If this chair wasn’t so damn comfy I’d get up right now and slap the crazy out of all of you with one hand. And so hard.
Figures, right? The freakin’ last show of the season and I finally get my hair under control. I think that calls for some Gangnam Style.
Keep it up, honey. Cuz Imma ’bout to put my ponytail back in and get this thing done. Let’s Go!
Sometimes when they talk I still close my eyes and make believe I’m Andy Cohen on Bravo.
I was wrong. In retrospect, I think I probably should have just called the cops when Melissa took her top off.
Excuse me? I know I didn’t just spend four hours in a salon chair gettin’ color blocked and not one of you noticed?
I took this dress off Layaway a month early, so I’m not going anywhere. Like I tell my kid…Suck It Up, Bitch.
Brace yourself.
Stock up on non-perishables, board up the windows and put a mattress on top of your kids. And while you’re at it, you might as well get your hair did, put on a cocktail dress and have a seat on the couch.
Hurricane Abby is blowing into town.
It was the Dance Moms Reunion Show, and all your favorite crazy and not-so-crazy ladies were back to throw down and rehash this season’s Mama Drama one mo’ time.
Part Bravo TV Housewives, part PTA holiday dress up party, the whole shindig was once again hosted by Jeff Collins and his delightfully awkward transitions.
(Spoiler Alert: ”Before Leslie beats the living s*** out of Christi, let’s switch gears and just watch Mackenzie roll around on the floor for awhile, shall we…?”)
I’m not even making that part up. Stay tuned.
But before Jeff got into any major flop sweat, the show kicked off with the Queen herself, Abby Lee Miller. On a new and improved set, I might add.
Finally.
Since all of Lifetime TV’s dangly beaded sequin backdrops were currently on loan to Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition, the Moms scored a fancier clubhouse this time around. The stools were gone, thankfully replaced by couches again, so there would be no more sloppy Last Call Slip ‘N Slide in polyester dresses.
It was a nice enough set up. Sort of like a cable access talk show. Not basic cable. But not the premium package, either. It was like the middle one that gets you some HBO and the Spanish channels, but not Starz.
But it was a big improvement over the sparkly strings. So kudos to the prop people.
As you’ll recall, the season ended with the Mutha of all Klassy Mother Beat Downs in the streets of New Orleans. Christi vs. Leslie brawlin’ in N’awlins.
Thus, the theme of the evening: Hurricane Abby. Get it? Because New Orleans gets pummeled by hurricanes a lot. And homes get washed away. And people die. How ’bout you get off Facebook and watch the news once in awhile, kids?
So there was that, and the fact that Jeff really seemed to enjoy saying “Hurricane Abby” and using as many meteorological terms as he could squeeze into one hour. I lost count after he mentioned Abby’s levee was recently breached over the weekend. TMI.
To set the scene, Jeff replayed the whole New Orleans street fight. We got to relive Christi smacking Leslie’s 7-Eleven cherry Big Gulp all up in her face and then watch the hilarity ensue all over again.
We even got to see my new best buddy Backwards Hat Dude jump into the middle of the rumble and take a punch to the throat from Leslie, all while Christi froze in position until that kid with the backpack broke away from his school field trip to yank Mama Lukasiak back onto the sidewalk.
Trash. Both of ‘em. That’s what Abby said.
So let’s bring them out and see what happens!
Separated backstage like incompatible zoo animals that would eat each other in the wild, Leslie and Christi came out on stage and saw each other for the first time as they plopped their junk down on opposite couches.
Christi kinda sorta admitted that the whole scene had been ugly and that she was kinda sorta wrong. She also mentioned that the police had shown up and wanted her to “do certain things” which kind of skeeved me out for a second. What does that even mean?
Before Leslie could attack, Christi pointed out that Mama Ackerman had been involved in numerous assaults in the past and I immediately started making up juicy stories in my head. It’s kind of a gift that I have.
Can’t you just see Leslie breaking a bottle and threatening to cut a bitch with the sharp end on the Jerry Springer Show? Or smashing a western saloon chair over Christi’s head? Or just going full-on Walmart and ripping the weave right out of some chick’s head just so she can score the last Doorbuster flat screen?
We even got bonus Director’s Cut footage showing Christi dialing up the Po-Po on her blinged out cell while another dude bum rushed the scene in one of those straw hats from Old Navy. The kid in the background with the blurred out face filming the whole thing on his iPhone is probably a rockstar back home at his dance academy by now.
At the end of the day, Christi hadn’t done anything. No apology to Abby. No charges filed against Leslie. No restraining order. She didn’t even get Leslie a new Slushie or pay for her dry-cleaning.
Nada.
Leslie was not happy and just about to blow a major nutty. So let’s just watch Mackenzie roll around instead, shall we?
That totally happened next, as MackSplat tumbled her way through a duet with SassyPants Asia. Miss Oh Hey Monet Ray twerked and werked her Swan Song dance like a Boss and then disappeared from the ALDC forever.
Because that’s how you get it done. I’ll be in LA if you need any pointers. Peace Out.
I miss her already.
Next up was my girl Kristie Ray. Minus the ponytail. Because it was Dress Up Day.
Jeff stirred the pot and gave us the Klassic Kristie Klip when she went off on everyone else for trash talking Leslie while she was down at Sam’s Club and not able to stick up for herself.
As Kristie DivaPointed and DivaSnapped her way through the explanation for having defended Leslie on that fateful day, it became glaringly clear that not only is JLo going to be deeply missed by all her stalker fans next season, but also that if you edit out every time some crazy lady says “OK Whatever OK Fine Yeah Right Ok Whatever I’m Out” this show would be like watching a silent movie down at the multiplex.
Srsly. Back up your s*** and have a nice day.
And then Kelly came out. And Abby left.
Not quite that fast, but almost. The two of them knocked each other down onto the mat again regarding Kelly’s questionably mediocre kids and who was responsible for the decay of modern civilization and Brooke‘s flexibility.
It was basically the same argument they’ve had every week for three years, just in nicer clothes this time. So we can skim right over most of the flashback.
They fight. Kelly quits. Kelly comes back for the kids. They fight some more. Kelly quits again. And comes back again. Abby doesn’t let Kelly sit in the same aisle at a competition. Kelly stands there blocking everyone’s view for 30 minutes, according to some producer whose job it is to time that kind of thing. Then they fight some more about the stuff they already fought about yesterday. And then Abby’s Mom mouths off to Kelly, proving that old lady snark really is pure gold.
Needless to say, Abby got miffed and left the Reunion stage, leaving Jeff to fidget around for a second or two until he remembered that he had six kids standing out back who could probably fill some dead airtime with dancing.
Time to switch gears again. Mr. Collins likes to say that when he’s not giving Hurricane Abby weather reports.
This was as good a time as any for all the other little ALDC girls to come out and do that dance again where Paige pretends to be a skinny Anna Nicole Smith. Bravo.
After what I believe was another AUDC commercial, we were back for one more round of Leslie making it clear that she is here to stay. So there.
Finally, Melissa, Holly and Jill were released from the Green Room, where they apparently had been held hostage long enough to not only color and flat iron Holly’s hair in some kind of front-to-back ombré style that they don’t show on the box, but also figure out how to get Jill’s Bump-It to actually look like the one in the commercial.
Rockin’ the new ‘dos, ladies. Rockin’.
Always the Voice of Reason, Holly tried to explain to Abby why the other Moms had gotten so upset when she went AWOL for those two weeks, leaving them with no leader and no plan of action so close to Nationals.
Because it’s all about Nationals. And you know how those always sneak up on you with no notice. Right, Holly?
The whole thing then morphed into the same old argument about all these mysterious MomPacts that keep getting signed, and why Melissa had sent Maddie to California for an AUDC taping after they had all taken a wine induced blood oath to not participate in any of that nonsense.
JLo quickly pointed out that Melissa was the smart one for doing what’s best for her daughter. Christi made so many faces that I think Holly got a little jealous. And Jill finally caved and admitted that she would probably have done the same thing if Kendall had been presented with the opportunity.
Then somebody pointed out that Melissa slept with her Boss. Because she did. Maybe.
Oh, snap. Again with the Boss thing.
Realizing that there was still time on the clock, Jeff asked “What’s Left?” and for a second I wasn’t sure if that was another one of his signature segues or if he had really forgotten what was supposed to happen next.
Oh. I know. Kristie vs. Jill. Now that’s what I’m talking about!
Flashback to my #2 Kristie Moment of All Time (…#1 being her classic AUDC “Hit Me!” interaction with Yvette, of course…) when JLo went completely mime-in-a-box, hands in the ayah ayah after Jill dropped the F-Bomb in her lap.
OhNoSheDin’t. OoooHoooHhhOOOOhhhoooOOOhH! F-Bomb! F-Bomb!
Power of hands, ponytail and earrings: Activate.
I was so inspired by JLo the first time I saw that scene that I now react the same way every time someone gets my order wrong at Burger King.
Oh, JLo. Love. Her. And miss her already, but not in a creepy way.
Yet.
And then there was just enough time left for Holly and Leslie to compare parenting techniques (…“What kind of kid are you raising?”…) before Maddie came out to do a little dance about Drowning. Hurricane Abby, remember?
And then Kelly got the boot.
Abby had finally agreed to come back onto the couch, but only if Kelly went and played in traffic. As Mama Hyland scooted out in one direction, Abby came back in from the snack table for one last big announcement.
They had been pimping out this announcement for the entire hour, and if I had checked the Twitterverse, I’m sure that people were probably thinking it was something about Abby getting married to one of her Bi…coastal…boyfriends or being with child or something like that. But I would never check Twitter. But if I had, it would probably have been something like that. But I didn’t. Because that’s something that only 12 year old girls would do.
The announcement? Next season, Abby will be crisscrossing the country auditioning dancers for not only AUDC, but for the ALDC Elite Competition Team.
Wha–? Hold up. Just hold up.
One. Isn’t that kind of what you dissed Chaos Cathy and the Candy Apples for doing all year? Trolling for new dancers outside the studio?
And two. What does that mean for all the current little dancers? Are they considered Elite? Are they even coming back?
Watching all the Moms go completely blank and just stare into space after the big announcement is definitely worth rewinding your DVR to see again if you have the time.
It sounded like that screech you hear when Fred Flintstone slams the foot brake on his car. And then dead silence. Only JLo was excited, because she already a ticket back to LA in her purse and would be looking at all these crazy bitches in the rear view mirror in about two hours.
In yo’ face.
And then Brooke sang. Because Jeff needed one more uncomfortable gear switch while the credits rolled. I hurt.
And that’s a wrap.
The trophies are in the case and the dog is stuffed and on display.
Season Three is in the can.
Now we just wait for Season Four.
Hurricane Abby has moved away from the coastline, with only minimal physical damage.
Emotional damage? Not sure yet.
But it’s safe to come out of your homes.
For now.
Sing us outta here, Brooke.
