Posts Tagged ‘Mackenzie Ziegler’

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.

Dance Moms: It’s My Nationals 90210, And I’ll Cry If I Want To. Abby And The ALDC Head To Beverly Hills For Some Dancing And Candy Apples Spanking.

Wednesday, September 12th, 2012



Because Abby’s wearing the same color as me. That’s why I’m crying. Just let me die out here by this dumpster.





Never changes. Bitches always be hating on the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. Always.





Hold up. So you’re telling me that on TLC 3 year old Toddlers get bigger Beauty crowns? That’s just F***d up.




Mmmmmm… Pumpkin. I wonder if that Dunkin Donuts muffin is out yet. I do love my muffins.





Ssshh. It’s ok. You don’t have a fat head. It really is a little crown. And I’m a model now, so I totally know this kind of stuff.





What say we drive down and pick up those Dance Moms: Miami kids? I hear they’re not busy.




Oh snap.

I did not just kick Dance Moms: Miami while they’re down.  And before this post even started?  That ain’t right.

Relax.  I didn’t.  Actually, that was my uniquely subtle approach at hinting to Lifetime TV that they should probably un-cancel the Florida show.

I’m missing Lady Killer Lucas already.  And we all know that Kimmy doesn’t need much time to do all that 4am homework.  So let’s get these kids back to work, mmmkay?

Thank you for your immediate attention to this matter.

Now back to bidnezz.

After a long, drawn out journey that probably fell second only to what those Glee kids put us through every school year, Abby Lee Miller and the ALDC finally made it to the end of what we like to call the Road to Nationals.  It’s kind of like the Yellow Brick Road, but without a Good Witch.

Definitely no Good Witch.

Going on what had to have been week (…or month?…) #3 in California, it was time for the Energy Dance National Competition and Abby was in it to win it.

I’ve got to admit.  I’m in awe at how these Moms and kids can jump ship and leave home for weeks at a time with seemingly no regret or homeland fallout.

Speaking as someone who can’t take a long weekend without returning to at least one dead houseplant, I have no idea how they can just pick up their leopard print suitcases and head out of Dodge for all these extended stays away from friends and family with what appears to be almost no advance planning.

I’m sure that by now they have it all down to a science, but in my head I always picture one of three scenarios.

One.  The front yard is piled high with rolled up newspapers, the mailbox is overflowing with Publisher’s Clearing House “You Just Won!” envelopes because Mom forgot to stop postal deliveries and a burglar is prying the screen off the back door with a tire iron.

Two.  The husbands are having affairs with the housekeepers, because this is Lifetime Network and that’s what husbands always do on Lifetime.  At least if they’re married to Jane Seymour in a two hour movie they do.  Granted, the cheating husband always ends up shot in the face or trapped in a burning house when Mom comes home early, but still.

Three.  The husbands and sons are inside looking like shipwreck survivors wearing the same underwear they had on when Mom first left the house, waiting for her to come home and tell them how to turn on the microwave.

But maybe that’s just me.

Regardless, it was another week in sunny L.A. as they prepped for Nationals in the Land of Brandon, Dylan and Perfect Hair:  90210.

That’s right….Beverly Hills, baby.  Swimming pools.  Movie stars.

But first, the Pyramid of Shame.  ‘Cause that’s how Abby rolls, even on the West Coast.

Bottom row was all about Paige, Nia, Chloe and Kendall.

Paige had forgotten a move or two in last week’s dance number, which meant that Abby…well…elephants never forget.  Sorry, Paige.

Nia was great in her 1960’s dance, but didn’t exactly bring home the bacon so Abby stuck her in the basement again.  Chloe had come in 6th, which is 5 below First Place, so you do the Pyramid Math.

And finally, Kendall was on the bottom primarily for the Jill Face.  And it worked.

The middle row was held down by Brooke and little Mackenzie.

Brooke, who was the envy of every woman in Beverly Hills with that line-free, expressionless face of hers was considered second tier because Abby felt she was lazy.  And she needed to fix that face, please.

Go figure.  The only female in Beverly Hills history to ever be chastised for not being able to scrunch her forehead.  I thought that was the ultimate longterm goal out there.

MackAttack was in the middle because even though she does a mean quadruple backflip into a pouty face beach blanket pose, she keeps messing up the easy stuff.

Knock that off, please.

And then Maddie was on the top again.  Go back and read pretty much any review I’ve ever written on this show if you’re really dying to know why she was on the top this week.

Just change the date.

Solos were handed out to Mackadoodle Doo, Maddie and Brooke, with the one remaining open spot split between Nia, Kendall and Chloe.  Anyone want to play Mind Game Auditions?  Hold that thought.

The group number was a disturbing PSA on texting and driving.

Don’t do it.  Just don’t.  Unless you want to get thrown from a car and have Nia perform CPR on your dead body in between high kicks and back bends, that is.

Abby does love those dramatic pieces, and this one really freaked the girls out.  Even Paige, who did nothing but sit perfectly still at the wheel after her head went through an imaginary windshield, was creeped out.

Naturally, Mom Kelly was more concerned with the obvious fact that Paige was barely dancing in a dance competition than she was with any longterm trauma from her daughter having to play a cadaver.  But you know Kelly.  Meltdown in 3…2…1.

Since they apparently don’t do MomPerches in California, everyone has had to resort to random back alleys and porch decks for their weekly gripe sessions.

As they hung out in one of those makeshift locations doing whatever it is that they always do on those freakin’ cell phones, a text was received from Chaos Cathy Nesbitt and her Evil Candy Apples Soccer Moms stating that they would all be coming out for Nationals.  I got all excited.  The Moms?  Not so much.

LOL.  Smiley Sideways Kitty Face.

The thought of having to deal with Cathy, compounded with watching her daughter sit and collect dust while all the other girls actually danced, finally cracked Kelly’s egg shell.

After confronting Abby in regards to Paige sitting perfectly still for the entire number like a Crash Test Dummy (…and not the cool talking ones on the commercial…) the whole conversation got ugly, culminating in Abby suggesting that Kelly might want to get Paige to a pediatrician asap to see if there was a cure for her daughter’s stupidity.

Nice talk, which resulted in Kelly dramatically exiting, stage left.  Forever.  Again.

When the rest of the Moms finally tracked her down, Kelly was outside behind a dumpster crying like she had just lost her last noodle.  After a little Mom bonding, Kelly managed to get her shizzle together and then took Paige off for a pre-arranged photo shoot.

Not gonna lie.  When Kelly and Paige first arrived at the photographer’s studio and the only caption under the dude’s face was “Photographer,” I was pretty much expecting an abduction or some borderline soft porn.  But the joint seemed legit and they gussied Paige up into a 1940’s screen siren in no time.

All that age inappropriate hair finally paid off, because she looked a-maz-ing by the time they finished the shoot.  Twenty years older, but a-maz-ing nonetheless.

The following day, Kelly returned to practice.  Again.  If you ask me, Girlfriend might be losing some of her dramatic exit credibility.

Somewhere in the middle of all this activity, Christi and Jill had taken over the role of dance coach and helped run their daughters’ solos.  Christi got a little frustrated with Chloe, and Jill had some trouble with her bra straps.  Feel free to tuck those things back in under your sleeveless top, honey.  Sooner the better.

To continue this week’s Cryapalooza, it was then time to choose the final soloist.  Having the three Moms of the three contestants as judges didn’t exactly make for much drama or resolution (…ummm…if my Mom didn’t pick me in a contest I would be some bulls***…) so Abby had Melissa break the three way tie.

Drama.  Crying.  Chloe got the last solo spot.  Drama.  Crying.  Kendall didn’t.  Jill meltdown in 3…2…1.

Finally it was Showtime!

As the ALDC troupe was rehearsing and crying and hating on Abby, the Candy Apples gang rolled into town and made their entrance like Super Bowl champs coming up that ramp from the locker rooms.

My favorite bad a** red-haired Mom was there, all tattooed, chewing on her gum and looking for a rumble.  Love her.  That bitch will cut your face off with her acrylics if she has to.

And though I swore all along, with no proof other than that blinding Clairol-assisted red hair, that she had to be scruffy Justice‘s Mom, the DNA results were finally revealed and she was indeed the Mom.  And her name is Tanya, like a female wrestler.

The only Mom conspicuously MIA was that big Walmart one we saw the last time we visited Ohio.  She’s my second favorite Ohio export, so I was secretly bummed that she apparently didn’t like to fly.

One half of the Fabulous M&M choreography team was also part of M’Lady Cathy’s Court this week.  Plain or Peanut?  You decide.

Our boy Mitchell was there, all fabulous and styling in his relaxed fit fancy blue dungarees (…with a scooch more room in the crotch in case you drop anything, according to the ad…) and vibrant blue tie.

Word on the street was that Abby had accused some of the Ohio Moms of hitting her up on her Sidekick for insider info on summer dance camps and random Abbyness, which Cathy couldn’t believe.  Canton’s Jerky Queen wanted phone bills and proof of texts and a swab from every Mom’s mouth to prove that her own Ohio posse was loyal.

You wish.

Turned out that Tanya had actually reached out to Abby a few times, which made Cathy look like a fool.  Round One:  Abby.

Back in the dressing room, Abby was threatening that there would be Hell to Pay if they lost the competition or if any Mom ever crossed her.  Same threats.  Different outfit.  And with matching color-coordinated jewelry, thank you very much.

It should also probably be noted that tiny Maddie was drinking what appeared to be the biggest cup of take out Joe I’ve ever seen a young girl guzzle.  She must have been up all night with that much caffeine.

Everyone was in full PsychThemOut mode backstage as they tried to give Justice nervous pee and mess with all the Candy Apples’ brains.

Even little Mackenzie was in on it, considering that she was dancing to the now classic Vivi-Anne Bumble Bee music.  To guarantee a win and some bed spins for the opposition, Mack had hooched up the infamous Bee costume into a Pussy Cats Doll ensemble.  If spaced out Vivi-Anne actually had a clue where she was, she would probably have been as miffed as Mom Cathy was that the other team was blatantly flipping them off with a new and improved Killer Bee.

All the solos were great.  Even Brooke got her face to work long enough to wow the judges.

Chloe’s legs got longer, and Mack stung Vivi-Anne right in the butt with her updated Bee.

Justice did some kind of wounded army vet looking thing.

The Candy Apples group number was a bunch of girls running around carrying umbrella-ellas while Justice tried to guide Vivi-Anne across the stage the way a Boy Scout guides a blind person across the street.

The ALDC group number was so good that everyone was probably texting about it after it was over.  But hopefully not on the drive home, right?

After a round of applause for the tee shirt throwers (…seriously?  Tee shirt thrower?  That’s a real job?  With a real paycheck?  Sign me up…) the awards were announced.

Fast Forward:  Abby and her team took all the top honors.  Like…all of them.  There were not even scraps for the Candy Apples.

Since these were the fancy Nationals, top honors even came with Shrinky Dink micro souvenir Toddlers & Tiaras crowns and sashes.

To finish off the night, and the second season, Abby and Kelly went one more round over the usual checklist of grievances.

Man, there was a lot of crying this week.

As Abby wobbled out the door ranting about how lucky Brooke and Paige were to be allowed access to the ALDC Mother Ship, Kelly still hadn’t decided whether she was coming back next year.

Then everyone cried some more.

Not exactly a Dynasty cliff hanger, but enough to keep us going for a few months.

Or at least until the Real Housewives of Pittsburgh Reunion Show.

Eat your heart out, Andy Cohen.

Dance Moms: Everyone Is Suffering From A Severe Case Of Solo Fever. Symptoms Include Dramatic Crying, Anxiety, Stress…And Mind Games.

Wednesday, September 5th, 2012



Freakin’ finally. Kendall’s in the hizzle, bitches.






It’s MY reputation out there. So if I need to f*** with some little minds…so be it. Now who wants a solo?





Seriously? If I wanted to dress like this every week I’d just run away and join the circus, ok? I’m all set with the bows, thank you.





Thank Gawd I only inherited my Mom’s Bump-It and not her crazy a** DNA.





When I close my eyes, I imagine the Road to Nationals is lined with unlimited texting cell towers and liquor stores.




BeatChloeBeat ChloeBeatChloe BeatChloeBeat ChloeBeatChloe BeatChloeBeat ChloeBeatChloe Beat…BooYeah!




You might want to check Web M.D.

Forget the Black Plague, Polio or that swamp land thing you get from mosquitoes when you don’t wear long pants after the sun goes down.

If this week’s Dance Moms is any indication, it looks like Solo Fever could prove to be more deadly than anything else out there.

It’s the Road to Nationals again.  And as any Gleek will tell you, it’s a long and bumpy one, often full of heartache, sweat and more than a few questionable fashion choices.

But trust me, those Glee kids have no idea how easy they had it, because figuring out how to conceal the fact that Finn still couldn’t dance after three years was nothing compared to a full on Abby Lee Miller Mind Freak.

That’s right.  When it comes to Nationals…and country buffets…Abby appears to have no limits or boundaries.  Only the best will do.  And if that means she has to mess up both your feet and your brain to score that elusive Clean Sweep?

Well, then so be it.

After a great, but still not Abby Perfect by Abby Standards, showing at last week’s iHollywood Dance Competition, Ms. Miller and the gang were still chilling on the West Coast with no apparent plans to go home anytime soon.

I’m going to assume that, coincidentally, everyone had either left extra dry food out for the cats or had all texted a neighborhood kid before Pyramid and instructed him to break a window to make sure nothing had died inside, because it almost appeared that sticking around California was a last minute decision.

Now I know it couldn’t have been that impromptu, but when Abby announced they were all staying and the girls had their weekly KidSpaz squeal, it did appear as though they all initially expected to be home by dinner.

Hold up.  Maybe that’s what all the Moms are always doing on those cell phones.  Could I have finally solved the mystery?

For two seasons I have openly wondered what they are doing on those phones, who in the hell they are always texting and how many times in one day someone really needs to update their Facebook status.  I mean, even when Kelly throws her hourly tantrum, she has that phone clutched in her paw like a Life Alert button.

I guess just because you’re blowing a MegaNutty doesn’t mean you might not suddenly need to tweet something important, right?

C’mon, ladies.  Unless you’re secretly working for the government or posting a link to my HIGHsterical blog…put the phones down.  Just for a minute?  I dare you.

(If you really were posting my link, feel free to wrap that up first…and then step away from the Blackberry.)


This week they were all heading to In10sity Dance.

Cool name.  Cooler spelling.  And pretty much impossible to find on Google unless you already know there’s a number “10” stuck in the middle of the word for no reason.

But I’m all for edgy, and their website is pretty slick compared to the usual homemade laptop dance sites.  So A+ from DanThat’sCool, which either means nothing to you or is the best online thumbs up you’ve ever received.

I pick the second one.  Feel free to post the link, too.  I’ll wait.

Since Pittsburgh was so far away, Abby had secured space at the Millenium Dance Studio, which is noted for having hosted both Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears dirty pop booty slop rehearsals.  Needless to say, all the little dancers were some psyched to be in the presence of such naughtiness.

I’m going assume that Xtina and Cheetos didn’t actually use the same tiny room that Abby had squeezed everyone into…but when you’re paying by the hour and the square footage, you get whatchoo get girls.

Regardless, even on the West Coast the Pyramid of Shame comes first.  A three hour time difference doesn’t change the rules.

Bottom row was home to Kendall, Paige, Brooke and Maddie.

Kendall was finally on the wall.  Halleloo!  But everyone starts at the bottom.  So enjoy the view.  (That was unintentionally poetic, in a Dr. Seuss kind of way.)

Paige was still weighted down by that damn clunky boot.  This week her foot was 99% healed, so the boot was gone, but the residual effects of the last 4 weeks were still dragging her down to the bottom like cement shoes on a gangster.

Brooke was there for timing issues, and because Abby always likes getting a rise out of Mom Kelly.  It worked.

Maddie was there once again because Abby was f***ing with her mind over not doing that solo ten years ago.  Let it go, Abby.

Middle row was Diva Nia and Chloe.

Sasha Nia had officially progressed to Diva status last week with her Billy Holiday-ish shoobie doo bop wah skeedaddle scat dance.  You go, girl.

Chloe had Weeble Wobbled at the start of her routine and still  landed in the top 5, but Abby wanted top 1 if you know what I mean.

Finally, it was Mackenzie at the top!  You would have thought those One Direction boys had just walked in the room she was so happy.  I swear that last missing tooth finally came in she smiled so hard.

Abby had decided to use the In10sity Dance stage as an unofficial ALDC audition to determine who was going to Nationals, who would get a solo at Nationals and who would require a minimum of 4 years of therapy after Nationals.

Yeah.  Nationals are a pretty big deal if you haven’t figured that one out by now.  Right up there with Mind Games.

All the girls were handed solos this week.  Except Maddie.

You heard me.  Nada Maddie.  You also heard me say Mind Games.

Off on the sidelines, Melissa went total Pageant Mom and motioned for her daughter to blow finger kisses and raise her hand to ask for a solo.  Bad move, Mel.

If Abby can spy a chicken nugget on the floor 12 feet away under a table, it’s a pretty good bet that she can see a Mom flailing her arms around like an inflatable balloon guy on a used car lot.

It was just more incentive to mess with Maddie’s head.  Come back and beg later, honey.  Miss Abby’s busy right now.

The Millenium didn’t come equipped with a MomPerch, so the gals all headed out to what kind of looked like a saloon to dish the dirt.  It was all planks and wood and some odd metallic flashing that should have been up on the roof under the shingles.  It also came fully decorated with a “No Sexism. Just Dance” poster like you would hold up at a union rally in the park when the hotel housekeepers all picket and walk off the job.

I dunno.  I didn’t ask.  Just Dance.

Melissa’s internal fire drill suddenly went off as she grabbed her kids and left 20 minutes early.  Everyone knew something was up, but she refused to elaborate.

Turned out that Melissa was bringing Maddie and Mackenzie to the MSA (…as opposed to the MSPCA, which wouldn’t make any sense…) to meet with an agent named Jen.

In yet another slap to anyone who may have spent the last 15 years of their lives waiting tables and trying to sneak into an agent’s office, M & M were pretty much handed the keys to the city and immediately put on the radar for any upcoming Pop-Tarts commercials.

Trust me, Melissa will keep those gigantic bows in Mack’s hair until she’s 45 years old if it gets her face on a Wheaties box.

As long as they were all out there in California with some time on their hands, Kelly figured they might as well cut a record.  I mean…why not, right?

So everyone scooted off to meet with Producer Seven, who was the same dude with the cool hats that was lurking around last season during that whole music video extravaganza.

Hmmm.  Do the math.

Thanks to Seven, all those people who were just slapped in the face by Maddie’s agent could also now witness Brooke waltzing into a recording studio with her dancing backup singers and laying down some auto tuned tracks for the youtube single she and sister Paige had busted out last week after they finished their homework.

A couple hours later:  One record done and ready for airplay…no waitressing skills required.

By the time Abby jumped on Brooke’s coat tails and convinced everyone to film a music video with her handheld camcorder, I was starting to think that maybe this whole internet phenomena might be here to stay.

As the girls all danced and lip synched and stopped traffic on their rented tour bus, I silently began plotting how to become the next Justin Bieber.

Let’s just say that Maddie isn’t the first person to ever break out in some serious jazz hands in the middle of a crosswalk, mmkay?

Don’t be hatin’.

See you on the Crosstown 39 at 5pm.  Call Me Maybe?

Somehow, between the agents and the studio time and the music video, everyone actually had time for some In10sive rehearsing, since the whole show is still supposed to be about dancing after all.

Maddie asked for her solo once or twice, and then finally begged and groveled until Abby deemed that she had learned her lesson.

The lesson apparently being Don’t F*** with Abby.

Finally it was Showtime, and it was a Solopalooza.

MackAttack danced in yet another Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey outfit and got the dreaded Toddlers & Tiaras slo mo music when she momentarily forgot what she was doing.  Despite her brain freeze, she scored Mini Elite Solo First Place, which totally sounded like a J.D. Power compact car award.

Kendall was in it to win it was out to prove that she deserved to be on the team, regardless of how whackadoodle her Mom may be at times.

Nia did a ’60s inspired Laugh-In dance that was 100% fun and 200% Diva Face.  Werk.

Maddie nailed her solo, which was especially impressive considering that she didn’t even have a solo 24 hours earlier.

Chloe got even taller this week and did a ghostly number that scored a Proud Mom Face from Christi.

Paige danced through the pain and even made me wince a little when she flipped around on her bum leg.  Yeeouchers.

Brooke did some crazy flips and got one creepy smile from a male judge that should have been edited out or encrypted and sent to Dateline.

Abby’s plastic color coordinated jewelry was as spot on as always.  You totally know she has a bazillion Container Store boxes at home all color coded and ready to go in case the building catches on fire.

Every outfit needs a matching ring, bracelet, headband, necklace and Skechers sneaker or that bitch doesn’t leave the house.  True dat.

The only thing missing this week was the Drama.  It was pretty low key on the Dance Moms scale.

The Moms had already driven Krazy Kaya out of Dodge after only one episode, so there were no NeNe Leakes throw downs or Kelly texting meltdowns.

No Real Housewives of Pittsburgh screaming matches.

Jill appeared to have lost both her Bump-It and her rabid dog instincts all in the same week.  Everyone was…almost getting along.

It was scary.

And wrong.

But luckily the whole thing ended with a quick preview of next time…and as soon as I saw Chaos Cathy‘s jerky face poke out from behind the door, I knew she would make things right again.

The Road to Nationals just hit a Candy Apples bump.

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