There Are No Dance Moms Without Dance

Y’all, I have to apologize. I realize that I may have gotten a bit ahead of myself last week by giving you the bare outline of the Dance Moms concept and then diving straight into the dysfunction.

Dysfunction is, of course, delicious…. But talent is the glue that holds the reality sandwich together; without it you have a stale drama sandwich. OPEN FACE. Fortunately, these gurls have plenty of talent. And every week, under the merciless tutelage of Kim Jung Abby, they bring to life her wonderfully demented creative vision through DAYUNCE!

So, to get to the heart of why we grown-ass adults tell our friends we aren’t feeling well so we can ditch happy hour and go home, get on our couches in our sweatpants, and watch Lifetime while we eat cake with our hands…. here are five of Dance Moms‘ finest routines!

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You Didn’t Know You Wanted To Know This Much About Dance Moms….

But, like Donald Rumsfeld said, the unknown unknowns are the one’s that’ll getcha! Right now you’re in a state of ignorance, but never fear my chickadees, ignorance can be cured.

There are so many things I love about Dance Moms. Friendships inextricably intertwined with power struggles. There’s the fact that every single blessed moment of this show is an ethical dilemma about how much a parent should push a child to achieve her dreams (yes, the “her” is purposefully ambiguous as to whether it refers to mother or child)….. Plus, there’s DANCING!

For those who have not partaken of the glory of Dance Moms…. The basic premise is that a small group of fame-thirsty mothers subject their (generally lovely and talented) daughters to the cruelty of a completely insane dance teacher, Abby Lee Miller.

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Abby takes her “team” to dance competitions requiring them to learn new routines every week and jostle with each other for primacy within the group. Scoring well at a competition (and, if we’re honest, general sucking up to Abby) is rewarded with the opportunity to perform a solo the following week…. “failure” and/or disobedience is punished with no solo and possible expulsion from the weekly group routine.

Because the Lord is just and merciful, the routines are frequently batshit insane.

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This show is so good, it’s as though it was engineered in a lab to hit every single dopamine receptor. It is, essentially, perfection.

To inaugurate what I’m sure will turn into a ridiculous series on the massive fuckery that is this TV show….

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Love Hurts– So Maybe Just Settle (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Accept Bryan)

Y’all, I have been thinking about Rachel’s Bachelorette season on and off over the summer. Partly because Dean really proved himself to be a certified, grade-A Hot Mess once left to his own devices in Paradise. But partly because a question has really nagged at me– could Rachel really, truly be happier with Bryan than with Peter? After that brutal final encounter of raw heartbreak between Peter and Rachel– and the quick edit to the “happy ending” of Bryan offering Rachel a typically fugly Neil Lane sparkler– I have had a hard time buying into the possibility that Rachel actually made the right choice….

But now I’m not so sure.

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Jack Her Up! Or, Five Things I’ve Learned from Say Yes to the Dress

Y’all, I have had the delightful (not sarcastic!) but also bizarre experience recently of being the second set of eyeballs for a delightful friend shopping for her wedding dress. Because my friend is the most low key bride in the world (“I don’t have Pinterest. I like the color blue,” was her response to the “what’s your wedding going to be like?” interrogation by the various bridal consultants), the experience was pleasant and anthropological, and I was grateful to be of some limited assistance to her wedding journey….

However, the experience reawakened one of my more shameful addictions…. It’s hard to admit publicly, but Say Yes to the Dress is basically my version of bath salts. I say I’m going to watch a little, and then a little turns into a lot, and soon I’m rampaging through the streets biting off strangers’ appendages because TRUMPET GOWNS MAKE ME DISSOCIATIVE.

In an effort to find a silver lining to this problem, I have compiled a list of five lessons I have learned over the years from watching SYTTD…..

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Byeeeeee Bip

You guys, this is what giving up looks like.

I don’t know if I have the heart to talk about the Bachelor franchises anymore.

When I started Never Leave Your Apartment all those years months ago, one of my goals was to dig deep into reality TV and provide y’all with my Hawt Takes– but I didn’t anticipate this evolving into the Bachelor-centric forum that it has become. After all, there’s so much reality TV out there to explore– Dance Moms! Millionaire Matchmaker! HGTV! An endless world of possibilities!!! And now, I think it may be time to take a step back from the Bachelor and remind myself of the big, wide world out there. You know it’s bad when Abby Lee Miller is a better alternative to your show…..

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You Can’t Always Get What You Want– So Be Prepared to Settle for a Crappy Backup Instead (or, Rachel’s Engaaaaaaaaged!)

Well Rachel, you did it. You’ve completed your journey.

You’ve boated on Hilton Head and dogsledded through Norway.

You’ve flown a blimp and rappelled down a building.

You’ve stolen the hearts of plenty of dudes. You’ve agonized over who to give your own heart to. And now, well, you got what you were hoping for. You’re engaaaaaaaghed!

I hope that every time you look down at That Finger and see that big-ass sparkly rang, you feel joy. Triumph. Relief at having found a mate. I hope you don’t feel a numbing blanket of dread at the thought of spending the rest of your life staring into Bryan’s vacant eyes…..

But I’m pretty sure you will.

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I Might as Well Make This into a Dean Fansite (It’d be more fun that watching the Bachelorette Men Tell All)

On Monday, the men of this season of the Bachelorette might have told all… but I must admit, I didn’t listen to most.

Look, normally I am ready to do my duty. Even when it feels like my eyeballs are going to fall out from how hard they’re rolling around in my head, I watch every minute of the weekly Qwest for Twue Wuv so that I can then snark about it to y’all. But this week… I just couldn’t.

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