DanThat'sCool!

 

 

I bet Seacrest’s hair never looked this big on camera. Who’s yer Daddy now, Ryan?

 

 

 

 

Lord. You promised me that kid with the face would be gone by this week…

 

 

 

 

And whatever you do baby, do not tell Anthony Burrell that Mommy thinks he is one fine piece of ManCandy, ‘kay?

 

 

 

 

No, seriously. That vendor cart outside? Sausages THIS big.

 

 

 

 

Here’s a thought. Worry about your own kid before I rip your face off and hand it to her.

 

 

 

 

OhNoTheyDin’t just give that 2 year old’s booty a freakin’ standing ovation.

 

 

 

 

 

First off,  I’m 7. But I got no problem going all 13 year old on your a**, bitch.

 

 

 

Ladies and Gentlemen. Boys and Girls.  Children of all ages and flexibility.

Step right up, point your sickle toes and let me direct your attention to the center ring where you will be witness to the experience of a lifetime.

Or Lifetime Television, anyway.

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition was down to the final four.  One week away from the big prize.  You could almost smell the Joffrey scholarship it was so close.

So that meant the remaining few dancers had to either bring their  A Game and their performance faces, or risk having to pack it all up and drive away in some little clown car when this week’s circus-themed performances were over.

In a classic cross promotional pimping out of the new Cirque du Soleil movie Worlds Away 3D (…coming soon to an Imax theater near you!…) Abby and her stylish BoyToy Kevin Manno wasted no time explaining how the whole thing was going to go down on stage.

They would have probably gotten to all the deetz even faster if it hadn’t been for Mom Coreen, who once again literally started in on her Asia Bashing loop before the opening credits even finished rolling.

Now I’m a big fan of Moms supporting their children.  Don’t get me wrong.  But somewhere between Week 1 and Week 9, Coreen has kind of crossed that line into Hockey Dad territory.

This woman can’t let it go.  I’m sure she means well, but every time we see her she is either ragging on Baby Beyoncé or driving her own daughter crazy.  She is starting to remind me of those fathers who beat up other fathers on the sidewalk in front of the rink because they got called out for throwing a banana peel on the ice.

Kevin was rocking his best J.Crew this week, all plaid and on-trend colors.  Abby had even let him ride to the theater with his head sticking up through the sunroof.  Or at least that’s my assumption, based on how big and blown back his Boy Band hair was this time around.

Or maybe he just took a quick hit off the hand dryer blower in the restroom.  Dunno.  But I love that guy.  He just needs to stop fidgeting around.

Seriously.  Count how many times he rolls his shirt cuffs or scratches his arm or does that odd hand thing.  And sometimes his eyes look like he just got caught doing something that good boys shouldn’t do right before they go on camera.  But he’s a hoot.

This week’s skill was Balance, which would explain the balance beam sitting in the middle of the floor, I guess.  Just like the Olympics.

And the thing was only 6 inches off the floor.

I know, right?  Even I could walk on that.  How hard could it be?

Or so I thought, until they went and brought out choreographer Shannon Beach who explained that you had to slide into a full split on the beam while raising yo’ hands up in the ayuh ayuh ayuh, and I was like…umm…not so much, thanks.

After the most uncomfortable 5 minutes that any boy should ever have to sit through (…”Find it!  Squeeze it!”…) the Group Challenge was over and Amanda had won the prize.

Find what?  Squeeze what?  They never really clarified that one, so I’m a little unsure as to what I’m supposed to be practicing when I do my homework tonight.  Guess I’ll just wing it.

Amanda’s prize was a trip to NYC to see the premiere of the Cirque movie, where hopefully she and Mom Mayelin would have time to swing by the Junior Department in Bloomingdale’s and pick up some facial expressions.

 Poor Amanda.  She and Madison haven’t moved their faces in 2 months.  No matter how many times Abby and the other choreographers ask for some Face, they have yet to perform from the neck up.

It’s nice that they will both make it to 90 years old and still not have one wrinkle on their porcelain skin, but a smile wouldn’t hurt when you’re on stage.  They’re both amazeball dancers, but Asia is mopping the floor with those scowls.

Then it was off to rehearsals, because the circus was coming to town.

Madison was paired with choreographer Ricky Palomino, who was all fierce and as Ricky as always.  Unfortunately, his ability to Werk It didn’t translate to any facial muscles and Madison still struggled with her expressions, which resulted in Coreen performing  yet another motivational piece about Asia’s superior face.

For a second or two I swear that Madison was debating whether her empty plastic bottle or her mother’s body would be the most biodegradable if she buried them both behind the building on her next water break.

Amanda’s rehearsal wasn’t going much better.  She had been given a rather stretchy contortionist kind of routine, and her own lack of facial emotion was making choreographer Anthony Burrell cray cray.

Imitate Asia.  Perform like Asia.  Pretend your Asia.  Legally change your name to Asia.

Good thing Coreen wasn’t there to hear all that.

Oh wait.  There she is.

Anyone that watches any dance show anywhere in the Free World knows that one Mom ain’t supposed to move in on another Mom’s turf during rehearsals.  Der.

But in came Coreen, who plopped herself down next to Mayelin and reassured her that there was not a doubt in her mind that stoic Madison would be bringing the emotion to the competition.  Which in Mom Code means “Suck it.  My kid is better than yours.”

I’m starting to really like that Mayelin.  It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.

For the first few weeks I didn’t even realize she was on this show.  She just kind of sat in the background while Kristie showed off her JLo earring collection and shoulder lotion.

But when Mayelin turned to Coreen in Telemundo slo mo and laid down the law, I realized that this woman would cut a bitch at Walmart if they were slowing down the line at the return desk.

Focus on your kid.  Oh, snap.  She told you.

While Anthony was preaching to the facially challenged, Brianna was trying to figure out how to be a clown with Ricky.  Being the most serious kid in the competition, I wasn’t certain she would get her Ringling Bros diploma in time for opening night.

And last but not least, Anthony gave up on everyone else and went to work with the  one true authentic Asia Face.  Everybody could use a Fierce pick-me-up in the middle of the afternoon, right?

Sassy pants Asia was going for a caged animal theme, complete with a Studio 54 stripper cage for her to climb and claw her way around in while Mom seductively clutched that Starbucks she’s always holding.

They never addressed it on camera, but every once in awhile it felt like Kristie was finally realizing how fine that young Anthony really was, if you know what I mean.

Granted, since I fabricate most of my recaps anyway, I could have misinterpreted some of her music video glances…but she seemed to be liking what Tony was serving.

And Mommy could always use some more sugar in that coffee.

Shannon was back to put the girls through the group number rehearsal, which could have easily been lifted right from the Cirque movie for all we know.  It had hanging, spinning metal hula hoops, gymnastics and those silk fabric panels that you suspend you 40 feet above the cement floor by only an ankle knot and a prayer from one of those street fair saints.

As if.  That one is all Brianna.

Our girl was a little freaked out by the silks at first, especially as the harness burst her appendix.  But she’s a survivor and sucked it up after a few tears and they all finished the routine.

Finally, it was Showtime!

As Coreen and Madison stared blankly into each other’s eyes and tried to mentally psyche each other out (…you afraid of a 7 year old?  Well, are you?…) Kevin clipped on another skinny tie and got the party started.

Terminally sleeveless Richy Jackson wagged a few digits at the audience and Robin Antin showed off what was either a newly coiffed side part or some kind of wind blown issue.  It sort of looked like she planned for her hair to look that way, so I’m thinking that she probably wasn’t in the men’s restroom when Kevin was styling his hair.

The group number went  well, except for a tragic rubber band tangle in Madison’s hair after the routine.

Oy vey, the drama.

I’m thinking Coreen used that frizzy moment as an excuse to yank on Madison’s hair and show her she means bidnezz when it comes to the score cards, because Momma ain’t ready to go home yet, honey.

Once she was properly detangled, Madison hit the stage for her solo and was told by Abby that she would hire her for the Circus in a heartbeat.  Was that a compliment or a slam?  Things that make you go hmmm.

Next up was the pre-school production of Cats, as Asia bounded out on stage and booty popped her way around the cage.

She was inside.  She was outside.  She dropped from the top.  Dropped it like it was lion tamer hot.

Despite two turned-in feet during her cage match, all three judges gave her a standing ovation.

And that royally pissed off Madison and Coreen in the Green Room.  Not enough for them to make any facial expressions, of course, but enough to get them both all “WTF?” and start talking smack.  Madison even imitated Asia’s turned in feet.

Hockey Dad’s daughter is picking up some bad habits lately.

As Asia headed off stage to cough up a fur ball, Robin slid in her weekly PCD plug by proclaiming that she had just found her little Pussycat Doll.

Of course you did, Robin.  Of course you did.

Moving on, Amanda tried to contort herself into the Top Three in a polka dot onesie but it wasn’t happening.  Abby didn’t see any actual contortionist work, and Richy felt Amanda was all Ballroomed out.

Ball Room.  Ha.  That’s what she said.

Brianna took her crazy clown to crazy town and was all over the place.  Thankfully Asia had already left the stage, because if both of their ginormous faces had been in the same place at the same time the sprinkler system would have kicked on and flooded the first ten rows.

Richy felt that it was old skool clown and not Cirque du Soleil clown, which I guess meant too much squirting lapel flower and not enough Pinocchio nose or flying Celine Dion pianos.

Robin praised Brianna by saying that no one else could have done that, which of course resulted in another wise a** Hockey Kid comment and doofy copycat dance out back.

“I could have done that.”

Sit down, girlie, before someone smacks an expression across your face.

When it was all over, there was no more ball room at the Inn, as they say.

Amanda was sent home.  Unfortunately, she can dance her face off, but she should have kept it on and used it a little more this week.

Right as the lights were about to go down, Robin slid in one more PCD plug by telling Amanda that in a few years when she is STILL doing (…and talking about…) the Pussycat Dolls and Amanda is no longer jail bait, she will always have a job if she wants one.

Mayelin either reached for a tissue or her switchblade, and it was over.

And then there were three.

 

 

We come too far to not have at least one major meltdown. BeDazzling hard. It’s my turn, bitches.

 

 

 

 

 

Pussycat Dolls…Pussycat Dolls…Pussycat Dolls…Pussycat Dolls…Pussycat Dolls…Pussycat Dolls…

 

 

 

 

You wanna see Mommy lose it? Is that what you want? Drop It Like It’s Hot!

 

 

 

 

 

I didn’t choose the Thug Life. The Thug Life chose me. It’s Hammer Time, yo.

 

 

 

 

 

Did that little girl just flash a gang sign on national television? That is so Buck.

 

 

 

 

 

And Lord, thank you for not making me the crazy one this week. I owe you one.

 

 

 

 

All aboard the AUDC Time Machine as we go dancing through the decades.

Please buckle up, keep your hands and feet inside the ride, and together we will discover that no matter what the era…Dance Moms are all still bat s*** cray cray.

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition was back for Round 6, and this time it was a trip through time as the remaining Joffrey wannabes were put through a crash course in dance history.

From prohibition to hip hop, the girls all flapped and old skooled their way through to yet another elimination, edging themselves one step closer to long term therapy and/or that juicy ballet school scholarship.

And after 5 weeks of competition, the stress was beginning to show as both Moms and kids teetered dangerously close to the edge of meltdown.

But mostly the Moms.  Der.

Prepping for the Group Challenge portion of the extravaganza, it was clear that some of the Moms were already on their way off the deep end.  And before lunch.

Human fortune cookie Yvette started us off with yet another one of her snippets of wisdom as she got all inspirationally up in daughter Hadley‘s face.

“You’re IN, or you’re in the way.”

Boom.  Take that.  Learn it.  Then earn it, kid.  How I’ve missed Yvette’s little t-shirt anecdotes.  She’s been too busy going insane to keep up with her inner Maya Angelou lately, so it was good to see her back in the Hallmark game.

Down the hall, Mom Kelly was crimping Jordyn‘s hair and going the Fear Factor route.

“I’m not your Mom anymore.  I’m your teacher.”  It is your Destiny, Young Skywalker.

I was actually more fascinated that you can actually still buy crimping irons.  Kelly might want to toss that thing into the AUDC Time Machine when no one’s looking and send it back to whatever Jersey Mall it came from before all of Jordyn’s hair breaks off like poorly glued tracks in a VH1 chick fight.

Mom Maria was the biggest mess this time around.  All homesick and teary eyed as she Skyped with whomever on her MacBook, Lexine braced herself for a long week.  Maria exhibited all the signs that Dr. Drew is always talking about on his show.  You could tell it wouldn’t be long now before the waterworks really kicked in.

Then it was off to the Group Challenge, to meet up with Abby Lee Miller and see what new outfit Kevin Manno had picked up over the weekend.

Clearly inspired by those new JCPenney color block commercials, Kevin was working his sport coat, slightly different dye lot vest, purple shirt and yellow crew neck.  Totally right off the commercial.  At least now we finally know the one person who is still shopping at JCPenney.

How can you not love this guy?  I’m going to assume that it was sheer coincidence that the Hanes t-shirt was the same yellow as 85% of Abby’s ensemble, because if Kevin is now purposely coordinating his outfit to match that big lady from Dance Moms…well…I just don’t know if I can watch this show anymore.

There’s kissing up to your Boss, and then there’s kissing up to your Boss.

But we love Kevin.  Especially when he winks and makes that fist to emphasis the “Ultimate” part of the show’s title.  Like it’s a cage match or something.  Grrr.

Bam.

The skill this week was Improvisation.

I know, right?  Crazy.  So that meant a Dance Off with no rules and no chance of anyone beating sassy Asia.

One by one Abby paired the girls up against each other and then shooed them off the dance floor at her discretion.  Only little Asia survived until the end.

Granted, she only did four moves.  Five if you count striking a pose.  But when you add a 6 year old booty pop into the mix, that’s like shooting fish in a barrel.  The other girls didn’t stand a chance.  That had to be jelly, cuz jam don’t shake like that.

Yeah.  Asia definitely brought all the boys to the yard again.  And more than likely one or two Neighborhood Watch parents from Child Services as well.  That little nugget is living proof that owning every Beyoncé DVD definitely pays off in the end.

So save your allowance, kids.  And back dat thang up.

Since the theme was a Journey Through The Decades, every duet and solo was based on…well…a journey through the decades.

(You needed me to break that one down for you?  It’s really not that hard if you hadn’t skimmed the first part of the blog, thank you.)

On to the practice round.

Madison‘s solo was a ’60s Go Go dance on a giant box.  Like Laugh-In without the boob jokes.  You bet your bippy it was.

In retrospect, Mom Coreen probably should have refilled her anti-anxiety meds before entering into this competition, because her fear of heights nearly caused her to pull Madison right off the box within the first 45 minutes of rehearsal.

Mom was so terrified that Maddy would pirouette herself right into paralysis that she badgered choreographer Gina Starbuck so incessantly that I thought Gina would break Coreen’s neck as a preemptive measure.

Brianna‘s ’20s flapper routine was challenging to her girly side, and you could tell that the whole “Sometimes I’m an Outcast” thing was gurgling up a little.

Asia and Lexine’s ’80s pop routine was like a Cindy Lauper meets Madonna meets The Wiggles kind of thing.

Maria cried a lot.  A lot.  She even locked herself in the bathroom or store room or something until Jennifer Lopez slapped some sense into her.

I seriously have a crush on Kristie.  Does she even own a pair of understated diamond studs?  Don’t make me hit you, bitch.

Hadley and Amanda were assigned a ’50s malt shop boogie.  Not as dangerous as dancing on a box, but I suppose you could lose an eye from the straw in your root beer float if you’re not really paying attention.

Jordyn and all her crimped goodness scored the second solo…’90s Hip Hop.

Hip Hop.  Which for some reason Kelly insisted on demonstrating to all of America as she morphed into Über Stage Mom and bullied her daughter throughout the hotel.

Kelly.  Doing Hip Hop.

Take the time now to scroll back up and look at Mom’s photo.  Then go to youtube and find some MTV hip hop videos.  And then look at Mom again.  And then watch another video.  And then look at Mom again.

Don’t break a Hip…Hop.

Your honor, I rest my case.

Most of the Moms took a breather and headed out for some lunch, but it was pretty uneventful.  They haven’t learned how to throw down like Real Housewives yet, so you didn’t miss much.  NeNe Leakes needs to get that dopey son of hers into Dance…then we can get this party started.

Maria cried again.  She was even more homesick, and had fallen behind in rhinestoning Lexine’s outfit.  It would appear that arts & crafts are not her thing.

Yvette even had one more fortune cookie to open before the competition really kicked into gear.

“It’s never your setback.  It’s your comeback.”

If Maria didn’t suck so bad at BeDazzling she should totally hot glue that to a leotard.

Then she could have slid it under the bathroom door to Brianna, who had also locked herself in there for a good pre-game cry.  Dramz, I tell you.  Dramzzzz.

Finally it was Showtime!

Richy Jackson was already finger waving himself into a seizure before the first dancer hit the stage.  In all the excitement of the evening he had misplaced the sleeves on yet another denim graffiti jacket and was all string bean arms and glow stick fingers.  Werk.

Robin Antin was all dewy and shiny, and ready to mention the Pussycat Dolls…again…as soon as the starting gun went off.

Seriously.  Did she just invent those hoochies, or did she actually physically give birth to each one of them on a Vegas stage?  Cuz I’m not really sure anymore.

Robin liked Brianna’s flapper girl number, but wanted her to wear stiletto heals like the Pussycat Dolls.  Because they are apparently the only female performers to ever wear high heels on stage.  Ever, I guess.

Nobody lost an eye during the sock hop number, though Robin did start bashing Hadley because she wasn’t as good as Amanda…or the Pussycat Dolls.  Which in turn caused Richy to nervously pee his pants and then jump in to prevent Hadley from throwing herself off the Laugh-In box.

Yvette cried after that.  I think she was just sad that she didn’t get much crazy time this week.

Backstage before the Madonna/Teletubbies routine, Maria had meltdown #97 and threatened to pack and go home right now if Lexine didn’t listen to her.

We go home.  We go home now.

Dramzzzz.

The two little tykes made it on stage eventually.  Or at least I believe they were both on stage.  All you could really see was Asia booty popping and doing the Crazy In Love video for 2 minutes, so I can’t say for certain. But Maria was behind the curtain standing next to Jennifer Lopez, so Lexine must have been on stage somewhere.

Madison made it through the Go Go box without cracking her head open.

Robin liked the way she swung her ponytail ‘like no one she knows’ (…not even the Pussycat Dolls?…) because doing that is hard.

Like hyper-spatial physics, I assume.  They’re both hard.

Jordyn finished off the night with her Disney Hip Hop.  Srsly.

It was like one of the princesses got all ‘hood one night when nobody was in the castle.

She did great.  Don’t get me wrong.  But she’s a tiny little blonde thing.

Richy loved it.  He even went from one finger to a two finger wave, which impressed Abby.  When he hyperventilated that Jordyn gets a Deuce, it was kind of gross if you ever go on the Urban Dictionary website.  But he didn’t mean the nasty kind.

If the Lifetime censors weren’t in the auditorium I swear he would have given her 3 finger waves.  He was on Fi. Yah.

Robin squeezed in a few more homages to the PCD and then it was time to cut one tiny dancer.  It was time for this shizzle to get realz.

In the end, it was little Lexine who was sent packing.  Which was a good thing as far as panicked last minute BeDazzling goes, but not so much for hopes of Joffrey stardom.

She was a sweetie.  She cried.  And Mom cried.  Everyone was sad.

When it’s down to so few dancers, these kind of shows always start to get a little dysfunctional on elimination night.

You hate to see anyone go.  But better them than you, right?

Hadley just barely made the cut, and Mom summed it up with a musical fortune cookie.

“What doesn’t kill her makes her stronger.”

Thanks, Yvette.  You heard it here first.

So go see Kelly Clarkson in concert.  I’m sure she’s opening for the Pussycat Dolls.

And then there were 6.

 

 

I really thought I could make it two full seasons without popping off on that bitch. Dang.

 

 

 

 

I know, Peanut. It’s called Real Life for a reason. I’m not a big fan either.

 

 

 

 

 

When I get the Bloomingdale’s bill for this trip I am sooo dead meat.

 

 

 

 

You mean I came all this way for some Carnegie Deli cheesecake and we can’t even go?

 

 

 

 

 

Psst. Dawg. We were promised Jennifer Lopez would be the third judge.

 

 

 

Poor New York City.

It’s not like they don’t already have to deal with up to one million people in foam Nivea top hats every year during the annual Times Square New Year’s Eve Ryan Seacrest Love Fest, right?

It’s loud, chaotic and borderline uncontrollable, with the potential to do serious damage to the infrastructure of one of the country’s foremost metropolitan cities.

Just imagine the clean up.

Trust me.  That is nothing compared to the devastation that was just left behind by the unexplainable, unnatural, unpredictable phenomenon known as Abbeygeddon.

Loud.  Chaotic.  And completely uncontrollable.

As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Google Maps now shows a smoking sink hole at the former location of the Joffrey Ballet School.

The Season Finale was super-sized, so I’m doing the same.  You might need some fluids if you don’t break this thing up into a couple of readings.

Abby Lee Miller and her Dance Moms hit the Big Apple this week for the open auditions for the Joffrey Ballet’s Summer Intensive Program.

The brochure says it’s an amazing opportunity for a small group of students weaned from over 20,000 applicants to experience NYC and all it offers.  It gives students who might never otherwise have the chance, to see how professionally they do things in the Big City.

It also apparently gives Abby and her Mom posse a chance to return the favor and show NYC how loudly they do things in Pittsburgh.

Seriously.  My ears.  People, please.

From the first second the  Abby Lee Dance Company landed on the East Coast, not even those jackhammers doing that seemingly never ending 24/7 construction on 42nd Street could drown them out.

The rehearsal studio that Abby (…or Lifetime…you know they make a ton of bank off those Jane Seymour movies…) had rented was text book NYC, full of shattered dreams, broken hearts and lead paint.  For every light in Times Square…blah to the blah to the blah.

Totally the pee wee version of Kids from Fame as Abby’s little nugget dancers formed their assembly line.

No joke.  At any second I expected Debbie Allen to walk in with all her crazy jewelry and strong Nubian Princess finger snapping to show Abby how it’s done…after she got done lunching with Maya Angelou, of course.

“You want Fame?  Well, Fame costs.  And right here is where you start paying…with sweat.  Five.  Six.  Seven.  Eight.”

But even in NYC nothing can get accomplished without the Pyramid of Shame, and Abby had packed her flash cards and scotch tape so it was time to get the ball rolling.

There was a lot of work to get done this week, so Abby had to pick up the pace a little as she unveiled the So What Do You Think The Bookies Down In Little Italy Are Giving For Odds That Maddie Will Be On Top Again? Pyramid.

Paige and her new too-old-for-that-little-head sassy haircut were on the bottom, because of some arm drama and the fact that she’s on her cell phone too much. Probably searching Bing for new dance teachers, but whatever.

MacNugget Mackenzie was on the bottom as well, basically because she’s a little kid and dances like one.  Go figure.  Abby wants her to improve even faster, which probably isn’t going to happen unless Mom Melissa sets aside some of her Top Secret Wedding Fund for a Time Machine, shoves her inside it and sends Mack to So You Think You Can Dance 2019 auditions.  She’s a kid.  At her age I was still eating paste.  Relax.

Chloe finished up the trifecta because she forgot her routine last week.  It happens.  She got taller again this week and her eyes seemed even closer together.  Team Chloe.  We love her.

Nia and Brooke were on the second tier, just ’cause.

And…oh…look.  Maddie was on the top.  I knew I should have put some money down when I was at the track.

Pushing the limits of stress fractures and Child Labor laws, Abby had filled their plates with solos, group numbers and yet another trip to Starbound Dance Competition the minute they finished Flashdancing at the Joffrey.  All the Moms were a little concerned about the amount of practicing that the girls were going to have to endure.  But they’re troopers.  And there were a lot of stores on Fifth Avenue that they needed to check out.

Kelly apparently already hit Soho before the first rehearsal, because she was working it for the studio mirrors in some Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In 1960s pop art dress.  Can’t get that shizzle in PA, haters.

Unfortunately, since they dance all day & night and don’t get to sit in the Mom Perch reading Cosmo, the girls weren’t as hip to the trends as they should have been and got called out for wearing their Pittsburgh Galleria Limited Too workout wear.  Nobody bothered to tell the Moms that every dancer is NYC is required to wear black just in case a scout from the Wilbur Theatre drops by to use the restroom.  You never know, Abby pointed out.

As Abby sent the Moms off to track down age appropriate dance wear for young girls playing convicts behind bars…did I forget to mention the group number?…you could almost smell the tension.

But the stench wasn’t as strong as the cow cud and jerky up in Ohio.

Chaos Cathy and her Avon Moms Gone Wild were also headed to NYC to compete against Abby in both the auditions and Starbound Competion, so the Evil Dance Lair was buzzing with their Master Plans.

Cathy’s expectations for her Candy Apples were nearly as high as Jill’s poof, if that was even possible.

I mean…did you see that thing?  Girlfriend’s hairdresser must be taking night courses in engineering, because she had built that BumpIt up to the point where it could almost impair someone’s vision if they were walking behind her at night.  That thing could cut off your light source.  Safety hazard, I tell you.

Jill’s goal was to pimp out Kendall when they got to NYC.  Make her a star.  Then go buy more faux fur and feathers.  And maybe more eyeliner if there’s a gift with purchase at the counter.

And you totally know that Jill is going to keep that Saks bag and use it for lunch every day until it falls apart just so all those Ohio Walmart greeters can see it and get jealous.

Poser.

How everyone got jet lag just going from Pittsburgh to NYC I’ll never know, but everyone did.  And everyone was kranky with a K.

Maddie and MacNugget had forgotten their Dance Bags at the hotel which made them cry, and made Melissa start percolating.  Melissa was not in the mood today.  At all.

Needless to say, the auditions were a little awkward.

Cathy and her League of Coupon Clippers Gone Bad all showed up and had to be crammed into the same tight hallway that Abby and about 200 other random, nameless dancers were located.  Imagine being in a bunker during War time with someone from the enemy side and not being able to blow their brains out with your Uzi.  It was like that.

Now imagine the enemy brought pizza and wouldn’t let you have any.

Seriously.  Who noshes on a slice of pepperoni during auditions at the Joffrey?

One.  Where did Cathy find a slice in a ballet school?

Two.  Her whipped husband can get her all the free jerky she wants.  Why pay for your meat, woman?  Stick some in a Hefty before you leave the house.

Now I’ve never been to a ballet audition, or a cattle auction, but I think they are both structured around the same format.  From what I witnessed this evening that’s what I believe, and I’m going with that train of thought from now on.

Start them out in a long, overcrowded hallway.  Walk them in.  Look at them.  Line them up at a barre.  Check out their flanks and poke your finger in their backs.  Except for the fact that I’ve only ever seen one cow wearing a halter top, I would have thought that I was watching one of those farm shows on that Rural TV Network.

Don’t ask.

While the girls were inside being weighed and getting their ears tagged, outside in the hallway Abby and the Moms were throwing down with Chaos Cathy.  So much so that the Joffrey Cow Guy had to come out and bitch slap a few Moms until they shut up.

Don’t piss off a ballet dude.  Just don’t.

I’ve been patiently waiting, and this was my last chance this season to see that red haired bad a** Candy Apple Mom lose it…but she didn’t.  Hopefully the DVD will have some unseen footage where she just goes bat s*** Ninja on someone.

After the auditions everyone left their empties and pizza boxes in the hallway and headed to Starbound.  The bullet points so we can wrap this thing up:

While Nia was getting her hair did and weave tightened up (…one of my new favorite TV moments, right up there with Lucy & The Chocolate Factory…) and Maddie was creating an impromptu six pack with her Maybelline brush (…check me out at the gym tomorrow with all these new ideas…) the Candy Apples were next door doing the same.

Rewind if you can and catch a glimpse of that freckly little red haired kid watching all the girls.  He is totally at that Girls are Gross age, and when he realizes that he could still be sleeping in the hotel while they are putting on their war paint he just shakes his head and realizes that this is his life now.  Gah.  Chicks.

The Jail Bird group number goes ok.  Holly isn’t a big fan.

The Candy Apples group number is some angelic kind of thing that once again allows Cathy’s daughter Vivi-Anne to not only stand in place, but take a load off and lay down for awhile.  Has anyone seen her actually dance in two seasons?  With all the cold meds that she has in her system I was afraid she would doze off down there, but luckily one of the over age dancers scooped her up like uncut jerky and hoisted her off stage.

Sign me up for that gig.  Lay around and have people carry you to where you need to be.  I’m in.

Then it just fell apart, in that good Reality TV fall apart kind of way.

Kendall couldn’t breath or move in her costume, because it was too tight.  Everything Jill wears is too tight, so she didn’t really see what the problem was and basically told her to suck it in and suck it up.

Maddie forgot her solo and ran off stage, crying like a little kid.  Oh wait.  She is a little kid.  Does anyone else on the show remember that?

Abby cried because Maddie forgot her stuff.  But Paige forgot her stuff once.  And so did Nia and Chloe at different times.  But Abby never cried for them.

I’ll do the math for you, to speed things up.  It equals favoritism.  And that made Holly pop off.  Melissa tracked down Maddie and popped off, too.  Why not?  Everyone’s doing it.

Let’s be honest.  By now, the exact order of everything doesn’t really matter.  Abby’s group came in 10th place.

I’ll do that math for you as well.  That’s 9 below First Place.

One point above their score was the Vivi-Anne Laying Down Dance.  Abby cried some more…or maybe that was the first time. I forget.  But they got 9th place.  One better than 10th.

Backstage, Cathy and the MeanMoms came looking for more pizza and humiliation.  Cathy made Abby cry again…or maybe it was leftover from the other cry.  Who knows.

It was chaos, I tell you.

Holly got into it with Abby again, who turned her backside to Holly and wiggled her…substantial…butt in anticipation of either a spanking or a kiss.  Regardless of what she was hoping for, there was so much black in my face that I thought my television shut off for a second.

Then Abby bolted out the door, raspily screeching “See you on the flip side,” which Melissa explained was code for “I’m a sore loser and taking my toys and going home.  Find your own ride to the airport, bitches.”

And she did.

Crying…again…Abby claimed she needed a break, got into the van and rode off into the sunset.  Kind of dramatically, actually.  Like you would do if you had an incurable disease on a soap opera and you were being written off the show and you were leaving Port Charles to die a slow painful death off camera.

Except she ain’t dying.  And I think the van had a sticker that said “Honk if you love Jazz Hands.”

Something tells me we haven’t seen the last of Abby.