Posts Tagged ‘Zack Torres’

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

kr

 

 

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

 

mom

 

 

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

 

 

f

 

 

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

 

 

hf1

 

 

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

 

a

 

 

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…

 

kh

 

 

 

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

 

l

 

 

 

 

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

 

hf

 

 

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.

v

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.

lucas

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!

c

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.

kd

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

 

Dance Moms: It’s True. What Happens In Pittsburgh Never Seems To Stay In Pittsburgh. It’s Diva Las Vegas, Baby.

Wednesday, August 28th, 2013

alm4

 

 

Why? Because it says freakin’ Abby Lee freakin’ Dance Company in IMAX 3D on my boobs. Maybe that’s why.

 

 

j

 

 

Soon, my precious. Soon this will all be ours and then the whole world will be dancing Gangnam Style. I promise.

 

asia

 

 

I thought I did really well. And honestly, I don’t know why all these other bitches behind me are even sticking around for awards. As if, right?

 

h

 

 

 

 

Whoa. Just hold up. I haven’t even had time to make all my crazy faces yet. Pump yo’ brakes.

n

 

 

 

 

OMG. That cute boy is behind us again, isn’t he? Don’t look. Is he looking? He’s checking me out, right? I can’t breath.

 

 

k

 

 

I specifically said I was gonna wear stripes today, and now this chick with the earrings shows up in that? I don’t think so. Not cool.

 

r

 

 

It’s not like it’s rocket science, honey. Just lay on your head, do an upside down split and wish you were as fierce as me.

 

 

 

Luck be a Crazy Lady tonight.

More than one, actually.  Almost an entire tour bus full of them, if you’re counting.

Roll the dice, shuffle the deck and don’t make me tell you to fix those damn feet again, because we’re in Vegas, baby.  Entertainment Capital of the World.

This week Abby Lee Miller (…nice you could show up for work…) and her posse were all in Sin City for one of their final competitions before Nationals.

When you see a Dance Moms charter pulling up to the curb at the Flamingo, it doesn’t take a high stakes bookie to know the odds are pretty good that at least one person packed a bag of quarters for the slots and a trunk full of drama for the stage.

At first I thought I might have missed an episode since the whole gang was already in Las Vegas, unpacked and ready for the traveling Pyramid of Shame as soon as the credits stopped rolling.  I don’t remember them talking about a road trip last week and we never got to see any of the usual bus ride hilarity with Jill regifting another shrink wrapped eau du toilette box set as a token of her love for Abby’s butt.

I swear.  Jill would stop at Walgreen’s every day if it helped get her kid a solo. You know she totally has one of those loyalty cards on her Louis Vuitton keychain.  And probably a Honey Boo Boo stockpile of paper towels and Chanel No 5 cologne back home on some Home Depot shelving.

As the Moms all rolled into their temporary studio, Abby noted that everyone was already copping an attitude before the party even got started.

Especially Kelly, who seemed overly traumatized by not only the events of the past few weeks, but also the fact that Kristie Ray was standing next to her showing all of America how you’re supposed to wear stripes.

Poor Kelly.  I know you tried.  And I’m sure it was a pricey dress you were wearing.  But when my girl Kristie rolled up with those earrings and that pony tail and all that sassy JLo-ness, you kinda looked like the Where’s Waldo boy.  Sorry.

Oh, that JLo.  Love.  Her.

a

Abby and Kelly got right into another argument, complete with tinted flashbacks and some dream sequence music that made me feel a little trippy, all culminating with Abby having to explain (…once mo’ time…) who was The Boss of this Organization by groping her own ample bosoms and reading her shirt upside down.

It says Abby Lee Dance Company.  Who do you think is in charge?  And yes…there may be a quiz at the end, so look at my bazongas and pay attention you crazy bitch.

But anyway.  The Pyramid.

Bottom of the pile was reserved for Paige, Brooke, Nia and Kendall.

Paige needed to improve her technique and Brooke needed to show that she was still the reigning National Contortionist Champ.  Waldo took some offense to that and tried to get Abby off track again, but she wasn’t having it this time around.  Time is money.

Nia had some issues with her body not listening to her brain or something.  It was a little vague, but Mom Holly can always make a couple of good WTF? faces and everything seems better already.  I love how Principal Frazier can take a negative and turn it into a learning experience without even blinking.

It’s called Edukashin, kids.  Stay in school.

Kendall had been inconsistent lately.  Plus Abby didn’t really like that last box of perfume that stunk up the bus.  So there you go.

The middle of the pack was Mackenzie (…who was MIA…), Maddie and Asia.

MackaWhack was benched this week as punishment for basically not being Asia and was back home watching cartoons and eating Jawbreakers.  Maddie needed to set her goals even higher than the top of the Pyramid, which I assumed meant working for NASA or becoming the first woman president.  Asia just smiled like Class Picture Day.

Asia always smiles.  She’s a happy little scamp.  I think it has something to do with the magical flower power of those hair accessories she always wears on the right side of her little nubbin bun.  God help us if Mom ever pins one on the left by mistake or completely spaces out and forgets them all at home.

To finish it up, Chloe took the top spot because she beat Zack last week.  And beating a boy in a dance competition always gets you the top spot.  It’s just the rule.

Asia, Kendall, Brooke and Paige were all handed solos for the competition.

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But wait.  There’s more.

Since Waldo always seemed to complain about the quality and complexity of the routines that are choreographed for her daughters, Abby brought in a guest choreographer to work with Brooke and Paige this week.  Someone who could challenge them, teach them new tricks and show them how a real girl wears booty shorts.

Ladies and Gentlemen.  Ricky Palomino.

Girrrrl, pleez.

Jill only wishes she could find a perfume that smelled this Fierce & Fabulous.

I have no idea what was going on in Ricky’s shorts.  Or outside of Ricky’s shorts.  I don’t know if they were riding up, or were supposed to be Civil War pantaloons or what.  But Miss Thang can work it like nobody’s bidnezz and I gave my television two snaps and a Miley Twerk as soon as he hit the screen.

And P.S….Paige’s costume cost upwards of $500.  Didn’t I previously mention that the days of Moms hot glueing pieces of cut up tin foil onto Danskin leotards are long gone?

Yeah.  Five.  Hundred.  Dolla.

The group routine was going to be an homage to the Las Vegas Rat Pack.

(Google it if you’ve never even heard of a vinyl 33rpm record.  This show makes me feel so old sometimes. I swear my joints are swollen every Tuesday night.)

Except it was called the Brat Pack.  Not the Rat Pack.  See what they did there?

As the girls all got down to rehearsals and Ricky got down with his bad self (…Give yourself chills, gurlll…) the Moms hit up a temporary MomPerch to slam a cup o’ joe, diss about Abby and phutz with their cell phones.

Kelly even received a call from KVVU-TV in beautiful downtown Las Vegas regarding an opportunity for Brooke to come on their local news show and pimp out her iTunes album that was about to drop.

Because that’s what 33rpm albums used to do, kids.  They dropped.  Which is different than being downloaded.  But you couldn’t really drop an album or it would crack.  It’s kind of hard to explain.  Ask your parents.

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Seriously.  Sometimes I watch this show and feel like I’m gonna break a hip getting in the tub the next morning.

Brooke’s trip to the news station was pretty uneventful, though it should be noted that their set looked like Pee Wee’s Playhouse.  There was a lot going on in that tiny colorful space.  A lot.

No dress code, though.  Nice jeans, dude.  You’re on TV you know.

Back at rehearsals, Paige was having the first of multiple melt downs.  Over the past season, the tension between Kelly and Abby had dripped down onto Paige’s head and she was terrified of Abby.

Terror-fied.

By the time Abby made each girl perform the group routine on their own for the rest of the team, Paige’s lungs locked up and she completely lost her noodle. She couldn’t breath.  She could cry.  But couldn’t breath.

And then Kelly cried.  And then everyone freaked out and just went total spaz, myself included.  I hate seeing little kids lose it.

I even tried using one of those Vicks menthol inhalers to regain my composure, but it turns out that they’re actually made for stuffy noses and not anxiety attacks.  I guess I never really read the box.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Holly was all excited because Abby had stayed in a different hotel and Ricky was still redoinkulously fabulous, though I was very disappointed in his choice of non-fabulous back to school wear for the event.

Paige seemed to have calmed down a bit, but now Kendall was starting to show a few cracks in her foundation.  Oy, this kids.  If it’s not one, it’s the other.

Side note:  It always makes me snicker when the camera pans across the judges and then scrolls “JUDGES” across the bottom of the screen.

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Glad they cleared that up, because I always wondered why some people were allowed to bring their own laptop, headset mic, Poland Springs water bottles and folding table to a dance competition.

Oh.  Wait.  They’re judges.  Now I get it.

Kendall’s solo started off ok, then kind of fizzled.  She knew her shiz, I think she was just distracted by that poorly lit backdrop.

C’mon, people.  I’ve seen how much you charge to participate in these competitions and yet you insist on using grade school science class projection equipment to get your logo up on that hanging fitted sheet?

What’s next?  Shadow puppets spelling out your name?

Asia’s solo was 400% Asia.  She was a hot pink lawn flamingo tossing attitude all over that trailer park.  Her pants were on the right way and she snapped and ripple-armed her way across that stage so hard that I just wanted to stick her in my front yard next to my Travelocity gnome.

If you ever find yourself face to face with that bird in the middle of the night, run like the wind in the opposite direction because that flamingo don’t play.  She’ll cut you.

Brooke did a pretty good job of tying herself in a knot, but she was just as scared as Paige to have Abby watch her dance.  This whole ALDC thing is getting a little dysfunctional if anyone wants my opinion.

Now it’s one thing when a 2 year old Toddlers & Tiaras princess forgets to booty pop on stage and just stands there picking her nose until Dad comes to the rescue, but when you’re 12 and you have a complete breakdown it’s a little more uncomfortable.

Poor Paige.  Not good.  She froze and then freaked and then bolted off stage into Nia’s arms.

(Go Nia.  You are sooo yo’ Mama’s daughter.)

Backstage the whole thing imploded into a full-on battle between Abby and Kelly, complete with untinted flashbacks of Kelly as a child dancer who gave it all up for whatever reason.  It’s not my fault.  It’s your fault.  I’m the best thing for Paige.  You’re the worst thing for Paige.  The best.  The worst.  Rinse.  Repeat.

k1

It’s not meeeeeeee!  Let’s all scream at once.  Maybe that will speed up the process.

I swear they almost forgot to go back out for the group dance.

Then some kids won some stuff.

Asis’s pink flamingo scored First Place, as did the Brat Pack.

I know you shouldn’t call a little girl a bitch.  But that bitch can dance.  Dang.

Side note #2:  I need to come up with a solo routine that I can perform at one of these things just so I can do that flash mob dance on stage before awards start.  It’s like they slipped sugar cubes into the water system or something right before the emcee comes out.  Asia and I would wreck that stage.

(That’s not creepy at all, right?)

When it was all over, nobody really new which end was up.

Kelly and Abby had taken two steps forward and one step back.  Or maybe just a side shuffle with some jazz hands.  It was hard to tell.

Melissa knew that she had better get Mackadoodle into some workout clothes asap or the 5:45pm Asia Train was gonna run right over her on the way to Nationals.

Holly channeled her inner Yoda and preached about the fundamental issue of ‘Trust” and then everyone got ready to go home.  Packed it up, they did.

Abby said goodbye to the Moms and told Kelly that it was nice talking to her today.  The same way you would say that line to your ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend if you saw her buying birth control pills at CVS.  That kind of nice.

Awkward.

But Las Vegas survived a weekend with the Dance Moms.  And vice versa.  Nobody lost an eye or a limb or their kid’s college tuition money at the casino.

And most importantly, for everyone who lives in Vegas…what happened there isn’t even staying there.

It’s all going back to Pittsburgh to get ready for Nationals.

Somebody really lucked out this time.

alm

Dance Moms: Now You See Her. Now You Don’t. Where Is Abby This Week? And Who’s Running The Show Here?

Wednesday, August 21st, 2013

a1

 

 

Oh hey, Girlfriend. Come on in. Just giving myself a keratin treatment and eating that big a** plate of Dunkin’ Donuts back there.

 

kr2

 

 

I’m touchin’ yo face. Whatcha gonna do? I’m touchin’ yo face. Whatcha gonna do? I’m touchin’ yo face. Whatcha gonna do?

 

ca

 

 

 

Pardon me, Ma’am. Is this seat taken? I’d kinda like to see what it feels like to sit with winners for a change. You mind?

k

 

 

 

 

Excuse me all to Hell for not coughing up $1,000 for a damn dance class. These weaves ain’t cheap.

 

h2

 

 

 

 

Bitch, please. I know synthetic when I see it. And the tag goes in the back. Lawd.

 

m1

 

 

 

 

Seriously? Do you really have to pose in every outfit? I’m pretty sure everyone knows by now that you’re the Hot Mom.

 

yv

 

 

 

Friends don’t let friends drink and drive.  Or ugly cry in high definition.

 

 

 

 

Sound the alarm.

Release the bloodhounds.

And straighten your feet for crying out loud.

Nobody panic, but Pittsburgh is going on lockdown.  The inmates are running the prison.

If you’re the kind of person who looks for the most bang from your buck, you definitely got your money’s worth this week.  Dance Moms had pretty much everything that you love to hate about the show all stuffed into one jam packed hour.  Mama Drama, tears, hilarity, hysteria, loads of sassy smack talk…and even a few moments of actual dancing.

The only thing they didn’t seem to have was anyone in charge.

That’s right.  For the second week in a row, the ALDC bus was speeding downhill with no brakes and no driver as Abby Lee Miller remained mysteriously absent for the majority of the episode, appearing and disappearing into the shadows like some kind of plus sized Ninja warrior whenever the mood felt right.

The general consensus between all the Moms was that Abby had taken time off to be with her ailing mother, though there were lingering questions regarding a Starpower judging opportunity, some random party girl Instagram postings and that mysterious “Mandy” who kept answering Abby’s cell phone whenever they called.

So basically, no one had any idea what was going on.

Leave it to Melissa to get to the bottom of things.  Before breakfast.

In what was clearly supposed to be a surprise drop-in visit over at Abby’s house (…“Melissa?  Is that you?  Oh, heeeeey”…) Maddie‘s Mom showed up unannounced to check in on Abby and find out what was really going on.  Except that the camera guy clearly beat her to it and was already filming Abby piling up a mound of donuts by the time she got there.

Yeah.  I’m thinking it wasn’t much of an unannounced drive-by unless the camera guy just happened to come over early to help Abby condition her hair.  Some dudes are into that kind of thing I suppose.

m

And can we talk about how many donuts were on that plate?

Portion control, honey.  You don’t want to slip into a diabetic coma and be found on the floor still wearing that blinged out towel head wrap.

I still can’t decide whether Abby reminded me of a fortune teller or the Head of that Witches Counsel they used to always show on Bewitched or one of those crazy Boca ladies who go out in their housecoats to get the mail and when you look through the open door you always see The Price Is Right on the television and about 15 cats.

There was a lot going on in that little kitchen.

Melissa pleaded her case to get Abby back to the studio before the upcoming Nationals, but she didn’t do very well.  Abby wanted to be close to her mother and as far away as possible from Kelly and her two kids now that they had snuck back into the ALDC.

After getting confirmation that Maddie would (…naturally…) get a chance to dance at Nationals and then stuffing a few Bavarian Cremes in her purse, Melissa was on her way.

Back at the studio, choreographer Gianna was large and in charge for a second week and ready to bring home another win.  She knew that the gang would be heading to Charleston, WV for another Masters of Dance Competition, but she didn’t know if Abby would be tagging along or not.

She also knew that Chloe was doing a solo this week, Asia was going to eat Mackenzie alive in a dueling divas duet and that the group routine was going to be amaze balls.

As the girls all got to rehearsing and the Moms headed upstairs, we scooted up to Ohio to check in with the Candy Apples and see what evil comic book plot Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein was hatching this week.

That momentary spike in the Twitterverse that may or may not have slowed down your laptop right around this point was the return of Zack Torres.

That’s right, girls.  You can start screaming now.  It’s a full blown Zack Attack!

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Now that Anthony Burrell had apparently separated himself from the Candy Apples and would no longer be forcing any more boys into inappropriate Pinocchio high kicks in Richard Simmons shorty shorts, the coast was clear for Zack to return.

And now that he was back, just the thought of Zack and Lady Killer Lucas Triana one-legging it together on stage pretty much gave Cathy the vapors.  She may have even wet herself a little, but they only shot her from the waist up so I can’t be certain.

Chaos Cathy unveiled her Apple TV power point pyramid, which is always too hard for me to figure out since it kind of goes in an odd circle instead of just up and down like Abby’s Pyramid of Shame.  All that really matters is that Lucas was on top of the apple tree and his Danny Zuko from Grease headshot pretty much always gives me life.

Rama Lama Ding Dong.

Cathy also called out Nicaya for not being as well trained as the other dancers and then we got to watch Mom Kaya get all hood rat about the high price of tap class.

Will someone please get this bitch her own show or do I have to post for some Kickstarter funding on my own?  Seriously.

In my head, Kaya and Kristie Ray share an apartment like Laverne & Shirley and just go around the country smacking people around all day.  Could you die?

I’ll let you know when my pilot gets the green light.  It’s gonna be awesome sauce.

Cathy had seen on social media (…that’s what it’s called, you know…) that Chloe would be doing a solo in Charleston, so she was going to put Zack up against her on stage.

She claimed that Chloe was not as good a dancer as she used to be, which I assumed was a reference to her days of dancing in a dress made out of cold cuts and jerky meat.

It’s a shame to peak at such a young age.

Back in Pittsburgh, the Moms were once again voicing their concern that Abby should be on site helping them get ready for the end of the dance season and not hiding out God knows where.

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Melissa’s selective memory also resurfaced as she got a little foggy on whether or not Abby had actually mentioned anything about Maddie getting a solo at Nationals.

Of course she did.

Somewhere around this point I also lost track of how many OhHellNo faces Holly had made thus far in the episode.  I was really trying to count them because I had a good feeling that this week was going to break all the records and I thought there might be an online contest later, but Girlfriend was busting that shiz out so fast I couldn’t keep up.

Oh snap.

I’m pretty sure they also spliced in a bunch of old scenes between Christi and Kelly again, because everything they said about Abby and the kids we’ve already heard a million times.  Even the fat jokes were last week’s fat jokes.  Time for some new shtick.

Up in Ohio, that cow with the #20 ear tag was back stealing the opening scene as crazy faced Yvette tried to help Cathy with choreography.

And by ‘help’ I mean walking that fine Yvette line between assisting someone with a group number and actually climbing up a ladder and putting your own damn name on the outside of the building.

Dial it down a notch, sistah.  The building’s not on fire.

Yvette also started bringing back her patented t-shirt catch phrases that first made her a star on Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition.

Remember last year when she first unleashed her krazy on all of us and every sentence was nothing but “Dance for the Cause, NOT the Applause” or “Tap it don’t Slap it” or “Asia’s Mom’s a Total Bitch?”

Remember all that hilarity?  Well…it’s back.  So get used to it.

And you know what else was back?

The Abby-nator!

I know, right?  About time.

Abby strolled into the ALDC like nothing had ever happened, bullied Paige and Brooke a little and then took a few Christi F-bombs right in the face.

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There was a big argument regarding who broke the ALDC contract the most by swearing or not showing up or blah blah blah.  They even pointed out that the ALDC legal paper mumbo jumbo said something about creating a ‘nourishing’ environment, which I think was supposed to have been ‘nurturing’ environment, unless there is an actual cafeteria on the premises.

That part got a little weird.  Read the fine print, ladies.

Luckily, it was National Exposed Shoulder Week and all the Moms were rocking those cold shoulder tops that they make such a big deal about on QVC, so that distracted me from all the swearing.

I’m not lying.  Go back and look at how many of the ladies were showing skin.  And they were totally pissed that only my girl Kristie knew how to do it like they show in Cosmo.

Haters.

As both teams finished up rehearsals before the Big Day, it was clear that Hadley didn’t use enough sunscreen last weekend and that Asia was gonna turn Kenzie out like that fourth member of Destiny’s Child that nobody remembers.

Love you Mackadoodle, but you should probably just stick to clown noses and pigtails.

Finally, it was Showtime!  And a CNN report on the bloody riots in the streets of Egypt.

Which turned out to be a false alarm, because it was actually just the ALDC and the CADC contingents coming face to face in a sign-holding, parking lot screaming match that looked like one of those housekeeper rallies gone bad.

When Kristie got accused of touching Cathy I died.  Right there on my couch.  I died.

I can’t even imagine sitting in the back seat with Kristie when she was little on long family vacation rides to the Grand Canyon.

I’m touching you.  Quit it.  I’m touching you.  Quit it.  Mom!

That Dilbert guy from Candy Apples didn’t stand a chance once those earrings got flapping and Kristie did her now infamous bad a** mime hands all up in his grill.

I’ll say it again.  Once that ponytail starts whipping around it looks like the final battle scene from The X-Men.  Let’s go!

Love.  Her.

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Ninja Abby no-showed, by the way.  Go figure.

Inside, I don’t know if it was planned or not, but there was a space between the seats that allowed all of America to see Kristie’s fashion model legs.  Like they used to do with Mary Hart on Entertainment Tonight with that awkward crotch light.

It was a total NeNe Leakes shiny leg Watch What Happens Live moment.  Dang, girl.

It should probably also be noted that poor Jill, on the other hand, was wearing a floor length maxi-dress with four rows of folding movie chairs in front of her.  Just saying.

All the dancing was pretty good.  Zack and Lucas had no shirt on again.  I’m not sure if Lucas even owns one or if he just keeps forgetting his backpack in Miami.

Christi spent the remainder of the show screaming like some drunk chick at Mardi Gras trying to score plastic jewelry in exchange for a quick flash of her t***s.  Really.  She did.

Throw me some beads, Mister!

Out in the hallway all the Moms met up again, and somehow Mom Gina #2 made it sound like Cathy did all the choreography and inadvertently dissed Yvette in front of all the ALDC peeps.

Meltdown in 3…2…1…

Yvetter lost her nutty and got way too close to my television screen.  Waaaaay too close.

When it was all said and done, Abby’s team won all the good stuff.  Which, if you do the math, meant that the Candy Apples team didn’t.

More tears.  More dramz.

With only a few weeks left until Nationals, there was still no Abby…and not much of a chance that anyone in Ohio needed to buy any bus tickets in the near future.

Candy Apples was in shambles and the ALDC was missing it’s Leader.

Now what?

Raise your hands if you can’t wait to find out what happens next week…

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