Why? Because it says freakin’ Abby Lee freakin’ Dance Company in IMAX 3D on my boobs. Maybe that’s why.
Soon, my precious. Soon this will all be ours and then the whole world will be dancing Gangnam Style. I promise.
I thought I did really well. And honestly, I don’t know why all these other bitches behind me are even sticking around for awards. As if, right?
Whoa. Just hold up. I haven’t even had time to make all my crazy faces yet. Pump yo’ brakes.
OMG. That cute boy is behind us again, isn’t he? Don’t look. Is he looking? He’s checking me out, right? I can’t breath.
I specifically said I was gonna wear stripes today, and now this chick with the earrings shows up in that? I don’t think so. Not cool.
It’s not like it’s rocket science, honey. Just lay on your head, do an upside down split and wish you were as fierce as me.
Luck be a Crazy Lady tonight.
More than one, actually. Almost an entire tour bus full of them, if you’re counting.
Roll the dice, shuffle the deck and don’t make me tell you to fix those damn feet again, because we’re in Vegas, baby. Entertainment Capital of the World.
This week Abby Lee Miller (…nice you could show up for work…) and her posse were all in Sin City for one of their final competitions before Nationals.
When you see a Dance Moms charter pulling up to the curb at the Flamingo, it doesn’t take a high stakes bookie to know the odds are pretty good that at least one person packed a bag of quarters for the slots and a trunk full of drama for the stage.
At first I thought I might have missed an episode since the whole gang was already in Las Vegas, unpacked and ready for the traveling Pyramid of Shame as soon as the credits stopped rolling. I don’t remember them talking about a road trip last week and we never got to see any of the usual bus ride hilarity with Jill regifting another shrink wrapped eau du toilette box set as a token of her love for Abby’s butt.
I swear. Jill would stop at Walgreen’s every day if it helped get her kid a solo. You know she totally has one of those loyalty cards on her Louis Vuitton keychain. And probably a Honey Boo Boo stockpile of paper towels and Chanel No 5 cologne back home on some Home Depot shelving.
As the Moms all rolled into their temporary studio, Abby noted that everyone was already copping an attitude before the party even got started.
Especially Kelly, who seemed overly traumatized by not only the events of the past few weeks, but also the fact that Kristie Ray was standing next to her showing all of America how you’re supposed to wear stripes.
Poor Kelly. I know you tried. And I’m sure it was a pricey dress you were wearing. But when my girl Kristie rolled up with those earrings and that pony tail and all that sassy JLo-ness, you kinda looked like the Where’s Waldo boy. Sorry.
Oh, that JLo. Love. Her.
Abby and Kelly got right into another argument, complete with tinted flashbacks and some dream sequence music that made me feel a little trippy, all culminating with Abby having to explain (…once mo’ time…) who was The Boss of this Organization by groping her own ample bosoms and reading her shirt upside down.
It says Abby Lee Dance Company. Who do you think is in charge? And yes…there may be a quiz at the end, so look at my bazongas and pay attention you crazy bitch.
But anyway. The Pyramid.
Bottom of the pile was reserved for Paige, Brooke, Nia and Kendall.
Paige needed to improve her technique and Brooke needed to show that she was still the reigning National Contortionist Champ. Waldo took some offense to that and tried to get Abby off track again, but she wasn’t having it this time around. Time is money.
Nia had some issues with her body not listening to her brain or something. It was a little vague, but Mom Holly can always make a couple of good WTF? faces and everything seems better already. I love how Principal Frazier can take a negative and turn it into a learning experience without even blinking.
It’s called Edukashin, kids. Stay in school.
Kendall had been inconsistent lately. Plus Abby didn’t really like that last box of perfume that stunk up the bus. So there you go.
The middle of the pack was Mackenzie (…who was MIA…), Maddie and Asia.
MackaWhack was benched this week as punishment for basically not being Asia and was back home watching cartoons and eating Jawbreakers. Maddie needed to set her goals even higher than the top of the Pyramid, which I assumed meant working for NASA or becoming the first woman president. Asia just smiled like Class Picture Day.
Asia always smiles. She’s a happy little scamp. I think it has something to do with the magical flower power of those hair accessories she always wears on the right side of her little nubbin bun. God help us if Mom ever pins one on the left by mistake or completely spaces out and forgets them all at home.
To finish it up, Chloe took the top spot because she beat Zack last week. And beating a boy in a dance competition always gets you the top spot. It’s just the rule.
Asia, Kendall, Brooke and Paige were all handed solos for the competition.
But wait. There’s more.
Since Waldo always seemed to complain about the quality and complexity of the routines that are choreographed for her daughters, Abby brought in a guest choreographer to work with Brooke and Paige this week. Someone who could challenge them, teach them new tricks and show them how a real girl wears booty shorts.
Ladies and Gentlemen. Ricky Palomino.
Girrrrl, pleez.
Jill only wishes she could find a perfume that smelled this Fierce & Fabulous.
I have no idea what was going on in Ricky’s shorts. Or outside of Ricky’s shorts. I don’t know if they were riding up, or were supposed to be Civil War pantaloons or what. But Miss Thang can work it like nobody’s bidnezz and I gave my television two snaps and a Miley Twerk as soon as he hit the screen.
And P.S….Paige’s costume cost upwards of $500. Didn’t I previously mention that the days of Moms hot glueing pieces of cut up tin foil onto Danskin leotards are long gone?
Yeah. Five. Hundred. Dolla.
The group routine was going to be an homage to the Las Vegas Rat Pack.
(Google it if you’ve never even heard of a vinyl 33rpm record. This show makes me feel so old sometimes. I swear my joints are swollen every Tuesday night.)
Except it was called the Brat Pack. Not the Rat Pack. See what they did there?
As the girls all got down to rehearsals and Ricky got down with his bad self (…Give yourself chills, gurlll…) the Moms hit up a temporary MomPerch to slam a cup o’ joe, diss about Abby and phutz with their cell phones.
Kelly even received a call from KVVU-TV in beautiful downtown Las Vegas regarding an opportunity for Brooke to come on their local news show and pimp out her iTunes album that was about to drop.
Because that’s what 33rpm albums used to do, kids. They dropped. Which is different than being downloaded. But you couldn’t really drop an album or it would crack. It’s kind of hard to explain. Ask your parents.
Seriously. Sometimes I watch this show and feel like I’m gonna break a hip getting in the tub the next morning.
Brooke’s trip to the news station was pretty uneventful, though it should be noted that their set looked like Pee Wee’s Playhouse. There was a lot going on in that tiny colorful space. A lot.
No dress code, though. Nice jeans, dude. You’re on TV you know.
Back at rehearsals, Paige was having the first of multiple melt downs. Over the past season, the tension between Kelly and Abby had dripped down onto Paige’s head and she was terrified of Abby.
Terror-fied.
By the time Abby made each girl perform the group routine on their own for the rest of the team, Paige’s lungs locked up and she completely lost her noodle. She couldn’t breath. She could cry. But couldn’t breath.
And then Kelly cried. And then everyone freaked out and just went total spaz, myself included. I hate seeing little kids lose it.
I even tried using one of those Vicks menthol inhalers to regain my composure, but it turns out that they’re actually made for stuffy noses and not anxiety attacks. I guess I never really read the box.
Finally, it was Showtime!
Holly was all excited because Abby had stayed in a different hotel and Ricky was still redoinkulously fabulous, though I was very disappointed in his choice of non-fabulous back to school wear for the event.
Paige seemed to have calmed down a bit, but now Kendall was starting to show a few cracks in her foundation. Oy, this kids. If it’s not one, it’s the other.
Side note: It always makes me snicker when the camera pans across the judges and then scrolls “JUDGES” across the bottom of the screen.
Glad they cleared that up, because I always wondered why some people were allowed to bring their own laptop, headset mic, Poland Springs water bottles and folding table to a dance competition.
Oh. Wait. They’re judges. Now I get it.
Kendall’s solo started off ok, then kind of fizzled. She knew her shiz, I think she was just distracted by that poorly lit backdrop.
C’mon, people. I’ve seen how much you charge to participate in these competitions and yet you insist on using grade school science class projection equipment to get your logo up on that hanging fitted sheet?
What’s next? Shadow puppets spelling out your name?
Asia’s solo was 400% Asia. She was a hot pink lawn flamingo tossing attitude all over that trailer park. Her pants were on the right way and she snapped and ripple-armed her way across that stage so hard that I just wanted to stick her in my front yard next to my Travelocity gnome.
If you ever find yourself face to face with that bird in the middle of the night, run like the wind in the opposite direction because that flamingo don’t play. She’ll cut you.
Brooke did a pretty good job of tying herself in a knot, but she was just as scared as Paige to have Abby watch her dance. This whole ALDC thing is getting a little dysfunctional if anyone wants my opinion.
Now it’s one thing when a 2 year old Toddlers & Tiaras princess forgets to booty pop on stage and just stands there picking her nose until Dad comes to the rescue, but when you’re 12 and you have a complete breakdown it’s a little more uncomfortable.
Poor Paige. Not good. She froze and then freaked and then bolted off stage into Nia’s arms.
(Go Nia. You are sooo yo’ Mama’s daughter.)
Backstage the whole thing imploded into a full-on battle between Abby and Kelly, complete with untinted flashbacks of Kelly as a child dancer who gave it all up for whatever reason. It’s not my fault. It’s your fault. I’m the best thing for Paige. You’re the worst thing for Paige. The best. The worst. Rinse. Repeat.
It’s not meeeeeeee! Let’s all scream at once. Maybe that will speed up the process.
I swear they almost forgot to go back out for the group dance.
Then some kids won some stuff.
Asis’s pink flamingo scored First Place, as did the Brat Pack.
I know you shouldn’t call a little girl a bitch. But that bitch can dance. Dang.
Side note #2: I need to come up with a solo routine that I can perform at one of these things just so I can do that flash mob dance on stage before awards start. It’s like they slipped sugar cubes into the water system or something right before the emcee comes out. Asia and I would wreck that stage.
(That’s not creepy at all, right?)
When it was all over, nobody really new which end was up.
Kelly and Abby had taken two steps forward and one step back. Or maybe just a side shuffle with some jazz hands. It was hard to tell.
Melissa knew that she had better get Mackadoodle into some workout clothes asap or the 5:45pm Asia Train was gonna run right over her on the way to Nationals.
Holly channeled her inner Yoda and preached about the fundamental issue of ‘Trust” and then everyone got ready to go home. Packed it up, they did.
Abby said goodbye to the Moms and told Kelly that it was nice talking to her today. The same way you would say that line to your ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend if you saw her buying birth control pills at CVS. That kind of nice.
Awkward.
But Las Vegas survived a weekend with the Dance Moms. And vice versa. Nobody lost an eye or a limb or their kid’s college tuition money at the casino.
And most importantly, for everyone who lives in Vegas…what happened there isn’t even staying there.
It’s all going back to Pittsburgh to get ready for Nationals.
Somebody really lucked out this time.