Posts Tagged ‘Zack Torres’

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition: If You Werk It Than You Better Put A Crown On It. Fairy Tales Come To Life!

Wednesday, October 16th, 2013

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Rapunzel, Rapunzel. Where you get dat crusty weave, Gurl? Oooooh…ya nasty.

 

 

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Pffsshhh. Bitch, pleez. Pump yo’ brakes. I got this.

 

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Lemme just say that Booty was the 8th dwarf. Hey, Ho…it’s off to Twerk you go.

 

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I don’t know what f***d up Disneyland ride they rode to find all these cartoons.

 

 

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Lawd. I swear if Flashdance tries to snatch my crown again, I’m gonna poke her eyes out.

 

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Try doing a ballet turn in flip flops and then we’ll talk about who’s a freakin’ rockstar, honey.

 

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Imma ’bout THIS close to turning around and bitch slapping that girl who’s sleeping behind me. F’realz.

 

 

 

Grab a cocktail and a valium, kids, because it’s time for your bedtime story.

It’s a quickie.  But trust me when I tell you that this one is guaranteed to make you sleep with the lights on until you learn how to shave.

Once upon a time, far far away, there was an Evil Queen named Abby Lee Miller who lived in the Land of The Dance Moms.

She was big and sparkly and struck fear in the heart of any child with a turned in foot.

One day, armed with only a Joffrey Ballet scholarship and three giant suitcases full of coordinated neon accessory bling, the Evil Queen suddenly disappeared from her Pittsburgh Palace and magically flew to Hollywood in search of some West Koast Krazy.

And she found it.

The End.

That’s right.  Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition took on Fairy Tales this week.

Fairy Tales with a Twist.

Actually more of a Turn, I guess, if you’re a stickler for the rules.

After breaking up the twin set and shipping one of the TBoyz home last week, Abby was back to put the Grim in your favorite Grimm’s story books.

Which was just fine with Honey Bow Bow Child JoJo, who proudly announced that she was already a bonafied princess and had it all under control.  Der.

Newsflash.  Apparently, bows are the new crowns.  Who knew?

Two minutes into the show and I was already hoping somebody would give that kid a bite of the apple that makes you fall asleep for a hundred years.

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Not gonna lie.  Part of me is learning to like JoJo…but shaddup already.

As the remaining seven Joffrey hopefuls filed in for this week’s challenge, they were met by Abby and her magic fairy wand.  Because Abby loves her props.

The herd was thinning, so all the tiny dancers and all their not so tiny Moms were already starting to crack under pressure before they even knew what was going on this week.  Mom Tiffany wanted to know why Abby always picked on her kid Ally and WhatDaHell was up with all this fairy tale crap while poor little Travis wandered aimlessly in a circle trying to work through his separation anxiety.

They never really addressed whether TBoy Tyler was back home with Dad or still sitting outside in the van waiting for his brother to get cut, but either way Travis was definitely missing half of his Super Power Activation Ring.

The theme:  Modernized Fairy Tales.

Not like your freshman year in college when all the girls hooch up every classic cartoon character with a mini dress and call it a costume.  Bibbidi Bobbidi Boob, right?

The skill:  Turns.

This week’s guest was Lesley Bandy, who I am going to assume is a pretty big deal when it comes to Turns.  I’m too lazy to Google it, but you could tell as soon as she came through the SparkleWall that Miss Bandy had a background in ballet and always sits with perfect posture even when she’s watching the Super Bowl.

She had that short, spiky, artsy hair and those penciled-in eyebrows that everyone who has season tickets to the Symphony always seem to have, so I liked her right away.

She’d totally hate the way I slouch on the couch when I’m writing this blog, but I liked her anyway as she got all Nutcracker on the kiddos.

After putting everyone through a quick rehearsal, Lesley ergonomically sat herself down behind the judges’ table and watched the challenge unfold.

Since I can’t back dat thang up in the klub without getting nauseous, watching all those kids spin in a circle for ten minutes was my own personal challenge.  But I did it.

And in the end, teacher’s pet Kalani ended up being the dizziest and won the contest by default.  Her prize was a private one-on-one Meet And Greet with Abby, where she would get some pointers on her technique and something cool to post on Instagram.

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As everyone evacuated the dance floor to begin rehearsals, Abby snagged TBoyz Mama Sheryl and laid into her for last week’s elimination.  The one where Travis punk’d everyone and made them think he was going home with his brother when he really wasn’t going anywhere.

I’m sure the argument would have gone on longer if Abby hadn’t suddenly realized that Sheryl was gnawing on gum the whole time and made her spit a wad of chew into her hand like they do when the TSA catches someone trying to orally sneak drugs onto a plane.  Open wide, Ma’am, so I can take a quick look in there if you don’t mind.

Except that the lady working the Delta checkpoint probably doesn’t stick anything that comes out of your own mouth right back onto your nose like Abby did with Sheryl’s gum.

Gross.  That’s why you should just swallow it and let it sit in your belly for 7 years.

Because it does, you know.  Seven whole years.  I heard it on the playground.

So it’s gospel.

After smearing a wad of Dubble Bubble on Sheryl’s perky snout, Abby headed off for her private lesson with Kalani.

Note to Mom Kira:  When your daughter wins a prize that involves quality bonding time with Abby Lee Miller, that’s probably not when you want to mention that you have a life outside your kid and are basically phoning in your Dance Moms duties.  Just saying.

Down the hall, Trinity and Ally were working on their Evil Stepmother routine with Tessandra Chavez.

All I’m going to say is that Ally’s Mom was wearing booty shorts and glitter stilettos like it was Take Your Mom To Work Day at Hooters.  Really.  So there was that.

Next door, Travis and Kalani were fine tuning their Ice Prince & Snow Queen choreography with Peter Chu.

Watching poor Travis try to hoist Kalani up onto his shoulders without the use of his now defunct TwinPowers was a little nerve wracking for all involved, but he was giving it his best Clark Kent effort.  The fact that Kalani seemd to have grown six inches since last week’s elimination probably wasn’t helping matters either.

Across the hall, Pinocchio was back.

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Not the Dance Moms Pinocchio when they hazed poor Zack Torres and made him wear those micro puppet shorts that showed off all his marionette wood.

Not that one, thankfully.

This time it was Giaaaaanna and McKaylee, who were strung up to a life-sized MacBook Pro in Matt Cady‘s edgy interpretation of how kids nowadays are chained to their technology.  Did I already mention ‘edgy?’

Personally, I think the routine should have just been an obnoxiously oblivious tweeny bopper in Ugg boots bumping into someone on the sidewalk while texting her BFF and then going off on me like it was my fault she wasn’t paying attention.

It’s freakin’ 10am.  You should be in school right now, not eating Burger King.  Bitch.

But I digress.

Giaaaaanna was getting all tangled up in her Geppetto bungee cords, which in turn got Mom Cindy just twisted enough that she had to interrupt the rehearsal to point out to all involved that her daughter was not gettin’ it.  At all.  She was messin’ it up big time.

She’s from Philly, you know.

Right as Giaaaaanna was about to wrap the cord around her Mom’s thick hoagie of a neck a few times, she realized that the cameras were still rolling and decided it wasn’t worth going to prison over.

This time, anyway.

The only solo of the week had been given to Princess Siwa.   JoJo was going to be channeling her inner Rapunzel, courtesy of studio hip hopper Anthony Burrell.  It was gonna be Fierce.  And kind of heavy.

Forty pounds of blonde weave and 200 bobby pins later, JoJo was whipping her hair like Willow Smith.  If Lifetime hadn’t been so cheap and had paid for the rights to use her song instead of that karaoke version of I Like My Hair Like This that was coming out of the iPod, I mean.

Spoiler Alert:  JoJo dyes her hair.  I swear.  Like the Big Girls.

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We even got to see her getting her hair did down at the Bungalow House O’ Curls as Mom Jessalynn stirred up a quick bowl of root touch-up at the dining room table.  Turns out JoJo’s been bleaching her hair since she was in the womb (…don’t wanna know…) and she needed a little sumthin sumthin before Competition Day because they deduct points if your tracks don’t match the real stuff.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Gah.  I wish I didn’t like host Kevin Manno so much, because I really wanna lay into him for some of this season’s fashion choices.

Dude.  Seriously.  What happened to the Manno Boy Band?  Yikes.

Luckily, Richy Jackson‘s BeDazzled Toddlers & Tiaras crown was even more eye catching than Kevin’s red clown tie, so my eyes were magnetically drawn to the judges’ table for most of the remainder of the episode.

The epaulets were a nice finishing touch, as well.  Straight up yanked from the window Gone With The Wind curtain tassels.  Love me some Richy.

And Rachelle was totz jealz.  You could tell.

Abby was still wearing a Poison Ivy headpiece from Batman Day at Comic Con, so I don’t know what the h*** she was thinking.  But it was Showtime, nonetheless.

JoJo tried her best to get her Rapunzel on.  And it was pretty Fierce, as far as the booty popping FierceScale goes.  But honestly, she would have been better off just bobby pinning Asia Monet Ray to her head instead of trying to mimic all of Miss SassyPants’ moves.  There’s only one Asia, thank you.

Plus, Asia probably weighs less than all that synthetic weave, so it would have been a win/win for all involved.  Miss you, Girlfriend!

Despite the fact that she plagiarized Asia a few hundred times, Richy gave JoJo the finger and Rachelle kinda half stood up again like Bruno from Dancing With The Stars.  I swear she was just so jealous of Richy’s crown that she kept standing up so we could all see her boobs.  But I can’t really be certain.

Boom Boom Pow.  Work it.  Want It.  Own It.  Yes, they’re real.  And they’re awesome.

Ally and Trinity were next and…umm…not so much.  I think Cinderella is still gonna be the belle of that ball.  Sorry, kids.

They tried their best, but it wasn’t happening.

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Travis managed to get Kalani up in the air without snapping his spine, but unfortunately the two of them never meshed on stage.

But it didn’t really matter, because some random guy in the audience did THE best up and down clapping hand jive that I’ve ever seen and it made all their goobers seem not so bad.  Please tell me you saw the guy.  It was like…just whoa.

Two Snaps and a big circular Whoa.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Kalani danced in bare feet.  Which Abby loved.  And which Abby pointed out for the world to see.  Because that is how an Abby Lee dancer turns it out!

And then all the Moms back in the Green Room threw water bottles at the monitor.

Boo!  Haterz gonna hate, I guess.

Giaaaaanna and McKaylee rounded out the competition with their prima donna Pinocchio moves and probably should have cut their own strings earlier in the game.

It just wasn’t happening and the judges were all over them in the critiques.

Honestly, my biggest concern was the Crazy Bus Lady red circle cheek blush that somebody smeared all over their faces, but Abby & Co. found other things to pick on.

And then the Filly from Philly got all wound up again and went a few more rounds with her daughter.  They’re actually both from Philly, you know

The Bottom Two ended up being Ally an Giaaaaanna.  The Bottom Three if you count Mom Cindy, who wouldn’t shut up the entire time she was on stage.

I guarantee you that every child in America could feel Giaaaaanna’s pain as Mom rambled on and on about everything from giving 100% on the dance floor to why news about the government shutdown kept interrupting her stories in the afternoon.

Mom.  Shut.  Up.  I’m serious.  Just.  Shut.  Up.

In the end, Rachelle refused to use her CallBack Card, so that meant that Ally, her crazy hair and her even crazier Mom were all sent home.  I’m gonna miss Ally.

And then there were only six left in the Land of AUDC.

But don’t you worry.  They all lived Faaaaaabulously Ever After.

The End.

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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.

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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

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

 

 

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

 

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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?

 

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

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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.

 

 

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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.

 

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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.

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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.

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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.

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