DanThat'sCool!

 

 

I saw on Bravo TV that when you tilt your head back like this a guy pours a shot in your mouth.

 

 

 

 

One flick of my finger and you’ve got an acrylic nail and a Ninja Star in your artery, bitch.

 

 

 

 

 

Well, of course if I’d known they’d be shooting from this angle I would have combed the back of my hair. Absolutely.

 

 

 

 

Lawd. I feel it! I feel the Craziness all up in here! It’s speaking to me and my ladies! And it’s saying…LaQuifa Whaaat?

 

 

 

Hey. Professor. If you can get that chocolate in here from the other end of the couch, Nia gets a week of free privates.

 

 

 

 

Seriously. We’ve been Besties for like 100 years and I still have no f***ing clue what’s up with that hair. Not a clue.

 

 

 

Pardon me.  Andy Cohen?

Would you mind just scooting down a little bit?  Just a tiny snudge?

Jeff Collins needs that chair for a few hours if it’s ok.

This was the week it all happened.  Dance Moms officially got the Stamp of Approval from the Sisterhood of Reality Television Shows.

The Moms got a Reunion Special.

Two of them actually.  Part One and Part Two, which means they’ve finally made it into the Big Time and can now join the ranks of every Real Housewives Bitch Fest season ending spectacular that has gone before them.

Because that’s when you know you’ve made it, when you finally get a set of hot rollers and your own Reunion Show.

(Seriously…did you see Abby’s hair the first season?  Come on.  Money talks.)

Think New York.  Or the OC.  Or Atlanta, with less leg oil.

And if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.  Just plop down two couches with a chair or two in the middle, print up a couple dozen Twitter question 3 x 5′s and let the hilarity ensue.

Playing the role of Andy Cohen this week we had the really nice and smiley Mr. Collins, who is basically the President, Executive Producer, Master Mind Genius and Mad Scientist of the production company responsible for the worldwide Dance Moms infestation.  His company has a few other good shows out there on the airwaves, but Dance Moms is what put them on the Pinterest map and I’ll bet good money he was kissing all those Crazies on the lips during the first commercial break.

He didn’t waste anytime getting right down to bidnezz with the Moms, after introducing the Woman of the Hour.  Abby Lee Miller, snuggled right up next to Jeff and what appeared to be a half empty candy dish, was ready to get this show on the road with the first video montage.

Wearing every piece of silver jewelry shown on the first 10 pages of the Pandora Fall 2012 catalog, Abby was definitely ready for her HD closeup because that Bitch was blingin’.  Weighed down with bracelets and wrist cuffs and a necklace big and dangly enough to deflect gunfire, as well as a Ninja Star ring that I swore was going to fly off and slit Jeff’s throat before the hour was over, Abby was in her element.

After a mash-up of clips highlighting the evolution of Abby’s stylish new Dance Judge hairdo, Jeff tossed the ball to the ladies.

Can I just say that Holly has some amazing posture before we even get to the good stuff?  Her spinal x-ray must look like a piece of Home Depot 2 by 4.

Now I don’t know if she was the only one propped up by pillows or what, but when you saw her sitting there so prim and principally proper it made the other Moms look like they were at a Frat party.

Don’t get me wrong.  Nobody else was slouching.  But kudos to Mrs. Frazier for showing the rest of us at home that it’s actually possible to be on a couch and not get Cheeto’s crumbs on your belly.  I was almost inspired to sit up.

Almost.

After a quick discussion on Abby’s message vs. Abby’s delivery of that message, Jeff moved on to the Most Outrageous Mom category, which Kelly won before I had even completely filled out my voting ballot.

Cue the Kelly Meltdown Montage.

Seriously.  I can’t imagine that finding those clips was much work.  I mean, really.  The guy in the editing booth could probably have just closed his eyes, spun around, randomly hit the pause button and landed on a Kelly Meltdown.

We love her.  She’s cray cray.  Almost the bad kind of cray cray…but just this side of the good kind of cray cray.  So we love her.

And Christi loves her.  Hearing Mr. Collins call Christi and Kelly “Besties” sounded a little odd, which was probably due to the fact that he’s a grown a** man using the word “Besties.”  I’m almost positive that word has a shelf life that expires before you reach your sophomore year in high school.

Dude.  Do NOT type “Besties” on your Blackberry.  Ever.

As a Bestie, I did however wonder why over the years Christi had never asked Kelly what the F*** was going on with that hair cut.  I mean, she’s got that one long piece that is probably supposed to be there, but I personally know two people who got kicked out of Beauty School for leaving a straggler like that behind someone’s ear.  Go figure.

Next they moved on to the Pyramid of Shame and why the whole process was even necessary, which smoothly segued into why Maddie was almost always at the top and the whole favoritism song and dance number.

After a quick video recap showing Abby tearing off about 72 cover sheets and revealing Maddie’s endearingly toothy grin, it was the same old conversation that the Moms had every week up in the MomPerch.  The only difference this time around was that we got to see Melissa‘s nervous foot twitch as everyone circled their prey.  It was the same twitch that happens under a desk when a kid is afraid that the teacher is going to call on them for an answer when they totally forgot to read the book the night before.

That twitch.

By the time they got to a discussion about Abby insisting Maddie bring in her trunk full of competition crowns to rub in the other girls’ faces on that fateful day, I thought Melissa was going to kick her stiletto right out of the camera shot.

Watching the flashback scene with all those crowns laid out on a table like an old drag queen’s estate sale made me realize that the first time around I had totally missed Diva Nia‘s OhNoSheDin’t face.

Girlfriend was all like Oh.  Hell.  No. with these crowns, bitch.

Love me some Nia.

Next, since there was a seemingly endless supply of Kelly Meltdown tapes, we got another montage.  This time with Abby as her evil nemesis.

We saw the infamous un-stoppered chair toss across the ALDC studio floor and the blurred out Kelly bird flip, and then the two of them went at it across the couch over the original 10pm request for rubber chair nips that started the whole fiasco.  Kelly tried to explain that she had made the decision to stay home that evening and introduce herself to that third kid who always seems to be there when she brings Paige and Brooke home from rehearsals instead of plugging ‘chair stoppers’ into her GPS.

As cray cray as Kelly is, I gotta stand with her on this one.  Personally, I would not even know where to begin looking for chair stoppers at 10pm on a weeknight.  I’m going to assume that all the rubber stopper stores are closed by 9pm, if not earlier.

And bottom line, how bad are your chairs…and how sad is your life…that you need to leave the house at 10pm for a rubber stopper run anyway?

Kelly has still not decided whether or not she will be returning next season.

Umm.  Yeah. Anyone want to place bets on that one?  I’m feeling pretty confident about going forward with my new line of Kelly’s Krazy: Season 3 tee shirts.  Especially after we relived the day when Kelly called Abby fat.  And a whore.  A fat whore.  And still managed to slurp down her Starbucks without skipping a beat.

She’s a keeper.  She ain’t going anywhere.

Somehow that all turned into a throw down over the competition when Maddie’s CD skipped and whether or not the whole thing had been pre-planned.

Kelly swore that Melissa knew in advance that it was going to happen, which in the world of The Dance automatically gives you First Place somehow.

First Place?  Like with a crown?  If that is really the deal, I can’t believe that every week somebody’s CD isn’t scratched.

Think about it.  If I could be guaranteed a first place trophy and a chance to snag some headgear off Maddie’s table, I would be in the park with a puppy tossing CD frisbees while everyone else was back at the studio doing hamstring stretches.  I’m no fool.

Kelly swore on her kids it was gospel.  Melissa swore on her Mother’s grave.  Abby swore the chocolate had nuts in it and tried another piece before Jeff took the whole bowl away and slapped her hand.

We then had a few minutes of Abby accusing Christi of using her daughter Chloe as her ticket out of the ghetto, since Mom had never had the opportunity to dance and be a star when she a youngster.  Christi got all Proud Mom face as she discussed Chloe and the rarely seen baby nugget known as Clara.  The little tyke was a cutie, with a head like a dandelion right before the wind blows all that fuzz in your eyes.

And speaking of ghetto…

The whole LaQuifa Whaaaat? issue was brought up again.

That’s the issue where Abby kept pushing Nia into ethnic roles and ethnic dances and ethnic outfits and ethnic afro wigs in a completely none-PC attempt to immerse her in the 1970′s sitcom roles that she felt Nia was destined to be offered out in the real world.

Well, not completely immersed I guess, because you know how LaQuifa hates to get her hair wet.

Oh snap.  Yeah.  It was that inappropriate.

Watching Holly get all non-ethnically ethnic is something I will never get tired of, trust me.  She not only yanked that afro pick out of Nia’ hair, but she pretty much whooped Miss Abby’s butt with it before tossing it out the sunroof of that family minivan with the “I’ve Got a Doctorate and U Don’t” bumper sticker.

Holly don’t play.

And then there was Jill.

The alleged studio hopper made her entrance, all sewn into a pretty tight dress that barely contained any of her Bump-Its, and slowly lowered herself on to the couch with the girls.

Flashback to the now classic cowboy hat/shoe toss in the makeup room, spliced together with that sloppy strip club scene where Jill chewed a $20 bill into hamster cage shavings after pulling it out of a guy’s banana hammock with her front teeth, and you pretty much just summed up Jill Vertes.

Even though she still hadn’t quite gotten her new hair style under control, Jill had no problem laying into Melissa for hiding her engagement to a married man, which in turn got all the Moms going on Mystery Greg‘s Cease and Desist lawyer letter.

Friends don’t sue Friends, mmmkay?

It was a touchy subject and immediately got everyone worked up.  As Melissa did her best Talk to the Hand defensive blocking, it got pretty heated somewhere during the conversation.  But honestly, after somebody reminded us all that Melissa is “cleanly shaved down there” nothing else really mattered except stopping my eyes and ears from bleeding.

Hoping for another Kardashian Moment, Jeff asked Melissa if he could sneak in a camcorder or two during her upcoming nuptuals and almost blacked out when she didn’t immediately say No.  She didn’t say Yes..but at least she didn’t say No.

Part One finished off with the arrival of Chaos Cathy Nesbitt and her not so sugary Candy Apples attitude.

It wasn’t quite NeNe‘s ATL, but Cathy and Christi together still made for some fun television.  Especially when we got to see some never before seen footage of Cathy tossing water at Christi on the sidewalk like a true Real Housewife bitch.

Dance Moms getting down and dirty on the streets?  Sign me up.

Full disclosure: Not going to lie.  I was secretly rooting for somebody to pull on someone’s wig like Sheree Whitfield and Kim Zolciak‘s classic street brawl, but no such luck.  Don’t get me wrong, and don’t judge.  I don’t condone violence, though I do condone hair pulling and face slapping if justified for the storyline or ratings.

You have to draw the line somewhere.

And like any good Housewife Reunion, the really good stuff is in Part Two.

Cathy barely got her engine revved this time around, so according to the previews, next week should be a classic.

And hold up.  Was that sassy Kaya they just showed getting all Miss Thang up in everyone’s face next time?  She’s back?!

Girrrrl, pleez.

I don’t know how Andy Cohen does it.  I’m exhausted.

 

 

Because Abby’s wearing the same color as me. That’s why I’m crying. Just let me die out here by this dumpster.

 

 

 

 

Never changes. Bitches always be hating on the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. Always.

 

 

 

 

Hold up. So you’re telling me that on TLC 3 year old Toddlers get bigger Beauty crowns? That’s just F***d up.

 

 

 

Mmmmmm… Pumpkin. I wonder if that Dunkin Donuts muffin is out yet. I do love my muffins.

 

 

 

 

Ssshh. It’s ok. You don’t have a fat head. It really is a little crown. And I’m a model now, so I totally know this kind of stuff.

 

 

 

 

What say we drive down and pick up those Dance Moms: Miami kids? I hear they’re not busy.

 

 

 

Oh snap.

I did not just kick Dance Moms: Miami while they’re down.  And before this post even started?  That ain’t right.

Relax.  I didn’t.  Actually, that was my uniquely subtle approach at hinting to Lifetime TV that they should probably un-cancel the Florida show.

I’m missing Lady Killer Lucas already.  And we all know that Kimmy doesn’t need much time to do all that 4am homework.  So let’s get these kids back to work, mmmkay?

Thank you for your immediate attention to this matter.

Now back to bidnezz.

After a long, drawn out journey that probably fell second only to what those Glee kids put us through every school year, Abby Lee Miller and the ALDC finally made it to the end of what we like to call the Road to Nationals.  It’s kind of like the Yellow Brick Road, but without a Good Witch.

Definitely no Good Witch.

Going on what had to have been week (…or month?…) #3 in California, it was time for the Energy Dance National Competition and Abby was in it to win it.

I’ve got to admit.  I’m in awe at how these Moms and kids can jump ship and leave home for weeks at a time with seemingly no regret or homeland fallout.

Speaking as someone who can’t take a long weekend without returning to at least one dead houseplant, I have no idea how they can just pick up their leopard print suitcases and head out of Dodge for all these extended stays away from friends and family with what appears to be almost no advance planning.

I’m sure that by now they have it all down to a science, but in my head I always picture one of three scenarios.

One.  The front yard is piled high with rolled up newspapers, the mailbox is overflowing with Publisher’s Clearing House “You Just Won!” envelopes because Mom forgot to stop postal deliveries and a burglar is prying the screen off the back door with a tire iron.

Two.  The husbands are having affairs with the housekeepers, because this is Lifetime Network and that’s what husbands always do on Lifetime.  At least if they’re married to Jane Seymour in a two hour movie they do.  Granted, the cheating husband always ends up shot in the face or trapped in a burning house when Mom comes home early, but still.

Three.  The husbands and sons are inside looking like shipwreck survivors wearing the same underwear they had on when Mom first left the house, waiting for her to come home and tell them how to turn on the microwave.

But maybe that’s just me.

Regardless, it was another week in sunny L.A. as they prepped for Nationals in the Land of Brandon, Dylan and Perfect Hair:  90210.

That’s right….Beverly Hills, baby.  Swimming pools.  Movie stars.

But first, the Pyramid of Shame.  ’Cause that’s how Abby rolls, even on the West Coast.

Bottom row was all about Paige, Nia, Chloe and Kendall.

Paige had forgotten a move or two in last week’s dance number, which meant that Abby…well…elephants never forget.  Sorry, Paige.

Nia was great in her 1960′s dance, but didn’t exactly bring home the bacon so Abby stuck her in the basement again.  Chloe had come in 6th, which is 5 below First Place, so you do the Pyramid Math.

And finally, Kendall was on the bottom primarily for the Jill Face.  And it worked.

The middle row was held down by Brooke and little Mackenzie.

Brooke, who was the envy of every woman in Beverly Hills with that line-free, expressionless face of hers was considered second tier because Abby felt she was lazy.  And she needed to fix that face, please.

Go figure.  The only female in Beverly Hills history to ever be chastised for not being able to scrunch her forehead.  I thought that was the ultimate longterm goal out there.

MackAttack was in the middle because even though she does a mean quadruple backflip into a pouty face beach blanket pose, she keeps messing up the easy stuff.

Knock that off, please.

And then Maddie was on the top again.  Go back and read pretty much any review I’ve ever written on this show if you’re really dying to know why she was on the top this week.

Just change the date.

Solos were handed out to Mackadoodle Doo, Maddie and Brooke, with the one remaining open spot split between Nia, Kendall and Chloe.  Anyone want to play Mind Game Auditions?  Hold that thought.

The group number was a disturbing PSA on texting and driving.

Don’t do it.  Just don’t.  Unless you want to get thrown from a car and have Nia perform CPR on your dead body in between high kicks and back bends, that is.

Abby does love those dramatic pieces, and this one really freaked the girls out.  Even Paige, who did nothing but sit perfectly still at the wheel after her head went through an imaginary windshield, was creeped out.

Naturally, Mom Kelly was more concerned with the obvious fact that Paige was barely dancing in a dance competition than she was with any longterm trauma from her daughter having to play a cadaver.  But you know Kelly.  Meltdown in 3…2…1.

Since they apparently don’t do MomPerches in California, everyone has had to resort to random back alleys and porch decks for their weekly gripe sessions.

As they hung out in one of those makeshift locations doing whatever it is that they always do on those freakin’ cell phones, a text was received from Chaos Cathy Nesbitt and her Evil Candy Apples Soccer Moms stating that they would all be coming out for Nationals.  I got all excited.  The Moms?  Not so much.

LOL.  Smiley Sideways Kitty Face.

The thought of having to deal with Cathy, compounded with watching her daughter sit and collect dust while all the other girls actually danced, finally cracked Kelly’s egg shell.

After confronting Abby in regards to Paige sitting perfectly still for the entire number like a Crash Test Dummy (…and not the cool talking ones on the commercial…) the whole conversation got ugly, culminating in Abby suggesting that Kelly might want to get Paige to a pediatrician asap to see if there was a cure for her daughter’s stupidity.

Nice talk, which resulted in Kelly dramatically exiting, stage left.  Forever.  Again.

When the rest of the Moms finally tracked her down, Kelly was outside behind a dumpster crying like she had just lost her last noodle.  After a little Mom bonding, Kelly managed to get her shizzle together and then took Paige off for a pre-arranged photo shoot.

Not gonna lie.  When Kelly and Paige first arrived at the photographer’s studio and the only caption under the dude’s face was “Photographer,” I was pretty much expecting an abduction or some borderline soft porn.  But the joint seemed legit and they gussied Paige up into a 1940′s screen siren in no time.

All that age inappropriate hair finally paid off, because she looked a-maz-ing by the time they finished the shoot.  Twenty years older, but a-maz-ing nonetheless.

The following day, Kelly returned to practice.  Again.  If you ask me, Girlfriend might be losing some of her dramatic exit credibility.

Somewhere in the middle of all this activity, Christi and Jill had taken over the role of dance coach and helped run their daughters’ solos.  Christi got a little frustrated with Chloe, and Jill had some trouble with her bra straps.  Feel free to tuck those things back in under your sleeveless top, honey.  Sooner the better.

To continue this week’s Cryapalooza, it was then time to choose the final soloist.  Having the three Moms of the three contestants as judges didn’t exactly make for much drama or resolution (…ummm…if my Mom didn’t pick me in a contest I would be some bulls***…) so Abby had Melissa break the three way tie.

Drama.  Crying.  Chloe got the last solo spot.  Drama.  Crying.  Kendall didn’t.  Jill meltdown in 3…2…1.

Finally it was Showtime!

As the ALDC troupe was rehearsing and crying and hating on Abby, the Candy Apples gang rolled into town and made their entrance like Super Bowl champs coming up that ramp from the locker rooms.

My favorite bad a** red-haired Mom was there, all tattooed, chewing on her gum and looking for a rumble.  Love her.  That bitch will cut your face off with her acrylics if she has to.

And though I swore all along, with no proof other than that blinding Clairol-assisted red hair, that she had to be scruffy Justice‘s Mom, the DNA results were finally revealed and she was indeed the Mom.  And her name is Tanya, like a female wrestler.

The only Mom conspicuously MIA was that big Walmart one we saw the last time we visited Ohio.  She’s my second favorite Ohio export, so I was secretly bummed that she apparently didn’t like to fly.

One half of the Fabulous M&M choreography team was also part of M’Lady Cathy’s Court this week.  Plain or Peanut?  You decide.

Our boy Mitchell was there, all fabulous and styling in his relaxed fit fancy blue dungarees (…with a scooch more room in the crotch in case you drop anything, according to the ad…) and vibrant blue tie.

Word on the street was that Abby had accused some of the Ohio Moms of hitting her up on her Sidekick for insider info on summer dance camps and random Abbyness, which Cathy couldn’t believe.  Canton’s Jerky Queen wanted phone bills and proof of texts and a swab from every Mom’s mouth to prove that her own Ohio posse was loyal.

You wish.

Turned out that Tanya had actually reached out to Abby a few times, which made Cathy look like a fool.  Round One:  Abby.

Back in the dressing room, Abby was threatening that there would be Hell to Pay if they lost the competition or if any Mom ever crossed her.  Same threats.  Different outfit.  And with matching color-coordinated jewelry, thank you very much.

It should also probably be noted that tiny Maddie was drinking what appeared to be the biggest cup of take out Joe I’ve ever seen a young girl guzzle.  She must have been up all night with that much caffeine.

Everyone was in full PsychThemOut mode backstage as they tried to give Justice nervous pee and mess with all the Candy Apples’ brains.

Even little Mackenzie was in on it, considering that she was dancing to the now classic Vivi-Anne Bumble Bee music.  To guarantee a win and some bed spins for the opposition, Mack had hooched up the infamous Bee costume into a Pussy Cats Doll ensemble.  If spaced out Vivi-Anne actually had a clue where she was, she would probably have been as miffed as Mom Cathy was that the other team was blatantly flipping them off with a new and improved Killer Bee.

All the solos were great.  Even Brooke got her face to work long enough to wow the judges.

Chloe’s legs got longer, and Mack stung Vivi-Anne right in the butt with her updated Bee.

Justice did some kind of wounded army vet looking thing.

The Candy Apples group number was a bunch of girls running around carrying umbrella-ellas while Justice tried to guide Vivi-Anne across the stage the way a Boy Scout guides a blind person across the street.

The ALDC group number was so good that everyone was probably texting about it after it was over.  But hopefully not on the drive home, right?

After a round of applause for the tee shirt throwers (…seriously?  Tee shirt thrower?  That’s a real job?  With a real paycheck?  Sign me up…) the awards were announced.

Fast Forward:  Abby and her team took all the top honors.  Like…all of them.  There were not even scraps for the Candy Apples.

Since these were the fancy Nationals, top honors even came with Shrinky Dink micro souvenir Toddlers & Tiaras crowns and sashes.

To finish off the night, and the second season, Abby and Kelly went one more round over the usual checklist of grievances.

Man, there was a lot of crying this week.

As Abby wobbled out the door ranting about how lucky Brooke and Paige were to be allowed access to the ALDC Mother Ship, Kelly still hadn’t decided whether she was coming back next year.

Then everyone cried some more.

Not exactly a Dynasty cliff hanger, but enough to keep us going for a few months.

Or at least until the Real Housewives of Pittsburgh Reunion Show.

Eat your heart out, Andy Cohen.

 

 

 

Hey, bitches. Sup? Fix yo’ face, cuz the Tight & Right tag team is about to get all up in it. Mmkay?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh. Hell. No.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can she spell Rond de jambe? What the hell does that damn genie on Pee Wee’s Playhouse have to do with krumpin’?

 

 

 

 

 

Do NOT get all ethnic on me, or I’ll whoop yo’ a** with my doctorate AND condition that nasty hair while I’m at it.

 

 

 

 

 

OMG. And then Holly was all like this and she went all like that up in her grill. Realz.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Umm. Yeah. I’m all set with Black Patsy. Thanks for asking.

 

 

 

 

Hey, Pittsburgh.

You might want to stock up on non-perishables and head to your Safe Room, because a big, sassy chunk of meteor from Planet Fierce just entered the atmosphere directly above the Abby Lee Miller Dance Company, and it looks like the shock waves from impact could potentially reach as far away as that joint in Ohio that sells beef jerky and tap shoes.

Dat’s rite.

St. Louis is in the hizzle, bitches.

Meet Kaya and Nicaya.

Dance Moms just took a page out of the Poor Man’s NeNe Leakes Handbook and unleashed a big a** bag of OhNoSheDin’t all up in our faces this week, with the arrival of a potential new Mom and her sassy braided daughter.

As you’ll recall,  last time at the party following the ALDC Recital Of All Recitals Ever In The History Of Recitals, Abby had mistakenly assumed that Kaya was one of the hired help waitresses and struck up a conversation in an attempt to score another plateful of those little wieners on a toothpick.  After realizing that the woman wasn’t wearing an apron or sensible shoes,  Abby discovered that Kaya and her daughter were actually in Pittsburgh trolling for new studios.

Much to the dismay of dancers around the planet who have spent the last 15 years of their lives sweating away at auditions and open cattle calls just for a slim chance at handing off a headshot, Kaya had somehow managed to get her daughter invited to Abby’s Garage for a quick check under the hood in the first two minutes of face time.

Sister’s got it going on already and she ain’t even through the front door.  Dang.

But even Fierceness has to wait for the Pyramid of Shame.  Rules are rules.

As the little dancers all fell into their Bob Fosse Army lineup (…in strict formation, but with one hip popped like you do when you hit the end of the ramp on Project Runway…) and the Moms all headed to the back looking like that JCPenney specialty catalog insert with all the crazy, blindingly bright summer handkerchief patterned dresses, Abby got down to business.

The lowest level of the Pyramid was the official landing strip for the Paige, Brooke and Mackenzie airline.

Paige was there once again because she had spent yet another long week dragging that big Quasimodo foot behind her waiting for her Hugh Jackman mutant healing factor to kick in.

(That joke is only funny if you know that Hugh Jackman played Wolverine in the X-Men movies and that he’s also a Broadway song & dance guy, and that in the comic books Wolverine had the ability to regenerate broken bones.  I’m not sure if dancers actually have time to read comic books, so in hindsight I may have just used up some valuable story time.  If I was going to Monday Morning Quarterback my decisions, I probably just wasted a paragraph.  My bad.  But if you can find me another Reality TV website that can get football, dance, comic books and a movie star who gave up his adamantium claws to jazz hand like a gay Peter Allen all in one story…well…yeah, good luck with that.)

Now I forgot where I was.

Wearing one of those enormous walking boots may help your toes all heal in the same direction, but it isn’t much help in your jazz hands routine.  So another week of non-dancing meant Paige’s photo was now officially rubber cemented to the bottom row.

Brooke was there because she was in a Hip Hop number, and she can’t do Hip Hop.

That’ll do it.

To find out why MackAttack was on the bottom, simply replace Brooke’s name with Mackenzie’s in the previous sentence.  Second verse, same as the first.

Sasha Nia and Chloe were bunkmates on the second row, mainly to allow Maddie top billing again.  Granted, Maddie won the scholarship at the Recital, but Abby would probably stick her girl on the top even if she was wearing two of Chloe’s boots and a neck brace.

Kendall got nada again, and Jill‘s Snookie Poof completely deflated.

MackaDoodleDoo, Nia and Chloe were all handed solos this week, and then in a psychotically split personality moment,  Abby refused to give top spot Maddie a solo because she was still holding that grudge from when she and Mom Melissa refused a last minute solo a few weeks back.

Or maybe it was 2009.  I dunno.  That one seems to be going on for a long time now.

This week the gang was headed to beautiful California for the iHollywood Dance Competition.  For those of you who missed it last time, iHollywood is the one with the ginormous movie camera backdrop graphic that looks exactly like Beaker from the Muppet Show is undressing you with his eyes.

Check it out.  Big creepy eyeballs that follow you wherever you walk in the ballroom.  Even when you go to the bathroom at intermission.

The group number was another spoken word coffee house routine, similar to the now infamous Where Have All The Children Gone?  Except this time there wouldn’t be 72 pounds of Sand Bag Vivi-Anne aimlessly swinging on a swing set waiting to get abducted.

National exposure and my face on the opening credits of a television show about dancing without ever having to actually dance?  Hell, yeah.  I’ll be down at the playground if you need me.

No worries, though.  This time around the spirit of Vivi-Anne would still be ever present, because the dance was based on inmates in an insane asylum.  So yeah, it would almost be like she was still back there sucking on a Life Saver waiting for somebody to pick her up and toss her off stage.

Once all the busy work was done, the Moms headed to the MomPerch and the girls got to practicing.

And then it happened.

Kaya and Nicaya entered the building.

Sashaying her ’70s Dy-No-Mite hair and ’80s pink track jacket all over the studio, Kaya handed off her daughter to Abby for a consult and joined the Moms in the Perch, where she was greeted by whatever the opposite of open arms is called.

MmmHmm.  Introduce yo’self, bitches.

After a quick run through on the Moms, Kaya was asked what she thought of their kids in the Monster Truck Pull Recital last week.

Boom goes the Dy-No-Mite.

Kaya tried to break it down for them.  The girls all had good technique and could dance, but they weren’t entertaining.  They didn’t have no Divatude.

Jill, who was uncomfortably sitting as far away from this new Cup o’ Crazy as she could, didn’t know what to make of the whole thing and went back to figuring out what to do with her new hairstyle while Christi leaned forward and worked on a few new facially flabbergasted expressions.

Melissa then tried to lighten the mood by asking what the embroidery on the front of Kaya’s 3D track jacket boobage was all about.

MmmHmm.  It said “Black Patsy.”

Like Patsy Ramsey.  But Blacker.

Wha–?  I just can’t.

Google it.  And then come up with 400 reasons why you would never want that thing anywhere near your own jugs.

To break the silence, Melissa awkwardly mumbled “I love that name.  It’s really pretty” mainly because she couldn’t think of anything else to mumble.

Lawd have mercy.  Please let her be talking about “Nicaya” and not one of the Patsy Ramseys.  Please.

As Kaya threw shade all over the Perch, Abby put Nicaya through a few drills only to discover that the girl couldn’t spell or demonstrate most of the requested dance techniques.  Once Kaya joined them in the studio, Abby laid down a few rules and sent them home to buy a dictionary.

MmmHmm.  And now you want us to learn how to spell them stupid a** dance terms?  Just put in the damn CD and watch my daughter dance, bitch.

The next day, Jill had located her Bump-It and it looked like things might calm down a little, until Kaya showed up at the front desk telling Abby that she would do whatever it takes to get her daughter on the dance team.  Personally, regardless of who made the offer, I would have taken the opportunity to get that hot mess of a front desk cleaned and organized, but turning Kaya into the token sassy ALDC maid probably wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest, even though I would so love to see Abby Lee Miller go head to head with Al Sharpton.

(And you know he’s such an ambulance chaser that he was probably driving around and around the parking lot just in case anything went down on Day 2.  I’m pretty sure that was his ironically white station wagon out front.)

Real Housewives Marathon, anyone?  In what would normally take Andy Cohen about 4 to 6 weeks to fully reveal, somehow in under 10 minutes we found out that Kaya had loads of kids, was working a job while the other Moms were texting on their iPhones, was either divorced or no longer with at least one Baby Daddy and now a lesbian with a weird Gaydar take on Melissa.  Oh, Snap.  NoSheDin’t.

MmmHmm.  You got a problem wid dat?

Somewhere in the middle of all this fierce chaos, Paige was cleared to dance without her Hunchback foot and Kelly had yet another meltdown because Abby was doing the usual Mind F*** with her kids.

Turned out that Paige could dance, but not do tricks.  That meant she couldn’t balance a ball on her nose or do whacky back flips until competition day, and when she asked to wimp out a little and just mark her moves during rehearsal, Abby implied that she may just stick Nicaya in Paige’s spot at iHollywood and then began messing with her brain.

As Jill and Kaya both visualized their daughters’ faces superimposed over Paige’s body on stage, Kelly blew a major nutty.

I seriously need a spreadsheet or something to keep track of how many times Kelly blows a major nutty, because it’s gotten to the point where I can’t tell if they are all separate ones or just one long drawn out spaz that has been going on all season.

And then it was Showtime!

Back in the makeup and screaming room, Abby had still not decided if Paige was going to dance or not, and Kelly was either getting ready for another nutty or just pausing the current one for a second.

When Abby asked about Kelly’s behavior back at the studio, Kelly denied that anything really dramatic had happened.

MmmHmm.  That’s a lie, bitch.

Yeah.  Kaya went there.  And then it was on like NeNe Donkey Kong.

Hard as it is to believe, at some point they did manage to get some dancing done.  Nicaya and Paige both ended up dancing.  No big surprise since they both shlepped all the way to California.  That would have sucked.

But the dancing hardly mattered with all this good dirt flinging around the room like monkey poo.  Sorry kids, but this week it was all about the Moms.

Before and after the competition Kaya managed to head snap and finger wave herself right off of everyone’s Holiday greeting card list so hard that the Moms were starting to line up alphabetically for a chance to slap that constant half smirk off her face.

MmmHmm.  Where’s my Sistah at?

Yeah.  She even tried to pull the LaQuifa Card on Holly.  The same doctorate-holding Holly who has spent the the majority of the last two years trying to get all the afro picks out of Abby’s supply closet and let Nia just be a freakin’ dancer regardless of her ethnicity.  The last thing you wanna do is start any conversation with Holly that is going to include the words “As A Sister…” and then try to drag a school principal down to the ghetto on your Crazy Bus.

Black or white or John Deere green, I love Holly.  And she gave it right back to Kaya without taking her earrings off, losing a track or popping one single nail.

All she had to say was “Do NOT…” and I ran behind the couch.

MmmHmm.  That’s how we do.  You stay classy, Girlfriend.

Yup.  The Real Housewives of Pittsburgh are getting ready to rumble.  And it ain’t gonna be pretty, ladies.

But it’s gonna be fierce.  Cuz Kaya’s in the Dance ‘Hood.

And she don’t play.

MmmHmm.