Posts Tagged ‘Zack Torres’

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

Wednesday, January 8th, 2014

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

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

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Honk.

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

Game On.

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

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

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

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

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

Clearly, the kids were a little nervous.

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

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

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

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

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You know the ones.

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

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

But first…The Pyramid.  Always The Pyramid.

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

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

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

Diss my Nia?  I don’t think so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, snap.

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

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

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

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

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

For a total of 90.

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So there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, it was Showtime!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And my hero.

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

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

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

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

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

And then both groups performed.

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

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

But all the really good stuff was out back.

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

Boom.

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

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

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

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

And get me outta here.  Now.

Who’s excited to go back to Pittsburgh?

Jill?

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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.

k4

 


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