There are no secrets when it comes to my TV habits. I wear my never-missed-an-episode-of-Dance-Moms badge with more honor than a Thin Mint-hawking Girl Scout during cookie season. The tacky stage mothers, the ridiculously-themed dances, the megalomaniac dance teacher that reminds me of someone who got me started in ye olde business of show… Dance Moms has. it. all. There’s even a taxidermied dog, people. It had its own story line. This show is Reality TV gold.

Maybe I love it because I was once a kid at a suburban dance studio, furiously tapping, spinning and leaping in front of mirrors every week. Maybe it’s the glitter and pageant makeup. More likely, it’s Abby Lee’s delusions.

Tara and I have known each other for a long time, but we didn’t really become blood sisters until we discovered our mutual love of Dance Moms. It pretty much dominates our conversations. We planned our road trip to the LA location of Abby Lee’s Dance Studio for months. I trekked 8.7 miles in traffic to get to the ALDC’s front doors. Just admit you’re jealous, Thelma and Louise.

We arrived on a Saturday morning. The doors were locked and the lights were dim. Was this a real dance studio, or just a reality TV set? It’s hard to tell in LA, where everything’s so shiny and pristine. X-ray glasses would be more useful than sunglasses in this town. Luckily, the “costume shop” or whatever was open next door. Glitter-encrusted ALDC souvenirs designed by the queen of loud-accessories were there for the buying. Obviously, we bolted inside.

The walls looked like an auditioning child barfed Pepto-Bismol all over them. A commissioned painting of the taxidermied dog hung behind the register. Sequin-covered hats, overpriced ripped tank tops, and what I think were Hammer pants hung on racks. A Russian woman greeted us before retreating to the back room. There was no music playing, and the silence was eerie.

We pretended to shop, but really we were grabbing all the most hilarious merchandise so we could sneak photos with it. It was so quiet that we couldn’t even speak normally- it was all whispering and giggling. I felt like a kid misbehaving in church.

Finally, a bunch of teenagers with their moms came in and broke the awkward silence. Full-on fan girls, they came for some dance wear and hot pink sweatshirts. We dropped the whispering act and just started openly Snapchatting and taking photos.

Tara bought a t-shirt. I contemplated getting the ALDC program from this year’s recital, featuring Photoshopped glamour shots of their dancers kicking and leaping with a glow and stars around them. I thought it’d make a good coffee table book. Then I remembered that I didn’t actually have a coffee table, and passed.

In case anyone was wondering, you can buy an autographed photo of Abby Lee at her costume shop. There was no price tag.

Back outside, we decided to kick our fandom up a notch and inspect the alleyway and parking lot. They regularly film scenes in both locations, so not only did we want to stand there… we were hoping to find a Starbucks cup that said “Melissa” on it. Alas, no.

I really wanted to see Abby’s car. She lives in the studio when she’s in LA. I thought maybe a  black SUV parked next to the back door could have been hers, but the keychain inside had boxing gloves on it. We reasoned that Abby’s keychain might have something glittery and froofy on it… but boxing gloves do still match her aggressive bulldog nature. Tara was adamant that this was not, in fact, her car. I want to go back and watch some old episodes to get a hard answer.

Then Tara decided to peek in the dumpster.

We headed back to the front of the building and ran into some Australians. The mom told us that during their visit to LA, the only place her teenage daughter wanted to come was here, The Abby Lee Dance Company. Yep. In a town rich with Hollywood history, world-class beaches and some damn fine food, the ALDC was their first stop. This is why Tara nicknamed the ALDC “LA’s Graceland.”

We’re definitely going back when they’re filming to peek in the windows.