Final BachCapette: The Season That Wasn’t

Even in great seasons of this show, it’s human nature to complain about how it could have been better. Never before have I not been able to use the level of hyperbole needed to explain what a total systematic failure of bad television this season was.

This was like waking up early to go to brunch, waiting five hours for a table, being served a plate of rats and then when you complain about it, the waiter farts in your face and says something racist.

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That’s this season.

This season was like going to a car wash and instead of water and soap cascading across your car, the jets just spray pig’s blood and then when you get out to complain sorority girls cover you in honey and feathers and circle your body parts that aren’t eating-disordery enough.

If you guys can’t deliver a season that even vaguely resembles this show, I am not delivering a final post that resembles my blog. It’s been a struggle for years now to continue to do the BachCaps because it’s hard to get up for it. I do it because I like my readers and I enjoy making you guys laugh. I’m like a magic web pixie that is fed by coffee being spit on coffee monitors.

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But I am really, really debating walking away because this wasn’t the Bachelor. It wasn’t theatre. It wasn’t bad theatre. It was a chef pretending he didn’t burn your steak beyond recognition and thinking we’re too dumb to notice. YOU SAID WELL DONE. I did Bachelor people. I did.

So, questions.

What really happened? Can the creators of UnReal jump in and shed some light for me because like a kid with superheroes, I want to believe.

We have fantasy suites before hometowns. The hometowns don’t involve the actual hometowns. They involve Utah. One fucking helicopter. Pretending the final episode is somewhere tropical but it’s really fifteen minutes from the mansion. The final episode being at the mansion. No extreme dates. Perpetual Ireland. Nick making it to the final.

I like to think Harrison just went out of control and lost it and the net result was a lack of planning. I read somewhere that an Argentina trip fell through. Argentina harbored Nazis after WWII and even they wouldn’t let this awful season through the border. My wife just closed the browser.

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There’s a reason you only get fifteen minutes of fame. That reason is people like Nick whose effing mother came to the damn After the Final Rose. My mom stopped coming to see my band play after high school and didn’t start again just because we got a couple songs on TV or were on the radio. There’s just an age where you have to to Pepsi LIVE FOR NOW.

This poor guy. He’s trying so hard to be whatever the hell he is trying to be. And the worst part is by the end I think he was actually the more interesting choice.

This season created a love triangle between:

  1. A Canadian who is afraid of birds but has two bird tattoos.
  2. A man who looks like Alf and has a 65 IQ.
  3. A two time runner up who came back on the show because it’s better than crying while researching bespoke lapel carnations online and pretending to like “guy stuff”.

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Not done.

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I mean, this season made True Detective Season Two look like Shawshank. Give me one good reason to watch this next season. Just one. I swear, I may make like Avicii and fade into darkness right about now.

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There is not a ton more to say. In the end, something got broken this season and we never got to find out why. Kaitlyn seemed so fun, but somehow she was the least fun person ever. She had some goofy dudes and a solid villain or two, but it never happened. We didn’t get all the things we have come to love about this unloveable show. It wasn’t escapist TV. It was an escape act, the producers trying to make it seem like the ship wasn’t capsizing and dragging out the world’s most miserable season.

I had high hopes after the Farmer’s season because it had all the elements of the show that we appreciate, but also had a great twist. Living in a small town that doesn’t have a Starbucks. That was taking the game forward. Yeah, turns out he’s a right wing farmland slumlord who was doing this for publicity. I don’t care. I assume they all will fail at this. But I expect a good ride.

In a helicopter.

Instead, I feel comforted only by the Timbers and the fact I get to drink, jump and swear and dance in smoky stadiums like a hooligan.

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There’s the playoff race for the Dodgers. USC starts soon. Arsenal takes on the premier league. You can almost hear the air coming out of Brady’s deflated balls. So much to embrace.

The problem is, I normally leave feeling like the Bachelor returning in the new year is something to look forward to. Now, I’m skeptical.

Sorry.

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BachCapette 9 – WILL THIS SHOW NOT DIE

Before I start, how stoked are you that Pumpkin Spice lattés are back at Starbucks? Sure, it’s the kind of blazing hot summer that makes you positive global warming isn’t a strong enough term (GLOBAL BURNPOCALYPSE™), but Starbucks brought it back early. We’re all ready for it, who cares if it’s normally a fall thing. If we did everything correctly in an order that made sense, I’d probably still cook my chicken before I ate it. Finally our coffee flavorings have jumped the season like that guy in your high school who is really excited about his new leather jacket even though it’s still August. That guy was totally Nick, by the way.

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Look, I’m making a point. There’s a reason we like hometown dates before fantasy suites. There’s a reason we like extreme dates and exotic locales. And helicopters, god, the helicopters. Remember them?

We’ve been stuck in Ireland for what feels like two months at this point. Let’s be clear. This show has managed to get to the final two with a travel itinerary that was limited to Texas and Ireland. God, that’s like the bottom of the barrel right there. I mean, her travel plans are literally the licorice flavored Jujyfruits. They are there to only get eaten when there’s no other option. It’s like every other location banned the show. Remember going to places like Panama City? Africa?

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Crap, I think they went to NYC too, which I love (as you know from my Instagram), but that was probably because Chris Harrison had a book tour stop and had to bring his garbage with him.

Back in ENDLESS IRELAND™, Leave It To Beaver goes on a half-assed horse riding date in a sweater he bought off-camera. He’s a nice guy, but he’s going to get sent home and you knew it because Kaitlyn does not want someone to care for her, she wants a bully or a poodle.

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I don’t even want to comment on this date because it was a waste of time. Nothing Beav said was gonna make a difference. I just hope he got a little fun in because otherwise he may literally have to go home, learn to be an asshole and continue the vicious cycle of women wanting a nice guy, rejecting nice guys, falling in love with assholes and then being older and single because eventually the nice guys marry younger girls who will settle for “older” instead of “total prick” – My wife just closed the browser.

The next date was with Gosleech and it was golf themed. Anything to not have to leave the property, guys. I just hope they paid the parking meters. Cheap asses.

Gosleech dressed in a hot pink and electric blue ensemble that was SOOOOO EMBARRASSING save the fact that it’s how every asshole on the PGA Tour dresses already.

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I’m sure at some point someone Googled this and that’s why they convinced Gosleech to get naked for no reason at all and run around holding his junk. I just enjoyed that he wears Pro Combat tights as underwear in case a game of football breaks out randomly. I get it. You are a trainer. I’m an advertising executive. I don’t dress like this under my normal clothes:

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Gosleech drank more beer again and then Kaitlyn, who is very turned on by the idea a bully and a high school girl are fighting over her, decided to ask about why he doesn’t like Nick. We had to hear more about Eskimo brothers, which is the dumbest term I ever heard.

One love. We’re all eskimo brothers in some way. And sisters. Especially if you are a creationist.

In the morning, Nick was waiting to Glenn Close Gosleech outside the room and despite “not wanting to talk”, they go inside together and say more nothing at all.

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Gosleech is so dumb it hurts and Nick, well, Nick is a little girl minus the part about being cute and fun to listen to talk. I blacked out in the middle of Gosleech repeating sentences that were vaguely like, “I came over and came clean and made it right and said I think you aren’t here and people know why you are or aren’t and I don’t have time for you bro I’d rather be anywhere than right here with you because you aren’t even anything you fancy slick smooth talker”.

Smooth talker?

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Nick talks like he’s eating cotton balls, looks around like a little girl shy in front of a firefighter and speaks in the kind of instagram quotes you expect from people who will eventually resort to manual labor.

Maybe it’s because his instagram feed has these:

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OMG. GO HOME.

We’re talking about a bully in Gosleech who can’t speak poorly arguing with this guy in a Tequila Mockingbird shirt he is super proud of:

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Nick is the worst endorsement for Chicago since the 1903 fire.

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Anyway, at the rose ceremony, Kaitlyn freaks out presumably because she is dressed like a stripper fighting her way out of a tangerine. Also, every time she dresses skimpier, we find eight more tattoos. I’m terrified her whole butt is a map of the mountain ranges of Canada.

Well, not terrified.

She cuts Ben down and he’s a gentleman about it. He’s back to wherever to do well at work, respect women, wear slightly too big oxfords and probably enjoy drinking IPA (whiskey is a little crazy for him).

There’s a weird bro down with Nick and his technicolor DREAM SUIT™ and Gosleech, who still can’t tie a fucking tie. HERE:

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Off to magical… Utah?

Wait. Hometown dates are all at one hotel in Utah during the offseason? For no reason they will tell us? We’re just not going to people’s homes? Are Peppermint Mochas back already? COME ON ALREADY.

Nick’s family is just as Twilight as the last time we met them. His mother, who FUCKING LOVES™ Robin Wright in House of Cards just starts crying immediately, further proving the insane emotional damage Nick received the last time on this show. That said, she sure doesn’t have a problem with him pathologically being on the show.

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SCARE UNDERWOOD!

Anyway.

This whole family (minus Bella who I am leaving alone minus that she was totes named after Twilight) clearly went to a Magnificent Mile style advisor or something. Everyone was dressed as the sitcom version of an archetype. I particularly loved 80s Keyboard Player brother and the brother whose clothing didn’t really fit but Nick told him he couldn’t be seen DEAD in the West Loop without wearing all-over print with piping down the front.

Everyone seems to like Kaitlyn. Maybe because her eyes and mouth move in multiple directions when she gets exciting. That’s exciting I guess.

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Nick says he loves her in the worst way ever. I’m sterile now. My line ends. It’s so Game of Thrones. Starks no longer can rule the north because Nick made me sterile. He was like I love you like this:

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And Kaitlyn was so basic being like:

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Then Nick was like:

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Because inside, he’s like this:

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I just sat there like my homie Bill:

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Gosleech brought his family out and it was so boring I figured it might be why they brought the show to Utah. He told her he loved her. Great.

1 Helicopter. 0 Asian markets. 59 Nick outfit changes. 0 extreme dates.

LA. NYC. TEXAS. IRELAND. UTAH.

Thanks.

See you in two weeks for the finale. Thank god football is back soon.

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BachCapette 8: Nightmare Suites

This entire season feels like the scene in Interstellar when McConnaughy is just floating in 4D dusty bookshelf land trying to make contact with the real world through a rip in time and space and against the will of his audience, his daughter, because he’s been an unreliable father.

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YOU ARE THE UNRELIABLE FATHER, CHRIS HARRISON.

And you didn’t even bring this thing along.

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I love you, bud. Your suit and tie game is second to none. I’ve said on many occasions we’d likely be buds. I’ll get hopped up and be your wingman on an epic cougar hunt at Padri in Agoura Hills right near the mansion. Mothers love me. Just ask my high school friends.

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But you gotta do me a solid, bud. You gotta get this trainwreck back on course. Stop putting lipstick on a pig and butcher some new swine.

You could have made this whole season one episode. You could have spent the entire budget that was wasted putting whatever girl is in whatever Carl’s Jr ad that comes out next in near-space like they did to that other girl that was in a Carl’s Jr ad.

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Let’s be clear. This season’s travel itinerary looks like it was done by mistake by a drunk sorority girl planning a semester abroad. How high were the production team members when they concepted AGOURA HILLS -> SAN ANTONIO -> IRELAND.

What?

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Real quick. Bryce Dallas Howard or Jessica Chastain?

Guys, I could hang with the obscure format if the payoff was actually worth it. God, I’ve defended this show through thick and thin. I watched the time you had BRAD FUCKING WOMACK do a second season. You recycled compost and used it as compost.

But as we said in film school… Whatever, I didn’t pay attention. The point is you have ten minutes of content, a gullible Canadian leading lady who is more boring than we thought, and you are stretching this thing out to the point we can see through it like prosciutto from a very, very good butcher.

Unless Gosleech and The Other Guy get in helicopters and battle to the death with missiles and emo-tears, this season is lost.

WE’VE HAD MORE DATES IN IRISH PUBS THAN DATES ON HELICOPTERS.

I don’t think I can remember a season where anything other than the classic, and now much missed, STROLL THROUGH ASIAN MARKET™ have outnumbered helicopter dates.

This season is so messed up, there’s a half-living fetus of a season that exists only in the credits where Britt and a dude we knew for seven minutes of airtime dressed like he’s going to some honky tonk nineties rock ashram are dating and now going long distance.

Dude. SO LONG DISTANCE™. We’re done.

So, since I should try to discuss this episode, Leave it to Beaver did great. He’s a really nice guy who will probably lose, be the next Bachelor and be so damn boring. Look, in real life, date him. Be his friend. Make him drink one too many beers (prolly, what, 4?) and watch him take his shirt off and sing songs from his fraternity bus rides to invites. Great. Can’t wait for New Year’s and a new season. I’d try to OD on something right now just to get out of thinking about it, but all I have is some Whole Foods Cape Cod Trail Mix. Fuck today.

Nick continued being the grossest dude on the planet. I can’t even watch him. He just giggles, whispers, says nothing and plans how he can make dolls out of your hair.

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He’s Cool Ethan from Slackers.

Attention is fun girls. So are Oreos until you eat enough of them and you literally can’t even look at the package anymore and then avoid the cookie aisle all together, start seeing a juice cleanse, posting it to Instagram to piss off Oreos and always wonder when Oreos is going to come back and cut your face off and wear it as a hat.

That’s Nick. Know how I know? He told a girl on national television she “made love to him” and then cried and then CAME BACK ON THE SHOW.

I’m pissed at Gosleech too. They wind this dude up on Guinness (because we never leave Ireland ever, it’s like we’re all fucking leprechauns and it’s just NOT ALLOWED™), finally tell him about the gross NickLoveMaking™ and what does he do? Come over in the middle of the day and get into a verbal pillow fight. Nick definitely called his homely best friend girl out there and was like “I totes took him down, so whatever” –

And then the show was like TO BE CONTINUED. I was like I HUNG UP AN HOUR AGO.

I felt bad when Creepin’ Hawke went home. Make him shave and let him be the new Bach. Homeboy was a class act and his only crime was not being the kind of clinger that vaguely looks like Alf and Gosling’s child or the kind that looks like Peter MacNicol.

Or, you know, just find a civilian girlfriend.

[fart noise]

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BachCapette 7: Endless Fever Dream

I tend to defend the chaos of this show just because in the end, we go to the toilet to see a shit show. My wife just closed the browser. Early. World record.

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The thing is, this year, we’ve lost the format so much, we’ve forgone so much world travel, so much hijinx… The show just kind of sucks. And I think they know it.

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They know it because they are blending episodes into episodes, giving up on traditions that have made this the Saturday Night Live of ruining your personal life.

Instead, we’re now on WEEK EFFING THREE™ of NICKGATE™. And look, it was interesting she slept with him and seemed to be honest about it, but they go and ruin that by dragging it out for three damn weeks. It’s like watching a football game where they play eight games of checkers before going to overtime. I’m wondering what the point is. I used to have fun hangovers from this show from drinking because I was laughing and holding court. Now I just sort of drink SILENTLY & VIOLENTLY™ in the corner and then skulk to bed to let unconsciousness suck me into the underworld.

Let’s get the dates out of the way before we talk about the Gosleech/PeterMacNicol situation, which is really all that happened.

JJ and The Man With The Dented Forehead went on a 2:1 elimination date. They went to a cliff. They drank some whiskey. JJ tried the move that worked ALL THE TIME™ in high school. It’s a tried and true method involving coming off like you are this arrogant prick high on the confidence that can only come from have a huge gap in your teeth and the ability to tuck your shirt in before buttoning it (did you see that?). Phase two of this method is telling a girl that you don’t know that well that you cheated on your ex and ruined your life because that’s pretty HAWT™. Just ask any girl.

She’s not your therapist, pal. She’s also not going to be your wife. Auf Wiedersehen.

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For some odd reason, Canada makes Oh Forehead, How Dent Thou stick around. He’s pretty cool I guess. He comes from where bourbon and baseball bats come from. And he’s going home next week, so whatever. Or maybe in a month. Not sure when they are planning to do another rose ceremony.

The other solo date was with Creepin’ Hawke, who by virtue of this shitshow is turning candidate simply because even his WANDERING FACIAL HAIR™ can’t hide the fact he’s a lot more interesting than one half of the dudes, and far less clinger than at least two of the other ones.

They go on a road trip. They kiss the blarney stone. They make out. ROSÉ ALL DAY.

Now let’s get to the point. Peter MacNicol wants to tell the world about his sex with Kaitlyn, only she doesn’t want him to, because truly, it’s embarrassing to sleep with a guy like him. I’m not slut shaming (we’ll get there). I’m all for sex. Just not with the under-villain in Ghostbusters II.

Gosleech is stone cold buggin’ and being fed a lot of beer. He goes to confront Kaitlyn about what the promos led us to believe is the SECRET COITUS™, but in reality, it’s about some dumb off-camera interaction where she told him “he’s the one” –

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WE REMEMBER AMANDA BYNES.

Anyway, Kaitlyn is so relieved that all this interrogation is just in regards to the offscreen chat and NOT the fact she slept with the cross between a ferret and a pipe cleaner that she tries to reassure him by basking him in her relief. Only, then she goes high and mighty with him. We call this GETTING CAUGHT IN A LIE™.

So for the rest of the episode, it’s a million tantric close, but nope, moments including a weird talk with Nick where he starts crying after talking about sex. The dude honeydicks people. See The Interview. Straight honeydicking. All day. But then afterwards, he’s crying, he’s asking why you made love, he is a time bomb made up of tears, windbreakers, fluffy hair and lifetime movies. RUN.

So let’s fast forward to the resolution. Chris Harrison comes in (in a radical tie) and just kind of tells Kaitlyn the fact she slept with Nick is throwing the show off. She needs OFF CAMERA TIME™ with EVERYONE™ before the hometowns. What?

Is the show slut shaming her now? Are they 100% sure she will sleep with everyone? Was she freaking out so much that maybe if it comes out after fantasy suites, it will be okay? Are they all so dumb as to forget they will see the show and know about this? What the hell is going on? They would NEVER do this with a dude. Period. I have to hope it’s Kaitlyn wanting this in some messed up GIRL LOGIC™ or I just feel gross. Like eating sushi that’s been out too long in the sun (I go to a lot of yacht-based events, it’s a real life hazard for me, you couldn’t wear my topsiders, my life is hell).

So now, we’re dragging this out another week. We’re still not leaving Ireland. I am not even going to talk about Cupcake’s ridiculous helicopter therapy session date where he thought for one second about tossing his mint green toothpasted carcas off the cliffs.

The mariachi date feels long removed, doesn’t it. My gut is she is a hot mess backstage and somehow we’re going to need to speed up or I’m losing patience.

Adios to Captain America. Probably the last dude on the show that I’d let drink whiskey with me. If you are reading this, beers?

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BachCapette Six: Oops.

This is not going to follow any standard format because frankly if the show can decide to run an episode that starts at the previous week’s cocktail party and stops before the third date the following week, THERE ARE NO RULES.

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Full Package just went batshit. I don’t know how in his head the producers got, but it seemed fairly balls deep. He went off on Kaitlyn for being shallow, being classless and not liking him. I mean, did he mention he went to Princeton? That’s a hell of an ad for Princeton, right?

Let’s break this idiot down. He says he is too good for this show, but he’s on the show. He is in no way desperate for women, but he put his life down to go on a dating show. He went to Princeton, but he’s not clever enough to resist the producers prodding him to demand being the next Bachelor. He’s more cerebral than all of us, but he ends his sign off with him needing to get some sex. Exactly what Kaitlyn wasn’t supposed to do.

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Naturally, to be the Bachelorette, you need to be a little more insecure than most of us and so Kaitlyn starts to spin a little bit, but it doesn’t stop her from throwing out so perfectly usable Ahi Kuna and whoever else.

As quickly as they are gone, she’s turnt for DUBLIN, IRELAND. No one more than Nick, who gave me 1.5 hours of television that went a long way to explaining any potential future diagnosis of being sterile. This guy is a virus on society. They need to get him help. We’ll get there in a minute.

Nick is just the most grateful dude to be out of his job again for a moment and on TV again. He needed another 15 minutes of fame. He is, to me, like a friend of a friend’s toddler who gets brought to dinner one night and you are all ready to leave and he’s like 15 minutes more. More. MOAR.

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And it’s not the worst thing in the world. You like kids. I mean, it’d be better if this was your friend’s kid, not your friend of a friend who you didn’t REALLY want to come, but look, being judgy sucks. You can put up with this toddler. You might have a toddler someday and you’d want other people to put up with them. Only then you realize fuck that. I’M READING THE ROOM™. No one cares about my kid. I don’t care about yours. I’m leaving because the parking meter is running out and I’m losing my buzz and frankly, when I have a toddler, I’m putting them in a belltower and turning them into a fairy tale character. I’ll even name them Aesop (the storyteller, not the fantastic skin care line for men and women). My wife just closed the browser.

But Nick’s still here. He’s got 7.6 minutes left. Just ask him.

Here’s the deal with Nick, because that’s all this episode really was. It was a Nicksplosion that made me feel dirty. Before we can understand Nick, understand this. He looks like Peter MacNicol. More than Peter MacNicol does even. Prepare to never look at him the same way again. (you will have to look at him again because I’d bet all the farm land in Iowa that he’s on Paradise).

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Look away. I dare you. Put him in a tight blazer with an unnecessary bepsoke flower lapel he stole from an off-Williamsburg production of the Music Man and it’s MacNicol. All he needs is a creepy painting to worship.

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He stares at the producers the whole time like there are cue cards and he hits on girls in the lowest form there is. There’s all kinds of dudes, but this dude is the kind I hate the most. He’s the standard overbearing dude who cleans up for a hot second because a lot of girls are used to mixed messages. He rolls in, says I AM INTO YOU, YOU MAKE ME LOSE CONTROL and then just kisses you and avoids saying anything else. Anyone read Gone Girl?

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Wow, they even shop at the same library in Nantucket.

Dude, maybe the producers cut every real line out and I recognize how frusterating it must be to be on this show without final cut. But same time, I know Peter MacNicol when I see him.

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So, there was only one way Nick was going to be about this and Kaitlyn is insecure enough to fall for it. It makes me sad because I don’t think she’s a bad person. It makes me sad there’s pretty girls in the world that just want a dude to be clear with them. Nick can come in like the Peter MacNicol version of a romantic comedy, rip off Arie’s wall kiss deal and make it work. We all want to be wanted. But at what cost.

So when the date went, well I don’t know, they made out in front of an old Irish man just trying to drink which to me is more disrespectful than farting in church, because old Irish dudes trying to get drunk at noon in Dublin are the angels of my religious beliefs.

They get back and Nick is like:

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And they have sex.

And here’s where the narrative is going to deviate because what really pisses me off is how many people are going to slut shame Kaitlyn for this.

And they shouldn’t. It’s the worst thing just about that goes on with this show (beyond the fear of diversity).

She had every right to do what she wanted, I respect her for being honest and not hiding from what probably always goes down on the show. There’s nothing “slutty” about having sex on a date. Look in the mirror, Murica.

That said, she ain’t too clever. It’s the choice of who. It’s the falling for a man who brought back a dead warlord in a painting back from the dead by attempting to sacrificing Sigourney Weaver’s baby and causing a river of evil slime to take over New York.

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The fact that disturbed me the most is how in the morning (you bastard bearer of regret!), Kaitlyn is worried Nick is going to tell all the dudes about what she did. She was just saying she trusted him. If you think the dude you are with is going to gossip to a bunch of dudes who hate him about something that will likely make them hate you, YOU DON’T TRUST HIM.

It’s nice to feel wanted. That’s why that geneticist created Labradoodles.

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The next date is at the Guiness plant and Creepin’ Hawke does great and gets a rose. But Gosleech freaks out. And now he’s heading to confront Kaitlyn in what has been a 13 part 6 episode season. I feel like I’m on mushrooms.

Let’s get this moving.

 

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BachCapette Cinco: San Anbronio

We start at the end. Only it’s not like this is Memento or a wonderfully flawed time-travel movie, it just seems like half way thru editing each episode they can’t decide if this is THE MOST™ dramatic episode of the Bachelorette ever or if they should rip a few more tubes and just finished cutting the episode at the last minute. “Bruh, this stuff is sticky and it kind of makes me think we should skip the rose ceremony AGAIN and talk about Kaitlyn and how she looks like an animated starfish.”

The thing is. This is no joke. Chris Harrison did not even show up this episode. I’d like to believe he just took the helicopter from last week and went down Mexico way to mule some horse, but in reality, IS HE TRAPPED IN TIME/SPACE?

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So we kicked off the meat of this episode with a sausage party back at the hotel. Fuzzy Nick was rolling in wearing his fake windbreaker (windfaker™?) and the dudes are sitting around like:

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I mean, is there anything more sad than Nick? He says it in his patented YOUR EX-GIRLFRIEND TRAPPED IN THE BODY OF A MAN™ way. He was bored as hell in Chicago and he was willing to cutesy text with a gullible Canadian for several WHOLE MONTHS™ to get back on TV in the hopes to rid himself of the awful feeling of being the guy who got BEAT UP™ in high school and also PROBABLY NOW™ too.

He is willing to come into a room with a bunch of meatheads glaring at him arranged in some formation that was the direct center between a congressional hearing and the last supper.

Then, he is forced to answer questions so specific, you’d think they all were bloggers themselves. I mean, hell. I have to read another recap while writing this to even remember what happened that wasn’t a helicopter. They were all like “in episode eight of Andi’s year when you were looking out the window with your hair looking like a troll doll with a new job interview hair cut, why’d you say Prague was a romantic city, huh brah?”

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Wow. I mean, I pay (some) attention (attentionesque™) to this show for PURE ADULATION™ from you people. I know I need constant praise or I will die. I’m like Superman (or Wall-E) to the sun with my ego. I admit that.

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Nick just needs to be back on TV because life doesn’t matter if you aren’t on TV. That is sad. This play to be the next Bachelor or to just get a ride on Bachelor in Paradise. Sigh. It makes me feel awful. Nick? He’s like:

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Nick’s responses were the basic bitch kind. She’s a cool chick. Oh yeah? Does she like dope music? Is this club going up? Is it Tuesday?

Hey Nick. Go home and put on some clothes.

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So, in assbackwardsland™ we head to the rose ceremony and Chris Harrison hides from space and time. This ceremony is at Citi Field, home of the NY Mets, who I grew up a fan of before I moved to LA and found the Dodgers like Scientologists find thetans.

I don’t know why they are there. I do know that Gosleech is pissed that he’s not the only Gosleech for her. I know Longbottom carried her around the bases, which will probably be one of the last happy memories he has before the producers let him go home. In the end, without Clint, he’s lost.

Death Cab for Douchie got sent home and some other people I forget. All I know is it looked really, really cold. So cold this became an indoor date. I can’t imagine the “luxury suite in Queens” date was the intention.

Nick looked so sad when they told him the “warm” date was San Antonio. He was hoping for something tropical. DUDE. YOU WENT TO VENICE AND THEY ALL SAW YOUR LEATHER JACKET LAST YEAR. Let it go.

The date is a two step dance contest and Leave It To Beaver is the date. He’s kind of boring. He’s nice. He’s good looking. He’s going to end up losing for being a good guy. Him and Dan Captain America should start a start up of dudes you go to once you are done getting kicked around by confusing, sexually ambiguous guys like Nick.

He blew her expectations out of the water. What that means, I don’t know. Her expectations are amphibious.

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The next date was a mariachi date. The kid who comes out in the beginning was the man. The rest of the show was an exercise in patented BACHELORACISM™.

It’s not so much that exploiting mariachi singers is racist, it’s the way dudes from places like Kuna handle this. It always ends up a bad Speedy Gonzalez impression. I’m from LA. This stuff isn’t exotic. It’s home.  AND WHEN YOU SING LIKE THAT IT RUINS MY CULTURAL MEMORIES LIKE THIS GUY DID TO THE PEOPLE ON PANDORA:

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Fuck that guy.

Princeton Guy got a little intense in his studying and then flopped like a Spanish soccer player. Nick won by being Nick, and going up with Canada to a balcony to sing and dance for the cameras and Katilyn happened to be there too.

It got weird that night when Ahi Kuna decided by way of grain alcohol and sadistic producers to let Kaitlyn shave half of his head. Sweet. He then decided to throw Nick under the bus which led to another GUYS I WANT YOU ALL TO LIKE NICK LIKE I DO speech and I tried to commit bloggercide by chewing on the batteries in my tv remote. Didn’t work.

The dudes all said whatever bro, go home, you’re drunk. Poor Ahi Kuna. He kept it real but didn’t realize you DON’T DO THIS…

Unless you are a Gosleech, who did the same thing and got a 1:1 date.

The Gosleech date was fine. They kayaked and he told her he was in a crazy car accident that missed all his Gosling features. He seems alright. He said he’s falling in love with her and she reciprocated. Appreciate the honesty.

But to keep score.

You can’t talk shit about Nick. Unless you vaguely look like Ryan Gosling. In which case, I love you.

In the tradition of no rose ceremonies, we were treated to some genuine weirdness with Princeton, who is the TOTAL PACKAGE™ – or just a total tool. I liked this guy, but somehow he went rogue and just listed off that he’s perfect, went to Princeton, girls love him, he should be the Bachelor.

At this point, unless he and Nick start hooking up, I’m bored. But he decides to call Kaitlyn a floozy and she doesn’t like it because he doesn’t vaguely look like Ryan Gosling. Or isn’t Nick.

Maybe Chris Harrison can return from space and sort it out.

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BachCapette 4: Nick’s Fuzzy Haired Return

For a show that has no problem having random “most dramatic two night co-premiere in Bachelor history” events, they somehow cannot fit a rose ceremony into an episode. Is there some wild insights team mandating every episode end like a chapter from a tween novel?

Clint told her that he loved her, but he had a secret she didn’t know. He didn’t love anything. All he cared about was his horrible, horrible secret…

Hey, take it easy Twilight Toes. STOP. Or STAHP.

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So, Kaitlyn picks up where she left off, blindly listening to a bunch of strangers she’s made out with. She takes Bill MAAHAHRHRR to task for something, probably being a liar and all of that. He seems confident he won’t get burned alive like a sick child on Game of Thrones (too soon?)

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The beginning of Kaitlyn’s killing off of Clint was no big shock, the sentiment the Clint was sad to leave Neville Longbottom was obvious, but the details of Clint’s exit? NEWSFLASH™.

Possibly realizing he could get caught sleeping with the enemy, Longbottom decides he’s GOING ROGUE™. He decides that guess what – Clint needs to apologize for wasting everyone’s time. I mean, who involved with this show doesn’t. But specifically, his best friend ever on earth, his Bronies Bro, needs to apologize. Clint was in shock. He’d expect this from a girl he was tryna date. But from his one true someone?

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Clint and Longbottom have a very odd, very “are-they-gonna-makeout” argument that covers a lot of things including fashion – specifically – the super masculine “your tie and shirt don’t match” argument – which I agreed with. When Longbottom tried to get his ex-husband back, Clint peaced out leaving his former friend to cry REAL TEARS™ without so much as a chance to say goodbye.

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No rose ceremony. Just a trip to New York City, home of salsas not made by Pace.

The first date was a rap battle with Doug E. Fresh who we were all stoked to see was still alive. There was nothing worse than watching these guys not be able to come anywhere near riding a flow. The good news is that if we needed further confirmation that Bojack Horseman is not even close to Gosling, he was the worst rapper ever and hid behind “I like Jason Aldean” as an excuse. Jason Aldean probably can freestyle. Garth Brooks and the guy Garth Brooks pretended to be for a while can freestyle. I mean, it’s a conversation about rhythm. Fucking elementary school teachers who write dope rhyming posterboards for their classrooms probably have some flow.

Don’t fucking hide behind Jason Aldean.

Jason-Aldean

Don’t hide behind his dad body. Don’t hide behind his hideous mix of motorcycle couture and puka shell necklaces. Don’t hide behind his pirate hoop earring, bro. You can’t even hide behind his straw cowboy hats OR his leather ones. YOU CAN SETTLE FOR A ONE NIGHT RODEO, Bojack.

This blog. It just made me learn about Jason Aldean. STOP READING PLEASE SO MY EGO LET’S ME WALK AWAY.

In other news, a reader pointed out that it’s not Bojack Horsemen that this Gosling Leech (Gosleech? GOSLEECHING™?) . It might be Alf:

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At the “battle” that was won by no one, not even the viewers, Nick from Andi’s season was planted in the crowd. Apparently he’s been moonlighting as SEXT OFFENDER™ with Kaitlyn. I can only imagine the endless string of “I wish I wuz on ur season” and “shud we do bach in paradise 2gether?” texts this PONZI™ sent her. And guess what? It works on Canadians. Hide your circular bacon.

Anyway, Nick tries to worm his way onto the show and Kaitlyn is freakishly into him. His hair looks like that weird cashmere sweater your 2nd favorite grandma work. As Michael Cera said in blog favorite “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” – “I asked for the Ellen Degeneres cut” – which isn’t even accurate now because Ellen’s hair game is on fleek now. Nick has 1997 Ellen hair.

I don’t think Nick actually likes this girl. I think he realized life was more fun being talked about in the public eye than ridiculed in private life, which is what I am sure happens to the kind of guy that calls a girl out for sleeping with him on TV after being dumped, stalks her, and says the words “make love” in 2015 in public.

But he’s here, the dudes are ANGRY and Kaitlyn doesn’t care because he has really, really tight windbreaker jackets that break no wind because he unbuttons them basically all the way. The only wind this dude breaks are lonely farts.

Even LONELY FARTS™ don’t stop Kaitlyn from making out with him and giving him the kind of look that clearly explains “I’m not listening, I’m just accepting that you love me and we’re perfect” or in other words – GIRL DATING LOGIC™.

The dudes are all kind of dejected. Alf is thinking about eating a cat. It’s not going well. A rose gets handed out and even the dudes know it’s BS.

There was a one:one date with Creepin’ Hawke who combed his hair, but failed to fully stop the hair virus from spreading across his “beard-like area” – either way, compared to Nick, this guy is the coolest. They go to Met. Kaitlyn is amazed she could like anyone that isn’t Nick, proving again why she’s still single. In ultimate GIRL FASHION™, Kaitlyn asks Creepin’ Hawke about what he thinks about Nick. Kudos to him for being like I DON’T YO.

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Then… They went outside… And…

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HELICOPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And you KNOW they made out because they were in a magical air robot that makes dreams come true. Obviously.

HELICOPTER GETS THE ROSE.

The other group date was a Disney cross promo for Aladdin the musical which is still too soon for me with Robin Williams, but whatever, it’s a whole new world. See what I did there? My wife just closed the browser.

They had to audition to just walk through the background of some shot because despite being a singer and rapper, Kaitlyn is Canadian. Ottawa’s Broadway isn’t NYC’s. Fiddler on the Moose didn’t win the Tonys people expected it to. Or Molson of the Opera.

Ivy Leaguer proved the show’s racism in a way LL Tool J never could. He came out, sang incredibly well in a shockingly humble way. Did he win? Nope. Johnny Depp’s Willy Wonka won, but that was the producer’s wishes to see him in costume coming true. The did is so, so scary. If you are his dental patient, how do you feel about things now? Tooth not hurting as much anymore, is it?

We got to see MESA VERDE™ do a little hairstyling and dish out some advice. This was just so we’re turnt for Bach in Paradise. I am. Why not. At least that show is honest. We aren’t looking for “winners” – we want everyone to lose.

Again, we got no rose ceremony, just the arrival of Nick, who we’re all going to continue to hate because he is the worst kind of bachelor contestant. The kind that won’t let go.

 

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BachCapette THREE: Sumo Booty Blurs

Big week for Caitlyn, amirite?

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You never expect the Muppets.

I digress. BachCap?

So, maybe it’s the bourbon talking. No it’s not. Bourbon can’t talk or I’d have another best friend.

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But enough about me. This episode jumped the shark. Not saying in a bad way. But, there was this shark and the episode definitely jumped way the hell over it.

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I want to underscore the fact it’s now been a whole season without us having a damn rose ceremony during the same episode as the dates. Everything is to be continued, except this series unless they respect format. For a show that GOES CLEAR™ making you TRUST THE PROCESS™, they sure are doing everything in their power to not FOLLOW PROTOCOL™ or show me HELICOPTERS™.

That said, I enjoyed the hell out of this episode. Like David Letterman said when he saw Future Islands, “I’ll take all of that you got!”

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Kupah left. We covered it last week. He wanted to stay. He took his drink with him. Adios.

The first date was that perfect blend of barely veiled racism and cultural exploitation as the “heaviest Japanese person ever” and a champion sumo wrestler showed up to teach the dudes at the house how to fight in the ancient style of half-naked shoving.

In fairness, plenty of these dudes were in frats and speaking honestly, half-naked shoving is not just for sumo. Roll in at 3am on a Thursday to a frat when there’s one box of pizza bagels left in the industrial freezer and five dudes with midterms the next day.

SUMO!

While I legit belive Knoxville had a ball hanging out the entire time, can we just admit the special effects team went a little slap happy with the blurs? I mean, unless everyone on the show was an adult performer, we’re good with a wide angle.

In the end, this date was about Bill MARHAHRHHRHR proving he was a high school wrestler and just flipping dudes and it was also about Going Clear having a brief moment of rage followed by twelve full hours of hating himself for “showing aggression.”

I hated him for doing this so much:

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Ug. I didn’t even like posting that gif. It was a long segment.

He said some pretty amazing stuff about going to the zoo and that he had a child’s mind, a warrior’s heart and the soul of a gypsy. Who doesn’t bro. Stop being basic. We all have a warrior’s heart. We live in ‘Murica. Land of the Warrior Heart. Don’t front like you’re special. I don’t even order in restaurants. I walk in an pierce the server with my ice blue eyes and they innately know I have a warrior’s heart and in turn, they give me the finest meats and cheeses because they know I got the soul of a gypsy. I got an iPad and a cell phone too.

Meanwhile, someone actually went to Universal CityWalk and we got to see those exact people who are there midday and willing to stand in an outdoor mall watching non-celebs sumo fight. I did enjoy seeing Oh Canada fight and get twirled around.

After that I had no fucks to spare and ignored the rest of this date, especially the out of work actor who acted as the ring announcer who probably went home and told all his friends he “booked a pilot with ABC” – after 17 years living in LA, that stuff makes me cry. Like My Girl. MACUALAY WHY!?!?

My wife just closed the browser.

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In the end Bojack Horseman won by showing BARE MINIMUM COURTESY™ to Oh Canada when Bill MARHAHREHHR decided just to go rogue and not give a shit. Actually, let’s jump ahead to him and Neville Dongbottom’s bromance.

Look, I love how much Clint embraced being an asshole and the bromance metaphor. So much of that was clown shoes faker, but it was well crafted. With the right amount of whiskey and a bright colored pair of Chubbies, two really close guy friends aren’t much different than a really good couple.

Neville and MARHREHE made it hilarious for all of us at home, but not so much for Caitlyn I’m sure. Clint is becoming the WWE Champion of this show, and it’s not a surprise, he’s a wrestler.

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The next date is is a 1:1 with Captain America, who may be a little boring, but I am positive is the only dude I’d roll with. He’d make sure you got in a cab if you blacked out at a bar. He’d get the stage five clinger away from you if you were under attack. Ben is a homie and if Caitlin doesn’t marry him she’s risking getting kicked in the face by Bojack.

Their date is in some creepy warehouse that’s basically the film Saw. Ben says he wonders “what Chris Harrison is capable of” and the answer is ANYTHING™. Honestly, this date was the first time I think we got to see what the show would be like if he had free reign.

Let’s just be clear, this is a pretty fucked up extreme date by any standard. I’d like to think I have WHAT IT TAKES™ but I doubt I’d be super stoked to grab a clue in a puke-filled toilet wrapped with live snakes.

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They eventually get out of Jigsaw Harrison’s fever dream, make out a little and she calls him a MAN SODA™ to which I asked my wife if I was one of those. RESULTS INCONCLUSIVE™.

If anything, I’m more like Chris Harrison. Especially with my A+ suit game. Also I’m so tall. My wife disagrees citing I’m average height. I’m like:

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Captain America gets the rose. In a hot tub. But I don’t think there is sparks. He’s gonna be gutted in a fantasy suite. Just have that feeling.

Final date was teaching sex ed to elementary school kids. In the spirit of the constant shark jumping in this episode, let’s get real. These kids were actors. Some of them were probably like 24. They were the kids Chris Hanson used to catfish bad peeps on To Catch A Predator. I mean, they are at Pinecrest Elementary in the valley, which is where child actors come from. It’s also in a part of town that looks like a man leaping to his death to avoid watching this fake ass date:

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I mean, let’s pretend this is real for half a second. Can you imagine the PTA note? We want a bunch of dudes that are trying to get laid to explain sex with visual aids to your kids. NOPE. Also, how weird is it that words like intercourse and ejaculate get bleeped out? I am lost.

Anyway, Leave It To Beaver (for so many reasons now) wins by being pretty good at explaining sex to young actors and being generally likeable.

Of course, we don’t get a rose ceremony because Clint has to go all super-enemy again and the house turns on him. We end with Caitlyn prepping to confront him.

Whatever. We need a rose ceremony and a helicopter already. But I did have fun. THANKS.

Travelling on bidness next week to NYC so might be a day late on the post. Maybe not. Check twitter. Links below.

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BachCapette Week Deux: Underwater Brotography

Hope you had a great Memorial Day weekend. I spent mine in Bend, Oregon – the place I think Reese Witherspoon had sex with the guitar dude in Wild, but then again you can drink beer in theaters in Oregon so maybe I was projecting. In any event, I sure drank some beer in Bend. Get out there sometime. It’s a fun place to freak out in the forest and just like when I played Oregon Trail in elementary school – didn’t get dysentery. Big win.

Chris Harrison sat down with Canada and her TWIN BIRD™ technology on some nice patio and asked some questions about how Bratzny was doing, but like all of us, she didn’t actually care. What I cared about were two things. The first was the shot of Chris Harrison drinking a giant mason jar of clear liquid with lemons. Sparking water? Maybe. If you know him like I wish he’d let me (Vegas, Chris? I’ll leave my job to be your CMO of whatever you do, bro), you know that was Everclear with lemons in it. Let’s be clear. Harrison was planning to make limoncello for a wicked end of summer party at his crib that is like EDC and Coachella mixed into one and chilled into a jello shot sprinkled with cocaine, but he just couldn’t wait. He drank half-baked limoncello, which for those of you non-amateur mixologists, is just extremely high proof grain alcohol with some lemon peels in it.

In other news, while Kaitlin is adorable and one of the first Bachelorettes on this show that is worth competing for, when she gets excited all her features seem to move in adorably opposite directions like some kind of animated chameleon.

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Speaking of Bratzny, they put her up at the Hyatt in Westlake Village (don’t spring for the Four Seasons a block away or anything) where I enjoyed many a bar mitzvah back in the day. The dude who clearly moved to Nashville to hide from the fact his hometown remembers him as the dude who won Most Likely To Say “Don’t Cry, Girl” To A Girl Who Put Him In The Friendzone in high school showed up to save Bratzny from crying about “coming home” to her mom. She’s an actress from LA. She’s in Westlake Village. Coming home is probably a 40 minute car ride to Venice.

Anyway, this creeper just reminds me of the animated protagonist of Paranoid Android by radiohead:

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Never seen a man so committed to wearing his dad’s pajamas in public. He’s still wearing the beanie they put on him when he was born. His top is down to his knees and you could shoot a basketball through the neck hole. His sweatpants look like he took a dump in them. They are perfect together. Can you imagine a couple that would make you feel better about your life than them when they are next to you at brunch and you aren’t sure if they rolled out of bed or got ready to roll back into it. Please make this segment end.

The dudes are getting ready to go on a date which involves boxing. If I remember anything about Thailand, someone is going to get waxed like a record.

They train in some abandoned infomercial set that some poor bastards from the valley had to lug punching bags up to. Oh Canada looked cute in her boxing gear and thank Harrison they didn’t make her box or act like she’s some secret fight club member. She just watched.

Captain America, the former football player, looked proficient and Creepin’ Hawke’s facial hair (and chest hair) seem to grow in different directions every time they cut to him.

Laila Ali rolled in and in addition to being great looking and the daughter of the greatest boxer of all time, she also was the most badass lady boxer of all time. She would maul any of these dudes and if this show cared about me at all (or listened to Chris Harrison), she’d have fought them all and taught the world a thing or two about equal pay across gender lines because those boys would be writing checks that their asses can’t cash.

Ung. Boxing is awesome.

LL Tool J was super into boxing, but moreso, get got mad thirsty looking at Laila Ali.

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Oh Canada noticed and basically he was cut from the team.

The boxing began and Captain America and surprisingly, Creepin’ Hawke were straight cold cocking dudes. It was all set up for an epic showdown where Cap told Creep “don’t go easy on me” – which was code for I’m going to hit you so hard your beard starts growing in normal.

And basically the fight went like this:

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Creepin’ Hawke caught a rabbit punch and went OUT like a contestant sneaking time with the Bachelorette. Knuckle Sandwiches. OMNOMNOMNOM.

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BELIEVE IT. Actually, homeboy is my favorite so far. He had a tough life without his mom, used that fuel to play football and seems like a pretty gentle dude other than the fact he can kill things with his fists.

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The night date is going well except for the dude in a seersucker blazer and white pants who apparently has a furniture and design company. Yeah. SeerYouSucker more like it. Dude, go back to the carnival and hand me my giant stuffed monkey when I throw a ring on a bottle cap. KNOW YOUR ROLE™.

Somehow on this date, Oh Canada made out with everyone and we found out Creepin’ Hawke was still alive. Win-win.

The 1:1 date was with Bill MMAHAAAARRRRHHHHR. I had forgotten his portrait of Chris Harrison riding a triceratops and while he stole that from my condo, I forgive him because it is art the world needed to see.

They head to a very swanky Hollywood Hills pad based on the stellar view of downtown. Then the world’s oddest eastern European entrepreneur rolled out in a wetsuit with a full photography unit and said the hottest trend in Los Angeles is underwater couples photography.

THANK YOU BACHELOR.

While there’s been no helicopters or repelling off cliffs, I can get down with a weird-ass Los Angeles trend I didn’t know existed. Imagine the terrifying parties that go on there? Coked-up couples showing up at all hours diving in full Gatsby regalia into a swimming pool filled with a Bond villain woman and her team of out-of-work scuba actors with nothing better to do than take pics like this:

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What room in your house do you post these in? I mean they clearly replaced shots like this:beachfamily0003(pp_w916_h609)

 

That’s good, I think? But imagine going into someone’s office and their underwater ballgown spread is framed up on the desk. I’m getting uncomfortable. I’m running.

By the end of this weird fever dream, they were making out and Bill Maarahrahrahr got a rose. Next. And let’s not go back there, kay?

Final date was with Amy Schumer who was hilarious, punking the hell out of everyone as they tried to write jokes. I don’t have a ton to offer because she nailed every joke I was thinking of, not the least of which was the toothpaste colored shirt Johnny Depp’s Willy Wonka had going on. I did legit think Amy and Kaitlyn would be friends as they said on the show, and it speaks well of both of them.

Comedians pretty much wrote the sets and none where that painful, except the one that was like passing kidney stones through both of my eyes in front of the entire women’s locker room at my high school. My wife just closed the browser.

Going Clear, who made no sense at all with all the entire episode, just went on stage and talked about how grateful he was for the opportunity and… Dude, I don’t know. I’m starting to think his mysterious black eye came from tripping on some of his own bullshit. One glass of wine in, he’s Cecily Strong on Weekend Update:

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Neville Dongbottom rolled up and just dogged Going Clear so hard he started eating off a bowl on the floor. He parlayed this later into a solid talk with Oh Canada that landed him the rose…

And turned him into a villain?

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And while the other guys didn’t like Dongbottom for PREMATURE PEACOCKING™ after one stupid rose before a single helicopter has debuted, LL Tool J took the taco with one of the more complicated whiskey-fueled rants I’ve seen.

He gets his one on one time with Katilyn and basically says something a lot of us have discussed, the lack of diversity on the show. He’s saying he’s there to fill a quota, and maybe he’s got a valid point, but he’s putting this on Kaitlyn, who can’t be on that. She’s Canadian. Their bacon is circular. They are color blind. I mean, look at how goofy their flag is? I want to crack it open and dump it on my pancakes.

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So, while I welcome a debate about why we haven’t had a more diverse set of challengers, or hell, a multicultural bachelor or something, I doubt Kaitlyn is that way. Plus, LL Tool J was drunk.

The minute she said it wasn’t working out, he was basically an Usher song about stripping. Not one reason to stay but she was hot. And then, when he had his goodbye testimonial – he tripped enough balls that we didn’t get a rose ceremony.

This season is going to be great. I hate the beginning, it’s too much getting to know everyone. I know that comedians are a good thing on this show. I know the race issue is an issue but maybe not in this case (or the producers did a good job faking the story), and Dongbottom is so pissed he was in Gryffindor he’s trying to be in Slytherin.

Let’s not TBC next week. I feel like I’m jetlagged. Also, fuck. Helicopter.

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BachCapette 1: Short, Late, but Probably Great

Dusted off the blog from my brief slumber in my executive waterbed. Deleted a bunch of comments. Cleaned house. And then had travel to LA and NYC for work. While none of this is your problem, my life in 2015 is a lot different than in 2008 when this blog started. I’m a lot taller now and well, I work a lot harder (sorry 2008 employer).

I tried to watch the episode tucked away at the Sunset Marquis, but turns out I wanted to be in Los Angeles more. I tried to watch it in the East Village, but turns out I had too much work.

This one won’t be my longest post, but I want to get it started so we’re on track for a great season. I love the Bachelorette. It’s what got me started on this existential journey that proves I hate myself.

I got home to PDX and over two nights conquered the awkwardly sliced up two-part episode. To put it clearly, you can’t just cut a show just anyway you feel like it. Would you cut a sandwich like this?

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No. You wouldn’t. Bachelor, if you were a sandwich, we all know what you’d be. You’d be this sandwich. Claro que si.

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So, from the beginning I hate Bratzney still. Not on a personal level, I just hate when actresses get on this show. When you are used to playing a part, you figure it out and try to make it normal. I need you to be the opposite. A regular human being who is being thrown into the end of an Indiana Jones film where you walk down a tunnel and this happens:

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I got the cold sweats when Chris Harrison popped out in a three piece suit. I know the 90s are back right meow but now I realize if he’s doing this, well, I need to. If he told us that it’s hip to be square, I’d be at Barney’s being like “MAKE ME LIKE THIS”:

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So we met some of the dudes. I remember a guy who is an impressive welder and a terrible dresser who like everyone from a small town, is obsessed with saying the name of his town. In this case, Kuna. Wherever that is, it looks like a fat dude’s speedo:

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Idaho? No. YOU DA HO, Kuna. I’m calling this guy who dresses weird, but welds like a champion Ahi Kuna. Not because he eats that, but I know most of my readers do. Sup girls, pinot noir rose? Of course we are. And some semi-soft raw milk cheese that doesn’t even get  you fat at all. We’re so in sync. Take an uber over. My wife just closed the browser.

Then there was Detroit guy with the cute kid who looks like John Legend if he was always asking a question. I give you All Of Me?

There’s the former Princeton track star who got severely injured and has had to rebuild his body and now has a good job, a cool scar and a thing for Kaitlyn. I’m calling him Nicholas Sparks because when Nicholas Sparks sets out to write a novel, he tries to find stories like the ex-Ivy League athlete who was nearly killed and now just needs the love of a goofy Canadian who is so approachable and beautiful, but maybe doesn’t know it yet. So fuck THIS WHOLE THING™.

There’s that one dude who looks like Johnny Knoxville failed a Jackass stunt and took a cannonball to the forehead. Cannonball Knoxville, why not. It’s early in the season.

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Ok. Let’s address the Gosling in the room. It’s the guy you all think looks like Gosling. The first thing you need to know is you aren’t going to date the real Ryan Gosling, anyone who looks like the real Gosling knows this because someone has told him that and he’s gone and went for the haircut, probably spent a month perfecting it. He’s watching Drive and the Notebook to get the shit together. He’s learning the Dirty Dancing move. He’s doing a lot of things preventing him from the things that would actually make you really like him. Say, working hard at a career to provide valuable resource, earning the trust of other men, developing a personality and sense of humor instead of a vague resemblance to Ryan Gosling. Look, I like Gosling fine. I’m sure we’d get along better than a dude trying hard to milk looking like him. Have you ever thought about how Gosling probably thinks dudes who try to look like him are huge, huge tools? Gosling just closed the browser.

So, no. I’m not giving this guy, who is totally going to ruin Kaitlin at some point, any Gosling credit. Not even a bit. Instead I’m gonna make a different point. This is Gosling:

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This is the dude you all think looks like him:

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And this is fictitious animated horse Bojack Horseman:

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If you like Gosling, stop giving people working hard to grift off him credit. It’s not that this guy doesn’t look like Gosling, but he also doesn’t not look like an animated horse too. So, I’m repping my bro Gosling and ending the trend of the world letting men milk their vague Gosling game. This dude is called Bojack Horseman.

Let’s see. Rapid fire.

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Johnny Depp’s Version of Willy Wonka.

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If Bill Maher took steroids he’d be this guy, Bill MAAAAARRRRRHHHRRRR.

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Death Cab for Douchie.

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If Jim Carrey dressed up as Neville Longbottom for a movie. Longbottom Ventura, Chick Detective.

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Ethan Hawke if he collected his toenail clippings. Creepin’ Hawke. Hoping he’s gone Before Sunrise. See what I did there. SYNERGY™.

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LL Tool J. I did love how this dude just gave play by play the whole night as if there was anything hard about what was going on.

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Going Clear. I mean, just because. Take it easy, Miscavige.

Look, clearly Kaitlyn was going on. Clearly this season is going to be great, she actually talks about having sex on the show not in Bachelor code Latin and there were more dudes crying than at the end of Terminator 2.

It’s a long weekend. We’re caught up. I missed some stuff like the drunk dude who just kept quoting Swingers and some other stuff. There’s more to cover. And we will. Just not now. I need to drive to Bend, Oregon and drink all of their beer and eat all their woodland creatures. Like America wanted me to.

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Good to see you again. Drink your caffeine. Gonna be a long season.

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Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette