Posts Tagged ‘Abby Lee Dance Company’

Dance Moms: It Was The Human Cork Screw Vs. The National Champion. Get Your Freak On With Your Squeak On As Sophia Spins & Wins This Round.

Wednesday, January 16th, 2013



He’s on your side. And He’s on your thighs. Halleloo!






Forget the roofy in her drink. We should dye those roots all one color. That’ll mess with her head.






Seriously. If she mentions Lion King one more time I’m gonna have to get all Simba on her a**.





I know you see me, you little squeak toy. You take on my kids, you take on Mama.







54 pirouettes? That is just f***d up.






Yeah, we see you honey. You don’t need to raise your hand every time someone uses the word “pretty.”




Shut. Up. She goes to school two days a week? The freakin’ mailman probably spends more time in the building.




I swear, sometimes this show just makes me dizzy.

Maybe not 54 pirouette-dizzy…but still dizzy.

Sometimes there are so many people coming and going and screaming and crying and getting angry at things they brought on themselves that I just need to go out in the ALDC parking lot and lay in a pothole for a few minutes to escape all the madness.

Dance Moms…both the Original Recipe versions and the Replacement Team…were all back this week, tripping over each other in the studio as Abby Lee Miller tried to thin the herd and regroup before the next cattle auction.

After last week’s fairly unproductive 1960’s mini-van sit-in by the first string of Moms, the second wave draft players were back to see if they had made the cut or not.

Pulling together an entirely new team of dancers one week before a competition hadn’t really worked out quite as well as Abby had hoped it would, and the girls only came home with some Indiana State Fair souvenirs and a 2nd Place trophy.

Which in AbbyLand is really just the 1st Loser trophy.  So thanks, but no thanks.

Luckily, Abby had salvaged some street cred with the last minute additon of Cartoon Network’s own dancing phenom Sophia Lucia (…whose name can only be spoken while doing that raised Italian hand thing that Grandmamas do when they tell you to “Mangiare!”…) and the newbie was already the buzz of the Dance World.

As the new Moms all streamed into the building, the old Moms were pulling up in the parking lot like a Secret Service convoy doing a sweep of a news conference site.

The only Mom MIA from the new batch was Shelly and her daughter Ally.  They had both returned to New Orleans after the weekend’s competition, thanks in part to Moms Marcia and Gloria getting all Mean Girls on them and trying to blame Ally for the group coming in 2nd.

Shelly didn’t need that s*** and took her kid and her Mardi Gras beads back home, leaving Abby already short one dancer in the first two minutes of this week’s episode.

By the third minute, Ms. Miller had also kicked Marcia and Gloria out to the curb for not playing nice with others, which left squeaky Sophia sitting there all by herself to contemplate Life, and how her Mom Jackie gets her hair to look like that.

Seriously.  Mom’s hair is a lot work.  It’s blonde if you’re looking from the front.  It’s blonde and brown from the side.  It’s all blonde in the back unless she has part of it up, and then it’s all brown in the back.

By the time she does those two curling iron ribbons in the front (…which are clearly reserved for Competition Days only…) there is just way too much going on there.

While Kelly stayed outside leaning on a van like girls do in mall parking lots when they refuse to go inside to the Food Court because they know the boy they just had a texting fight with is still in Macy’s somewhere, the rest of the original Moms  headed into the building to try and finagle their way back onto the team.

As Holly testified that she had God on her side, Abby noted that she probably also had Him somewhere on her thighs, which was so oddly inappropriate and nonsensical that it has already inspired me to write a new hymn for next Sunday.

Gimme an organ, a choir, a bucket of the Colonel and raise your thighs to the skies.

It’s a work in progress.  But trust me…it’s gonna rock some pews.

Fry it and Testify it, mmmkay?

After some front desk drama, all the Moms signed another one of those annual Blood Contracts that Abby makes them sign and then everyone filed into the studio for the season’s first Pyramid of Shame.

Except it wasn’t really a pyramid.  Psych.

It was just Sophia’s headshot from that Alvin Squeakquel movie (…”All The Single Ladies”…) and then a bunch of other people all taped in a pile at the bottom.

Chipmunk:  One.  Everyone Else:  Thanks for playing.

And then, no lie, Oprah came running in and surprised everyone in the audience.

“You’re on probation!  You’re on probation!  You’re ALL on probation!”

That’ll teach you kids for having crazy Moms.  Gail, take me home.

The gang was headed to Ohio this week for another In10sity Dance Competition, and it was going to take a lot of work to get everyone back up to speed, since the only dancing the rest of the girls had done all week was that Flash Mob in front of The Limited.  Time to put your shopping bags down and get cracking, kids.

Sophia got a solo.  Natch.  But so did Chloe, which made Christi complain about something or other.

What?  She complains when Chloe doesn’t get a solo, and she complains when she does get a solo?  Not really sure where the middle ground would be on this one.

Christi wasn’t very happy this week and there were multiple Christi Moments, which we may or may not get to discuss in any depth.  We’ll see.

As the Moms all hit the Mom Perch, the girls got down to some actual dancing, which was a nice change of pace.  The new girl squeaked and smiled herself all over the studio walls, while the old crew just kind of moped around and went through the motions.

You could tell the last week really sucked it out of them quicker than a drag from Sophia’s helium balloon.

Upstairs, the Moms all learned that Sophia could do 54 pirouettes in a row without stopping, which I guess must be good for at least one or two Show & Tell Days and some Guinness World Records bragging rights.

As someone who can barely spin around in a fitting room to check the back of my pants in a 3 way mirror without blacking out, I do have to bow to the little tyke on that one.  My psychic powers also told me that at least half of those spins would be showing up on stage at some point this week.

In a zinger to their unemployed Dance Moms: Miami sisters, Christi then called out Jackie for talking smack about Florida’s own Mia Diaz.

Little Mia didn’t actually show up on DM:M very often, except for that night when a fire on the complete opposite side of the city turned Stars Dance Studio into a scene from the Apocalypse.  But it seems that she’s a pretty big dealio in Boca.

You remember that scene, right?  The smoke didn’t even come across the highway and yet you would have sworn that one of the boys was about to give birth on camera.  I may have to dramatically flip a scarf over my shoulders tonight in tribute to Victor and Angel.

All gone too soon.

Keep being Fierce, boys.  You might also want to update your website, or just shut it down.  And you spelled “contemporary” wrong.  But I digress.

As the girls rehearsed and tried to get back their mojo, Christi and Kelly tossed around some potential freshman hazing options for Jackie.  Everything from battery acid on her fake eyelashes to slipping a roofy in her water bottle.

It was refreshing to see Kelly actually draw the line at blinding someone, no matter how much she couldn’t stand her.

But if anyone was going to take out Jackie in the parking lot, it was probably going to be Holly, who almost flat-lined when she found out that Sophia only went to school two days a week.  For two hours each of those days.

And 2 + 2 = 4.  You can check my math.

There’s nothing a doctorate-holding school principal likes to hear more than a story about how a home schooled child is done for the day by 11am on Mondays.  That didn’t go over too well, especially when she realized that Sophia spends more time stretching each day than she does doing her fractions.

I’m not touching that one.  It’s all yours, dancing chat room people.

Realizing that she had somehow gone from feast to famine and then back to feast again, Abby now had too many dancers for the group number, so somebody had to get cut.  After a drawn out casting call lesson with all the Moms (…and one delightfully ghetto spray painted bus stop bench that Jill seemed afraid to sit on without protecting her Louis bag from thugs…) Abby cut Brooke, who left so quickly that you know she already had something better planned for the weekend.  Girlfriend does love her cafetorium school dances, and the getaway car was out back by the dumpster.

During the lesson, Abby once again uncomfortably saluted Sasha Nia‘s ethnicity by implying that our little dancer was destined to wear a gigantic puppet head and sing Hakuna Matata for her rent money after graduation.

Holly has the best WTF faces ever.  Period.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Now that the ALDC is such a big deal, they tend to enter each venue like it’s Release Day for some official Justin Bieber limited edition iPhone 5 or something, with a million little girls all screaming and posting pictures on the fly to their Facebook page.

It’s deafening.  I don’t even think it’s safe.

Backstage in the makeup room, Abby focused all her attention on Sophia while Christi began a slow boil.  Jackie had her Game Day curls in place, while Maddie wandered aimlessly, wondering how she had lost Top Billing status in just the short time she was gone getting those new clear braces put into her face.

Sophia and Chloe banged out their solos.  Sophia was Mrs. Roboto in her Superstaaaah routine, complete with at least 51 of her patented 54 jet spins.  Chloe did great as well, but Sophia’s magic unicorn dust was still floating around the stage by the time she had to perform and it freaked her out a little bit.

The group dance was a timely Red Carpet number, complete with red carpet but minus Ryan Seacrest, and once mini Mackenzie figured out how to unroll the Slip & Slide without poking her own eye out, they made it through the song.

That one really wasn’t MackAttack’s fault.  The carpet was one of those wedding aisle roll-out deals, and the poor kid was ratted up with about 3 feet of XXL Jersey hair setting her off balance, so she did the best that she could.  You try it, haters.

Sophia took top spot.  Chloe came in 2nd runner-up, which I guess is worse than 1st runner-up, though I’ll never understand why they don’t just call it second place and third place.  It’s not like this is Miss America and somebody is going to have to step in when Sophia stubs her toe or drills herself into the Earth’s core.

But, whatev.  That’s another chat room problem.

Chloe also got a special Expressive Heart award which they give to dancers with…well…expressive hearts, I guess.

The group number then took first place, and everyone was happy for a brief moment until Kelly started missing Brooke, and Christi started being Christi.

She and Abby went another round, since each episode is required to end in a chick fight.

Melissa showed her full support by turning her back on everyone and letting Jackie freshen up her makeup.  Did you see it?  How odd was that in the middle of all the dramzz?

Christi then accused Abby of taking credit for Sophia’s dancing expertise, even though she had just imported her from wherever less than two weeks ago, and the whole thing started up again.

And again.  And then one more time, before the whole thing was over for the night.

Thanks for joining us for the Red Carpet arrivals.

Seacrest out.

Dance Moms: It Was Out With The Old And In With The New During Abby’s Ultimate Night Of 100 Dance Moms Competition Mash-Up Show.

Wednesday, January 9th, 2013



Lawd, give me the strength to not pop off on that woman while the cameras are still rolling.






I think that last batch of turkey jerky gave me a rash. Mama’s itchy down there.






I am well aware of what’s going on with my hair. I don’t think it’s necessary to point it out every week, thank you.






Why yes, as a matter of fact, I am a crazy whack job. And I’m baaaaack, ladies.







I’m kind of a big deal in the Dance World. And I rock a side pony like a Boss.






What’re you looking at, bitch? How about you take a picture. It’ll last longer.







If anybody asks, your name is Nia. I’ll explain later, honey.





Seriously.  What was that?

What did I just watch?

My DVR said it was Dance Moms.

But then all of the sudden it was Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition again.  And then it was either Survivor or So You Think You Can Dance.  There were even so many crazy chicks climbing out of cars that I thought it was the premier of The Bachelor.

Let’s regroup and take a closer look.  Maybe together we can figure out what just happened, because somehow Abby Lee Miller managed to take the best (…or worst…) of every other show out there, bake it up into one sloppy pie and then curve ball it right in our faces.

The whole thing started out calmly enough with a 1960’s style sit-in outside in the pothole-filled ALDC parking lot.

In a kind of backwards show of solidarity for the currently estranged Kelly, who had refused to bring her two daughters back for the new competition season, the other remaining Moms all decided to set good examples for their own children and give Abby the hissy fit silent treatment.  Because that always works so well in junior high, right?

Talk to MY boyfriend at the dance, Britney?  I don’t think so.  What?  I can’t hear you.

Anyway.  The Mom Posse just didn’t feel right without Kelly crying and melting down at their side each week, so they all decided in a high level, top secret bathroom stall meeting (…why do women always go in there together? Is it like a War Room or something?…) that the only way to make Abby realize Kelly needs to be back at the studio was to go sit in their cars all night and eat Sweet Tarts.

Considering that it was Kelly who made the choice to leave, not Abby, I’m still not positive where they were heading with this one.  But thankfully they had hit up Costco before the sit-in and had enough snacks to hibernate for the winter in their SUVs if the whole thing backfired on them.

When Abby realized that there was nobody in the studio for Pyramid, she began to put the pieces together.  Which also leads me to a secondary point.

How do all the other dancers get into the building?  I mean, I’m pretty certain that Abby can’t cover all her expenses solely on the tuition from seven little girls, and I do vaguely remember seeing a few other no name dancers hanging out in one episode.  But that place was literally deserted when Abby was waddling around looking for Maddie & Company.  And now that you mention it…you never see any unfamiliar tap dancers coming in and out the front door during any of the good stuff.

I’m going to have to assume that the rest of the ALDC community must be contractually obligated to enter the structure through an unseen servant’s entrance or drop through the air ducts with their gym bags, because there was too much dramz going on outside to deal with this right now.

Newbie Ally and her dazed Mom Shelly were the only two warm bodies in the building as Abby tried to pick up Christi‘s scent.  You didn’t have to be in the dance biz to know that would guarantee Ally a solo by default.  Hide the bodies and then it’s all you, honey.

Bloodhound Abby finally tracked down all the MIA Moms at their tailgate party in the parking lot.  I actually thought the protest was being held at a Drive-In movie theater until I realized that I was looking at a mailbox and not a detachable speaker pole.

(You tweeny bop dance fans may want to Google that one…)

Armed with her cell phone and some front desk back up, Abby blew a nutty all over the side of Melissa’s van and then headed back inside to file a police report on a pack of belligerant trespassers who refused to share their candy.

Oh.  And to find some Ringers for the weekend.  That, too.

The Xpression Dance Competition in Fort Wayne was going on with or without the Dream Team, so Abby needed to make some calls.

I guess in the Dance World you always have one overnight bagged packed with pointe shoes and math homework (…as if…) sitting by the front door, because as soon as Abby reached out to some stray Moms, they were on a plane.  I can’t even get out the door for work that quickly, so I bow to their lightening reflexes.

Next day, Jill somehow found herself in Ohio “running errands” and dropped by the Candy Apples Evil Dance Lair to say hollah to Chaos Cathy Nesbitt.  Really?  No clue what she could possibly have needed in Ohio (…other than a working GPS…) that she couldn’t have found in Pittsburgh, but it did give us a chance to see Cathy in all her erratic splendor.

Somewhere around Ohio was where all the action started to get a little staged.  Maybe not necessarily Jerseylicious Gatsby Salon staged…but a little pre-planned.  There were a lot of…shall we say…coincidences in this episode.

The two women bickered back and forth about nothing while looking at each other’s messy hair until Jill finally gave up and headed back to Pittsburgh.  It was never really explained why Jill was even there, or why she was wearing that ostrich vest.

Always needing the last word, Cathy slipped one more zinger in and noted “That’s an awfully small Louis Vuitton bag you got there.” as Jill exited Candy Apples Land.

“It fits in my big one,” replied Jill.

That’s what she said.


And then The Bachelor cars started pulling up to the ALDC curb full of little dancers and crazy chicks.

Bella and her Mom Marcia tumbled out, all ready to take on the world.  Kaeli and Mom Gloria also arrived, all ready to unleash a fake Nia on the competition.  A third Mystery Guest would be arriving later.

It was totally like The Bachelor, except that there was no booze…and the women were wearing bras.  At least Gloria was, because it kept poking out of her dress on Competition Day.  Just saying.

All the booze was over at Christi’s house as the Original Recipe Moms got together and decided to put on a show of their own.  Just like Andy Rooney and Judy Garland always did on the spur of the moment when they needed money for an Easter hat.

Except this was going to be at the Mall over by Brookstone, and not in a barn.

But it was totally the same.

(You Drive-In movie Googlers may want to look up that reference as well.  I swear I’m really not that old.  I’m not.)

Then it was back to the ALDC for another awkwardly staged phone call between Abby and bat s*** crazy Mom Yvette from Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition.

You knew Yvette was way too good to toss out after she and Roadkill daughter Hadley got cut from the elusive Joffrey scholarship.  Yvette just wanted to let Abby know that she and her emotionally scarred daughter would be at the Xpression competition, providing Hadley could get past all the terrible things Abby had said to her on a nationally televised stage.  And in front of that Pussycat Dolls lady, of all things.

It was like a network cross-over on the same network.

I see what you’re doing here, Lifetime.  Well played.  Well played.

The staging and the editing got a little weird during this call as well, when Abby was caught styling in a delightfully juvenile glitter heart headband that she was supposed to be wearing on what was supposed to be the following day in the next scene.  It appears that there was so much tasty goodness in this episode that the Continuity Guy lost track of his checklist.  Whatev.  I’ll give him one Get Out Of Jail card because the headpiece was so bad it was good.

To continue the Reality Mash-Up, Yvette had a touching Mother/Daughter moment with Hadley in what appeared to be a Toddlers & Tiaras bedroom.  It had to be.

Please tell me that a girl of Hadley’s age can’t possibly have a bedroom that looks like that.  Please.  Between the floral wall borders, beanie babies, trophies and Outfit of Choice banners, I expected a cupcake dress and a spray tan tent to accidentally show up in the camera shot.  Sparkle, baby.

I watch way too much TV.

The fourth and final member of Abby’s new bootleg competition team finally showed up the next day.  Sophia was in the building, along with token Hot Mom Jackie.

The way everyone yelled and screamed and bumped into each other, it appears that Sophia Lucia is a pretty big deal in the dance and cartoon voice over industry.

That little squirt had some mad dancing skills, and a voice that sounded like the squeak a balloon makes when you purposely let the air leak out.  Abby kept calling it a helium kind of voice.  But it was better than helium.

It was like a Disney movie.  On helium.  With the soundtrack sped up.  After you popped Extacy in the restroom.  Like that.

All the Phase II Moms immediately got up in each other’s grills because Sophia scored a solo and the other kids didn’t.  There were so many old and new Dance Moms this week you needed a spreadsheet.

But honestly, I was so distracted by Marcia’s cowhide Crocs that I missed everything else that happened in that first scene.  I’m not sure if I was more fascinated that somebody actually manufactured that footwear, or that someone got in their car, drove to the store, looked around and then spent real money on purchasing a pair.

And then wore them in public.

Finally, it was Showtime!  And Mall Walking time!

Dance Moms: Miami even made a brief rise from the grave when Abby entered the venue in one of those cut-out sleeve numbers that half of Florida inappropriately wears after menopause.  It was like one show after another.  Like my entire DVR started playing everything at once.

Ally’s solo went off just fine, even with Abby mouth breathing the entire time.

Sophia basically flipped off Maddie and then danced her baby butt off in a fringed costume that looked like a brush roller from the vacuum attachment you use on hardwood floors.  She is redoinkulously Gumby flexible, and reminded me of that Elf on a Shelf toy with those long skinny legs that go in every direction imaginable.

Sophia’s Mom had a seriously Jersey Shore-ish leopard top on for some reason.  It’s a Hot Mom thing.  Show after show, I tell you.

Gloria decided that she hadn’t put on lipstick for nothing, and went downstairs to try and sneak in a solo for Kaeli without Abby catching on.  But Bella started to cry on cue, which alerted Abby to the indiscretion and ignited loads of Mama Drama.

Back at the Century III Mall, the real Dance Moms had pulled together their own bootleg presentation in front of Cinnabon.

Umm.  This is also where it got extraordinarily staged.

I happen to know from years at JCPenney (…before it turned into JCP and just got all hot mess…) that you can’t even roll a 4-way rack out onto the parquet floor during your annual Sidewalk Sale without a blessing from the local Fire Department and the Pope.

And yet somehow five suburban Moms had managed to set up the same stage that Jennifer Lopez uses and then filled an entire mall with the same screaming girls who had just blacked out at Justin Bieber‘s Madison Square Garden show.

I want their Twitter followers.  Whatev.  That’s two Get Out Of Jail cards in one show.

And don’t you think that was a lot of work for one dance?  Right about then is when the Moms realized that they might still need Abby.  Might.

Back in Fort Wayne, Yvette’s dance team beat Abby’s team in the Group category.  So you can imagine how that one went down.

As the new Moms all imploded in each other’s faces, the old Moms hit the Food Court and tried to figure out what their next step was going to be.

And someone got a crown, or a rose, or got kicked off the Island.

I forget.  There was a lot going on.

Dance Moms: It Was The Beginning Of The End. Time For Rocky Mountain Highs…And Lows…As Abby And The ALDC Take Over Denver.

Wednesday, January 2nd, 2013



So you girls need to figure out what you want to do with your life, and what the f*** Mommy’s gonna do with her hair today.






Seriously. And they talk about mine?






OMG. Dying. There’s a cute boy in the room. Please tell me I don’t have Cheez Whiz on my face.






So you’re saying I either dance, or stay home and eat ice cream and tacos all day? I’m gonna have to get back atchoo on that one.





Ok. “Crazy” doesn’t even cover it. I should have read the contract.






Oh, don’t you worry. I still got it, bitches.






Take a deep breath, sew your damn headpiece into your skull and get ready to Jazz Hand and Bitch Slap your way up the Pyramid to Nationals again, people.

Because it is on.

Dance Moms is back.  And in your face.

We barely had time to unpack our rolling zebra print luggage from that exhausting trip to LA for Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition, and now it’s already time for another season of Pennsylvania Mama Drama.

Abby Lee Miller and her crew returned this week after a break in the competition season, a little rusty in the choreography department, but totally en pointe when it came to talking smack and teasing hair.

The new season kicked off with a prequel of sorts; an odd little pre-game show that was half Real Housewives of Pittsburgh and half community access Star Search.

I really don’t know what was going on with that first hour.  But it needs to be addressed.

Now I love me some crazy Dance Moms (…the more cray cray the better, thank you…) and I love my BFF producer Jeff Collins.

Yes…in the BlogWorld, in case you’re wondering, if someone emails you (…even one time…) you are now legally allowed to reference them as BFFs in all future conversations.  I read that somewhere on the internet, so you know it’s gospel.

But even with all that love…seriously, dude?

It’s 2013, so I’ll start the New Year off on a positive and give them all the benefit of the doubt with this pre-premiere special.

Maybe they maxxed out Lifetime’s AmEx on that Phantom of the Opera-ish AUDC Los Angeles venue.  It was pretty fancy, after all.  And I’m sure that having to pay for the rights to mention The Pussycat Dolls every time Robin Antin opened her mouth on screen for ten weeks didn’t come cheap.  Miss Thang does love her PCDs.

Have you ever watched one of those national telethons where they cut back to the local network feed after a commercial, just long enough to count the dimes some kid collected in a jar and then have the announcer’s daughter’s grade school tap class perform something that doesn’t even remotely resemble a tap dance?

It was like that.

I’m pretty sure they just pushed the phone banks off to the side and let the audience use the same chairs.  And don’t even get me started on the two lonely teenage boys in the audience, clearly attending only in the hopes of scoring a prom date later in the school year, as they chewed on their wristbands and watched their youth slip away.

Yolo, as the kids like to say nowadays.

It was just whacked.  Every time I looked up from my snacks there was either a giant camera or a piece of equipment unintentionally in the shot, with some random dude holding a clipboard running in a circle trying to avoid colliding into all that machinery.

Coming off the elaborate Ultimate Dance Competition, it was just odd.  Even the rented trade show backdrop looked like it was hiding a weatherman’s green screen.

Like I said, it just needed to be addressed.

But back to Pittsburgh.

As the tiny dancers and their Moms all marched into the studio for the first Pyramid of the season, it was glaringly obvious that Kelly, her crazy Mom hair and her two daughters were MIA from the festivities.

The last time we had seen the three of them was at Nationals, when Kelly finished off the episode with a cliff hanger of a meltdown that left the entire world wondering Who Shot J.R.? and if Team Hyland would ever return to the ALDC.  It didn’t look good so far.

The combination of California jet lag and being down two dancers a week before the first competition clearly pushed all of Abby’s buttons as she tore every head shot off the mirror and proclaimed it No Pyramid Day in the Kingdom.

Dat’s rite.  No Pyramid.  Just mind games this week.

Turns out that while Abby had been schmoozing her way around LA, she had planted some spies/guest choreographers strategically throughout the ALDC to keep the girls busy and get them up to snuff for the new season.

The idea looked good on paper, anyway.

Unfortunately, it turned out that family trips and suburban strip mall Meet & Greets had distracted most of them from attending a majority of the rehearsals.  New found television fame can do that, I guess.  And that made Abby cranky.

Having a group number that consisted of four clearly out of practice young girls wasn’t helping, either.  So nobody was finding out much about who got what and when and where until Abby was in the mood.

This week they were headed to Denver for the In10sity Dance Competition, and seeing as how she had no idea whether they were ever coming back to the studio or not, Abby needed to find replacements for Brooke and Paige.

Abby needed new dancers, asap, and apparently setting up massive open cattle call auditions via cell phone while you are filming a show in Los Angeles was easier than just shooting Kelly an email asking if she would be there on opening day.  Whatever, Abby.

Naturally, the audition turned into the Million Mom March meets American Idol as everyone weaved their way around the parking lot potholes (…seriously?  You have TWO cable network shows and you still can’t get those things filled in?…) and into the cattle call holding pen.  Even the Mom Perch was so overloaded that it looked like the last day of the month at the DMV as some no name woman went off on looney tunes “Suck It Up” Mom Leslie.

When it was all said and done, New Orleans newbie Ally was chosen and matriarch Shelly couldn’t have been any happier.  Ally was a tall drink of water, at least when stacked up against the current roster, and all the other Moms had immediate Payton flashbacks before any solos were even announced.  I guess in the Dance World height is more important than seniority, at least in Pittsburgh and at the Radio City Christmas Show.

Abby immediately shifted Ally into the group number’s lead position, thereby knocking Chloe back into the chorus line and tightening another screw in Christi‘s carotid artery.  Poor Shelly didn’t stand a chance in her first attempt at the Mom Perch, and ended up running out of the room to take iPhone movies of her kid stealing Chloe’s routine which someday will probably be entered into evidence at some harassment lawsuit somewhere.

Shelly seemed nice enough, and I could totally picture her playing piano for the New Orleans Junior High Choral Ensemble at next year’s Food Court Christmas Concert.  But she was outnumbered in the Dance Mom Jungle.  Don’t put your N’awlins house on the market just yet, honey.

We also jumped over to Kelly’s house for a few minutes as Brooke and Paige tried to decide what to do with their lives.  The only thing that really got accomplished in that scene was that we got a chance to take inventory of all the new clutter that Kelly picked up at HomeGoods over the summer.  Lord, Girlfriend does love that accessory aisle.

Then it was time to rehearse, kiddos.

The Bump-It-less (…I think I just invented another new word…) Jill had some major issues with both her hair and with Abby this week, which resulted in Kendall ending up awkwardly plopped on Mom’s lap, hysterically sobbing while everyone looked around at each other uncomfortably.

I’ll say it.  The kid’s getting a little too old for these Mackenzie meltdowns, and it made me feel like I do when 9 year olds are still allowed to sleep in their parent’s bed.  Of all times for Leslie to be at Walmart when we need her.

Suck it up.

And speaking of.  Tiny space shot Vivi-Anne was having no problem whatsoever sucking down a monster bowl of Ohio ice cream as everyone’s favorite evil villainess Chaos Cathy Nesbitt tried to get her daughter all sugar buzzed before cutting her from her own dance company.

After two full seasons of sequined airport baggage handlers tossing Vivi-Anne around the stage at every competition, even Cathy realized that it was time for a change.  And maybe even some actual dancing.  Abby had been wiping the floors with the Candy Apples Dance Center at every award ceremony, and it was time for revenge.

Cathy’s Secret Weapon, spastically red haired Justice, was no longer at the studio so she needed to get back to the War Room/Jerky Cooler and devise a new plan to conquer the ALDC.  And it was going to be filled pre-teen testosterone, if there is such a thing.  The Apples were going Boy Band this year.

I’m sad that our little ginger nugget won’t be back, only because that means his bad a** red haired Mom won’t be back either.  And I was totally planning on a biker bar chick fight this season.  Cuz you know that Bitch can throw down if you cut her off at the light.  I loved her, and miss her already.  Call me, maybe?

Since Abby was down to almost no dancers, everyone but Sasha Nia got a solo, and I was all like Laquifa WTF?  But her time will come.  She is Diva Fierce, and pretty much the only one who finally has her hair under control this season.  Yikes.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Rangeview High in beautiful downtown Denver was the host and they finally  hooked up the ALDC with a prep area that was actually large enough to…I dunno…prep in, for a change.  Abby was psyched.

They also had an odd security system in place to prevent unwanted intruders from barging into a rehearsal.  Tell me you saw that note on the door?  Go back and check if you missed it.

Attached to the door that everyone kept slamming was a hand written construction paper note that said something like “If someone knocks, tell me.  Do NOT answer the door.”  Yeah, it was even underlined.

Tell who?  Now we’ll never know if this was a secret After Hours club run by that Home Ec teacher who seemed so innocent.  Damn.

Luckily, Abby disregarded all security measures and allowed some ManCandy to enter the Girl’s Club when her former school crush Mark showed up out of the blue.

El Scandalo!  This Mark was the Mark that Kelly had (…allegedly…) stolen from Abby back in the day when they were all at some one room school house on the prairie.

Christi swore that Abby had slashed his tires in a fit of Taylor Swift heartbreak, but Abby claimed that Kelly was only 12 years old at the time and made the whole story up for TMZ.

And you thought the Dance World couldn’t get any creepier?  Please tell me the tires in question were attached to a banana bike with baseball cards on the spokes, or that whole 12 year old thing just turned into an undercover Dateline story.

Anyone care for any iced tea or potato chips?

Moving on.

Abby tripped all over herself whenever Mark was in the room, and ended up shoving somebody out of their seat in the auditorium to make room for her man during the competition.  She even dragged him out for snacks after the show was over.

Oh yeah.  Mama likes.

Then some kids did some dancing.  I know you aren’t here for the cultural aspects of the evening.  That’s what Google is for.

It’s going to take a few weeks for me to completely shake off the LA show, because after that expensive extravaganza the In10sity stage looked like a basement comedy club.  If the technical people are still online…a few more spotlights wouldn’t hurt.

Chloe, MackAttack and Kendall all did their solos without forgetting too many moves.

Maddie was Maddie, of course.  The only thing Nia had to do this week was participate in the group number, but Diva werked that bitch until it hurt.

Even the judges looked like they might have to excuse themselves and have a cigarette after the routine was over, the way they were grinding in their seats and tossing their heads back like Meg Ryan.

If Kendall had been available to sit on their laps, the Awkward Fest would have been complete.

During crowning (…sorry, wrong show…) the ALDC scored again and took first place with their Angels & Demons group dance.  They won some other spots as well, but I was so distracted by the judges screwing off in the background that I couldn’t pay attention.

Seriously.  How much chewing gum do they give those people?  I know they wanted to go home, but they may want to try Leading By Example the next time they find themselves surrounded by the youth of America.

The return of Dance Moms ended with yet another backstage screaming match.

Christi and Abby went at it, Holly scrunched up a few Real Housewives of Atlanta OhNoSheDin’t faces and a horrified Shelly just sat back and wet herself before anyone really had time to notice her new blazer.

Abby even swore in front of the girls, which is second only to sickle feet on the infamous Never Do List.  Fix your feet, and then watch your mouth.

Because everybody’s replaceable.

Yup.  They’re back.

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