Tatiata Kozhevnikova, a 42-year-old Russian woman, is the proud holder of the world’s strongest vagina.  The mind boggles with questions.  How do you go about strengthening your vagina?  Are there specific vagina weights?  A vagina class at your local gym (um, THAT’S an awkward, sweaty hour…)?  Maybe there are secret vagina workout DVDs that I never knew about…

It turns out Tatiata was depressed about her floppy vag after having a baby, so she did some reading on how to tighten things back up down there (natch).  After finding out that ancient women used to use wooden balls (don’t even get me started on the splinters) to *ahem* exercise, Tatiata found a glass ball and shoved it on up there.  Thus, her career was launched and she can now lift over 30 lbs with pure vagoo power.

There are so many questions I have for this lady…

If she can lift over 30 lbs with her vagina, how does the sexy time work?  Wouldn’t she just demolish any penis she encounters?  Is there muscle definition down there, like a six pack? Also, does a strong vadge mean a super strong bladder, devoid of that pesky “breaking the seal” problem?

There is a video of her amazing crotch powers and I don’t know what I’m more disturbed by, her ability to swing a string of glass balls from her vagina with a smile on her face or her gold lame pant suit with matching wedge heels.  I guess the only way to get my questions answered (and impress my friends at the same time ) is to strap on a metallic pant suit and grab a glass ball or two.  You’re welcome, future boyfriends.

Yes, you are seeing a man cup a woman’s va-jay on a shopping bag. WTF?

Is this a brilliant scheme to get men to the malls, or the idea of a drunken frat boy that somehow caught on?

Regardless of voice quality though, her clothing (and I state the following with the full knowledge that I sound like my Nana) is highly indecent. If Ali’s sole purpose this half hour was to expose as much flesh as possible, she beyond succeeded. I’m talking more copious amounts of mid-driff than usual people. In one scene she actually wears what I believe to be a short, Lycra unitard. After I stopped laughing at my use of the word unitard, I pondered how she manages not to suffocate her vagina.

All thoughts of Ali Lohan’s vajay aside, I snapped back to reality (television, that is) to see a Chris Crocker look alike stalking Dina at the gym. Turns out he’s a choreographer. After checking out his myspace page, DiLo calls him and for some reason feels the urge to say “Yes it’s really me,” and agrees to check out his moves at the Pearl. This is the beginning of what I believe to be a beautiful and staged relationship between a gay man and hetero woman.

Obviously Dina must test his talents by dancing with him personally before declaring that it’s up to Ali, and they should meet. I’m not sure why Ali needs a choreographer at this point, but her impending success must have inspired Dina to live vicariously through another one of her daughters again.

So Dina wants Ali and the Dancing Queen to meet, so she can check out their “chemistry”. To me, it seems like Dina is trying to force another overage companion on her daughter in the form of this choreographer. Ali really has no friends her own age. Not once since the mean girls incident have I even seen her interact with any other 14 year olds. Yet Dina is determined to find people who really and truly understand Ali. Um, why not go to Abercrombie or a Miley Cyrus concert? I think your target audience may be a little more accessible?

While the search for another kindred soul to Ali’s “artiste” persona is on, Cody wonders what his mom looks like while she’s dancing. I have no clue who inspired such madness or horror (joking, joking Dina boo) in my adorable dreamboat, but he is determined to see his mom back in action. He flyers the whole hotel with posters of his mom’s impromptu dance recital to draw an audience to her meeting with “Ali’s” choreographer.

Naturally, Dina acts totes modest/embarrassed at what Cody’s done. However she gives it away by emitting an ethereal, orangey glow of happiness. Wait, that’s her Mystic. But she’s still f*cking escatic. She obliges, heats up the stage and works those platinum extensions! She is pretty damn good, I must agree with Cody, but I highly highly doubt that routine wasn’t pre-choreographed– Rockette or not, she was working those splits a little too easily.

Now that Dina has fulfilled her attention quota for this episode, the focus (sorta) shifts back to Ali. The Maloofs throw her a going away party, to celebrate her finished recording stint in LV. The toast her career, she toasts Dina’s support, I toast the fact that she’s wearing a demure black shift that is sophisticated yet not slutty. Then the fam packs up and peaces out of the Palms in true LoClan style: via pimp green Escalade.

Back at home, Ali resumes her role as moody whiner as she has second thoughts about the reception of her upcoming cd– especially while she’s still label shopping. She talks to her contact at Maloof about her impatience while waiting for the results of her final productions. Meanwhile, Dina has reprised her role as momager extraordinaire, while she simultaneously tries to explain to her daughter the importance of not rushing things, or forcing them, and taking them slow (good luck with that one) and promoting Ali’s blossoming, um, career.

Oh, the conflict never ceases to amaze me–nor do you Dina my love.

Next week: Dina and Michael confirm that Ali is a bratty douchebag after she gets all pouty face about screen testing for a man who looks like a troll and is… making a movie about trolls.