What has my life come to? Two posts, one week? I have haunting visions while sweating through fever dreams about a day where there is a Bachelor Network and I am hooked up to Matrix-like pink goo feeding systems with a laptop bolted to my knees, forced to write as Chris Harrison laughs and blows lines.
I write this blog for free (and sweet swag and speaking engagements). It is not my day job, it’s my curse. My sweet beautiful curse that made sense at 26, but at 30 just as I start to age like Clooney and have a liquor chest stocked with top shelf bourbons and ryes and whiskies, it’s about legacy.
So before we BachCap, may I ask for one small favor from you? As many of you know, I went to USC. A fraternity there is raising money to buy a car for Meals on Wheels. Maybe it’s the newfound Portland in me, but I’d like you to give them five dollars, a dollar, ten dollars, hell, kick them fifty if you are a sugar mommy and you feel like impressing me. Click THIS LINK and fund a part, click Nuts and Bolts and just give them some money. I’ll post it again at the end so you can just get your BachCap on in peace. I just want to make sure this blog is sometimes about more than just me generating even more attractive people who want to meet me and buy drinks for me to imbibe.
If you donate, please let me know in the comments. I never forget a good looking person who does a good act, because, well, you are good looking. You don’t need to do anything.
Okay, let’s BachCap.
Two episodes in a row where I don’t need to see Strawberry Lemonade in his skivvies lifting weights. That’s because weight lifting is illegal in Canada (you just lift dead moose and heavy pitchers of Molson or Labatt Blue) and Canada is exactly where this epic journey of hot girl torture went.
Stunning Lake Louise in Sasketitichewatooziebrew, Canada. A place of raw natural beauty where the water is so blue you’d think it had toilet bowl cleaner in it. I expected the Scrubbing Bubbles to show up and scrub the layer of dried makeup, tears and poison scent perfume off Anna Nicole Schlitz. Never happened. Never will now.
The first date was with High School Soccer Player and her defiant 1990s Buffy the Vampire Slayer nose stud. YOU ARE SO INTERESTING.
Strawberry Lemonade showed up on a glacier in a snow bus, which is basically like a giant tank with no purpose but to let Canadians explore boring white patches of snow that barely can sustain life. I am all for a nature hike, let’s check out some waterfalls, hell, we can even swim in some tide pools. The last time I was that cold was when I woke up in my bathtub after Cinco De Mayo in college in freezing water after falling asleep holding a slice of pizza (my had was dyed red with sauce, I am still proud of this memory, my wife just closed the browser).
This date was again part of Strawberry’s sadistic plan to emotionally and physically beat down his suitors to the point where the last one standing will probably be able to survive his eventual beer gut, coke-like golf addiction, Dallas-style women belong in the kitchen mentality and potential for GCB believing that Jesus wants him to go drinking with his buddies.
High School Soccer Player and Lemonade tried to frolic in the snow, but this happened:
Holy shit. A Tweeter said “frosted lemonade” but this was the full Reverse Ginger. He looked like a villain from a low-budget superhero movie. When your body does that in the cold, medical science doesn’t want you to be outside.
I hate this fronting that he is outdoorsy and then says he’s never been “north” before. What outdoorsyness was he exhibiting? His maid brought his margarita outside so he could stare at the golf course? Outdoorsy in the south is Duck Dynasty. This guy was Brooks Brothers until ABC’s stylists got him. Outdoorsy people go north. They climb mountains and shit. Find me a mountain in Dallas that isn’t made of silicon and placed directly next to another silicon mountain. Not hating on that, in fact, Go Dallas! Just saying. Keep it real. Keep it real you purple silver fox.
That night they went to some ice castle and we were treated to some disgusting tongue-leading. Strawberry Lemonade was feeling it, but deep down, this has been a systematic dismissal of people of any color (besides his signature reddish-purple) and I kind of think that he feels the way about High School Soccer Player as he does sushi. It’s good, but not every night and definitely not when you are watching the big game. Just saying. Wouldn’t stop a man-of-the-world like me. Of course, I managed to find my wife “in the wild” without the aid of a coked up game show host.
Onto the group date, but first, Anna Nicole Schlitz had a mini meltdown about not getting the one on one, but that just means she was going home, which we knew anyway because she can’t talk, always looks drunk and has so much extra face skin she looks like a puppy shar pei.
There was a canoe ride through the giant blue toilet bowl that is Lake Louise that led our contestants to a tent on the icy shore of the glacier. I thought it was fucked up they made Sarah sit in the back of the canoe, her experience likely would have been easier in the middle spot, but whatever. It wasn’t the MOST fucked up part of her episode. This season is oddly cruel (see Pretty Woman hooker date).
Everyone found out that they’d be doing a Polar Bear Plunge, which is quite simply, jumping into freezing water and being like, wow, we’re cold. It’s a tradition in many parts of the world that have no good theater, music venues or restaurants. Let’s do it.
Princess Beyazmine declined to participate citing that “her people” are from the desert and she doesn’t do cold, which was in stark contrast to when she was in “the desert” at Joshua Tree and cited that she doesn’t do the desert. She does 72 degree controlled environments where she doesn’t shame her family and is fed grapes by unics.
So, everyone did the plunge and by all accounts it was the most fucking fun ever. It was like getting a unicorn on your 9th birthday that shits money like an ATM. I was pretty sure Anna Nicole Schlitz found God in those frigid waters.
Then, Guybrow in terrible “Tierrarist” fashion went to total shit. Again. She got out of the water and decided to get hypothermia. I get that it was cold, but her eventual recover proved it wasn’t hypothermia, it was bad acting. At least we got to see her with her mascara all shitty and wrapped in foil like a Chipotle burrito.
Back at the hotel, she found time to redo her makeup, get an oxygen mask and eat a hamburger because she was stressed out. I root for her to stay on the show as long as possible because she could probably just flip right over to next season of Biggest Loser. If your cure for hypothermia is a hamburger, you have bigger problems.
She of course shows up at the night date, everyone is pissed, but Pretty Little Liar gets the rose because she stuck to Strawberry Lemonade like a lemon wedge on a glass.
After the date, Sean took Sarah to a neutral location and just flat out dumped her. He cited that it wasn’t there for him and he didn’t want to put her through a rose ceremony, but let’s keep it real. There is nothing about this method that is more human. If a contestant says otherwise, it’s Stockholm Syndrome. The rose ceremony seems like it sucks because you are actively being judged, but when you don’t get a rose, the show ends in like two minutes and it’s done. It might suck more in person, but not on television.
In this case, Sarah has to go back teary-eyed (at least she isn’t an ugly crier) back into a room of cheetah bitches and explain that she’s gone. Immediately. To me, that’s some cold shit.
Regardless, I think America liked Sarah and in the end, isn’t everyone better off not marrying Strawberry Lemonade, or getting engaged via gameshow if we want to globalize this bitch? I think so. Safe travels.
The final one on one was with Joey Potter. Again, a physical challenge. They repelled down a cliff. They had a picnic. They climbed a tree. I poured another bourbon and dreamt of years past.
This was the first week where hard rose decision had to be made. The standout of the cocktail party was Beyazmine, who kissed Sean and made it out like it was the biggest deal in the world because it “shamed” her family. Two things, if you are going to shame your family, give him a kiss that at least might move the needle. That was a good night kiss between a loving married couple of 30 years. This is the Hunger Games, bitch. That kiss needed to end a fucker.
Secondly, if a kiss would shame her family, what the fuck did the half-peeled banana she was wearing not shame them? I’ve seen less of women at the beach. Don’t get me wrong, this was probably the most positive Iraq-America interaction we’ve had in decades, but I don’t get the logic. Neither did she. Despite being hot, she is going home.
Ladies and Gents, I will now retire to the library at Downton and reflect on this week.
As promised, HERE IS THE LINK to donate a few bucks. Be cool and thank me by helping them. Comment and tell me you did!
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