The Real Housewives Of New Jersey Reunion Part One: Raise Your Hands If You’re Jealous Of Teresa And Want To Be Her. It’s Getting Fabulicious.

October 1st, 2012


Pardon me while I block that blinding spotlight with my sweaty Napalm.




I said I lost all the weight after getting the Lap-Band. Not a Lap Dance, you pageant moron.




Whoa. I don’t even have enough charge in my phone for all the texting I need to do after this is over.



Yo! Andy! Am I even in the shot? I didn’t get a new nose just to sit way over here on the end of some Borgata couch.



No. Seriously. Somebody needs to find my Blackberry right now. This is some cray cray good s*** going down right now.



Teresa. Stop it. You’re bad attitude is On Display. Which is still available on iTunes, by the way.




(nā päm) n. An aluminum soap of various fatty acids that when mixed with gasoline makes a firm jelly used in some bombs and in flamethrowers.

So there.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

(#RHONJ) n. An equally, if not more so, lethal combination of botox, fillers, glitter, stilettos and body oil that when mixed with Andy Cohen‘s boyish inquisitiveness can also blow your face off.

The More You Know.

And so The Real Housewives of New Jersey Reunion began.  With an oily bang.

After the first ever back-to-back filming of two consecutive seasons of Joisey drama, it was finally time for everyone to reunite and to reignite all the explosive animosity that had been percolating while the rest of us got caught up with everything that went down in Season Four.

While TV Time made it seem pretty seamless, in Real Life Time it has been one full year since all the Wives gathered together under one roof.  That would probably explain not only the sweat on Andy’s upper lip as everyone settled in for the first of three…count ’em THREE…reunion episodes, but also why there were a few new hairdo’s and noses on the set.  I guess Time tries to make everything prettier.

With Atlantic City hotel security on high alert and a S.W.A.T. team command center set up in the lobby, Andy welcomed everyone to the Borgata hotel, casino, spa and wrestling ring in beautiful Sin City and then got right down to bidnezz.

Like any good host, he attempted some smiley foreplay during the introductions by calling out everyone’s successes over the last year that they had been MIA.

Which is a great move, unless you are introducing people who haven’t really accomplished a lot since you last saw them.  Then it just gets awkward.

Teresa Giudice, who had traded in last year’s Star Trek reunion gown (…with the disco ball breast plate…) was now pretty much popping out of a highly saturated, and equally oiled up, green gown.  Knowing that as soon as she opened her mouth total chaos would ensue, I gave Tre the benefit of the doubt for starters and assumed that she must have been feeling under the weather, which could be the only explanation for why she had coated her fabuliciously boobilicious décolletage with so much Vicks VapoRub.

I know, right?  Nobody would grease up their junk like that on purpose, right?  You couldn’t even look directly at her breastesezz without squinting like Mama Manzo.

Despite the glare from her calzones, Andy managed to congratulate Teresa on 3 NYTimes best seller cookbooks before acknowledging sister-in-law Melissa Gorga‘s iTunes dance remixes.

As he moved on to Caroline “Yoda” Manzo, Andy already appeared to be running out of host steam because the best he could come up with was that he approved of her longer haircut.  Nice save, AC.

By the time he got to the very end of the couch and cousin Kathy Wakile (…ouch…that location can’t bode well for next season’s casting announcements…) Andy was really grasping for straws.  Instead of faking some success story though, he chose to simply just call Kathy out on a newly designed nose and overly injected lips before staging an impromptu one man intervention to try and put a stop to all the claymation before Girlfriend was totally unrecognizable on her DIY canoli box covers.

Andy had skimmed over Jacqueline Laurita because he wanted to come back to her for all the deets on why she skipped out on last year’s Reunion Show.  You don’t diss the King of Reality TV without a really good note from the principal, if you know what I mean.

Jacqueline began explaining “The Incident” at the Posche Fashion Show where Melissa had been confronted by that skeevy bald guy claiming that she used to dance for him at a strip club.  Being a self confessed texting tweetaholic, you’ll remember that Jacqueline’s cell was literally on fire that evening as everyone in Jersey was letting her know (…via text and/or 140 characters or less…) that Teresa was in on Strippergate the whole time.

I say she “began” explaining, because as soon as Jacqueline opened her mouth Caroline grabbed the wheel and steered the conversation right into Teresa’s shiny face, accusing Tre of setting up the whole thing to humiliate Melissa.  Jacqueline couldn’t have agreed more, and swore she had a Blackberry full of proof while Mama Manzo’s patented ManzoHand flapped around like she was bringing in aircraft at JFK.

To which Teresa replied “Prove it, Bitch.”

And then it was on.  Like Donkey Kong.

Jacqueline and Teresa went a few more rounds over the Posche Show and surprisingly got nowhere.  But it did give me time to wonder out loud why these women keep going to this stupid fashion show if it always ends up in a throw down.  I mean, really.

How many times do you have to get burned before you stop putting your face on the stove?  Stay home and watch Project: Runway for chrissake.

Melissa and her newly lightened hair got into the fray for a few seconds as she tried to explain why she never RSVP’s to anything at Teresa’s house, and that she doesn’t just drop off presents at Gia‘s school and then run away like she’s the UPS man.

It all made sense when you watched it even though for the life of me I can’t remember how Strippergate turned into Gia’s birthday party.  But trust me, it did.

Then it was back to Jacqueline again, and her hot mess daughter Ashley.  Or Ashlee.  Or whatever it is on Twitter now.

Having survived 3 days of gas leaking from a stove and never feeling any more stoned than she felt when she lived at home, Ashlee seemed to be maturing and growing into her new role as an adult.  At least that’s how it seemed on Skype.  And we know that the internet never lies, right?

The show then shifted into a bit of a downer for a few moments as Jacqueline and Caroline melted down over video of Jacqueline’s autistic son and had a good cry.

Melissa teared up as well and did that soap opera tissue dab thing that I guess you’re supposed to always do if you’re wearing too much eye liner.

It was hard to tell what was going on with Kathy’s new face, but she seemed a little moved, too.  But I can’t swear to it.

Teresa on the other hand, with that unexplainable gift that she has, somehow managed to turn a young boy’s battle with Autism back onto herself again and Caroline blew a nutty.

An industrial, Manzo-sized nutty.

Caroline called out Teresa for her F***ing Christmas Pageant dress.  Teresa called out Mama Manzo as an Old Hag.  I called my cable company to find out why even though I set my DVR to record Bravo TV I was somehow watching a TLC Show about bratty kids who scream and yell and throw things until one of those overseas Nannies comes to America and spanks them.

These are grown women, right?

And speaking of TLC.  And Honey Boo Boo Child.  Love.  Her.

Did anyone notice that Bravo TV stole a few Redneck Reality tips from the Boo and started subtitling conversations that are already in simple English?

I mean, yeah.  The Wives were whispering.  But I could still hear them talking smack about Teresa.  But subtitling what you can already understand is cool now, thanks to the Boo.  There’s no escaping the power of the Dolla Holla.

Redneckognize it, bitches.

Then Andy got it all back on track and gave us a Jacqueline and Teresa’s Friendship: The Early Years montage.

After a few snickers over nuts in a chocolate ball and a sex tape that will hopefully never see the light of day, it was clear that these two women don’t stand a chance of ever getting back to where they were before everything fell apart.  Not a chance.  You heard it here first, folks.

Jacqueline finger pointed her accusations that all Teresa cared about was exposing Melissa and Kathy even before they joined the show.  Forget the fact that Melissa was, or was not, or maybe still is or will be a stripper.  Teresa seemed more horrified that it took Kathy 40 years to get her first designer handbag.

I know, right?  You can get a pretty decent one at Marshall’s.  No excuses, honey.

Teresa made it clear for the bazillionth time that everyone on Earth is jealous of her and that everyone wants to be her.  Or at least that was the implication after a few more screaming matches and another In Touch magazine cover story.

Gah.  We get it.

Next up, Andy decided to bully the bully for a few minutes and cornered Caroline on her behavior this season.  He schooled her.  And she owned it.

And then she made room on the couch for the new and improved Lauren Manzo 2012 model.  But she didn’t have to make as much room as she used to, because daughter Lauren had lost over 35 pounds with a simple Lap-Band procedure and was now a sleeker, slimmed down version of the mopey girl we suffered through all season.

Baby Manzo looked pretty good in her leather dress.  I’ll give her that one.  And now that she doesn’t use her mouth for eating, it apparently allows her more time for yelling and swearing as she unleashed on Teresa.  Granted, Tre asked for it by tossing Lauren a low blow about the Manzo boys never working before the discovery of the Blk Waterfall, but screeching “Dick Head” tends to make you a little less of a lady.   Just saying.

Que the next Manzo nutty.  A split screen nutty, so you knew it was gonna be good.

Teresa went off on Caroline’s previous tummy tuck and how she couldn’t help but notice that Caroline had brought 3 new, pretty hefty fat rolls to the Borgata for the Reunion Show.

Caroline proudly owned those fat rolls.  Just like she owned her filler-free face, which probably unintentionally caught Jacqueline in the crossfire, considering that she had just pointed out her new Laurita cheekbones to Andy a few minutes earlier.

Lauren almost burst the seam on her new skinny dress as she compared Teresa’s manic behavior to high school bullies who raise the nation’s suicide rate, and then made a pretty smooth segue into Teresa not writing her own blogs.

By the time Lauren tried forcing Teresa into giving the definition, correct spelling and proper use in a sentence of the word Napalm, Andy had to finally step in and send Lauren back out to the craft service table for some solid food.

Then it all just fell apart.

Melissa told Teresa to turn around and look at her, because she was tired of talking to her weave.  Oh, snap.  I’m totally gonna use that at the office.

Which in turn caused Teresa to call out Melissa, on national television no less, for wearing last year’s glitter eye shadow.  Last year’s!  The glitter eye shadow that Teresa had already worn to the Season 3 Reunion Show.

Yeah.  She went there.  Bitch Stole My Look.  A year later.

Then it careened into Teresa whoring out her kid Gia in a celebrity gossip magazine article.  Seriously.  Is it any wonder I spend so much time at CVS with all this good cash register reading out there?  Inquiring minds, and all.

Moving on to stealing recipes that have been around since Italians discovered Italy, Teresa slammed Kathy a few more times.  She even let everyone know that she had created a book report outline listing all the times that Kathy’s husband Richie had made fun of her, mouthed off and/or laid his hands on Teresa.

An outline?  Like on paper?

Right.  Spell Napalm and then we’ll talk.

Finally, I guess the two things that you’re not supposed to drag into any Housewife fight are kids or dead parents.  You might want to write that one down in your own private outline for future reference.

Because after Kathy called Teresa’s Mother a F***ing liar, Teresa bit back with a slam against Kathy’s now deceased Dad, and then all the wheels on the Crazy Bus fell off.

Let’s just say that Part One ended with loads of Honey Boo Boo subtitling as Kathy’s sister Rosie Pierri went certifiably whackadoodle backstage after Teresa spoke ill of the Dead.  (Damn those Green Room monitors!)

Whackadoodle to the point where she threatened to (bleep) the (bleepin’) tongue out of her (bleepin’) mouth and began trashing the back of the Borgata like Butchzilla terrorizing a Japanese Pride Parade.

I’ll say it.  We loooove Rosie.  But she’s scary when she’s mad.  Really scary.

As the hotel went on lockdown and Andy tried to uncork one of the gigantic keggers behind the couch, Rosie toppled a lighting tripod, stepped on two tourists and headed towards the couches.

To be continued…

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: It’s All Aboard The Biscuit Express For A Super-Sized Redneck Finale. Poodles, Pageants & Pigs…Three Thumbs Up!

September 28th, 2012



Sometimes it takes a Village. Other times it just takes Aviator shades and a casual evening gown. Werk.






Oh, hey now girls. Haters gonna hate.






Mama, I don’t feel so fresh. It’s hotter than Poodle balls out here, and Boo Boo ain’t liking it one bit.






Oooh! Get it off get it off get it off get it off get it off get it off!






And that’s what I think about humidity and table manners. I’m good without either, thank you.





This week on “Keeping Up With The Kuntry Stoe Kardashians…”



And I quote.  Sort of.

Their mouths will hang open a minute or two.

And then all The Boos down in Booville will all cry “Honey Boo Hoo.”

The End.  

That’s right.  It was a sad day in Booville, Georgia this week as the first butt scratchin’ season of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo came to a mud splashed, cheese ball coated close after gracing our televisions for much too short a time.

Love ’em or hate ’em, you better Redneckognize that Pageant Princess Alana Thompson and her sneezin’, wheezin’, finger pullin’ family are now part of Pop Culture vernacular.  Forever.  And there is no way to escape them if you own a television or a wi-fi router.  No way.

Because Honey Boo Boo is here to stay.

And what better way to immortalize all that Redneckulousness for future generations than with a family portrait, right?  So it was off to a Boat Landing/Rock Climbing looking place for some paparazzi practice.

First order of business this week was gathering all the Boo Boos together for a photo shoot on what turned out to be a Triple H summer scorcher of a day.

Since it has already been well documented that Mama June is not a big fan of the hazy, hot & humid trifecta, you can only imagine how well she was handling all those sticky H’s in her Sunday best.

All dolled up in fancy Mall makeup and an up ‘do, June actually cleaned up pretty nicely, all things considered.  She liked to call it “a little paint on the barn” as it were, but in the middle of a summer heatwave we all know how long it takes paint to dry on a barn.  And don’t even get me started on how it tends to pool up between the shingles, because we’ve all been there during a weekend home improvement project gone horribly wrong.

You know something ain’t right between the siding and the insulation, but you’re afraid to lift it up and look underneath because it might start running and leave a streak that won’t come out without a sanding belt.  So you just walk away and hope that it will eventually dry to a smooth finish.

It was like that.  But more humid.

Photographer Tammie Graham, who as of today is most likely sharing a Freshman triple dorm room at Insane Asylum University with Miss Georgia 2011 and the Etiquette Lady who melted down during a lesson in Boo Boo table manners, had somehow found herself in charge of rustling up all the scattered family members and getting at least one decent shot with her Pentax.

Everyone was hot.  Everyone was cranky.  Everyone was yelling at everyone else.

And Tammie was getting so hot and bothered that I was afraid she might overexpose her film canister before she managed to even score a single 8 x 10.

Alana kept rubbing her face until she looked like Carol Burnett back when she played that crazy a** silent movie star with the black eyeliner, while Pumpkin worked the camera lens like she was Tyra.  Mama spilled her water bottle all over the barn siding and Sugar Bear put on pants.  Not his funeral pants.  Just pants.

After rock climbing, sitting in mud and Mama taking a bath in her own sweat, Tammie finally got enough photos to keep everyone happy and then either left or 4-wheeled off the dock.  I’m not sure where she went.  She just kind of disappeared with her wet bangs all stuck to her face and her eyes bugging out of her head.

Godspeed, Tammie.

Back at Casa Boo Boo, Mama and Alana began packing for the upcoming Beach Beauties Pageant.  Honey Boo Boo Child was hitting the Pageant Circuit one last time before school started, and she was definitely looking to Holla for a few more Dollas.

Unfortunately, a summer full of sketti and BBQ orgies had left Alana with both a dress and a bathing suit that she could barely pull over her head.  Mama had already hooked her up with a new cupcake dress, and now it was time to try on her new swimwear which had come safely delivered all crammed up inside a crumpled postal priority envelope.

If it fits, it ships.  If it don’t, we make it fit.  And then it ships.

Thank you Lane Bryant, for now offering your swimwear in shrinky dink baby size ranges.  That’s the only vendor that could have shipped that thing.  Seriously.

Alana looked adorbz in the outfit, and it was a really eye catching cobalt blue for you fashionistas…but there was a whole lot of belly poking out of that swing coat looking top.

A lot o’ belly.  Like more than two handfuls.

But she looooooved it.  And I loooooove me some Boo Boo.

So stick it in the plastic bin and let’s get going here, people.

Or not.

Hold that thought, because Chickadee was having contractions.  Real ones this time.  Real enough to make her realize that maybe this whole Teen Mom baby thang was actually going to happen while she was still a teenager.

Not taking any chances, everyone pried the bag of snacks out of her hands, hoisted her dead weight off the couch and headed to the hospital to pop out some baby.

Special delivery on the Biscuit Express, as Alana anatomically explained.

You know when you slam one of those Pillsbury Doughboy tubes on the counter that was either in the refrigerator too long or not long enough, but you don’t slam it hard enough and just a little blob of goo squirts out and sticks to your fingers?  And then you have to keep slamming and yanking and slamming and poking until it’s all out and finally ends up on the tray?

Yeah.  That Biscuit Express.

Enjoy your next brunch.

Three hours, 6 pounds, 2 ounces and three thumbs later…baby Kaitlyn Elizabeth was officially biscuit-free.

Hold up.  What was that, you ask?

Not the 6 pounds part?  The other part?  The thumbs part?

It’s true.  As Mama explained, baby Kaitlyn was highly evolved.  So highly evolved that she had three thumbs.  One on the left, one on the right, and as a special parting gift…one more on the right.

She was a cute little peanut with what kind of looked like a can opener where her thumb (singular) should have been.  Or a Swiss Army knife, if you ask Shugie.

But if we’ve learned anything at all from this amazing family, it’s that it don’t matter none.

Family is family.  They love her.  She loves them.  Or at least she will when both eyes start going in the same direction, and there’s nothing more important than family.  Alana probably broke it down best when she stated that it was just one more person to love.

Gah.  I love these Boo Boos.

Looking past all the Redneckulosity, they really do get their point across.  Three thumbs up for being real.  And a High Six.

Auntie Chubbs wasn’t a big fan of new baby smell after taking a whiff.  It wasn’t totally “biscuit bad” as she explained, but still not pleasing to her finely tuned cheese ball nose.

One…thanks for ruining almost an entire food group for me with one sentence.  And two…you put a wet crescent roll on your head for 9 months and then tell me how that all works out for you.

Needless to say, the Biscuit Express pulled into (…out of?…) the station around the same time that Alana was supposed to be at her Lane Bryant Pageant, so she had to miss the entire event.  But she was ok with it, because bringing the estrogen count up to 6 in that one tiny house was all worth it as far as she was concerned.

Luckily, Mama found another pageant…but it was in two days.  Yowza!

That meant it was time to get serious and call in the Pageant Cavalry to save the day.

The Poodle Pageant Cavalry, that is.  Fueled by Chicken Nuggets and Rainbow Power.

Uncle Poodle!

Sugar Bear’s faaaabulous brother had moved back into town and was on his way over, with hopefully ample sass and fruit in his tank to help Alana get her mojo back.

Arriving with enough fanfare to make up for not actually riding in on a float, everyone’s favorite Gay Redneck Uncle was more than happy to come up with an impromptu pretty feet routine on the spot.

Like any good Gay Redneck Uncle should do.  Der.

Poodle is a hoot.

And let me tell you.  Jazz Hands ain’t got nuthin on Poodle Paws as Lee worked his invisible cupcake dress and Timberland boots like a pro, all against a backdrop of 365 days a year icicle lights and an air conditioner that I swore was going to fall out of the window before he even got to his finger kisses.

Werk it, Girlfriend.

Somewhere between the lesson on eye contact and popping your hip, Alana attempted a cartwheel and then the whole thing just collapsed into a grass fight.  Apparently the Boo Boos are not big on bagging their lawn clippings, because there was enough clumped up artillery on the ground for Alana, P-Diddy Poodle and Pumpkin to go full on War Games on each other’s heads.

It was clear that Uncle P would not have worn his good striped polo shirt if he had known that he was going to participate in a grass fight, because you would have sworn Alana was launching live nukes at his logo embroidery the way he was screaming in the front yard.

Yeah.  It got a little gay.

But not that there’s anything wrong with that.  Not at all.  Even Alana explained that everyone is a little gay.

But it was grass.  Not acid, dude.

After Uncle Poodle stuffed a ginormous wad of lawnmower cud down the back of Pumpkin’s pants, the rest of the fight was pretty anticlimactic, so they finished up and got ready for Pageant Day.

Finally, it was time for The Sparkle & Shine Pageant!

For all you Toddlers & Tiaras groupies it was just what you would expect, though the venue itself was a little odd.  After years of Ramada Inn ballrooms with miles of empty chairs, this joint was part barn dance and part church pew as far as I could tell.  Or maybe a community center where they argue about librarian salaries.  I don’t know.  I wasn’t really paying attention.  My bad.

But the whole Boo Boo gang was there to cheer on Alana.  Even Baby Three Thumb, who pretty much slept through the whole thing while sucking on a variety of appendages.

Mama June belted out her signature “Work it Smoochie!” howl while Uncle Poodle sat back and envied Alana’s outfits.

(He did, however, clarify that his ensemble would be much more of a casual evening gown type of number.  Good to know.)

Did I already mention that he is a hoot?

Since this wasn’t a real T&T episode, the pageant part was fairly insignificant and we barely saw the action, though I did manage a glimpse at that crazy eyed, overly spray tanned male judge who always cracks me up.  That guy is IN TO his job, and totally reminds me of those shaky little lap dogs who never blink.

Alana scored 2nd Runner-up which meant that she still has yet to win the Big One.  Kind of sad.  More importantly this time around though, she won the People’s Choice Award which is chosen by the…duh…figure it out.  I gave you a big clue.

At the award ceremony, Alana got a special surprise when Uncle Poodle brought Glitzy the Pig up on stage to congratulate her, which was a nice gesture until you realized that it meant she would have her favorite pet yanked from her grip for a second time and sent back to the breeder.

 A little odd.  And a little gay.

The pig, that is.  But we already knew that when he got measured for a boy pig dress a few weeks ago.

And then it was over.  The whole season.

With just enough time for some Yoda wisdom from June.

It was a crazy summer.  A great summer.  All about fun and family.  Living and loving.

Accepting and couponing.  Mud fights and Bingo nights.

And eating.  Lots of eating.

It’s a little gay and a whole lot of Redneck.

Love ’em or hate ’em.  June summed it all up for us before heading down the tracks…

It is what it is.

Dance Moms Reunion Part Two: The Real Housewives Of Pittsburgh All Get Served By Sassy Kaya One Mo’ Time. Oh No She Din’t Just Go There Again.

September 26th, 2012



You’re all just bitter, toxic a** woman that don’t even deserve to see my backside tattoo, mmmkay?





Oh. My. Gawd. I can’t even stop looking at the front ones and now there’s a back one? I love dat bitch.





Not now, girl. Bite your tongue. I swear, you mention that doctorate in front of her again and I will slap you myself on national television.




And for the last time…it’s not Barbie. It’s Skipper, Barbie’s prettier and much younger sister.






I think the biggest piece of jerky I ever brought home was about this long.






Oh. Hell. Yeah. I gotta get my shizzle on up to Canton.




Move over NeNe Leakes and let Kaya show you how it’s done.

It was Round Two for the Dance Moms Reunion Show this week, and like any good Real Housewives knock-off, everybody knows the good stuff always comes in the second half.

My new favorite Andy Cohen stand-in, Jeff Collins, was still front and center clutching his bootleg Bravo TV flashcards, completely surrounded by the full Mom Platoon.

Seated together in what was either somebody’s living room or the front of a suburban Home Goods store (…Seriously.  Pause your DVR and count all the accessories…) everyone was getting used to the format and getting ready to unleash some serious Reunion Part Two ‘tude.

You knew it was going to get good because they were already playing Survivor music before the introductions.  Survivor music always means something is about to go down.

Or that somebody is just about to eat something gross.

And since I’m pretty sure no one on Lifetime would eat bug larvae, it was a safe bet that Kaya was probably out back scratching on the inside of a locked Green Room door.

Jeff started right in on Chaos Cathy Nesbitt and the infamous Mom Dance.  Just as terrifying and definitely more ill-fitting than Mom Jeans, the Mom Dance will forever go down in Reality TV history.

For whatever reason, somebody had thought it would be a good idea to shove Melissa, Kelly and Christi out on stage as backup dancers for Cathy’s impromptu, spotlight hogging, loosely choreographed dancing seizure, but neglected to actually teach them how to dance prior to the curtain being raised.  The result was three Moms standing around like they were waiting for their carpool while Cathy showed everyone in the audience what Peter Pan might look like on Broadway if a tech guy forgot to strap on the flying harness before showtime.  It was Spaztastic.

To paraphrase the Dark Lord…This is your Destiny, young Vivi-Anne.

It was like one of those 25 Years of Dance” things on youtube, but with the kind of sparkly, oddly age inappropriate Mom outfits that you always see drunk women wearing in Ramada lounges.

Cathy supported her decision to steamroll over the other Moms due to their lack of rhythm and inner ear balance, while Abby chastised her for not making it a full blown Carol Burnett sketch.

When Abby actually went so far as to suggest that Cathy should have turned them all into floor mopping maids, Holly had the first of her many WhatchooTalkinBoutWillis faces.  Dr. Holly don’t do Maids, thank you.

Holly’s seemingly endless facial expressions were my drinking game of choice during this episode.  Love her.

After visually confirming that he was a safe distance from Cathy in case she rabidly lunged for a neck vein, Jeff actually had the kahunas to ask her if she felt that Abby and the ALDC were better than the Candy Apples dancers.  Oh oh, SpaghettiOs.

I’ve got to assume that there were either people stationed off-camera with stun guns or the dude’s got some major kahunas, because I think I would have skipped that card and moved on to the next question.

But he went there, causing Cathy to squirm around for a few seconds as though she was sitting on some of that world famous Jerky King product, before finally admitting that Abby’s girls had Star Quality.  If Abby had not been weighed down by 75 pounds of silver costume jewelry and 40+ years of bad life choices, you know she would have totally done the Pee Wee Dance right there on that Home Goods table.

Quickly wanting to shift the focus back to how great everything is in Candy Apples Land, Cathy lit into Jill for being a studio hopper and an all around crazy bitch.

After pointing out Jill’s penchant for disguising blatant bribery with Hallmark gift tags and big colorful bows, Cathy even managed to sneak in a slam at Jill’s new, and still not quite under control Barbie coiffure, which kind of offended Kelly, because she likes being the one with crazy hair.

Moving on, Jeff wanted to get to the root of the whole Abby vs. Kelly conflict.  Why do they fight so much?  Given their history (…Kelly started with Abby at 2 1/2 years old…) wassup wid all dis tension?  Inquiring minds want to know.

Ok.  Let’s just break this thing down.

You know how when you try to picture someone when they were much younger, like all the way back in junior high school or earlier, but all you have to really reference them is nowadays?  So you just picture them as they are now, but wearing Brady Bunch clothes instead?

Yeah.  I did that.  And it wasn’t pretty.

When Kelly claimed that back in ancient history Abby had liked a boy who liked Kelly instead…well…whoa.  Flashback music, please.

I pictured the cafetorium dances, the fights by the lockers and young Kelly holding hands with some football jock every time they passed a giant Baby Abby in the hallway before Study Hall.

Baby Abby.  Baby Huey.  Whatevs.  Just stick a headband on it and you know what I’m talking about.  I totally made up the last 40 years of Dance Moms history and it was brilliant.  Someday I may even share it with all of you.

Abby denied the love triangle and blamed it all on Kelly’s parents not pushing her to be anything more than mediocre, which appeared to have been passed down through the genetic DNA chain into Kelly’s bloodstream, resulting in her own children just coasting through life.

Then it was 5 minutes of seeing how many ways they could both use the words “Encouragement” and “Click” in a sentence before Jeff lost interest.

Brooke may or may not want to dance anymore.  Paige is ok with being just ok.  Or is she?  Or does she?  And what’s with Paige’s hair?  Don’t make me keep asking.  And why does Kelly feel that being just ok is ok enough?

Jeff didn’t really solve anything, but it gave Abby and Kelly plenty of time to scream and bitch and talk over each other while Holly made some delightful faces.  (Watch out Christi…The Doctor is moving in on your turf.)

Abby made sure to sneak in a few drinking in the parking lot jabs at Kelly’s expense, while Kelly compared Abby’s world to the Mob where you can’t ever seem to get out and stay out.

And then in this Ring, we have Melissa vs. Christi.

Turned out that they also have a history.  But the Melissa/Christi backstory is apparently sealed in a government file somewhere with strict stipulations that they never discuss it in public.

Gah.  That drives me boinkers.

How much did you hate that kid in school who said he had a secret, but couldn’t tell you.

Seriously.  Then why freakin’ bring it up?  Just to make me insane?

They both confirmed that their animosity stemmed from years and years ago, and that they had both “done things” to each other.  What does that even mean?

I swear Mr. Collins, if there is not a Dance Moms prequel by next fall I’m sending Kaya after your scent.  Look at how successful the Wolverine X-Men movie was in theaters.

And speaking of Kaya picking up your scent…

Black Patsy was in the hizzle.

The poor man’s NeNe stormed the set decked out in Sassy Mall animal print, complete with that black rose from Claire’s still in her hair and a coordinating F*** you up attitude.

I need to rewind to verify, but I’m pretty certain Kaya started in on everyone before her junk even hit the guest chair.

With a slowly sinking Cathy looking like a hostage trapped between Holly and Kaya, the whole Women of Color thing started up again and it was Classic Housewives.  It was like I sat on my remote and it just kept flipping from Bravo to VH1 to Animal Planet over and over and over again until I figured out what was happening.

Kaya called out everyone as Haters.  She had heard all the whispers.  The whole baby at 16 gossip.  The lesbian gossip.  You’re a bitch.  And you’re a bitch.  You’re all bitches!

Bitter, toxic a** bitches!

It was Oprah from the ‘hood.

And where exactly IS this ‘hood that everyone keeps screaming about?  Everyone is always swearing they’re from the ‘hood, or taking you to the ‘hood to mess you up, or going to the ‘hood and never being heard from again.  Where is it?  I put it in my GPS and it didn’t take me anywhere.  This might require some more research.

Roadtrip anyone?  I’ll buy the snacks.

With a little trickle of sweat running down the back of his sportcoat, Jeff explained that he would never dream of calling Kaya “Black Patsy” even though she seemed to be down wid it.

“Crazy A** Lady with the Boob Tattoo” maybe, but never “Black Patsy”.  That ain’t right.

Kaya proudly stated she would throw down anywhere, anytime if the situation required some fist to face action, which caused Jeff to scoot his chair back a little bit and Abby to spin her Ninja Star ring around a few times.  Christi was singled out amongst all the Moms as being the most fake by Kaya, and then their whole You’re a Bitch OhHellNo You’re a Bitch confrontation was replayed about 10 times.

Or maybe they were all different scenes.  It was hard to tell.  Kaya was poppin’ off in all of them and I didn’t have a pen to keep track.  Girlfriend will cut you.  That much I figured out on my own.

She tried again to rally Holly to the Cause, which forced Holly to once again explain the difference between a Get Out Of Jail card and a Pass and…well…you knew where this one was going.  Kaya felt betrayed by her Sister Holly and the whole Women of Color thing.  Again.

Jill jumped onto the pig pile and didn’t quite know how to respond when Kaya complimented her on having a nice bedonkadonk.  For a white girl, anyway.

It got weird.

When Jill claimed that they were not even sure if lesbianism was legit (…in Kaya’s case, not as a Lifestyle.  Duh.  No hate mail, please.  Read before you React…) Kaya pointed out that her lover’s name or face or something was tattooed back there somewhere if anyone was interested in solving the mystery.

Thanks, but I’ll take one of Holly’s passes right about now.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love me some Kaya.  Crazier the better.  But seeing her get all head bobbly in a room full of Dance Moms almost felt like she had walked into the wrong studio.  Where my girls at?

Before Kaya headed off stage to to decompress and slap a few camera guys, Jeff allowed her to go around the room one by one, picking off Moms like she was skeet shooting at a street fair.

She thought Cathy was a blast, and that Kelly was White Patsy.  Yeah.  She said that.

Between Kaya telling Holly to embrace her ethnicity and getting all up in Christi’s face again, I think Jeff may have regretted giving her that one last opportunity to let loose.  It was definitely good for ratings, but not so much for anyone who had to walk alone through the parking lot after taping was over.

Don’t axe me why he did that.  Really.  Don’t axe.

(And don’t get me started on that linguistic pet peeve.  Trust me.  You do NOT want my opinion on that one.)

We finished off with some low key, warm & fuzzy family time.

All the kids joined the Moms in a tight squeeze couch moment to relive the last two seasons and let us in on what their goals were for the future.  Even googly Vivi-Anne was there, though she basically just sat around wondering why no one had picked her up and carried her off set yet.

I swear that kid must sleep in sparkly eye liner.

All the girls got giggly stage fright when Fake Andy spun the cameras and the questions in their direction.  It was cute, and a reminder that they really are just kids who like to dance.

Maddie got all red faced when boys were brought up, and MackAttack almost swallowed her gum she was so shy.

Diva Nia had some monster Lion King hair going on that almost covered up Holly’s face, and I swear Chloe grew another inch during the last scene.  Check it out in slow mo.

Brooke and Paige are still in limbo for next year (…as if…) until Kelly decides their fate.

Kendall had a really smart answer to Jeff’s question regarding who she would love to dance with…dead or alive.  Michael Jackson.  Good call.  Mom was impressed.

Vivi-Anne…well…just Vivi-Anne.  It is what it is.

And then it was over.

No more Dance Moms for now.  And Dance Moms: Miami isn’t coming back.

I’m not sure I’m going to make it until the Pageant Moms return, because it hasn’t even been 12 hours and I’m already having Crazy Mom withdrawal.

I need my cray cray.

Don’t axe me why.  I just do.

%d bloggers like this: