I learned some new things about reality television last night. Instead of share them, I am going to use them as poison tipped arrows to Katniss all over this episode because in the parlance of our times… WTF.
Before we get into specifics, Desiree has finally earned a nickname that matters here for Week Four. I am calling her the Bargain Bach. No, you assholes, this isn’t about her upbringing living in tents because South Park has a monopoly on poor jokes, plus, that’s not really my style.
Des is the Bargain Bach based on the fact that they have spent less than ten dollars on her season. They have cast a bunch of stage dancers from an off-Melrose performance of Rent as her suitors, they have had almost every one of her dates within driving distance of the mansion and when finally they decide to leave almost halfway through the season, instead of the private jet to Vegas date where you get to use the Bellagio fountains as a bidet, they go to Atlantic City and… Well, we’ll get there.
Think about Ben’s season. He was eating in fancy restaurants. By this time his season, he had rented out a theater and ate at a bistro in Sonoma, climbed up the Bay Bridge with a chick he had no intention of marrying while a helicopter flew around them, turned a street into a ski slope and had women in bikinis skiing down and gone to like Montana or some shit.
Bargain Bach has gone to Malibu (where the house is), Ojai (an hour and half drive from where the house is), Sunset Blvd (40 minutes from where the house is), and like Malibu Wines (next to the mansion). Oh yeah, and the cowboy shit seemed like it was at Malibu State Creek Park (next to the mansion).
Fucking Emily Maynard, Lady Veneers herself, was taking private jets all over the swamp. Des, for all her being a sweet person, is getting the raw end of the deal. The Bargain Bach indeed.
BTW, you are only getting shots of Team Smedium oiled up standing on stage. That’s all. Sorry. You need to feel the pain I feel and this is how I achieve that.
But, let’s fucking BachCap.
Des’ journey to find love for all the right reasons heads to dilapidated and depression inducing Atlantic City, home of saltwater taffy, prostitution and a certain emptiness only felt when you are eating a burrito at 3am after vomiting and can’t remember what dive bars you went to and your groin itches. That’s Atlantic City, but hey, the saltwater taffy is super good. Even if there is no way they use the poison saltwater under that boardwalk. Unless hobo urine is a flavor now.
Back to the Future (Get your damn hands off her Biff!) was excited to travel with someone he loves, which narrowed it down to any of the guys getting on that plane. I mean, this show has turned into America’s Next Top Gay Best Friend. I am all for it, but I feel like Bargain Bach doesn’t realize she is floating the bill for a bunch of dudes that were immediately Google Mapping how far Atlantic City was from Fire Island.
Team Smedium was staying at a hotel with a weird glowing ball at the top that stood atop a frozen springtime Atlantic Shitty. City. Who cares, at least they have each other.
First date was with underbite champion Cable Guy, who when he cries looks like a bulldog being forced to sniff pepper. They went to a saltwater taffy plant, so they were one hand of blackjack away from covering everything there is to do in Atlantic Shitty.
They went down to the pretzel room which I mistakingly thought was a fake dog poo plant. They proceeded to just have at it, grabbing the food, pouring shit all over it and covering their faces in pretzel feces. This was such a food safety issue. Fuck anyone who wasn’t outraged, especially if you care how your meat is killed. Me, fucking shoot a cow in the face and let’s charcuterie. But I would much rather eat a tortured animal than a chocolate pretzel that was mouth raped by a couple reality television stars.
They ate dinner in a light house, which was depressing. I knew this date was going poorly because Cable Guy actually ate. When they show you eating, you soon be leaving. I guess the random, unexplained sandcastle they sat by earlier, probably commissioned to a creepy artist living under the boardwalk didn’t get their juices flowing.
Cable Guy literally talks in sounds. She asked what he likes to do. I had to rewind six times. “I like to chill and sometimes just bongongongongong”.
Is that jerking off? He talks like Matthew McConnaughy acts. In noises and gestures. Oh well. Bargain Bach is just like, “hey let’s climb a million stairs, I want to be out of breath when I dump you” and then she cut him loose citing he could spend more time with Maddux, his son, who I am sure the producers hand to remind her his name 100 times, if not write it on her hand.
He was nice about it, but I was expecting the full Jim Carrey “soooo, what are you trying to say?” after she cut him. Instead, he got in the car and cried like a bulldog blowing pepper lines.
This must have been a relief for Secretly 50 who did the obligatory Bachelor staring at someone else’s date and get emo vignette.
Bargain Bach said something about love should be a shining light, cuz, you know, they were in a fucking light house. I AM TIRED OF THEMES. MOAR HELICOPTERS.
Group date was perfect. Mister America Pageant, which literally for Team Smedium would have been like telling my advertising friend group that we were trapped in a room of bourbon and steak and would have to eat and drink our way out with only a couple swimsuit models to cheer us on and maybe light some fireworks here and there. That’s where my mind goes.
This officially became the Search for Des’ New Gay Best Friend. We had Juan Pablo oiling up Gabagool. That happened. That’s like taking advantage of a foreigner. Everyone made me want to kill myself. I really don’t want to talk about this date any more. I wanted the Muppets to fucking show up. I wanted Hey Bear to show up. Hell, I would have been down for a fire at the theater. Anything to stop Hashtag: Weird Ass Story About Tap Dancing from performing or Gabagool getting naked and doing roid push-ups. Smedium loves each other more than I’ve loved anything in my life. They should cut the season short and let them be together.
Meanwhile, Little Big Head was taking a bubble bath, eating strawberries and wearing a robe, drinking red wine. So, totally straight.
Second solo date gave me balls so blue I had to sit on a hot compress. Little Big Head and Bargain Bach head out and finally, sweet baby Jesus, we get our FIRST HELICOPTER OF THE YEAR!
They are taking off, but when the triumphant Bachelor theme never comes on, when they never start saying “I can’t think of a better place to find a guiding light on a journey to find love for the right reasons” it hits me. We’re about to get PONZI’D.
They aren’t on a date. They are on a helicopter tour of the ruin porn from Hurricane Sandy. Everyone watching in New Orleans was like “fuuuuck this.” Shit, there are parts of New Orleans that still look worse than this all these years later.
So they are on this date, the roids are making Little Big Head cry, they are trapped with this horrible lady just talking about death and destruction and I’m thinking that not even James Bond could get ass on this date. His best chance of getting a rose at this point was to chloroform her and take it by force. If only the ruin porn tour guide would leave.
Sidenote, CLASSY MOVE ABC on the moment of Twitter silence. The world just closed the browser.
But it was just getting started.
They land and are forced to hang out with a nice old Russian couple that lost their house and listen to how shitty their life was. I checked my guide to make sure I wasn’t watching PBS. Damnit ABC, I’m here to watch millenials fuck their lives up, not to watch people that actually have fucked up lives. Why are we doing this? Was this part of getting Atlantic City to pay the bill for Bargain Bach’s season? We had to have an educational portion intended to make us cry?
At the end, Bargain Bach figures, fuck it, they aren’t spending on me anyway, let’s give these two people our date.
SMART PLAY. Real people actually eat on the dates. I was so thrilled to see them eat that I forgot how nice it was they had an intern photoshop their ruined life album back together. While this was a Red Cross commercial, here’s guessing they didn’t retouch all the photo albums lost in Katrina. This is why this show needs to stick to ruining a few peoples lives and not saving lives. Leave the life saving for people like Oprah.
Later, they eat at an Italian place and Little Big Head is doing pretty well going with the moment until he decides to talk about how he cheated on a girl way back when. So way back when that when I started to do the math, I was like, soooo he dated her in fifth grade and cheated on her in 10th grade? And we’re supposed to care? Back then you broke up with people by just not informing them you were not dating anymore. We all did fucked up shit back then. Hunger Games, bitch.
Des took it well and let him live another episode. Frankly, if there was a reason to lose interest in Little Big Head based on this admission of guilt, it was that he decided to do it on national television. I am sure his clients in advertising love that. He’s definitely who you want protecting the weird shit your parents did to you. Yikes.
Back at Home Base Smedium, Zero Dork Thirty starts having war flashbacks and needs to know Bargain Bach is in it for the long haul immediately or he will kill a Smedium once an hour, every hour until he kills himself (which would be more interesting than anything in Atlantic City).
They took the old couple out and then gave them the best gift in the world. Darius Rucker. You have a Russian couple that lost everything. Solution? A brother who went country. How convenient. They were totally just listening to his “CD” in their CD player that totally survived Hurricane Sandy. May God have mercy on your souls.
The cocktail party was stupid. Sunstroker wore his 11th yellow t-shirt confirming again that men from Dallas dress like assholes. Medusa drew letters and recited a poem that totes made him more masculine… Sorry, just puked in my mouth.
In the end, No Neck Zak W gets cut and burns my alma mater USC. Zak, we never knew you, but you will now have to live with knowing that you lost to 2 juice heads, 10 guys that like guys, a guy who is in love with his son and a disturbed army vet.
At least you get to go home to the OC, throw down at some bars, snag a Newpsie mom or two and publish the fuck out of some books.
Oh yeah, and Gabagool said “you make me sweat” when he got the rose. My sperm count went immediately to zero. It was like when honeybees all die at once and the colony collapses. So fucked up. I hate you Chris Harrison.
This episode played like a bad mission in Grand Theft Auto. The good news? They are going to Munchen next week. Beer, pretzels, football and, knowing this show, a couple tours of Nazi death camps.
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