Archive for the ‘Reality Television’ Category

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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Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: It’s Time To Jiggle Those Redneck Rolls And Vacuum That Chin. Let’s Get S’mages!

Sunday, August 25th, 2013

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It’s true. My Costco Milkshakes do bring all the boys to the yard. All of them except for that one guy who used to thin out my shrubs.

 

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That’s just nasty.

 

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Seriously. I have no idea what the hell they’re all talkin’ about, but I’ll bet it has something to do with biscuits again.

 

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I love June and the girls, but I dunno know if I love ’em enough to fish my cufflinks out of a damn public toilet.

 

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Oh. My. Gawd. This is my life? I’ve never actually watched this show before.

 

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French tips ain’t just for glitz pageants anymore. Don’t be hatin’ on my Manly Mani, Bitches.

 

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Phthhhhhhfffffft….. That’s what I think.

 

 

 

 

It is what it is.

And it’s always sumthin.

It looks like somebody is finally trying to put the ‘L’ back in TLC, because so far this season Here Comes Honey Boo Boo has definitely been a learning experience.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve already seen, touched, heard, tasted and smelled more new things than I did in all four years of college.

And trust me…that’ saying something.  (Sorry, Mom.  I told you not to Google my site.)

Seriously.  I freakin’ love every single Boo in BooVille, but they are costing me an arm and a leg in eye drops and hand sanitizer.  Some things just can’t be unseen or hygienically wiped down, no matter how hard you rub your TV screen.

The Countdown to Commitment continued this week as Mama June and Sugar Bear‘s non-wedding grew closer.  The shiz was starting to get real.

While Mama ran (…ok…probably shuffled…) around the house making lists and cooking something with butter, Sugar Bear was outside on the front steps bonding with the girls.

As nice as it was to see Shugie show the love for his family, it was even nicer to see that Nugget the Chicken had finally made it outside and wasn’t rubbing his egg chute all over the kitchen counter again this week.

Don’t get me wrong.  I appreciate a well prepared omelet as much as the next guy, but when your living room couch doubles as a chicken coop…not so much.   On the other hand, it probably is a real timesaver to have your chicken already sitting in a pot when it’s time to leggo my eggo.

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The big question out on the porch was whether or not Sugar Bear would be wearing a fresh pair of tighty whities during the ceremony, or just stick with the undies he’s worn since Nixon resigned.

(Political history reference.  I told you this was a learning experience.)

I’m not sure I really want to know what’s going on down there inside his Carhartts, but whatever it is…he called it a Wedding Surprise.  Lightening Bolt Pumpkin even offered to go commando in a show of solidarity and then Baby Kaitlyn‘s little beanie popped right off her head.

It did.  Check it out.  She dropped her milk, too.

Since the stress of planning a non-wedding can really wear a girl out, everyone decided that they should all head to the park to burn off some steam and shovel down some freshly grilled hot dogs and sausages.

Nobody was allowed to mention the Commitment Ceremony or say the M Word for one afternoon.  This was their time to chillax, snarf down some snacks and watch Mama straddle a chain link fence.

Well…ok.  That last part probably wasn’t on the original itinerary, but when they got to the park and were faced with the barricade, June mounted it like a true Kardashian.

Wasn’t it Brooke Shields who once said that Nothing comes between Me and my discounted Oscar Mayer Wieners?

Bow Chicka Boo Boo.

As Mama set the picnic table with generic Chinet and watched Sugar Bear try to light 3 pounds of charcoal with a convenience store Bic, the older girls prepared for battle.

Because it was Ball Wars.  And it was on, bitches.

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Basically, the game pits two people against each other, each holding a giant inflated bouncy ball.  The goal is to run towards each other like that last scene in Braveheart, screaming some kind of Redneck WarCry until you collide, knock each other down and the balls going flying out into traffic.

If someone blacks out or cracks their head open…bonus points.  And more wieners for the winner.

The showdown was Anna vs. Pumpkin, which Sugar Bear compared to an 18 wheeler running over a 4 wheeler on black ice during a white out blizzard on the highway.

It’s pretty technical, but it’s basically a mathematical equation involving mass, force, velocity, speed and square footage based on cheese ball absorption.

Technical, but not pretty.

After Pumpkin spread Anna out on the turf like Nutella on day old white bread, she explained that her momentus was responsible for the win.

You heard me.  Momentus.  It’s Science.

(TLC.  Never stop learning.)

The next day, Mama was back to stressing out as the girls all took Sugar Bear on the hunt for a tuxedo.  Just because he was going to be wearing dirty undies on the inside didn’t mean that he couldn’t be pretty on the outside, right?

So it was off to the House of Hines to Experience the Elegance of Macon’s premiere destination for wedding and formal wear.  Where their customers are treated like royalty, their employees cater to your every need and their selection is second to none.

And their motto is “You Flush It, You Bought It.”

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What.  The…?

This place has been in business for over 47 years.  They are based out of a refurbished three story plantation house and have basically hogged all the tuxedo business in the middle of Georgia for the last four decades.

But they made Sugar Bear try on his tuxedo in the employee bathroom.  With the lid up.

What.  The…?

Forty seven years later and you haven’t figured out how to turn any of those Civil War Underground Railroad closets into a fitting room?  Really?

(History lesson.  You’re welcome.)

Let’s just say that if you have people trying on clothes in the bathroom, I don’t even want to know what the other guys are doing in the actual fitting rooms.

Somehow Sugar Bear managed to get his tuxedo on without clogging the neighbor’s septic tank and gave an impromptu fashion show for the girls, who all squealed in delight.

He thought he kind of looked like a secret agent guy, so we got to see him pose like he was squirrel huntin’ in a tux.  I’m pretty sure I even heard Adele singing that catchy new James Bond song from somewhere in the building.

She must have been in the other loo trying on Grammy gowns.  She’s British, you know.

Back home again, all the girls pig piled onto the bed and tried to brainstorm how to keep Mama from losing her nutty.  I love when they all plop down like a crime scene and put their feet in each other’s faces.  Because I’m klassy like dat.

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Alana suggested that they all get s’mages, which I thought was a fancier redneck version of s’mores that I had yet to experience.  But it turned out that what she meant was just going for massages.

Spa Day!

Hopefully the Posh Spot strip mall day spa had some specials on chin vacuuming and neck crust removal this week, because the girls totally threw all that nastiness in my face right before I blacked out.

The last thing I remember was a closeup of Mama’s rogue neck hair beckoning me into the moist darkness like some curly finger.  Then everything went black.

When I finally came to, Anna was asking Mama something about ladyscaping her overgrown naughty bits for the Commitment Ceremony and I made myself pass out again by holding my breath under a pillow.

I swear, these Boos are literally gonna be the death of me one day.  Literally.

Spa Day went exactly as you would imagine a Spa Day would go with this crowd.

Alana got her nails did, Mama got her meat tenderized and some poor salon sistah drew the short straw and had to touch Jessica’s feet.

As Mama paid the bill and they all left the salon, I swear I saw at least half a dozen guys in white HazMat suits going in through the back door with hoses.

Not to be outdone, while all the womenfolk were off getting shucked and plucked, Sugar Bear hit the barbershop for his own mini makeover.  A little trim, a quick shave and some deep fingernail excavation and he was gussied up real good and ready to go home and sit by his Burn Barrel.

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Because that’s where real men go to think and do stuff.

The Burn Barrel.

I don’t know what you actually burn in a Burn Barrel, but it was seriously torched up as Sugar Bear kicked back in his lawn chair and attempted to write down some vows for the upcoming ceremony.  He wanted to express his love for June and the girls and got that teary eyed look he always gets when he thinks about Family.

D’oh.  Love that scruffy guy.

Inside, real women don’t need a Burning Barrel.  They just need to be surrounded by the tranquility of 476 rolls of toilet paper and enough liquid detergent to flood the Astrodome to inspire their creative juices to start flowing.

As Sugar Bear scribbled down his thoughts in the backyard, Mama was in her Coupon Cave trying to do the same.

June was struggling a little bit, but Shugie had some help as Alana scooted up and gave him pointers on how an 8 year old puts their feelings into words.

From the mouths of babes, and all.

I mean, c’mon.  It shouldn’t be that difficult if you love someone, right?

Duh.

The Wisdom of Honey Boo Boo Child.

Redneckognize it.

And then go shoot some squirrels like a Boss.

Pull my finger, Goldfinger.

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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

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

 

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

 

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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?

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

 

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

 

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

 

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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.

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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.

w

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.

y1

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…

cl


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