Damn, girl. Mama likes some of that fine beef jerky that Ohio has been importing lately.
Whenever your boy getz the blues, I just put on my big giant hat and turn that frown upside down.
I got no problem sitting in this closet full of pink cupcake dresses and telling that Bitch to Man Up.
Don’t cry, little Buckeroo. It’s like that angry man in the tutu closet said: You’re Dad’s just being a pissy bitch.
OMG. I’m like totally going on a date with a boy who can do a split. Haters gonna hate tomorrow.
I would totally tap that. Or maybe just do a high kick and then throw some pie in her face. Whatev.
Lawd. I never seen so much cryin’ and so many damn cows in all my life.
Please.
Not right now. I just can’t.
Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me.
I’m bloated. I’m emotional. I just need my Häagen-Dazs and a spatula.
And it wouldn’t hurt if your kid could actually make it through a baseline CrossFit gym workout without wetting himself. Is that too much to ask?
That’s right. Dance Moms is back.
Or Dance Dads. Or whatever it’s called nowadays.
Mathematically deducting all the crying, screaming and emotional baggage unleashed by both the Moms and the quasi-Alpha Males, this week’s 2 hour Summer Premiere gave us all about 11 minutes of actual choreographed dancing between commercials.
But we all know that if you wanted to see Mackenzie do another backflip, you’d go to youtube. You go to Dance Moms for the drama.
And this week was Boyz Nite Out, yo.
The new season of dance competition just kicked into gear. It was still the same season of the show, but a new season to compete on that Road to Nationals that Glee made so famous. In TV Land a month had passed. In the Real World just a little more if I’m not mistaken. Those two weeks of Reunion Shows in that sparkly Star Trek Discotheque got me a little off track, so bear with me.
Spring Break gave the girls time to ice their knees and catch up on their book reports, while some of the Moms used the time off to get their hair did.
Kelly was now rocking those chunky highlights that were so popular about ten years ago, while Jill continued her gradual transition into Sue Ellen Ewing by darkening that uncontrollable hair. Holly got herself a new flat iron and was looking pretty slick and sleek (…Michelle Obama who?…) while Melissa put her hot rollers to good use.
Christi, on the other hand, didn’t really seem to know what to do with all that blonde ambition, so she just kinda waved the white flag and wore her hair up a lot this week.
Regardless, nothing gets done without the Pyramid of Shame, which was back after a few weeks on hiatus.
Bottom row was prime seating for Kendall, Nia and Mackadoodle.
Kendall had cried too much, Nia didn’t straighten her back leg even though she was yelled at 11 times (…not 12…they count these things, apparently…) and MackSplat hadn’t been able to keep up with bottle rocket Asia. Same as always. I’m thinking that I should just cut & paste this paragraph into the recap every week as a time saver.
Mezzanine level was all about Chloe, Asia and Paige.
Chloe had done a good job last time, but wasn’t Maddie. So she was still numero dos.
Asia was actually MIA in Los Angles this week, doing whatever it is that squeaky Sophia had done a few months ago, I guess. Which meant that Mama Krisitie was also MIA. Which was so not cool.
No Kristie? I momentarily contemplated actually opening up a book when I realized that JLo wouldn’t be throwing down this week. Almost.
Paige was on the second row because she had stood up to Anthony Burrell and Chaos Cathy Nesbitt-Stein when they started talking smack in the audience after her last performance. Remember that?
That was when Kelly flipped a switch and went bazoinkers on them in the middle of the awards presentation, while that kid with the big Bozo shoes sat on stage behind her.
Seriously. That still bothers me. It totally distracted from the hormonal drama. If they can pixelate Paris Hilton‘s hoooha every time she straddles out of a limo with no underpants, why couldn’t they have blurred out those gigantic feet?
Anyway. Maddie was on top. Because she’s Maddie.
This week they were headed to the street behind the studio and staying in Pittsburgh for the Masters of Dance Arts Competition. Chloe and Maddie were going to bust out a duet, Paige was doing a solo and Brooke got moved up to the majors and was going to dance with the ALDC Senior Group.
The elite senior group meant taller girls, not so many Cartoon Network hair bows and a chance to dance with boys who were sporting peach fuzz and Peter Brady voices.
Brooke was psyched. I guess. She never really shows any emotion. She did keep pawing at her ponytail like she was deep conditioning the ends, so I’m going to assume she was a little nervous. But psyched.
Then it was off to Ohio and the Evil Dance Lair known as Candy Apples. I live for that 1950′s drive-in movie music they play every time we head to Ohio. And the cows. I also live for all the cows. I had no idea they were the official state animal. Are they on the flag at the State House? Does anybody know?
Since Cathy only has those same four boys on her team, the Apple TV Pyramid is a little anti-climactic. Nick 2.0, Jalen and Gino were on the bottom. Zack on the top.
The End. Power down the plasma.
They were, of course, heading to Pittsburgh to get all up in Abby’s face and needed to get right down to rehearsing.
Nick had a Cirque du Soleil solo, Zack and Gino were doing a tribute dance to Anthony’s father who had just passed and the whole gang was sticking it to Lance Armstrong with a cycling steroid samba group dance.
It was right about here that everyone involved with the show seemed to suddenly go on the same cycle (…no Lance pun intended…) and everything just went total hot mess.
In Ohio, Anthony cried when he explained how much the duet meant to him. He also felt that the boys were too wimpy and took them all to SWAT gym for a workout in a desperate attempt at CrossFit-ing the girly right out of them.
Jalen smoked the bootcamp course, but tiny Gino (…allegedly 24 hours out of ICU from bronchitis or a rash or something…) had trouble pushing 10 times his body weight across the astroturf and Dad Mickey went complete Helicopter Poppa on Anthony.
Which in turn got loose cannon Hockey Dad Rick wound up tighter than an Atlanta Housewife poppin’ off her acrylics.
Watching the two of them go at it like Kim and NeNe was TV Gold. You wanna go outside? Let’s go, Bitch. Kristie Ray would have been so proud.
Rick screamed and did some jazz hands for visual emphasis. Mickey yelled and screamed so much that he almost sweat through his white Welcome Back Kotter turtleneck and flatlined next to his son. Gino just cried and looked in his book bag for an inhaler while Zack’s Mom Gina questioned all her life choices since high school.
Nick’s Mom Donna kinda looks like Angelica Houston, by the way.
Back in PA, Kelly was oddly unappreciative that Paige had been given a solo and Brooke had just received a promotion, and somehow found a bazillion reasons to complain and hate Abby and publicly declare that she hoped the entire senior number flopped.
Which was all Jill needed to get on her case. And then Jill went to snitch on her to Abby down at that sloppy front desk. And then Kelly caught Jill gossiping about her as she came downstairs to use the bathroom. And then Melissa finally looked up from her iPhone and got on everybody’s case. And then Holly tried to chill everyone out.
And then Jill’s furry boots. What the hell?
Back in Ohio, Cathy cried as she realized her entire team was imploding and that a few Dads may have some questionable loyalty to Canton’s Finest. Rick and Mickey hated each other and continually got all junior high up in each other’s grill any time they were in the same room.
And then…Stop The Presses! Gino and Maddie. Sitting in a tree.
Yup. Somewhere in all this mess it came out that Gino had kissed Maddie on the cheek at one of the previous competitions. And that…OMG…they were texting and possibly sharing government secrets concerning choreography and nuclear warheads. Kids today.
Then Jill and Kelly went another round or two. And then somehow Christi took over and she and Kelly went completely balls to the wall. Screaming. Crying. I hate you. I hate you more. I hate you Infinity.
Since I didn’t have my spreadsheet prepared in time for this week’s episode, I kind of lost track as to when Christi actually went downstairs and talked shizzle right in Paige’s face. But it wasn’t pretty when the whole thing was exposed. Paige cried. Maddie almost cried. I swear, people kept crying and popping up behind that Mom Perch couch like it was a Punch & Judy puppet show.
Next thing you knew, Kelly AND Gino were looking for inhalers as they both hyperventilated themselves into near seizures.
There was a lot of crying. Did I already mention that?
And as if your heart could take anymore, at some point during one of the senior group flash mobs, there was a quick glimpse of Original Recipe Nick Dobbs and Payton Ackerman…and the Twitterverse pretty much just exploded. The internet crashed and at least 927 TweenyBoppers were air lifted to Pittsburgh hospitals clutching their cell phones, screaming that they wanted to have Nick’s baby.
I know, right? He’s so dreamy.
Abby also set Brooke up on a date with Kevin Cosculluela, her partner from the senior group, and then the whole thing just got a little incestuous for my tastes. You see, Kevin is Gino’s brother, so it was kind of like sleeping with the enemy, kinda sorta, except that they are only teenagers and that would be gross.
Luckily they only had a food fight, trashed a pastry shop and ended the date with Kevin throwing half-eaten cake into Kelly’s freshly detailed mini-van.
Dude. You are so dying single.
To ensure that the whole thing just went complete Telenovela this week, Anthony’s duet rehearsal ended in everybody crying when two young boys couldn’t relate to the emotional angst of a grown a** man who doesn’t feel appreciated as a choreographer.
While we’re on the subject, Zack’s Mom could very well be one of the best soap opera cryers on television today. Dab. Dab. Hold the tissue dramatically.
And seriously. For all the hats that Anthony owns, you’d think he could find one that fit.
Finally, it was Showtime! They just forgot to tell the audience, because the place was pretty empty.
Everyone’s dances went well. The ALDC duet was off the hook. The CADC duet was pretty emotional, even though one of the boys appeared to be wearing Pee Wee Herman‘s old bow tie.
Naturally, Abby tossed out a little snark regarding the Candy Apples duet, which on VH1 would mean that she just disrespected Anthony’s Momma’s Baby Daddy. So it was on.
Nick’s solo somehow magically turned into Johnny Weir in a bird cage and got a big round of applause from Angelica Houston.
Back out in the hallway, Christi and Jill pretty much lunged at Cathy as she walked through with bicycle wheels and testosterone boosters. More screaming. More crying.
For some reason, Cathy felt that the other Candy Apple parents should have gotten into a pig pile rumble with the ALDC Moms right there by the lockers to prove that they had her back. But they didn’t.
So…more crying.
The ALDC senior group rocked the house. I will say that since I can’t even bend over to tie my own shoes in my new skinny Levi’s, I was pretty impressed with Kevin ‘s flexibility in those pants. Relax. Nothing pervy. Just saying I may have to pick up a pair for the klub this weekend.
Then some kids won some stuff. Google it.
Backstage, there was more crying in every camp.
Anthony lost his noodle a few times. Cathy smelled at least one Mole in her army as Mickey snuck off to the ALDC room to break up Jill and Kelly’s screaming match and to ask Abby if she wanted Gino on her team.
Emotionally drained (…Spoiler Alert: Candy Apples didn’t do so well this time…) Cathy disappeared down the hallway next to a room where they clearly teach Español Sign Making, and then it was over.
Two hours of crying. Literally.
I’m physically and emotionally drained.
Where’s my Häagen-Dazs?
I don’t even need a spoon.
