Entertainment Magazine

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition: It Was The Rachelle Rak Show. Twerk It. Werk It. Want It. It’s Broadway, Baby.

By Danthatscool @DanScontras


I was up ’til 2am checking out flip flops on Zappos. Mama needs her Starbucks shot.


And this is how they found me at Candy Apples. I was curled up in a little ball all delirious and s***.


OMG. Just…OMG.


And then you push all the ugly people out of the way and Boom Boom Pow your way into the room like this, kids.


Seriously. Does this Flashdance bitch even own a pair of pants? There’s little boys in the room.

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition: It Was The Rachelle Rak Show. Twerk It. Werk It. Want It. It’s Broadway, Baby.

And then you open the door up like you just found leftover cheesecake that you had forgotten about.


Hold still, Baby, and let Mama hooch up this dress a little bit. You won’t sell any hoagies if they can’t see ‘em in the case.


Why me? Why? All I want is my bows back. Is that too much to ask for? Just one big one.

Five.  Six.  Seven.  Eight.

They say that there’s a broken heart for every light on Broadway.

That’s what they say, you know.  I forget whether I heard it in a song or saw it on one of those 3 for $20 tee shirts they sell down on 42nd Street.  But I know they say it.

And that’s a lot of lights if you do the math.

But what they don’t tell you is that there is also a crazy Dance Mom for every one of those same lights that is either flickering, burned out or screwed in crooked.

Because it’s Broadway, baby.

Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition hit the Great White Way this week.  And they hit it hard on the downbeat, thanks to new AUDC judge Rachelle Rak.

Anyone familiar with the New York City theater world or the high cut leotard industry already knew Rachelle before she joined Richy Jackson and Abby at the table this year.  And if you didn’t, you certainly do by now.

From what I gathered this week, Rachelle is the one who invented Broadway.  All of it.

Or at least the hard knocks part.

I’m fairly certain that she also had a jazz hand or two in making women everywhere feel even more emotionally traumatized by their own cellulite as she Flashdanced her way in and out of Times Square for the last 25 years wearing nothing more than a self-inflicted wedgie and a can of hair spray.

I’m too lazy to read her bio, but I’m guessing her Mom gave birth in the lobby of the Gershwin Theater, because Broadway is in this bitch’s blood.  Even though her actual career has taken her a little bit more down the Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride Road as far as leading lady roles go, Rachelle lives and breathes Broadway 24/7.


You know she totally high kicks it at the grocery store if she can’t reach the chips on the top shelf.  Every move Rachelle makes, right down to posing for her license at the DMV, is done so it can be seen from the cheap seats.

It’s called “SAS.”  Trademarked with a copyright.

The theme:  Broadway.

The skill:  Versatility.  All genres of dance.  All at once.  In yo’ face.

As the eight remaining dancers all scurried in from Bungalow #2 for the latest challenge, they were greeted by Abby Lee Miller and Rachelle.

Thankfully, Rachelle was the only one not wearing pants.  Abby remembered to put her’s on, so that was one less crisis we were going to have to deal with this week.

Rachelle, on the other hand, either forgets hers a lot or just doesn’t like to wear pants.

Ever.  Even with the kids in the room.

If you slow down your DVR, you can actually see one of the Atwood Twins sprouting facial hair the first time Rachelle bends over.  You’re a real boy now, Pinocchio.

For this week’s pop quiz, they were going Old Skool.  The kids were all given numbers and put through a classic Broadway cattle call.

You know the drill.  Learn a high speed, highly technical, highly age inappropriate dance, shake your non-existent hips and bootays, get cut early and then go find yourself a nice waitressing job so you don’t lose your apartment in the East Village.

It’s called Broadway, baby.

Rachelle and her Rak showed the kids how it’s supposed to be done.  Open the Door and then Wiggle Down.  Head Snap.  Feisty Apple Bite.  (That’s the only one I couldn’t figure out how to do correctly in the middle of my living room, but I’ll work on it over the weekend.  I promise.)

Even Tina got into the groove for a second while telling us how perfect her daughter Trinity was for this type of challenge.  Busting out her own raspy Broadway Razmatazz whisper and some curtain call arms, I honestly think that for a moment or two Tina actually believed she was hosting the Tonys.


Thank you all for coming tonight, you’ve been a great audience.  I love unicorns.

I am loving how Tina is slowly letting all her crazy leak out little by little and not giving us everything in the first week.  It makes me want to come back again and again just to see what she’ll do next.

McKaylee won the challenge, which gave Mom Shari yet another excuse to announce her daughter’s name through a megaphone a few times.  A few hundred times, I mean.

The other Moms were getting a little tired of hearing McKaylee’s name spewed out every 30 seconds.  More than a little tired, actually.  And they weren’t hiding the fact at all.

By the time (…fake Kristie Ray…) Kira sang her “McKaylee McKaylee McKaylee” song, I not only felt their pain, but realized how much I miss the Brady Buch.

Poor misunderstood Jan.  Been there.  Done that.

The winner of the challenge scored the first solo of the season, so that was good for a few more “McKaylees” before everyone headed off to rehearsals.

Oh.  And tiny little JoJo started getting the hornies for one of the TBoyz.  The Travis one, if I’m not mistaken.  I forget which one has the freckle.

She even made that stupid Taylor Swift heart sign that everyone makes with their fingers.  Over.  It.  Unless you have really fat sausage fingers, because then it looks more like the BatSignal instead of a heart.

Fo’ realz.  I swear.  It does.  Either look it up on Pinterest or find a fat friend.

Ally and Giaaaaaaanana were paired in a number titled “Eight,” which they hoped would keep Lifetime from getting sued by the producers of the movie Nine.  (See what they did there?)

Their rehearsal was pretty tame, but it did give Ally’s Mom Shari a few more opportunities to bash the other Moms.  Thank Gawd she’s a Dance Mom and not a Hockey Dad, that’s all I gotta say.

Marcia Marcia Marcia’s “I Danced A Dream” solo was based on Les Mis.  Studio Hopper Anthony Burrell and his backwards hat returned once again to choreograph the routine and to lay on the floor like he was hit by a Candy Apples sniper.


I really need to know what happened between Tony and Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein back on Dance Moms.  Something tells me it was way more than just some missing jerky from the cooler.

Down the hall, JoJo Swift, Trinity and Tyler were all attempting to channel their inner paper boys for an “Extra Extra” hot off the press hip hop dance, which was proving to be a little more difficult than anticipated for JoJo and TBoy.

So much so that choreographer Erik Saradpon ended up yanking Tyler from the center lead spot and replacing him with Trinity.

Spoiler Alert:  Can you say ‘Foreshadowing?’  Figure it out.

Meanwhile, TBoy #2 Travis was in the next room getting his Phantom on with Kalani, who was busy getting her Fish Face on.  Again.

I swear.  No matter how many times Abby lays into this poor kid about her Kardashian Instagram selfie pout, she keeps on busting it out whenever she hits the dance floor.

And then Travis said he was a ‘Ladies Man,’ even though he’s not old enough to know what that means.  I blame the internet and Rachelle’s Boom Booms for that one.

Finally, it was Showtime!

Backstage, the Filly from Philly Cindy was busy weed whacking the fringe on Giaaaaaaanna’s dress using what appeared to be the dullest pair of scissors she could find in the building.  Hoping that more leg would translate into more points, Mom would have been better off just chewing the yarn from her kid’s dress.

Ally’s Mom was not happy that the two girls were no longer matched sets for their duet and then Cindy screamed and shoved the scissors into someone’s back so she would know where to find them later.

She’s from Philly, you know.  Love.  Her.

My boy Kevin Manno was all slicked up again.  I’m starting to think that maybe he just wears a baseball hat to the studio and that’s why his hair is always so molded to his head lately.  I dunno.


Richy was finger waving his brains out in white gloves that were missing some of the digits.  I think they were supposed to look like that, but you never know when Cindy is back in the Green Room running with scissors.

Abby was pretty low key for starters, and Rachelle had forgotten her pants again.  But she did remember her sparkly top hat.  She probably left the iron on at home and forgot to lock the front door.  But she had her sparkly Chorus Line hat.

Because it’s Broadway, bitch.

Travis and Kalani’s number was going fairly well until they tripped on each other and almost took a Fish Face plant right there in front of the judge’s table.  Not cool.

JoJo, Tyler and Trinity’s New York Times dance slightly rocked the house.  At least Trinity’s part in the production, anyway.  But even Trinity was momentarily overshadowed a few times by Mom Tina’s bad a** gangstah faces from the sidelines.

Who knew that Mama liked her hip hop so much?  Girrrrrllll….you ratchet.

Giaaaaaaanna and Ally got it done.  Plain and simple.  Two finger waves!

Their routine even got Rachelle up on her pants-less feet like that crazy Bruno Tonioli from Dancing With The Stars as she raved about head rolls and feisty apples and Beyoncé hair and Boom Booms to the umpteenth power of Pow.

Sit down, Flashdance.  You’re drunk.

And then McKaylee McKaylee McKaylee hit the stage stage stage and showed everyone how you do a solo solo solo like a Boss.

Standing Ovation from the judges.  All three of ‘em.

With a better buzz cut than Anne Hathaway, McKayKay owned that stage.  I think she grew a few inches backstage, too, because she nailed it with her long legs and fancy footwork.

If I had a clue what I was talking about I would mention her amaze ball chassé coupé blah blah blah, but I don’t know what those are and I don’t know if she actually did any.  I just Googled it to sound smart in front of my new dancer friends.

Rachelle told McKayKay that when she grows up and goes to Broadway, she will proudly pass the torch to her if she’s strong enough to pry it out of her cold dead hands.  Or something like that.


For a moment I swear I saw the ghost of Robin Antin pass into Rachelle’s body and take credit for every thing that is right in the world of The Dance.  Remember how she used to do that all the time last season?

Yes, Robin.  Pussycat Dolls.  We remember.

With all the dancing done, it was up to the judges to sit in their harsh lighting and fiddle with their iPads until they decided who was going home this week.

The Bottom Three ended up being JoJo and the TBoyz.

In the end, JoJo and Mom Jessalynn‘s ginormous Bump-It (…clearly every Dance Moms franchise requires at least one big poof per episode.  And was it just me or did Jess look like one of those Greek Goddess ladies they always put on restaurant placemats with that one shoulder Athena thing she had going on?…) were saved and sent away, leaving Sheryl and the TBoyz all alone at center stage.

Thankfully, one of the Ts was wearing a hat, so we could tell them apart.  I think it was Tyler.  Because he was the one that got cut.

Until the cosmic Power Ranger Twin Bond kicked in, that is, and Travis announced that he would also be going home.  Because that’s what Power Ranger Twins do.

And then Abby Lee Miller blew a major nutty.  Because that’s what Abby does.

And then Rachelle got all flustered like she was back at the DMV and started hand circling to the cheap seats and going all OhNoYouDin’tJust….

You know it’s a contest, right?  With one winner?  Don’t make me dance, boy.

Sheryl interrupted Abby.  Abby interrupted Sheryl.  The TBoyz cried a little too much for big boys.

And then the one who wasn’t wearing a hat announced that he had just punk’d everyone’s a** and he would totally be back next week.


And then there were  Five.  Six.  Seven.


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