So let’s clear the air, once or twice a year I have a medical trip or a business trip or I generally am two hungover to attempt to bring you the high quality of free entertainment that I typically peddle here. Two of these three things happened over the last week, I’ll let you guess and the result was no Week Eighter, but I am amending that today.
It’s not going to be as accurate as a week ago when I watched the show, but look, what’s important is that we need to get this fucking ship on track for next week, usually the best week of the season, the fantasy suite dates where American humans are pitted in battle, forced to accept sex for approval, just like in high school.
I attempted to watch Smedium Tells All last night but I realized I’d rather just watch any show on Bravo about someone who redesigns homes or flips homes or something with decorating because it would be the same thing. I do not care what these guys are up to, I don’t care if they drink Drain-O and expose themselves to a Kindergarten class, I don’t care if they dip their junk in honey and run pants down through a bear’s den.
Sometimes I’ll recap the episode, but I just didn’t need to recap any catty behavior that came from their ridiculous world-bitching tour. I just can’t. I’ll watch after the final rose to see who the next Bachelor is for next year, but I’m reaching my quota.
I want to talk hometown dates. Desiree managed to end up with a man who is secretly fifty years old, a guy who communicates in poetry and two guys that don’t like girls, one of which is possibly in a religious cult.
Let’s take a quick look back, starting with everyone’s favorite “drill fluid engineer” Secretly 50. By the way, a drill fluid engineer is the kind of thing I’d tell a teenager I do to make them giggle.
After the standard “we’re in Dallas, let’s jog to each other like we have tampons in our butts” greeting, Zak sat down to tell Bargain Bach that his family is crazy and proceeded to let them off the hook by trying to explain some weird fucking dream about them melting in the heat and then it snows, basically the kind of shit the Silence of the Lambs guy said to the girl in the hole while he made her rub lotion all over herself. Unless your dream is terrifying or cute, shoot yourself in the face to prevent you from telling this tale. If your dream is creepy, it reads: “MY MIND IS FUCKED UP”. Just a tip from all of us at Whole Foods.
Zak vanishes and returns as a reject from the Ice Capades version of Happy Feet Two, dressed as a dick head penguin, which totally seems normal for him: RED FLAG. He explains that beyond drill fluid, he enjoys serving snocones to children in a truck and that’s not pedobear at all…
But, Des does her signature dislocated jaw from silliness laugh and off they are to a school to serve kids shaved ice. She feigns that she’s stoked for a life of goofiness with Zak, but what she’s really saying is that she’s too nice to admit this might be chloroform territory. She totally had her finger on the pepper spray the entire time. It’s a miracle no kids got a pepper cone.
Also, WTF with this truck. Since when do kids get to pick out what goes on a snow cone? Self serve? If you’ve ever been in a 7-11 with a kid at the soda fountain, you know it’s a bad idea to let them do it themselves. Also, I hate that you feed syrup into the machine at crotch lever and it dispenses at face level to children. Maybe I’m reading into it too much. MAYBE YOU AREN’T READING INTO IT ENOUGH.
Des says the Penguin is her boyfriend and that’s far from the worst realization she’d have if she ended up with Secretly 50.
Zak’s sister seemed hotter and smarter than Des and I’ve seen some ladybloggers say the same about his brother. All I know is that these people had more art on their walls than a serial killer in a barn and that they sang. Also, if memory serves, his mother cut her bangs by jamming her head in a woodchipper.
He then went to lost boy creep town by hooking up a ring he bought way, way, way before it made any sense he could possibly be her choice, so that creeped me out. I met you on the subway and I bought a ring on the offchance I ever see you again and we decide to have sex professionally. Stage five.
Next date was with Valerie Kilmer who looked dressed for a fun day of shopping with his straight best girl friend. His hair was perfect, he had a killer pink top on and he met her at a mall. Frankly, most of my gay friends don’t even plan hangouts like that. I mean, we go drink and eat food. Watching him kiss her was like watching a little kid find out he doesn’t hate brussels sprouts. Like, the first one didn’t kill him, the second one was okay and then the release of fear turned him on.
He talked about his family forever, I got bored, thought about going to the bathroom, then felt like an asshole when he was really sweet with his mentally challenged sister, which I will not cover because he was very kind to her and I limit my picking on him to his clear sexual confusion.
Meeting his family was interesting because I couldn’t figure out who the alcoholic dad was, but could only assume it was “Mal” who wore a pink checkered shirt and had that “TALKING ABOUT JESUS AND ANGELS” thing going on that most people get addicted to when they stop being addicted to fun stuff like drinking and driving their cars into trees.
Later, outside, Valerie Kilmer was like I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU. All that was missing was the Titanic or and empty bottle of rose and the end credits of How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days. I had to eat three steaks and blow a line of sawdust to be able to get to the next date…
IN OREGON! Where I was at the time they filmed this. They did a nice establishing shot of Portland before cutting way the fuck south to McMinneville which I immediately confused for McMenamins, a chain of PDX boozeries including Kennedy School, which is just a school you can get fucked up in.
Despite his poetry writing, Middle School Dancer was the best choice, but the ABC hit squad decided to ruin that one. As cute as the baseball date was (minus where Des doesn’t that “holy wow I did it” open mouth smile that I could only make if someone checked my prostate by surprise with a zucchini – my wife just closed the browser), the day went to shit when they went to his house where his family moped around acting like rejects from a Wes Anderson film until the dad took the taco.
The chiropractor took Des downstairs to give her an adjustment which basically just meant feeling her up and potentially breaking her neck in a creepy wood-paneled office that is built into his house and had creepy ass posters in all the rooms. Like, if I wanted to get raped and murdered, I’d want it to happen there just so the movie rights would be valuable because this creepiness spoke for itself. This really came in second only to the taxidermy guy that one year who’s dad had a freezer of dead wildlife.
I thought that was going to be it, but then he took Middle School Dancer downstairs and did “the nose adjustment” which to untrained eyes looked like using a syringe to shove a ribbed condom deep into your nasal cavity, setting it to vibrate and then having your dad break your nose to release a flow of snot that ABC shot from the worst possible angle.
Whoever at ABC got this kid to commit TV suicide by doing this, you’re doing it right.
Finally, we travelled to the polygamist compound of Lady Tom Brady who wore his cardigan no less than five ways in the 20 minute segment. He had a million family members, they drank from opaque glasses that prevented me from knowing if they boozed and they wore name tags. I honestly thought they were going to break out into a choreographed play about drugs and their effect of families.
They just seemed like the rest of the Romney family that didn’t fit in the frame at political events.
The whole Brooks not loving Des and Des loving Brooks thing is solid proof of one thing. It’s solid proof that ANYONE who tells a girl they aren’t sure if they love her will cause her to love him regardless of what he looks like, acts like, his sexual preference, size of his creepy family, etc. She is in love with not being loved which is called self loathing. Fear and Self Loathing in Salt Vegas.
Des ended up heading home and cutting the head off of Secretly 50, which revealed fifty rings inside confirming his age. You know. Like trees. You never expect the muppets.
GUESS WHAT. Next week is FAHN TAH SEE SWEEETSS! Or fantasy suites. Forced sex. On TV. HUNGER GAMES, BITCH. I feel spry. I feel wiry. Let’s dance, douchebags.
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