Get excited. I finally titled the header “BachCap” to trust my own style book and keep my branding air-fucking-tight, ladies and gentlemen.
It’s been a long offseason, I have some updates to give you at the end of the post that you need to get down with. I hope you all have stocked up on bad chardonnay and have dry cleaned your “feeling superior” hats to pop on. We’re about to watch a bunch of d-bags compete for the “prize” of a woman that America gives an inflated sense of self-importance only to get abused into a public tabloid break up when she finds out the asshole that liked her because she had inflated-self-importance turns out to be a regular human girl when the cameras turn off complete with “getting mad you came home drunk” and “makeup-less yoga pant mornings…”
Hunger Games, bitch.
You know I hate the first episode(s). Nicknames are not set yet because people haven’t had their truly great fuck up yet. I can’t be bothered getting to know people who aren’t even good enough to get a full fifteen minutes of fame. No, I don’t care if they went to your high school. I didn’t go to your high school, how on earth could I care and why should you.
Still with me? Want to send some people to therapy? Let’s do it! It’s a new season! Time to BachCap.
Full disclosure, I didn’t watch the beginning. I am sure I missed a great montage of her walking through inland San Diego or worse, some shit about her being Cinderella again, because god knows the second ten minutes were only about that. Look, I don’t care. What I did dig was the new title screen. All white, fresh like spring-time new beginnings. But, I guess what was the background going to be? Ben was in a vineyard. Sean was like a shadow of Tin Tin in a nuclear orange holocaust with no discernable theme because he’s so boring I hope he gets kidnapped by Sand People in the new Star Wars film. Emily Maynard had silhouettes of her and her child Ricky Bobby to show “she’s a mother”.
Desiree had nothing but her helping rich chicks try on wedding dresses or having her live in tents (remember her story last year about when her parents were hard up and they just camped to survive like some sort of inland San Diego Bear Grylls?)
That’d be weird. So they went with white.
Chris Harrison looked more mature this episode in that he finally looked so bored he forewent the hard drugs and just got religiously stoned. He was wearing what had to be a shirt from his own t-shirt line because what the hell was that? It was fine on the outside, but it appeared to have four buttons where a normal shirt would have two and the inside of it looked like the inside of Liberace’s comforter.
He looked like he almost fell asleep during Des’ explanations of her being so ready to take a journey and feeling like Cinderella taking a Cinderella journey that she never could imagine happening just to make a name for herself as an investigatory journalist, no matter how many people you step on, just to make a name for herself as an investigatory journalist…
Listen Zoolanderella. Take it easy. We get it. You feel like Cinderella. You lived in tents. Huckleberry Finnderella? I am not sure yet. Hopefully she just milks a goat and chugs it again so we can talk about that and get a nickname from it. For now, Zoolanderella.
Real quick, WHAT’S UP SUPER FAN MEGAN AND COMPANY???
So, a stoned and bored Harrison got dressed up with a fancy oceanic wave-like pocket square that I’m not down with and got Des in position to see about four legitimate guys, 11 people ABC let in because they seem fun to watch get their head cut off on TV and then like five actors who agreed to do this just so they could get a walk-on role on like, Mistresses or something (sorry Alyssa Milano, you are going to be unemployed again in a few weeks).
They had the Bikram yoga guy who I never intended even to give a name because if this guy was not an actual human. He’s a sitcom neighbor. I am getting sick of this show pretending to be diverse by having one African-American who is either shy, uninteresting or a Bikram yoga junkie who gives strangers high-fives. How about an African-American bachelor? Think Kerrie Washington would have gotten cut in the first round? Exactly. She wouldn’t. Roberto doesn’t count as diversity and neither does the soccer player who talks like a perve in skinny jeans or the guy who shows up dressed as a night with a name that sounds like Brazilian churriascaria Fogo De Chao.
On the other hand, you can tell Desiree had some weird upbringing by looking at her dating preferences. Sean asked for breast size. Pavelka asked for “girls that would make it seem like he liked girls”.
Des asked for several types. Her suitors must have one of a few things
- Look like someone who got shot on the Sopranos
- Potentially gay.
- Japanese anime stock broker hairstyle.
If you go back and look at this list, you see how true it is. Since it was a shit show, a few observations.
The tailor/magician who looked like a Chicago Deep Dish episode of Man vs Food seemed like a cool guy, but let’s be real. Just because your store carries royal purple socks and a 1993 fat tie doesn’t mean you need to wear it. Especially week one. I mean, Blakeley was a stripper but she waited at least a week before she proved she was down to show her boobs to America. Or just follow her on instagram for AMAZING shots of food she cooks for a rotating group of people she refers to as “her man”, work out motivational quotes and pictures of her boobs. It’s a great read if you are a 13 year old boy interested in salmon preparation and boobs.
There was the army guy, let’s call him Zero Dork Thirty, who we HAVE TO LIKE because he served our country. FALSE. We have to like that he served our country. We don’t have to like him or his pumpkin pie haircut or his ridiculous non-linear story of how he helped an Iraqi kid by doing… what? Watching him clean the barracks? What the fuck are you talking about. He got the “support our troops” rose and Desiree is from inland San Diego (at least emotionally) and San Diego is a military town. He might be breakfast for dinner. Only makes sense in certain situations, might be good for a night, not gonna become a habit.
The was the dude who brought his kid and it seemed like an amazing idea until it started to sound like he wanted to have sex with his kid. Sorry, I know that’s gross, but let’s keep it real. After he got the rose, he was just like “OMG MY KID IS SO DOPE” over and over to the point where when I have a kid, I am going to shit talk him every now and then. Maybe this is why he’s divorced. ”Honey, come to bed” and he’s like “NO I’M WRITING POEMZ ABOUT OUR KID RIDING A HORSE AND KILLING DRAGONS (under his breath, you’re the dragon, bitch)”.
He’s going to a bad place fast. Imma call him Fishing With Kids.
Shirtless guy, just stop. I don’t give a fuck. I just hope he got a waterborn disease.
Cheers to USC grad guy who had Chuck Taylors on. Proof that a comfy shoe selection can win it for you.
ER Doctor. What the fuck buddles? I get that you had trouble dipping her. I am scared you practiced with 50 partners and still fucked up. Do me a favor, tell me where you are in the ER and remind me never to injury myself near there. If 50 times still isn’t enough, you can’t fix my internal organs.
Also, when you are an ER doctor, don’t spend an hour apologizing for the dip while taking on and taking off your weird square glasses. Just be like “BITCH I AM A SURGEON”. Do you know how funny and popular amongst male peers I have had to become to compete with people who are surgeons? It’s like letting a guy rob you with a feather when you are wearing the Iron Man suit. What a fucking moron.
Then there was the Fantasy Suite Rapist. ABC, try harder. You are the mask guy. It was obvious Desiree was in on this or she wouldn’t have taken it so seriously. This was to prove she’s not a slut, which I didn’t need proven until she clearly made that a part of this show. I’M NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL. What kind? I Bachelor Pad contestant? How was it even a debate that she wasn’t going in a fantasy suite to have sex an hour into night one? This was like if Maynard changed Ricki Bobby’s pre-teen diaper in the middle of the Highland Games. We get it, you’re a mom. We get it, you don’t have sex with pervy strangers. Neither does Cinderella. JESUS. Neil Lane’s diamond is safe.
There was Marty McFly’s Butteryflies Dad who, well, got butterflies all the time. I kept waiting for him to be like “Biff, keep your damn hands off her!” Didn’t happen.
Truthfully though, I had high hopes when I saw the preview. The combo of Sopranos extras, Japanese stock broker anime haircuts and possibly gay dudes looks like it makes for a turbulent cocktail. There was fighting, helicopters, mountain and beach locals and a few extreme looking dates. I’m riding high.
Next week, we trim the fat and this gets concentrated. It’s good to have you back.
Oh yeah, and HASHTAG #GOFUCKYOURSELF.
Now, a little personal business. There’s 2 things. The first is that I have finally started my novel and by starting I mean I finished a chapter, have an outline. I have hopes it will be ready to get you through the offseason. It’s pretty snarky and also going to make you feel like you are drinking in Lost in Translation with Bill Murray.
TWO. For my college football fans or people that just like to support me, I am producing a film with former USC football player Bob DeMars about the NCAA and it’s lack of giving a shit about athletes.
I’d be honored if you watched the video and kicked it a few dollars. CLICK HERE to check it out. We need to make a change and I am going to destroy it. If you enjoy what I do here, help me do it elsewhere. It’s an odd request and a rarely beg for myself (usually I am helping charities, student projects, etc), but this time, it’s a passion project. Anything helps. I want to make a positive change for college athlete.
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