Posts Tagged ‘Hadley Walts’

Raising Asia: The Sass Is Back! At The World Of Dance It Was Time For Lions And Six Packs And Stares, Oh My.

Friday, August 1st, 2014

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Because after some smart a** boob joke, that fool with the blog is going right for the black electric tape. That’s why.

 

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Srsly. I know boys have cooties. But boys with cooties AND six packs? Aaaawwwwesome!

 

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Whoa. Who knew that doing a 5 year old’s finger curls would be tougher than 40 minutes of Iron Grip curls.

 

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C’mon. Think, Baby. Remember. Remember. Remember. What is my name? I know it.

 

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Some people think I’m a control freak. Maybe I should just take off my earrings and we can discuss it outside. Let’s Go!

 

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Dang, boyeee. That Mama Ray is waaay hotter than that Candy Apples bitch. What was I thinkin’?

 

 

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My luck we’ll end up at the Mall instead of the park, because Gawd knows that woman doesn’t have enough stilettos.

 

 

 

Well.

This is awkward.

So much for my long term Bucket List goal of becoming the next Beyoncé.

Looks like somebody beat me to it.  And her name is Asia Monet Ray, mmmkay?

Dat’s rite.  The one from Dance Moms and Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition.

That one.

She’s back.  A little taller than the last time we saw her.  And a whole bunch more sassier.

Like three snaps up, at least.  Maybe even four in a Z formation by now, Girlfriend.

So naturally, there is already plenty of internet buzz out there between both sides debating what constitutes too much sass and what doesn’t.  Because Miss Thang is definitely sassy.  She was born that way and has plenty of her mother’s wide eyed DNA to prove it.

But sassy is kind of a grey area for some people.  When you’re 18 months old and slap yo’ mama, someone goes “Boop!” and takes a family video that everyone watches over the holidays.  When you’re 18 years old and slap yo’ mama, it usually ends up on TMZ.

Little Asia is somewhere in between on my Sassy Scale.  But it’s all good.

Besides, I’m not here pretending to have any knowledge whatsoever on parenting.  And you’re probably not here to absorb any.  If we were, I probably wouldn’t have built my entire brand on five seasons of Toddlers & Tiaras and Kelly Hyland losing her nutty.

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I’m just here for the party.

And because I love Asia and her Mom.  (…Oh, hey girl! Let’s Go! XOXO…)

So now that we got the business side of this wrapped up, let’s get to the good stuff.

We started out with a quick flashback of Asia’s ALDC and AUDC appearances.  We saw the little lion dance when she tried to make baby teeth look like growling fangs.  We saw a million different one legged spins and booty pops.  And even that one time she wore about 20 feet of black plastic Hefty bags and got all Wicked Witch up in Richy Jackson‘s face.

According to my girl, when Asia grows up she is going to rule the world.  And she is totally focused on her career…like crazy.

Yeah.  She had me at ‘Crazy.’  And speaking of…let’s meet the family, shall we?

First up was 5 year old baby sister Bella Blu.

Not gonna lie.  Despite all the times that I’ve seen them, read about them or creeped them on Facebook I never put two and two together to realize that when you say her full name all at once it ends up being Blu Ray.

Like at Best Buy.  I know, right?  Hilar.

Bella is so cute.  Redoinkulously cute.  Like the kind of cute where you have to always have Wet-Naps in your purse just in case you need to wipe up any cute that might squirt out on the floor so nobody slips on it.

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That kind of cute.  Bella wants to be a gymnast, but I would prefer that she grow up and star in some kind of sitcom where every sentence begins with “Girrrrrrl, please…”  

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how that one plays out.

Next up was Dad Shawn, who is clearly a former professional bodybuilder.  But not the kind that you see on ESPN pulling a train engine with nothing but a rope in their teeth.  Shawn’s the kind of bodybuilder that you always see covered in baby oil on those hanging GNC posters that fall down every time you open the front door on a windy day.

Dude.  Is.  Jacked.

He instantly made me feel inferior, even though I’m at the gym almost every day.  Granted, watching him on the Lifetime Lady Channel at 10pm on a Tuesday night while laying on the couch eating cheese puffs may have been part of the problem.

But regardless.  Dude.  Is.  Jacked.

And then there was Alpha Mom Kristie, Control Freak to Infinity & Beyond, doing what she does best: Gettin’ it Done…and Putting on Makeup.

Love.

From the first time she started getting all OhNoYouDin’t up in Yvette Walts‘ face way back on Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition, it was all over for me.

When Kristie’s gigantic Jennifer Lopez earrings start flapping side to side and her pony tail starts whipping around like someone just spooked a horse, trust me…it’s time to go.

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The family unit is a little split down the middle right now due to the amount of time Kristie spends Momager-ing (…is that even a word?…) Asia’s blossoming career.  Asia wants to be a megastar, so that means that tiny Blu Ray ends up kind of lost in the shuffle most of the time.

But don’t you worry…Daddy got this.  Shawn makes sure that his littlest girl gets all the attention she deserves.  He does her hair.  Takes her on playdates.

He even feeds her eggs.  With the yolks.

Protein, baby.

Side note: WTF is Asia doing drinking out of a sippy cup?  F’realz.  Love you, mean it…but the only reason that anyone over the age of 4 should be drinking out of a sippy cup is if they’re going 4 wheeling or Mama’s planning on taking the Escalade over every speed bump in front of Target at 60mph.

And if that’s the case, she can borrow mine.  Otherwise, I don’t ever want to see that thing on screen again.  It gives you beaver teeth.

Anyway.  After a few overly dramatic dietary conflicts (…chillax, Gurl…it’s not like the yellow part fell on the floor…) and about five blank checks, Kristie and Asia headed out to dance rehearsal while Shawn stayed home to wax his head and give Blu Ray a perm.

The World of Dance Network wanted Asia to perform at their upcoming event.  OMG!  WOD!  The WOD is THE industry leader in urban hip hop.  And the dance network with THE worst logo ever.  Check it out.

What is that?  Look at the ‘W.’  Go home letter ‘E’ …you’re drunk.

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Time to rehearse.  With everyone’s favorite hat-wearing studio-hopping go-to choreographer Anthony Burrell!

Seriously.  The guy is EVERYwhere.  He’s been on Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition.  He’s been on Dance Moms with the Candy Apples.  If he could use a hot iron Lifetime would probably stick him on Project Runway.

Anthony is an amazing choreographer who likes to wear a lot of  fancy designer hats and name drop his celebrity clients.  Both of which is does very well.  And very often.

For the WOD performance, Anthony had come up with the concept of Asia portraying a lion tamer with thigh high boots and a whip, snapping her shizz all over the bellies of a den full of shirtless Abercrombie models.

I’m going to assume that he didn’t initially present it to Mom that way, but that’s the direction they were headed.  Unfortunately, there were no naked lions yet.  Or costumes.  Or cages.  The only thing that actually made an appearance in the studio was Kristie’s signature squint/scowl thing that always happens when she gets in the Zone.

Anthony seemed to be a little behind schedule, but he promised perfection.  He also promised that it was going to be amaze balls.  And that Asia’s Little Kid Time was over.  She was a big girl now and needed to start dancing like one.

(Spoiler Alert:  He just neglected to tell her agent.)

After some imaginary lion taming, the three of them headed over to one of those stores that sells nothing but prom dresses and lion tamer booty shorts.

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Naturally, Asia’s costume was also imaginary and all she had to work with was about 10 feet of red fabric that looked kind of rubbery from where I was laying eating cheese puffs.  Kristie was afraid that it was so long Asia would wipe out on stage, but the cape was still about half the size of that Oz trash bag she dragged all over AUDC.  I wasn’t too worried.

And can we just take a moment to acknowledge how Kristie always holds her purse and cell phone?  And charger.  And tire inflator.  And whatever the h*** else it is that she always has piled up in the palm of her left hand while that Louis bag catwalks back and forth in the crook of her arm?  Can we, please?

You betta Werk, bitch.

We’ll skip the next part where Asia auditioned the Abercrombie lions by making them pull their shirts up like she was on Spring Break because I don’t want Twitter to explode again.

It happened.  And I think Kristie took a selfie with one of her five iPhones when nobody was looking.  Figures.  The one day she didn’t bring Shawn’s baby oil…

Moving on.

Before the WOD extravaganza kicked into gear, we got a few minutes of Family Time to see what really happens when you try to feed Asia broccoli and film Kristie’s house when it’s not perfect.

Answer:  It doesn’t go very well.  Asia doesn’t do vegetables.  Learn it.  Now, please.

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And then you might want to send your condolences to Dru the TV Guy, who found himself trapped as all 4 walls of Asia’s in-home dance room began closing in on him.

In a scene that we aren’t usually privy to, we got to witness what happens right before a reality show actually begins filming a reality show scene.  A scene where someone had turned all the dance trophies backwards, stuck gaffers tape all over every hanging competition plaque and yet somehow neglected to tell Kristie what they had done while Asia was busy spitting broccoli into the toilet.

That black tape was everywhere.  Like you do when you have to cover up corporately licensed business names or Nicki Minaj‘s boobs.

Trust me, I’m not getting out my magnifying glass to look at any on screen Energy Dance Secret Code or naked pop star sippy cups, but I totally get why Mom shut it down.

Finally, it was Showtime!

The cage managed to arrive on time.  Not sure what took so long just spray painting four gold styrofoam balls and a couple of crib guards, Anthony.  But, whatev.

As Asia and the Abercrombies hit the stage for one final rehearsal, some of the WOD officials weren’t liking it.  At all.

There was concern about Asia’s costume.  And her age.  And the whip.  And the boys.  And the combination of all the above.

As Kristie and her squint/scowl hovered in the background, everyone discussed the lyrics and the age appropriateness of the whole thing with about 12 minutes to go before showtime.

I’m sure there was some major drama on the floor of the auditorium, but as soon as Asia’s manager Billy Hufsey walked into the building everything else disappeared.

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Do you remember him from the TV show Fame?  It was pre-Bieber, if that helps.  Billy used to have the biggest Kids from Fame hair evah.  And he had a poster that was nothing but him in a towel with an Abercrombie belly.

But that was back in the day.  Now he had on one of Anthony’s old hats and a haircut that I still can’t figure out even though I Googled him like forty times after the show.

If you still have no clue what I’m talking about, then One…you certainly didn’t get the hysterical Irene Cara reference in the photo sniglet next to Billy’s face up there.  And Two…you’re probably too young to be on a website that said ‘boob’ twice in one story.

But I’m not going to bust Billy on the first episode, because he did say that he was tired.

And then Asia performed.  And slayed it.  Natch.

After the show, Anthony was happy.  Kristie and Shawn were happy.  Billy was still tired and only kinda sorta happy.  He wanted his client to act more like an 8 year old because that’s how he can sell her.  Sell.  Her.

I looked on Craigslist but couldn’t figure out what category Sassy Diva Wannabes would be under.  He might want to stop referring to my girl as a product, even though I know that’s how they talk in the biz.  They do, you know.  Because I talk smack about television and now I think I’m a know-it-all.

But Asia Monet Ray is back.  That’s all that really matters.

And now she’s only got three months to get ready for her humungous, over the top, first ever Mini-Beyoncé outdoor concert at Universal Citywalk.

I’m so excited my girl is in the hizzle, yo.

Raise yo’ hands if you’re excited.

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Dance Moms: Let’s Just Send In The Clones. When It Comes To The Candy Apples, Two Can Play This Game.

Wednesday, January 8th, 2014

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Then I told Leslie to save those tears for her pillow and to return that Walmart dress. Girl, please.

 

 

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Shake the nerves or I’m taking your pink iPhone and you’ll be waiting overnight in a tent at the Apple Store for a new one.

 

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Yo! Frazier! Over here! Lovin’ the new weave! Woot Woot! You werk it, Gurrrl!

 

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MmmMmm. Dang, that McGrath boy is a fine piece o’ sweet candy. Mama Kaya’s kinda liking all that.

 

 

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Honk.

 

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Ok, Baby. Tell me if they’re still looking. I know those bitches be hatin’ on my new Dr. Beyoncé look.

 

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Yeah. I think I’m all set with hearing about this damn makeover. We get it. She bought hot rollers. Call CNN.

 

 

 

Game On.

Hope you packed your bags and your milking stools, kids.

Dance Moms is heading to Ohio this week…and you know what that means.

After a short summer break to soak their feet and tighten some orthodontics, the ALDC girls are finally back in business for another competition season and ready to do whatever it takes to retain their National Champion status.  Especially when they cross state lines into Candy Apples territory.

The tiny dancers may have lost some of their baby teeth during their time off, but they didn’t lose their hunger to be Number One.  Even that awkward soap opera growth spurt that a few of them encountered between seasons (…I really thought that at least one of the girls was going to be played by a new, older actress like they do on General Hospital when the producers warp speed a kid through 12 birthdays during a commercial break…) wasn’t going to stop them from their goal of Dance Supremacy.

Unfortunately, their first showing of the new season hadn’t really been anything to write home about.  Last week’s Third Place trophy wasn’t sitting well with Abby Lee Miller as they all rolled into the studio for the second Pyramid of Shame.

Clearly, the kids were a little nervous.

And clearly, Abby was now making up for years and years of pre-Dance Moms anonymity by never leaving the house without a full coat of celebrity makeup and hairspray.

(Is it just me?  Remember Season One? Who was that woman with the flat hair and the plastic headband?  Save those tears…and that foundation…for your pillow, honey.)

This week everyone was headed back to Ohio for another face to face meeting with Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein and her revolving door dance team.

As Abby once again messed with the girls heads by pointing out that any of the upcoming Open Auditions could potentially deliver replacements for the current team before their little bodies were even cold, we were treated to a few more Best Of Cathy flashbacks to bring us all up to speed.

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You know the ones.

The infamous Water Bottle/Purse Swing to the Head.  The unruly Mob in the Hall when Kaya From The Block pushed Jill From The ‘Burb‘s nose so hard that Botox almost squirted out both ears.

Seriously.  How much do you love Jill when she goes all Grocery Store Gangsta?  Love.

But first…The Pyramid.  Always The Pyramid.

Bottom row this time around was filled with Payton, Brooke, Nia and Mackenzie.

Brooke had botched a few moves in the group routine last time, which Abby somehow managed to blame on the country music industry.  Nia had done a really good dance, but hadn’t even placed during the awards ceremony.  That made me sad and also made me want to go on a rant about how lame the Sheer Talent backdrop was last week.

But I won’t, because I’m sure that someone spent a lot of time and effort stretching a queen-sized bed sheet out on four clothespins and then lining up a film projector logo.

Diss my Nia?  I don’t think so.

Payton had completely lost her noodle over a tight hair bow.  And despite Mackenzie’s new “My Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Teeter Totter” glamour shot, she proved that she was still a little girl on the inside by screwing around in the makeup room all day.

I also think that was her only scene this week, because I don’t even remember her being in the rest of the show.  She must have gone home to do another youtube makeup video.

The mezzanine level was home to Paige, Kendall and Chloe, which was basically done in order to free up the top spot for Maddie.  Again.

Maddie is Numero Uno.  We get that part by now.  But who is Numero Dos?

Good question.  And one that could only be answered by giving both Chloe and Kendall ‘Battle of  the Pop Stars’ solos in Ohio.

Chloe would be Katy Perry.  Kendall would be Lady Gaga.  Really.

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As we digested that one, the hilarity shifted to Ohio and the Evil Dance Lair, where we found the Candy Apple brigade all busting out the same sit ups they make felons do in prison exercise yards.  Cathy’s prisoners just weren’t visibly shackled, from what I could tell.  At least I don’t think they were.

Bad a** choreographer Blake McGrath was back again, still getting it done with his bad a** neck tattoo and bad a** East Village t-shirt.  You can tell all the Moms get giggly around him when he dirty dances in his Diesel skinny jeans.

Except for maybe Kaya that is, who instead got all Good In Da ‘Hood on Blake’s bad a** as soon as he gave the week’s solo to Lady Killer Lucas Triana instead of her daughter Nicaya.  OhHellNo.

In Kaya’s defense, Cathy did dangle the dance in front of them both for a few seconds before yanking it back like a Twinkie on a string.  That was kinda mean.  And in hindsight, that’s probably what made Kaya go off like one of those molotov cocktails you always see people throw through a Best Buy window during a city blackout when she accused Lucas’ Mom Brigette of partying the lonely nights away with Blake.

Whaaa-?  Whoa.  Hello.  Gurrrl, I need the deets on that one.

Cuz I love Brigette and her smiley face and her smiley kids.  And she’s always putting all these fluffy motivational blurbs on Twitter.  But did you see that Side Eye she gave Kaya?

Oh, snap.

I don’t care how many times Brigette quotes Maya Angelou.  I bet Mama Triana could let 100% of the air out of both your front tires before the light even turns green and still make it to her first real estate showing on time.  She’s from Miami, you know.

Back at the ALDC, rehearsals were in full swing as the Moms went a few rounds up in the MomPerch.

Turns out that Kendall had scored a 30 minute private with choreographer Gianna over the weekend and now…suddenly…the solo that Kendall was performing in Ohio was the same one that she had practiced on Sunday.

If we’re being completely honest, I don’t accomplish much of anything in 30 minutes, so I’m not really sure why Christi made such a big deal about the private attention.  But I guess it’s a Dance Mom thing.  Privates must give you some kind of magical leg up on the competition from what I can tell.

It also meant that Christi and Jill sparred for more than 30 minutes about 30 minutes of their lives they’ll never get back before Jill got up to go buy another 30.

For a total of 90.

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So there.

And why is the parking lot always wet?  Always.  Anyone?

Zipping back up to Ohio one more time before the competition, we got a glimpse of the group routine that Blake had (…allegedly, according to Kaya…) over choreographed.  Too much stuff.  Too elaborate.  And too much for Kaya, who stormed out of the room when Blake asked if she would like it dumbed down to her level.

OhNoHeDin’t.  That’s twice if you’re counting.

Hopefully she was going back to that vandalized Best Buy to pick up some better microphones for the Candy Apples studio, because they all sound like they’re being recorded on a Kindle when compared to the ALDC sound checks.  Really.  Go back and listen again.  Echo, much?

And why is that?  Anyone?  So many unanswered questions this week.

Not to be outdone, Abby was putting her girls through their group routine as well.  Entitled “Just Another Number,” it was a sci-fi looking kind of thing about cloning sheep.  Or something.

Holly went back to her academic roots and tried to explain to Leslie what cloning was all about, but Leslie was starting a slow boil over her kid’s height again and Holly’s hair was still so fresh and tight that I got really distracted.  So all I remember is something about sheep and robots and those barcodes that never scan correctly on your cell phone app.

Finally, it was Showtime!

The Candy Apples Crew pulled up to the bumper in one of those shiny black Evil Villain town car/bus contraptions that they always use on Real Housewives of Atlanta.

I immediately wondered if there was a stripper pole inside, cuz that’s kind of a Bravo thing.

Luckily I was pretty easily distracted by Cathy’s crazy animal print dress and the sight of sniffling Vivi-Anne stumbling off the bus behind her Mom carrying a gigantic shopping bag full of travel snacks.

Seriously.  How does this kid not have her own spin-off show yet?  I’m not talking anything expensive.  Just stick her in front of a green screen and let her eat ice cream all day.

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By the time the Candy Apples hit the pavement, the crowd was already bazoinkers.  Needless to say, they completely lost their shizz when the shiny white Good Guy ALDC bus reared ended the black bus from Ohio.  I swear it was louder than when the Beatles landed at the airport.

Inside, it was the usual stress filled pre-game show.

Christi threatened Chloe to either shake off her nerves or Mama would take her iPhone away, which I thought was a little extreme.  Seeing’s how it might actually be easier to pry raw meat out of a pit bull’s mouth than to get a cell phone away from a tweenager, I kind of envisioned Christi sitting in the audience flipping through the program with a broken arm for the rest of the season.

Abby then threatened Kendall to either hold in those tears or she would replace her with Maddie doing improv.  I got kind of excited to hear Maddie’s comedy shtick until I realized I was thinking about the wrong kind of improv.  I bet Maddie would have been funny, though.  They should totally add it to next week’s group number.

And put her in Groucho glasses, because those always make me laugh.

Holly kind of sat this one out, choosing instead to continue giving us another week of Michelle Obama Sleeveless Realness and tossing her hair around like the Herbal Essence Shampoo lady.  Protect that investment, sistah.

I swear, if she doesn’t bring one of those Mariah Carey floor fans into the MomPerch next week to keep that new ‘do blowing around for the full hour I’ll buy you lunch.

Lucas was first up with his solo.  One leg straight up in the air and some fake Enrique Iglesias Spanish soundtrack about making girls swoon and throw Hello Kitty underoos up on stage.  Check out his HowYouDoin’ eyebrow lift.  Dude is a Playground Playa.

And my hero.

Next up was Kendall’s solo, event though the program said she was going last.  There was some sketchiness in the audience as Jill tried to figure out what was going on.  Christi somehow knew that Chloe and Kendall’s spots were reversed but wasn’t really clear on where she scored that informational update.

I’ll give it to my girl Jill.  She still can’t figure out what to do with her bangs, but she knows that you don’t change the order of the horses in a race at the last minute unless someone loses a shoe or breaks a leg.  Something’s up.

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Caught a bit off guard, Kendall’s first spin was a little wonky and she fell out of the move a bit, which got the whole row of Moms talking.  Was the floor wet?  Was it slippery?  Was it sticky?  Shut Up, Leslie.

That last one kind of came out nowhere and it was all downhill from there.

Chloe did her thing.  And then Leslie had a 15 Kleenex meltdown out back.  Mad, ugly crying.  Even Melissa couldn’t calm her down.

And then both groups performed.

The solos didn’t score that well.  Chloe did better than Kendall, which kind of made her the Numero Dos dancer.  But only by default.

The ALDC group took First Place.  The Candy Apples group not so much.  Could Kaya have been right all along?

But all the really good stuff was out back.

Leslie blew a nutty at Abby for telling her to shut up in front of the entire auditorium.  One of those major league nutties that you only see when someone cuts in front of you at Costco on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Git out m’way, beeotch.

Boom.

You Shut Up No You Shut Up No You Shut Up.

They kept repeating that over and over as the credits rolled.

Nothing like another relaxing trip to Ohio, I always say.

Vivi-Anne.  Gimme some of them Cheetos.  I’m stressing out.

And get me outta here.  Now.

Who’s excited to go back to Pittsburgh?

Jill?

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Dance Moms: It Ain’t Always Easy In The Big Easy. Nationals Means It’s Time For Some N’awlin Brawlin’.

Wednesday, September 11th, 2013

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Gimme strength, cuz Imma ’bout ready to take my shoes off and back that damn chick’s s*** up with one hand. F’real.

 

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Yo. Just got a text that it’s going down hard in the French Quarter and Leslie needs back up. You crazy bitches in?

 

 

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Stop…Stop…Stop! Lady, they don’t pay me enough to touch those boobs, so I need you to chillax.

 

 

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Wha-? Why is Melissa hanging them jiggly, saggy half empty water balloons over the balcony? White people are crazy.

 

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So you’re saying I’m gonna have to leave Pittsburgh and go back to LA to star in movies and music videos? Hmmph. Gimme a minute…

 

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Oh, yeah. Mama likes big butts, and she cannot lie.

 

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Hey, Vertes. I see your Bump-It and I raise you three feet. Game over, honey.

 

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That NutWad is so lucky I don’t know how to swear, cuz I’m coming down from about 6 Diet Cokes right now, and I am NOT in the mood for this.

 

 

What?

Nationals?  Already?

No way.  Really?  Who knew?

Umm.  Maybe everybody.

Unless you watch Dance Moms with the volume off (…which would actually make for a pretty HIGHlarious drinking game if you wanted to give all the Moms funny voices while they lip sync a fight scene…) you probably noticed that over the last few weeks every other word out of Abby Lee Miller‘s mouth had subtly hinted at something about the upcoming Nationals.

We’re going back to Nationals as the reigning National Champions in an attempt to retain our status as National Champions at the upcoming Nationals which are coming up soon.   And it ‘s my name, and my reputation on the line as we head to Nationals as the reigning National Champions.  At Nationals.

Rinse and Repeat.

It was like that.  But more often, with brighter jewelry and a scratchy voice.

Now finally, after all the reminders and subliminal references…

Wait for it.

Nationals!

In N’awlins, Louisiana.  The Big Easy.

And there was a lot to do and a lot of decisions to make, so Abby didn’t waste any time in getting right down to bidnezz, starting with the Pyramid of Shame.

(Note to self:  Always pack your hot rollers and head shots when traveling, because you never know when you might need to knock a kid down a peg or two.)

Since they were on the road, there was no grand studio entrance with all the little dancers filing into place.  They were just kind of there already.  All of them.

Including Payton and her slightly boisterous Mom Leslie.

Yeah.  Those two.

Attention Walmart Shoppers.  My kid is on the freakin’ team.  At Nationals.  So suck it.

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Bottom row of the collage was reserved for Paige, Nia, Brooke, Kendall and Payton. Little crowded down there this week.

Paige had some kind of knee thing happen last week.  Nia’s feet didn’t do what they were supposed to on some kind of side sumthin sumthin.  (Oh, please.  If you wanted technical dance talk, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be reading this mess.) Brooke’s headpiece had fallen off (…what is it with the ALDC and headgear?…) and Abby still hated her mother.

Kendall scored really well last time but still ended up in the basement with Payton, who pulled a glossy photo right out of Mom’s plastic Costco bag and slapped it up on the mirror.  Nationals, bitches.

Second row was less crowded with only Chloe, Asia and Mackenzie looking up at Maddie still hanging in the top spot.

Abby claimed that Chloe was a better dancer two years ago, back when she used to spend more time in Canton’s Best beef jerky costume and less time signing autographs, while MackAttack got slapped for pulling a face plant in the middle of that 20 minute handstand walkover thing she was supposed to do last week.

Asia had won First Place in the Mini Diva Sassy Face category yet again last week, but Abby felt she totally boned the group routine and stuck her on the Pyramid Mezzanine.

Plus, Maddie was already taped to the top.  So you know.

The group routine this week (…at Nationals, in case you’re having trouble keeping up…) was going to be a tribute to all that the people of New Orleans have endured since Hurricane Katrina.

Abby had not yet decided who would be doing solos, so to keep everyone on their pointe toes she teamed the girls up and had everyone learn a routine.  Just in case.

That way, when she finally made the cuts, some dancers would have well prepared solos and the rest would have learned a nifty new routine for their Food Court Meet & Greets in front of Cinnabon.

It was pretty clear even before they got to rehearsing anything who would be getting what…but even at Nationals a few mind games never hurt anyone.

Needless to say, the Moms didn’t feel that any of the pairings set the girls up on a level playing field.  Holly felt that it wasn’t really fair and I felt that I needed to know where they buy those cell phone batteries that never seem to run out of juice.

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(Pet Peeve Side note:  When we all hang out at the bar, just us girls, you look at me when I’m talking to you, woman.  Yeah…you.  You know who you are.)

And then suddenly, the Candy Apples were there.  With no bovine warning or nuthin.

Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein and her revolving door of choreographers were also in N’awlins for Nationals, so we missed out on my favorite transitional scene with that ear tagged cow warning us about any Apple Cores in the vicinity.

So it caught me by surprise.

It also caught me by surprise that the Candy Apples were even there at Nationals.  Don’t you actually have to win something once in awhile to go to Nationals?  You do on Glee.

Since Anthony Burrell had recently gotten his low hanging hip hop undies in a bunch and jumped ship back to Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition (…the second most repeated phrase this year after “Nationals”…) Cathy had brought in yet another choreographer to work with her troupe.

This time it was Blake McGrath, who strutted in all bad a** with his sleeveless flag shirt and neck tattoo.  You wish you were that cool.

Sounding like he just toked on a Cuban before he hit the rehearsal hall, Blake was all gruff and Boom Boom Pop and dropping names like it was hot.  He’s danced with a lot of famous people and immediately felt the need to let us all know that he has gotten closer to Madonna than you ever will, losers.

(Note to self:  Start name dropping more.)

Kristie Ray hasn’t put a restraining order out on me yet.  Does that count?

The Candy Apples group routine was going to be a dark Voodoo number.  One, because they like that edgy shiz.  And two, because Chaos Cathy clearly has enough black eyeliner in-house to make sure those kids can be seen from the cheap seats.

I was already looking forward to my boy Lucas Triana casting a one leg up in the air voodoo spell on all the ladies.

As both camps got down to rehearsing, the ALDC Moms got down to complaining.

As they bickered back and forth about the solo test pairings and the fact that Leslie was still hogging a seat in the room, Asia’s Mama was running out of patience.

Not attitude.  Just patience.  JLo was Over.  It.

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During the Asia/MackSplat pairing, Abby asked them to improv a few bars, which was like telling Miss Monet Ray if she wanted to take a breath.  Needless to say, Miss Thang shot off like a bottle rocket while Kenzie stood there hit by some invisible cosmic Flash Gordon freeze ray.

Not gonna lie.  Watching Mom Melissa have a complete meltdown screaming at her kid to Dance Dance Dance You Do It At Home and then yanking her down into a folding chair was pretty much worth the price of admission.

For future reference, Melissa…losing your nutty doesn’t help when you’re trying to make a puppy pee on a newspaper or when your kid is blinded by the smoke coming off another dancer’s booty pops.  It’s just not gonna happen.

Then I sat on my remote and the TV switched to the opening credits of Mob Wives.

Or at least that’s what I thought happened when I saw all the Dance Moms walking down Bourbon Street like they were putting a Staten Island hit out on somebody.

JLo werked it in those stilettos.  Leslie kinda waddled a little like she had forgotten something in Aisle 7 and was holding up a cash register line somewhere.  The original recipe Moms were giving Kohl’s catalog realness, except for Holly, who was wearing Anthropologie.

(See…I do read your tweets.)

The Moms were all heading out for some cocktails.  What could possibly go wrong?

No sooner had I asked that question then I sat on my remote a second time and was suddenly watching MTV’s Real World: New Orleans.

Already traumatized by JLo’s surprise announcement that this would be Asia’s last dance competition, I was clearly not emotionally prepared for Melissa to whip out the goods and flash some poor tourists from Ohio innocently strolling under the restaurant’s balcony.

Hasn’t New Orleans suffered enough, Melissa?  Put your top back on.

And then it all went down in the streets, y’all.

Dance Moms meets Real World meets Mob Wives style.  All courtesy of whoever invented tequila shooters and stretch pants.

I don’t even know what really happened, but all of the sudden Christi smacked Leslie’s Slush Puppy right out of her hand and it was on.

Chick Fight!

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If you’re gonna be a drunk, be a sloppy one I always say.

Holy youtube in the Target parking lot, Batman.

There was stuff flying and jiggling and splashing everywhere.  Some poor production schmo even had to race into the camera shot to make sure Leslie didn’t pummel the bleach right out of Christi’s hair.

You could tell he was a production guy because his baseball hat was on backwards.  It’s a thing they like to do on the set.

While Leslie stampeded like a bull, Christi froze in place and just pointed at something for quite awhile.  Not sure what that was all about.

(And props to all the other Moms who evacuated the dance floor so fast that I figured they had gone to buy souvenir t-shirts or something.  You’re on your own, Lukasiak, I haven’t even paid for these Louboutins yet.)

Finally, a second production guy came out and scooted Christi to safety.  At least I think he was a production guy.  He had an earpiece stuck in his head, but he was also wearing a Back to School backpack that made him look like he was just asking her for directions to the nearest youth hostel.

So I dunno.

All I do know is that the next day, Kristie Ray quit the show (…without running it by me first, I might add…) and I’m not really sure if I need to pay for Comcast cable anymore.

That’s right.  JLo left the building.

It all happened during yet another one of Christi’s slightly skewed retellings of her throw down with Leslie.

Leslie was off some where buying in bulk and was therefore not in the room to defend herself as Christi started another round of trash talk.  And JLo don’t play that.

Let’s just say you better be able to back up your (bleep) if you start throwing shade around Kristie Ray.  Haven’t you people learned anything yet?

JLo picked up her stuff, called them all crazy pants and said she was taking Asia back to Los Angeles to be a star.  Thanks for the snacks.

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Right when I assumed that Kristie was about to shoot me a text and let me know she had just quit, Abby walked in and got the bad news.  And just one day before Nationals.

Because it’s Nationals, you know.

Turns out that Abby don’t play either and she sent Christie and Leslie back home just for being thugs.  Go be gangstah on your home turf.

A day before Nationals, and Abby was down three dancers.

But somehow they persevered and made it to Showtime!

Since there was hardly anybody left, all the girls that you would expect to get solos…got solos.  And they did just fine.  You can Google all the results.  Reliving the whole Kristie quitting thing again has me a little distracted.

Almost as distracted as I was by the appearance of a strange nameless ALDC dancer who was caught by the camera sitting up on stage during the awards.

In one 4 second snippet she became the stuff of urban legend.  She didn’t dance in the group routine, but she was wearing the group costume.  Were there two group routines staged?  What kind of government conspiracy is this madness?

Girrrrl.  Somebody is gonna get busted for that goof.

As the season finale wound down (…Spoiler Alert: Yes, they retained their National status…) Abby tearfully let the girls know that she wasn’t certain that there would even be another dance season for the ALDC since her mother was ill and she may or may not have already put down a deposit on some Hollywood real estate.

What?  No more Dance Moms?

Luckily, the same person who allowed that mystery girl to sit on stage was probably the same person who tweeted that the next season begins taping in a few weeks.

So, yes.  Somebody is gonna get fired for that one, too.  But Dance Moms will live on.

Just without Jlo and Asia.

Seriously.  I might need a moment.

Think they’ll miss all those crazy moms?

Meh.

k4

 


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