

The bottom row was all about Paige, Mackenzie and Chloe.

Proving that even when you’re MIA you can get knocked down a peg or two, Paige was at the bottom because of that backwards whatchamacallit.  I guess Abby’s reasoning was that compared to a potentially career ending face plant on solid concrete, having your photo taped to the bottom of the Pyramid wouldn’t seem so bad.

Mackenzie was there basically because she was Mackenzie.  Love the MacAttack.  No matter how many times Abby pokes her with a stick, Mack just pokes with her tongue through one of those missing tooth spots and goes on like a trooper.

Chloe was there to make room for Maddie at the top, even though Abby didn’t actually verbalize it quite like that.  But I’m psychic, and I knew.

Middle row was all about Brooke, her teenage angst and Nia.

Now that you bring it up, even Brooke’s headshot looks a little mopey.  It’s a pretty photo and all, but it kind of looks like something that would be attached to the resumé of some young soap opera ingenue who’s had a rough start to life in Pine Valley, if you know what I mean.  She’s already really pretty, but Girlfriend needs to get her smile muscles to work as hard as her core.  She also needs to pop an Advil and foam roll her back muscles, because she was hurting this week.

Nia werq’d it last week with her Laquifa What? sequel, but again…the whole Maddie thing threw a wrench into that climb up the hill.

Finally, Top Spot was again reserved for Maddie, and I hope you all do a better job of faking a surprised look when they throw you a birthday party in the office breakroom next year than you did at that reveal.

MackAttack, Brooke and Maddie all got solos for the competition.  But more importantly, for the first time after begging for years and years…Chloe finally got her duet with Paige.

One minor KidSpaz later, the excitement was quickly dialed down about 100 notches when Paige klunked into the studio wearing one of those Terminator walking boots on her busted foot.

Yeah.  That duet wasn’t gonna happen.

At least not for 4 to 6 weeks anyway.  No dancing for Paige.  Just soft beachy curls and note taking.  Breaking her toe also seemed to have cut into her age-inappropriate hairstyling regimen, because Paige’s ‘do didn’t seem to irritate me as much as it had in the last few weeks.  Granted, it was still borderline fake I.D. photo that you buy on the pier at Hampton Beach and then try to scuff up to make it look like you’ve had it in your purse forever, but yeah…it was definitely more chillaxed.

So, have you been reading about how all these baby seals are congregating on New England beaches this summer?  And how all these great white sharks are now smelling them and swimming really close to the shore to try and eat them all?

Well.  Stick a Bump-It on one of those great whites, shove it in a mini-van, set its GPS for Pittsburgh…and there you have it.

Jill was back.  Again.  And she smelled the blood in the water.

The podiatrist had barely even licked the x-ray envelope shut and Jill was already in the building trying to slip Kendall into the group number.  She actually swooped down so quickly I thought she might break Paige’s other foot in her haste to get some lipstick on her kid and shove Kendall into Abby’s face.

Under the guise of being there to “take a class,” Jill booted Kendall out of the studio and then swam up to crippled baby seal Paige, who I’m pretty certain started to scribble Save Me in her notepad and then slowly held it up towards the camera lens like a kidnap victim does in the back window of a getaway car.

After telling Paige how sorry she was about her foot, in much the same tone of voice I would use if I was proclaiming how sorry I was that all those Krispy Kreme donuts fell off the truck onto my doorstep unharmed and still warm, Jill scooted up to the Mom Perch to get under everyone’s skin.

Side note.  If this whole dance thang doesn’t work out, it’s probably good to know that Christi has a future in cartoon voiceovers.

I’m just throwing this one out there in case she is ever looking for additional income to put towards all her glitter tops, because I swear the woman channeled Grover from Sesame Street when she started worrying about Kendall now having a spot on the Pyramid.

Or Yoda, maybe.  I couldn’t decide.

Place on Pyramid, She Has.

In the midst of all this hub bub, Maddie had to fly out to Atlanta to film her scenes on Drop Dead Diva, because otherwise Lifetime wasn’t going to be able to run 72 commercials for the show during this episode.

Seriously.  Lifetime.  We get it.

On the other hand, Kelly didn’t get The Diary of Anne Frank, which was the theme for Brooke’s solo.  Going forward, she may want to keep in mind that Holly is a school principal and the freakin’ book was required 5th grade reading, because Holly’s face alone was worth the price of admission.

Not to mention that they even made a comic book out of it, lady.

Since someone else was now going to have to shimmy around with Chloe in the duet, Abby threw together what I guess you would call an audition.  She figured it would be in her best interest to fake one out instead of just telling Nia NO and then giving it to Kendall, because you know how Al Sharpton somehow always magically shows up like an ambulance chaser every time something like that goes down.

While working on the costumes for the Alouette themed group number, Holly saw what was happening in the auditions and wasn’t liking it.  She probably also wasn’t liking all the distractions of the Secret Moms on the other side of the Perch.  They were exceptionally active this week.

And who are these people?  Do we ever get to see them?  They’re like that other side of the island on LOST or something.   If one of them doesn’t do an impromptu puppet show off the back of the couch or stick a sign up behind Melissa‘s head pretty soon, I’m going to be really disappointed.

Finally, all the Moms put down their French costume scraps and went downstairs to get all up in Abby’s grill about Kendall and Jill again.  The usual.

The best part was Holly twirling Nia’s beret around on her finger like some crazy Mime who’ll cut you if you don’t drop 5 Euros in her tin can.  I love Holly.

Then there was about 15 minutes of Jill hissy fits, Jill outfits and Jill hairstyles.

Not for nothing, but I’m starting to think that the girls down at the salon didn’t really walk Jill through what to do with her hair when they’re not around, because every time we saw her she was trying something else in an attempt to get a handle on it.  But she brought the Bump-It back, and that’s really all that matters.

Maddie’s trip to Atlanta was just a show within a show for a few minutes, and a cleverly disguised commercial before we broke for the real DDDiva commercial.

Well played, Lifetime.

Finally it was Show Time!

This time around, the competition was set up in the hotel ballroom on one of those parquet floors they roll out for bar mitvahs and receptions.  No platform.  No nuthin.

Full disclosure, I was secretly hoping that a rogue housekeeping cart would roll across the middle of the stage at some point, with one of those delightfully crazy women with Windex in her apron pocket and a pillow under one arm running after it screaming like she works at Taco Bell.

But no such luck.

The group Mime number went off without a hitch, or a Room Service tray, so that was a good thing.  I wasn’t quite sure what was happening with Abby’s hair when they cut to one of her interview shots right after the number…guess somebody forgot their conditioner that day.  Whoa.

Brooke’s back continued to act up until all she could do was lay face down on the floor, which seemed kind of counterproductive since most chiropractors tell you to lay on your back when it hurts to align your spinal cord.  But whatever.

Kelly finally got her Mom Courage up and pulled Brooke’s number, figuring that risking paralysis is probably not worth the souvenir Starbound t-shirt.

That resulted in another throw down between pretty much all the Moms, the kids and that lady with the Windex.  Abby swore that Kelly and Brooke were in cahoots to pull the number because they were scared of the level of competition that was out on the parquet, which deteriorated into Abby’s declaration that “Lazy Gets You Nowhere!” which in turn gave us one of Holly’s patented Whatchoo Talkin’ About Willis? faces.

Did I mention that I love her?

Maddie’s solo was entitled “This Is Me Over You” which was Abby’s poorly veiled middle finger flip to all the other girls.  And it didn’t go unnoticed.  I feel sorry for the kid, because she hates that Abby keeps rubbing her successes into the faces of all her little friends, and she really does try to not get all Mini Diva on them.  But Abby won’t let up.

It’s really gotten to the point where I swear that if Abby had any upper body strength she would pick up Maddie like the Lion King baby and let all the other gazelles gather ’round in awe.

By the way, if you want to know the results of the competition, you may want to Google a site that has a clue what they’re talking about.  All I know is that the emcee changed his tie in the middle of the show.  What was that all about?

By the time it was all over, Brooke was still face down, Jill was still phutzing with her hair and wishing that Brooke had been in more severe pain earlier in the week so Kendall could have moved in for the kill and Abby was still hugging Maddie so hard that I thought the kid’s head would pop off like one of Kelly’s wine corks.

For a little more salt in the wound, Abby then requested that Maddie show everyone her DDDiva routine.  Because she’s Maddie.  And they’re not.

Next thing I knew there was so much Mom Meltdown going on that my next door neighbor pounded on the wall thinking I was having a party.

Somebody screamed something about Role Models.  Christi accused Abby of sabotaging her daughter.  Abby called Chloe a Sneak or a Snake or both.  Christi called Abby a Whore.  Four times, I believe.

Oh Snap.  She went there.

Then Chloe cried, which set off all the other girls like dominos.  Melissa yanked Maddie out of the room like there was  a shoe sale in the lobby and Holly did another ‘Willis face or two.  Maybe more.

Abby then implied that Brooke was past her prime and may never dance again.  You can figure out how Kelly reacted to that one on your own.

Jill just sat back and took it all in, knowing that the more blood that they spill in the room, the closer to the shore she and Kendall can swim.

It got tense.  The kind of tense that smelled like dancing baby seal meat.

And Mama’s hungry.

 

 

Look at this mess. We are one bad dye job short of turning into the Hefner Playboy Mansion.

 

 

 

 

All I know is that I’m finally not the one with the craziest hairdo. Halleloo!

 

 

 

 

 

One: You people all suck big ones. And Two: NO this is not a mullet, thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously. Somebody gnawed on some baaaad jerky while she was out in Ohio.

 

 

 

Oh. Hell. No. You did NOT diss my girl Nia’s decision to weave in them sassy braids. And while we’re on the subject, you need to fix your face, bitch.

 

 

 

Why can’t someone invent Smell-O-Vision Television?

It can’t be that difficult.

I mean, if they can put a man on the moon, make gum that changes flavor and shut off my cable with one switch, how hard could it really be to make a TV that emits odors?

Then we would all finally know what Crazy really smells like.

Trust me.  Dance Moms has had no problem over two seasons showing us what Crazy looks like…and sounds like…but now I want to smell it.

Someday, maybe.

But until that day, if the latest episode is any indication, I’m betting that Crazy smells like beef jerky breath, one of those Walgreens cologne holiday gift sets and any randomly chosen strip mall salon after a full day of root touchups.

That’s right.  Jill is back.

Everyone’s favorite studio hopper returned to the Abby Lee Dance Company this week all loud and blonde and uninvited, and it pretty much registered at a 9.5 on the Rockette Richter Scale.

But before we get all excited, let’s start at the beginning.  Before the Storm.

Fresh off their Redemption Tour 2012, Abby and her little posse of posers were back in Pittsburgh basking in the glow of their Top Spot Group Routine at Starbound.  After recovering from a previous stumble and loss to the dreaded Candy Apples, the ALDC had managed to jazz hand their way back to the top and brought home more shiny hardware to display on those rickety old Container Store shelves.

Seriously.  Have you ever noticed the wire shelving that Abby has wrapped the entire rehearsal space with to display all their trophies?  It’s the same wobbly closet organizer stuff that you put up in your first apartment, or that always comes preinstalled in every freshman dormitory.  The stuff that is always missing one screw and eventually pulls out of the sheetrock and dumps all your winter sweaters on to your hidden kegger.

How all those heavy plaques and statues don’t come crashing down on some poor kid in the middle of Tap Class is a mystery.

So without putting anyone at risk by making them stand directly under those trophy death traps, Abby gathered her little dancers and bigger Moms together in the center of the room to unveil the latest Pyramid of Shame.

You know how in the movies right before a natural disaster all the birds always go ape s*** berserk and fly into skyscraper windows, and the deer and bison and escaped zoo animals all stampede in every direction across the highway causing mass transit chaos?

Well, I’m pretty certain that if we could have found a window and gotten a glimpse outside the studio right before the Big Reveal, it would have looked like the freakin’ opening scene from The Lion King.

Hurricane Jill was blowing back into town and most likely toppling any tree, small automobile or mobile home in her newly bleached path of destruction.

Before Abby could even pull off the first piece of logo paper and crush a young and impressionable ego, the studio door flew open and in stormed Jill, accompanied by her incredibly easy to upset daughter Kendall and a souvenir headshot which they had apparently spray glued to foam core prior to their arrival.

(Always come prepared, because you never know when you might encounter a rogue Pyramid of Shame.  I think that’s in the Boy Scout Handbook, actually.)

The last we had seen of Jill, aside from her brief stint at the Candy Apples Evil Dance Emporium, was the now infamous Texas meltdown where she had thrown a shoe and run out the door while wearing an odd little iParty cowboy hat.

In her defense, she had claimed that the mall western wear was to make her look like a local and embrace the culture, much the same way any tourist with no social skills would apply black face or a dot in the middle of their forehead to try and fit in with the city they are visiting.  Because they saw it in a magazine.

Seriously.  Why do people do that? Stick with the bermuda shorts and fanny pack.  You’ll still look less ridiculous.

 Now Jill was blonde.  Really blonde.  And had lost the Bump-It hair accessory.

(Spoiler Alert:  Next episode’s preview shows that it already makes a return appearance.  You can cut off a worm’s head or yank out your Bump-It, but they always grow back.)

She wanted Kendall to be put back into The Group immediately and proceeded to present her case like Alexis Carrington did when she pulled off that big hat and laid into the judge on Dynasty.

Oh, the drama.  Eventually Jill took the hint and scooted her blonde hair, big mouth and new caftan top fashion sense into the corner and let Abby get the Pyramid started.

Mackenzie and Nia were on the bottom.  MackAttack’s low standing was due to all that sugar causing her to dance faster than the other two girls in last week’s trio.  We’ve never actually seen it happen, but you know Mack is one of those cute kids who always chomps on those gigantic Jawbreaker candies until her tongue is blue and she has trouble swallowing all the juice.  Tell me you can’t totally picture that scenario.

Nia fell on her badonkadonk last time, and that can’t be good.

Third spot was for Paige, who didn’t really do anything wrong other than get picked as the third person in that sloppy trio.  Guilty by association.  Punishment?  Bottom row.

I won’t even go off on another rant about her age inappropriate hairdo this week, even though it did seem to have gotten wavier and even more age inappropriater, if that’s even a word.

All I’ll say on the matter is that I’m amazed that between eating, sleeping, dancing and going to school Paige still had time to get her hair done for next month’s Vogue cover shoot.  Now I’m done.

To make room for Maddie at the top, Abby stuck Chloe and Brooke on the second row.  She barely even tried to cover that one up, and couldn’t really fabricate any reason for them to be there other than Maddie’s photo is adhered to the mirror with Super Glue.

This week the gang was headed to Starpower, which I guess is somehow different than Starbound or Starpalooza or Star Search or Star Trek.  They all sound the same to me, which probably explains why I don’t run a dance company.

Abby was quite excited that lots of people from Jersey would be there.  I tried to picture pregnant Snooki doing that one leg straight up in the air thing but then immediately stopped trying to picture it before I did any permanent damage.

Maddie, Paige and Nia were all picked for solos, but the big news this time was the group number.

Twilight.  Like the vampires.  And there was going to be a boy vampire.

I would appreciate it from now on if Lifetime would run a warning disclaimer at the bottom of the screen before they unleash anymore tween-age boys on these girls, because my ears are still bleeding from the arrival of senior ALDC dancer Nick.

As the Moms retired to the Mom Perch, Kendall snuck her way into the group number until Abby did a head count and booted her upstairs.  It was clear from the start of rehearsals that the Twilight theme was not going to work with so many girls on the field.

It was like a marching band all going in different directions at half time, with poor Nick in the middle racing around trying to lift up all the girls before biting their necks.

Between all that disorganization, Abby tried to squeeze in some solo work with the girls.

Paige made it through about four measures of music before Jill busted in and sang that song about Kendall getting to dance in The Group.  After a few rounds with Abby, except for the missing cowboy hat, it was pretty much the same result again as Jill stormed out the door for the evening.

Nia’s solo was titled Return to Laquifa.

Ok.  Maybe not.  Maybe it was Werqin’ Girl.  But either way, it was Sasha Nia getting her Shangela Death Drop on again, and it was a little slice of drag heaven.

Side note:  Abby Lee Miller is no drag queen.  Make her stop doing that head snap thing and just sashay away.  Immediately.

Then we paused for a little station identification alert and a bit of network cross promotion.

The results from the Lifetime Drop Dead Diva auditions were revealed, and it was Maddie who scored the coveted guest starring role.

And not one single Vegas odds maker even blinked in surprise.

The whole thing then turned into exactly the kind of Mom vs. Mom favoritism song & dance number that we have come to expect every time Maddie snatches something from the other girls.  Between Melissa getting angry at the other Moms and Maddie not sure how she was supposed to react in front of her friends, the casting call didn’t feel as big and important as they made it sound last week.

What was big and important this week however, was Nia’s hair.  It was outta control fierce, girlz.  And Abby wasn’t liking it.

When Abby told Holly that Nia’s new big a** braids were a hot mess, Mom went on the defense and channeled some serious NeNe Leakes.  Kinda.

Given the fact that Holly is still more school principal than bitch slapping hater, it wasn’t quite an ATL Reunion throw down, but it was fun to watch.

Fix her hair, Mom.  Fix her hair?  How ’bout you fix yo’ hair?  And then how ’bout you fix yo’ face?  And yo’ fat body?  And PS…I got approval for these braids, bitch.

Whoa.  Wait.  Did she say approval?  Someone is in charge of hair braid approval?  You mean that’s someone’s job?  How much does it pay?  I’m always looking for ways to make some easy cash, and approving hair weaves seems like something I could excel at.  Hmmmm.  Girl, pleez…I think I’m on to sumthin.

The next day, Abby was still a little miffed at everyone’s reaction to Maddie’s new Drop Dead Diva role, so she figured she needed to rub some faces into it to prove a point.

Long story short, Abby had Maddie bring in all her crowns from every competition and lay them out like a flea market table display so all the other girls could ogle them and wish they were Maddie.

I guess it was an attempt at showing how it’s ok to be proud of your successes, but it turned into a very uncomfortable Toddlers & Tiaras moment as Maddie unzipped what looked like one of those vinyl hot/cold lunch bags and pulled out a clown car’s worth of mini tiaras.  It was like the bag was a bottomless sparkle pit as Maddie revealed crown after crown after crown.

After crown.

The Moms did their song & dance again.  Melissa tried to stop the show.  The other girls wished they were Maddie.  Melissa cried and Maddie just wanted to crawl in a hole.

Well played, Abby.

Finally it was Showtime.

Kendall must have hidden in the luggage compartment of the bus because somehow she was there in the green room, even though she wasn’t scheduled to do anything.  Jill used every minute of down time to ramble on and on about earning a spot on the team while Abby used every minute of down time to poke Jill with a stick.  It’s funny, but suddenly crazy Kelly was like an old chew toy that Abby didn’t want to play with anymore now that Jill was in the room.  Go figure.

The solos went well.  Nia dropped it like it was hot again.  Paige nailed her dance.  Maddie was Maddie and will probably need a bigger Igloo cooler pretty soon for all that new headgear.

Abby trimmed the Twilight number down to Brooke, Chloe and Maddie at the last minute, thereby giving Nick fewer girls to pick up and allowing her to give Jill another poke in the eye at the same time.

Seriously.  I can’t.

There was so much Jill vs. Abby screaming that I can’t even get into right now.

Abby accused Jill of stealing a $2 bow from her secret stash and slapping it on Kendall’s head before any decisions on the Twilight number had even been made.  Apparently hair bows and the Hope Diamond are both high risk security items that nobody should touch without government clearance.

Jill went all cowboy hat on Abby…again…while Kendall cried…again…and Maddie tried on crowns.

Again.

Nick actually got to speak one sentence, and he sounded like Peter Brady when his voice was changing.

Pork Chops and Apple Sauce.  Google it.

Jill said that everyone sucked.

Looks like someone needs to fix their attitude.

And their face.

It was Drop Dead Divalicious.

 

 

I cut my own hair. What makes you even think I can’t choreograph a chair dance, bitch?

 

 

 

 

See this sausage finger? I’ve got five of them about to go upside your head.

 

 

 

 

 

Part of me just wants to puncture that aerosol can and then make a run for it when everyone passes out.

 

 

 

 

Oh. Hell. Yeah. Four more of these bad boys and I’ll cut everyone’s hair. Come to Mama.

 

 

 

Look at me! I’m a Bee! I’m not even doing the correct dance for this week. I seriously have no idea where I am right now. Taa-Daa!!

 

 

 

I think  it’s a pretty safe bet that Canton’s Jerky King is jerking it all alone tonight.

The Queen is definitely not home.  I can guarantee you that she is off drowning her sorrows somewhere in a big jug of Mike’s Apple Cider, after being humiliated on her home turf by none other than her nemesis Abby Lee Miller.

That’s right.  Chaos Cathy Nesbitt and her League of Evil PTA Moms played host to the Dance Moms crew this week, and right about now I’m thinking they would give just about anything for a do-over.

But you don’t get no do-overs in Dance Land.  Nope.  Nada.  Negative.

To quote an inspirational verse from the Book of Dance Moms Leslie…you suck it up.

This time around, after losing out to the Candy Apples Dance Team a few weeks prior, Abby and her posse were headed to Ohio on the Redemption Bus Tour 2012.

Losing to Candy Apples is one thing.  But to lose a competition by basically the same micro percentage that they always give a person for getting hit by lightening twice?  Let’s just say that Abby could already smell the apple sauce in the water before they even crossed the Pennsylvania state line.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Nobody can board any bus until the Pyramid of Shame.  You know the rules by now.

While the mini dancers all lined up in anticipation of having a little bit more self respect drained directly from their faces, Abby started the reveal.

As always, the Moms were also in formation, but it was hard to focus on them without my eyes watering, due to the hundreds of colors and patterns fighting for my attention.

If there was ever any question in your mind as to whether the Moms picked their own clothes each week or if a Lifetime wardrobe intern coordinates their looks like they do on the Martha Stewart Show…well…there’s your answer.

Now that everyone has gone to full HD, there needs to be some rule that certain Moms can’t sit or stand next to each other when they are all wearing Forever 21 jungle prints.

If that s*** is burned into my new plasma screen I am going to be so pissed.

Anyway.

Before the first Glitz photo was even uncovered, Abby broke the news that everyone was going to the Land of Candy Apples for the Nexstar Competition, and the resulting over the top, drama-filled reactions could very easily score an Emmy for at least two of the girls.  Maybe three.

Everyone gasped.  They covered their mouths, their ears, their eyes.  They slapped their foreheads as if they had just gotten the vapors while their Daddy was out in the cornfield.  I think Nia even had the Holy Spirit take over her body for a moment.

If they were old enough to wear pearls, they would have been clutching them with one hand and fanning themselves with the other like those crazy old ladies in big hats do on Sunday.  We’re going to Ohio.  Take me now, Jesus.

Once Abby brought in oxygen and some orange juice to bring their blood sugar back under control, she started ripping off the photo sheets.

Bottom row was filled up with Brooke, Mackenzie and Nia.  Trifecta.

Brooke was on the bottom because she bailed on everyone last week to go to her Farewell to 8th Grade Dance, which I guess is different than the Hello 9th Grade Mixer the week after.  Those young’uns sure have a lot of dances nowadays.  The Devil’s playground, I tell you.

All that gets you is a bad reputation and a Dynamo label that says “probation.”  Hope it was worth it.

Nia had some turning issues, and MackAttack didn’t swallow her gum when Abby yelled at her…so say hello to the bottom row, kids.

Second row was Chloe and Paige.

Paige was also on probation, which was probably still due to that age inappropriate hairdo that I can’t stop obsessing about.  Unless Lifetime plans on smearing vaseline over the camera lens and start filming this show down at the Pittsburgh Galleria Glamour Shot kiosk, someone needs to just lay off the hot rollers and stick a Scrunchie back on her noggin.

When the time comes, you do not want Paige saying farewell to the 8th grade with that sassy ‘do or she’ll be getting dropped off at her 9th grade homeroom in a pickup with jacked up treads and under-carriage neon lighting, if you know what I mean.

If it’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’…

Chloe made a goober or two in the Group Dance, so there you go.

Top spot was Maddie.  (No surprise.)  And the other top spot was Maddie.  (Ok…maybe a little more of a surprise.)

Abby had slapped two…count ‘em…two Maddie glossies up on top, thanks to her having scored matching titles last time around.  Knowing Abby’s fascination with Maddie, if Copy Cop didn’t charge so much for color printing I’m sure there would have been another dozen or so Maddie faces for everyone to gawk at from down below.  But you have to tighten the strings somewhere, I guess.

Since the ALDC was going up against those Candy Apples Crazies, Abby was pulling out all the big guns.  And some old guns, because she wanted Paige to perform a solo number from last year that never quite made it to the stage.  Mom Kelly had already pulled the number twice before because she didn’t feel Paige was prepared, and that Abby hadn’t given her daughter the attention she deserved, and then a whole bunch of other Maddie stuff that I tuned out.

Kelly does like her cocktails and Maddie comparisons.  Make them both at least a double and she can go on for days.

Paige was going to do the solo up against Kendall, offspring of that Real Housewives of Pittsburgh Jill.  The one with the hair.

After butting heads and Bump-Its against Abby for months, Jill had finally lost it and packed up all her cowboy hats, faux furs and Pennsylvania couture and was now making daily Ohio road trips in order that Kendall could dance where she was appreciated.

Because we all know how cheap gas is and how appreciative Cathy can be, right?

How’s that all working out for you, honey?

As you’ll recall, the Candy Apples tend to slip hormone induced older dancers into every number they perform at competition, in order to skew the age levels and to guarantee that some meatier grips are available to carry Cathy’s luggage on and off the bus.

Abby don’t play dat.

Well, she didn’t used to play dat.

This time, when faced with the prospect of losing another one to Cathy, Abby was suddenly a born again Ringer supporter, and introduced three of her own hormonally superior dancers.  See that Cathy?  Two can play this game.

Plugging in the same coordinates that Jill uses in her GPS, we were then transported to Ohio and the Candy Apples Dance Center, where the whole place smelled like Jerky and Revenge.

Holding the world’s most blinged out crystal iPad evah, Chaos Cathy plotted out her evil plans to a captivated audience of Moms, awkwardly dorky boy dancers and her collection of seriously overly made up girl dancers.

I don’t know where these kids are going at 10am in the morning that they need that much eyeliner, but I don’t live in Ohio, so I won’t judge.  Maybe the cows like you to look pretty while you’re yanking on some teats at the butt crack of dawn.  I don’t know.

I do, however, know that domestic cows usually have four of those little danglies, but sometimes they can have additional ones that are non-functional and are called supernumerary.

Kind of like Marky Mark’s third one, but they’re low hangers.

So there.  Knowledge is power, kids.  Google it.

The Candy Apples group number was going to be a little Asian ditty, with everyone’s favorite piece of dead weight Vivi-Anne as the Princess.  My psychic powers immediately told me that she was going to be lifted up and passed around on stage like a hay bale, and that Mom Cathy had just refilled her daughter’s extra strength decongestant prescription.

Seriously.  When is someone going to sit that poor kid down, snap their fingers until she focuses both eyes and just lay it on the line?

In order to guarantee success, and apparently free up her own time to shop at the Apple Store, Cathy had hired two outside choreographers to create the Asian Wok Dance.

Meet Michael and Mitchell.  Or Mitchell and Michael, I can’t remember.  One way is the dance duo, the other way is a furniture store if I’m not mistaken.  Either way, the boys were fabulous, in that “We’re gonna have the best summer stock Fantastiks that’s ever played in Poughkeepsie!” kind of way.  Vivi-Anne was gonna get tossed around like a Star!

Back in PA, the combination of stress, lack of attention from Abby and multiple pastel Cosmos that went down way too easily all led Kelly to decide that she was now qualified to re-choreograph Paige’s number for the competition.  Sucking down matching Cosmos, Christi couldn’t feel her own face or agree more, so after paying the bar tab Kelly and Paige hit the family room to reinvent the wheel.

Up at the farm, Cathy was also trying to work some choreography magic of her own on Kendall.

Decked out in head to toe Kohl’s, Cathy looked like that office administrative assistant we all know who has two sips of a Kahlúa sombrero at lunch and then two hours later you find her dancing in the copier room to the muzac speakers.  By the time Jill showed up in her tie dye HSN top to insist that Cathy step it up with the choreography, it was almost more than I could handle.  Or hope for.

Finally it was showtime as the ALDC and CADC teams arrived in those matching track jackets they always wear.

Making their grand entrances into the venue, it kind of looked like a school trip to the set of Phantom of the Opera, complete with ornate architectural details and rolling Hello Kitty suitcases.  Everyone scoped out the competition and the surroundings and marveled at how excited the Furniture Boys were to be part of the show.

For some odd reason, the thing was actually running ahead of schedule, which meant that Abby would probably not have time to hit the concession stand or run Paige through her newly tweaked routine.

Kelly’s nerves and Abby’s cholesterol level both let out a big sigh of relief when they heard that one.

We’ll skip most of the dance parts and get to the good stuff.  There has to be another (less entertaining) blog out there somewhere that can show you scans of the judges sheets if you’re dying to know all the deets.

Chloe’s earring flew off during her number, which almost gave Christi some kind of Dance Moms seizure.  The bald emcee guy seemed pretty excited to run on stage and snatch it up for his collection after she finished.  Just something I noticed, that’s all.

Paige did her bootleg number and Abby got a little twisted.

Kendall’s music skipped and dragged and just generally f***d up her performance.  How can they not be using iPods by now?  2012 anyone?

Jill, who was dressed in full on QVC host attire, finally melted down, screamed at Cathy for not worshipping Kendall and then collapsed on the stairs in the fire exit hallway sobbing like she just got dumped at her 8th grade farewell dance.

Mitchell or Michael…one of them…ended up stuck in the stairwell with her, which meant he had to awkwardly attempt a hug without getting Girl Cooties or wrinkling her outfit.

Cathy called Jill a studio hopper.  A few times.

As I predicted, everyone flung the Asian Princess around the stage like a bag of rice until some kid rolled out a fake Gong Show gong and put an end to our misery.  You’d think as often as Vivi-Anne is airborne that her ears would eventually pop and she could finally stop mouth breathing.  But no such luck.

Abby yelled at anyone who would listen about what a sneak Kelly was and how she is raising her kids to be sneaks.

Quick as she could, Holly (…Girlfriend’s been working out.  Check out those Michelle Obama guns!…) shoved as many of the girls out the door as possible before Abby completely lost it on Kelly.  Classic Dance Moms cattle rustling.

When it all came down to the end, Abby’s team didn’t score Top Dawg in anything.  But it didn’t really matter, because they still beat the Candy Apples, who scored a whopping goose egg on their racing form.

Candy Apples tanked, which sent Cathy into some stoner vegetative state where all she could do was comb Vivi-Anne’s hair and stare blankly out into space while Jill continued her rampage.

As the lights went down in Ohio and everyone headed home to put on a fresh coat of eyeliner before bed, the last thing we saw was Cathy poking her finger into the elevator door button until her knuckles started to bleed.  She couldn’t get out of there fast enough as all the Moms circled around her like victorious meerkats.

Victorious, apple-flavored jerky eating meerkats.  And they looked really hungry.