DanThat'sCool!

 

 

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.

 

 

 

I got two words for you. Stupid. Hair. Yeah…I went there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mia? Whatchoo talkin’ ’bout, Willis?

 

 

 

 

 

 

You do not want me to get all Miami Gotti on your a**, blondie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They said never cut your own bangs. But did I listen? No.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You only get one chance to throw the cookie in his mouth. One chance.

 

 

 

 

Careful what you wish for.

It took 7 and a half episodes…but we finally got the kind of meltdown that would make even  Abby Lee Miller proud.

That’s right.  Dance Moms: Miami finally lived up to its namesake Birth Mother with a veritable meltdown potpourri of screaming, yelling, tantrums, slamming doors, crying children and the kind of telenovela drama usually reserved for recipients of a Daytime Emmy.

And it was over the top.  Season Finale over the top.  Fiercely over the top, in a Season Finale kind of way, bitches.

I think you get my point.

After basically boxing up and bringing home every trophy possible from their most recent competition, Team Stars was back home in their military line up to get this week’s work orders.  Even rockstar dancers need a splash of cold reality in their face to keep them grounded, so nothing ever starts without The List.

This time around all the Moms were present, which meant they were once again one chair short.

Seriously? Eight weeks later?  Can someone please get Angel a calculator when you pick up his Rosetta Stone DVDs?

I’ll cut Angel some slack and give him the benefit of the doubt this time.  It is possible that the studio was recently robbed, and the burglars only had time to lift one Mom chair and a tube of Victor’s FreezeItUp hair gel.

Did you see Ms. Smalley’s ‘do?  What was that all about?  All that finally sculpted Closer to Jesus hair had collapsed and was flopping all over the place.  Shameless, I tell you.

An insult to choreographers everywhere.

After dramatically brushing hair off his forehead like a dog that just won at Westminster, Victor got rite down 2 bidnezz.

Topless Lucas was at the top again.  He had taken 1st Place in his category and a stash of special awards last week,  so that got our little one legger prime seating on The List.

Lucas was psyched, and said it made him feel like “Hell on Wheels.”  It also made him rip his shirt off like a 65 pound Incredible Hulk and do that Club MTV shoulder swagger thing he always does.

Cutting back on carbs paid off for Hannah, and she found herself in the second spot.

As we’ve already discussed, the Boys are not big on math, so they made it clear that Hannah was in second place because…duh…she got 2nd at the competition.  That made it easy to figure out, and Angel didn’t risk getting his third ice cream headache of the day.

Sammy nailed her solo last time, and really improved on her artistry.  Victor flashed his Addam’s Family manicure and confirmed that she was indeed stunning last week.  But she had to be in the third hole because the first two were already filled and he had used that kind of foam tape that really sticks to the mirror.

So like any good girl, Sammy stopped at third base.

Slurpy Kimmy was next to the bottom in fourth place.  Luckily a couple of jiggly mess ups in the group number won’t adversely effect her Mensa score, so it will still all work out in the end.

But Kimmy and Mom Ani tend to put the O in OCD, so they immediately made plans to use this as a lesson in humility that they would both discuss in depth tomorrow at 4am while Kimmy downs her 3rd cup of Joe and completes the footnotes on her Molecular  Dynamics thesis.

I love Kimmy.

Speaking of hot coffee…Susan’s pot was just about to boil over when Jessi landed at the bottom again.  Jessi had touched the floor during her off balance extension, which is not cool.  You either cover up your wobble like a pro, or crack your head open and learn from your mistakes, missy.

Susan was destined to set off the building sprinklers today, you could just tell.  Someone was overheating her engine block, and it was only a matter of time.

Based on The List, Lucas and Kimmy were dueting again, while Sammy and Hannah were doing solos.

Jessi?  Well, thank for playing.  If you leave now you won’t miss the bus.  According to my finely honed psychic powers, this just ain’t gonna be her week.

But this is the week for Tulsa, Oklahoma…and the iHollywood Dance Competition.  Yippee I Ay, I guess.

When I saw it spelled like that, with the little “i” and the big “H” I got all excited thinking that Apple had their own dance competition where everyone wins iPads or iPhones or iPods, but no such luck.  Turned out it was just another normal competition with frames and trophies.  Wah.  Wah.

But this week there was a surprise! A surprise for all!  Drumroll, please.

In came Star’s 10 year old Elite Dancer Extraordinaire Mia Diaz!

Insert the patented Dance Moms HyperSpaz here: ________________!

The kids went completely Nutella and got their group hugs on while the Moms all ground their back teeth into chalk dust.

If you follow the activities of young children anywhere outside of the NBC Dateline Internet Chat Rooms, then you know that Mia is a big dealio in the dance world.  She brings with her years of experience, years of trophies and years of being a mini-celebrity in the competition industry.

She also brings with her a mother who I swear is Victoria Gotti from Celebrity Apprentice.  Or at the very least, her DNA cloned Miami replica.

Even if she’s not previously married to the mob, she will cut you.

It was clear the second that Susan unleashed her laser beam stare and Brigette swallowed her gum that there was no love in the room for Leo as she hustled in behind her daughter.  You would think she was an iHollywood handler making sure her SuperStar client got to speak with Ryan Seacrest on the Red Carpet they way she shoved Mia into the crowd.

It was that kind of entrance.

As all the Moms were herded into their cage, the kids got to rehearsing.  Leo sized each Mom up and down like she had an infrared x-ray spy scanner implanted in her skull while Ani teared up.

Since Kimmy and Ani are the only two people in the studio who can do math in their head, they had both already figured out that one of the kids was probably going to get cut now that Mia had arrived.

Ani left the room to commiserate with crazy Mayra, who was rocking some seriously new hair from the Jaclyn Smith Wig Collection.  And who says you can’t get a good curl with synthetics?

Leaving Stars Dance Studio for a few minutes, we got a chance to meet Brigette’s family for the first time and spy on her her home life, which was not pretty.

Lucas’s brothers, Lex and Logan, not only have two of the coolest comic book names evah but completely support their dancing sibling, as long as it doesn’t conflict with Dad’s football plans.  Brigette’s husband, or at least the top of his head that was buried in the Sports Section of some Miami rag, wasn’t really feeling the whole dance thing and it’s taking a toll on their marriage.

You could have turned off your television right here and been able to figure out how that is all going to work out in the end.  Sad.

As the competition grew closer, everyone was pretty much a hot mess in rehearsals.  Having Mia breathing down their necks was taking a toll on their focus, and Victor was not happy.

He was definitely happy that he had found his missing gel and gotten his hair mojo back, but the kids were another story.

To get the party started, he gave Mia a solo on the spot and sent Mayra into the cage to let Gotti know she needed to pay for the spot in competition.  Debi and Abby were not going to stand for that, and stormed out to have a meeting with whoever they could snag in the lobby.

I love when Moms storm out and take their purses with them.  After all these years of dance they still think that the other Moms are going to go through their stuff and steal chapstick or something.  I get great joy out of those moments for some reason.

To rub more salt in the wound, the duet was now a trio as Mia moved in on that turf as well.  Lucas loves his ladies, so he wasn’t too upset, but Kimmy gets some janky nerves when she’s put up against another dancer.  Victor made note of that fact that Kimmy has trouble with anything Fierce, and then spent the rest of the episode fully demonstrating his own skills.

Snap.  Pivot.  Work It.  Own It.  Learn from the Master, bitch.

Hannah’s solo rehearsals were about the only thing going well.  She managed to represent for the Big Girls again, and had amazing focus considering the uncomfortable manner in which Angel kept grabbing the front of his plaid Gap shorts.  Take it outside, dude.

The pressures of Dance 24/7 were starting to wear on the Moms as well.  Abby had taken to sleeping with one eye open since she had known Gotti for some time.  Debi had a tearful one on one with Hannah while Brigette finally cracked over her impending divorce to the Sports Section Guy.  Susan clinked and rattled to the point where you knew it would only be a matter of time before those pipes burst and everyone got scalded while Ani worried about…well…pretty much everything.  O to the C to the D.

Finally it was iShow time.

This competition must be a bigger deal than some of the others, because they had invested in an actual backdrop instead of rolling hotel tarp.  Keeping with the Hollywood theme, there was a gigantic Old Time movie projector graphic in the middle of the Dance Dance Xbox 360 artwork, but all I could think of was the Muppet Beaker and his beady bug eyes.  Rewind and check it out when they were giving out awards.  It was like Beaker had fallen into a vat of nuclear goo and gotten really, really big and now he was watching all of us over the MC’s shoulders.

The group number was all about Celebrity (…better known as Let’s All Dance Around Mia!…) and didn’t turn out so well.  Jessi fell out of her turn and Lucas had no shirt on again.

Blah.  Blah.  The dancing isn’t really important.  It’s the After Party where it got good.

Backstage, the whole Mia thing was out of control.  I missed who scooted all the kids out of the room, but luckily they were in the Safe Room when it all went down.  Brigette and Leo got all up in each other’s grill, chest to chest screaming about who is jealous of who.  (Whom?  I never get that right.)

When Gotti turned away with one of those Jersey Talk to the Hand flips, Brigette grabbed it like a dog grabbing a bone which snapped Angel into action.  Somehow he swooped down at her, almost knocking her to the ground like a crazy homeless woman.

In eight episodes, I can honestly say that was the fastest I have ever seen the guy move.  That knit poncho/cape button-up contraption he was wearing made Angel pretty aerodynamic.

Nobody lays a hand on nobody, though, and Victor kicked Brigette out of the room…and potentially out of Stars.

Just like any good DayCare, when one baby cries they all cry.  Susan started in on the Boys about favoritism and Mia and Leo being a bitch and the next thing you knew, she was kicked out of the room by Angel who momentarily morphed into some bats*** crazy gay Phantom of the Opera.  I don’t know how else to describe it.

Victor was picking them off like ducks at the State Fair.  Who’s Next?  Who’s Next?

There was so much fierce drama that I expected RuPaul to burst through the door and tell them all to just shut the f*** up and sashay away.

Susan walked a sobbing Jessi out of the building, vowing that she was done with Stars.

Brigette hugged a sobbing Lucas as he begged her to not tear him from his Stars family.  (Now is probably not the time to mention that you’re leaving Daddy.  Just saying.)

Everyone was clutching their pearls and fanning themselves like a hot July in Miami, child.

It was like the season finale of Dance Moms: Oprah.

You get to cry!  You get to cry!  You all get to cry!

No doubt about it.  Abby Lee Miller would be proud.

 

 

I am a well trained professional prima ballerina. Many men have referred to me as The Nutcracker.

 

 

 

 

Why does it always have to be Abby? Just once I’d like to be the pretty one. Work with me.

 

 

 

 

Those bitches. Why didn’t anyone tell me I had chocolate on my face?

 

 

 

 

 

It says you need to lose 10 lbs of baby fat and 200 lbs of enabling mother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back dat thang up.

 

 

 

 

I don’t know if it was my 2 hours at the gym tonight or Dance Moms: Miami that is making me feel so dehydrated.

Considering that I forgot my iPod and was having a difficult time lip reading Judge Judy on the monitor, I didn’t really work that hard on the treadmill.  So it’s probably a given that my light headedness stems from this week’s episode, where there was so much crying and talk about salty food that I really need to replenish my fluids before I get one of those debilitating dancer cramps.

The gang was heading to San Antonio this time around, and you know what they say.

Everything’s bigger in Texas.  The hair, the drama and the number on the bathroom scale.  All big.

Really big.

What they don’t say is that everything starts getting big before you even leave Miami to board the plane to Texas.

This week all the dancers were headed to Starbound for the 99th time this season.

I’m unsure if that is the only competition left in America that will allow anyone even remotely affiliated with Abby Lee Miller to get past security, or if they’re all just Starbound groupies who follow the judges from city to city like stoners following a trail of pot smoke from the Grateful Dead tour bus.

Either way, San Antonio…get ready for some Fierceness.

But before they could pack their cowboy spurs and all of Victor’s new spiked goth jewelry, everyone had to deal with The List.

Drumroll, please.

The biggest newsflash this week was that every Mom finally had a chair to sit in, which made Victor pause and do some quick mathematical calculations in his head.  Something wasn’t right.

Turned out that Sammy and her Mom “I’m the Pretty One” Abby were MIA, which explained the balanced seating arrangements.

Last week, after yet another throw down with the Moms, Abby and Sammy took off and hadn’t been heard from since.  Hopefully they were not lying dead in a ditch on the side of the highway, because neither Victor or Angel could be bothered to find out what happened.  Keep it moving, people.  Nothing to see here.

Going bottom up…which is a hysterically fitting metaphor for so many things in Miami…The List was unveiled.

The lowest spot on the Toe Shoe Totem Pole was held by the missing Sammy, prompting Angel to declare that he would not waste his saliva on any explanation.

Plus he needed that mouth juice for his snacks later.  Dude could use a sit up or two.

Don’t be hating…I’m just saying.

Fourth slot was Hannah.  She still needed to work on her technique and caloric intake.  Each week her weight has increasingly become the elephant in the room, no hurt or pun intended.

Hannah has an amazing head on her shoulders, and wants people to see her for a dancer, not as a kid with a Mom who overfeeds her every night.  She knows what she needs to do, and is working on it for crying out loud, but Mom has some kind of lettuce phobia or something that won’t allow her to approach a salad bar without an inhaler.

So Hannah pays the price each week, whether it be concerned looks from the other Moms or the costumes they make her wear with those floppy swatches of fabric draped across her belly.

Worst.  Camouflage.  Job.  Ever.

Third spot is for topless Lucas.  He nailed his performances last time, but snitched on Sammy for dropping Kimmy on her head and as anyone who watches Mob Wives knows…nobody likes a rat.

Kimmy almost made it to the top, but got stuck at second because she was late on her penché, whatever that is.  I don’t have time to Google it, but whatever a penché is…it shouldn’t be done late.  She also got props for taking the heat for Sammy’s goof, even though getting dropped on the noggin wasn’t her fault.

Jessi made it back up on top after plummeting to the bottom for weeks.  Her solo last week was great, and she made it another 7 days without killing her mother while she slept.  Kudos.

Sammy and Abby decide to roll back into the studio as Victor began the assignments for the week, which wound him up a little tighter.

Jessi and Kimmy were given a duet.

If you didn’t know either of them you would immediately visualize some chick fight dance where the mean girl shoves the nerd girl inside her locker between classes. But since we’ve had 6 weeks to get acquainted it wasn’t going to be so terrifying to see Jessi flip Kimmy up over her head with one arm.

They like each other, even though their Moms are in the other room chewing through each other’s necks.

Lucas got a solo.  Duh.  I wonder if it will involve lifting his right leg straight up in the air?

Hannah got a solo as well, which was her golden opportunity to show all them skinny bitches how the big girls get it done.  In yo’ face.  Love her.

The group number was all about Abandonment Issues, designed as Victor’s way to force feed some teamwork down everyone’s throats.

And speaking of force feeding…uh oh.

As Hannah worked on her solo, the whole weight thing finally bubbled to the surface like microwaved cheese dip.

Now you don’t have to read medical journals at the dentist office to have heard a little something about childhood obesity and unhealthy eating habits.  Just swing by any Food Court on your way to Macy’s.

Unless Hannah is buying the household groceries with her allowance and birthday money, I’m pretty sure Mom Debi is stocking the refrigerator, and what she is not eating herself…she is feeding to her daughter.

Debi got overly defensive about the weight issue and didn’t appear to really see how enabling she may have become at meal time.  But luckily Mayra and her every changing hairdo was there to grind the point into Debi’s face like a seasoned pork rub.

Mayra called out Debi for allowing Hannah to eat a hamburger at the airport, when somewhere in the terminal there had to have been a Subway sandwich shop.  Then it got ugly as Debi stormed out, vowing that Mayra would never again put her kid on the scale and that by the way…it was only half a hamburger, so go back to your front desk and f*** off.

Abandonment was key this week, as Angel and Victor kept disappearing at random inopportune times.

Mayra checked in on the duet while Angel focused on the never seen Senior Dancers, which made the Moms a little itchy.  There were also a few scenes with the kids just standing around waiting for some direction, which made the Moms incredibly itchy.

While Victor showed off his new black & white Sephora manicure to the kids, the Moms decided that they would all try to get along for the sake of their kids and their own sanity.

The Moms.  Getting along.

I know, right?

As they all bonded with that hand stack thing the Fantastic Four always does before they head off into the Negative Zone, their giddy Mom cheer got Victor so traumatized that he had to call off the group rehearsal, flamboyantly grab all his accessories and go bat s*** DivaPalooza out the front door.

PS.  That was not a ManPurse he had seductively draped over his wrist as he exited stage right.  Sorry.  That was 100% Lady Bag.

Victoria, honey.  C’mon.

Then it got cray cray.

In came Mayra, with no wig or weave, to teach the ballet class because both Victor and Angel were MIA.  A lot of that going around lately.

The Moms went from itchy to full blown rash as they watched Mayra in her elastic pants and real hair lead the kids through their barre work.  Word on the street is that Mayra used to be a professional dancer, so I guess it’s like riding a bike, but the Moms weren’t having it this close to competition.  Everyone kept looking around for Ashton Kutcher to poke his head in the doorway and scream “You just got Punk’d, bitches!” but no such luck.  This was really happening.

By the time Angel came in and made the announcement that he was staying home to work with those attention grabbing Seniors instead of joining everyone in San Antonio, the background drumroll and the Moms’ attitudes were both overly dramatic.

How could he abandon them at this late hour?  How could they go to Texas without him?  How does he fit in that Gap Kids polo shirt?  And how does he dance in flip flops?

Gah.  So many unanswered questions.

And then it got bigger, because it was Texas time!

I say it almost every week.  You gotta love Victor’s entrances into the venues.  Since they haven’t mastered the Abby Lee Miller group takeover walk, Victor just zones out and does his own mini runway, leaving all the kids behind.

They could all literally be hit by the airport shuttle bus and he wouldn’t know until the MC announces the Stars Dance Team and nobody goes on stage, because the dude is so focused on that strut.

This week’s runway included a hot pink top, purple pants, some whacked out jewelry and that shiny new manicure.  Victor has also turned the simple task of removing sunglasses from your face into an art form.  Walking down the narrow hallway you know he was totally dying to press himself up against the cinder block walls like that new Jennifer Lopez music video, but they were behind schedule.

Next time, maybe.

The dances all went really well.  Hannah nailed her big girl dance, and showed everyone that she ain’t backing it up, or backing it down.  She’s a force.

Debi, on the other hand, needs to just stop talking.  In a classic Toddlers & Tiaras Pageant Mom Moment, Debi guaranteed Hannah a few years of adult therapy by being completely dumbstruck that her own daughter didn’t fail.  Mom was surprised when her kid wasn’t 4th.  She was 2nd.  And Mom expected 4th.  Or worse.

Debi better clear the DVR before she serves up another bucket of wings or Hannah is going to be devastated when she watches this episode.  Nice, Mom.  Nice.

Lucas somehow managed to dance both numbers with a shirt on, proving that…yes…he can still lift his right leg up 42 times without being stripped down like internet kiddie porn.  Hopefully we’ve seen the last of naked Lucas.

Jessi doinked her back right as the duet was heading to the stage, but she still managed to pick up Kimmy like Idaho potatoes and spin her all over the stage without dropping her, which is a good thing.  I don’t think Kimmy’s summa cum laude GPA could withstand too many more blows to the skull.

One quick pointer for any tech engineers who happened to find this site by mistake.

Starbound has one of the worst sound systems I’ve ever heard.  Seriously.  If the kids didn’t stand up, I would never have known who won what prize.  What was she saying?

My grade school Peter and The Wolf play was easier to hear, and that was in the cafetorium with a tripod mic on fish stick day.

Fix that.  Now.

Team Stars owned San Antonio, as Victor pointed out.  They stole all the trophies out from everyone else and got their Fierce On.  The numbers were great, the kids all did great and Victor’s funky new jewelry was killer.

That calls for some celebration snacks.

We’re all going to Debi’s for burgers.  Wanna come?