Week Three and Four were combined for one of two reasons. The first was Chris Harrison went on an uncontrollable coke binge and he needed MOAR BACHELOR RIGHT NYOW™.
The part where he talks about blow isn’t even the most cocainey part of this. It’s the general run-on nature of this post and the afterthought @tag. Please be the next Bachelor, man. Please. You would be like judge, jury and executioner. I would dedicate my life to spreading awareness of your program.
THE OTHER REASON™ they combined week three and four is probably to get Eric, the dude I KNOW IS DEAD (seriously, guys?) off the show because between Andi’s BABYTEETH™, her getting hammered in a non-fun way on every date and the fact there is literally a ghost on the show, this season has the lowest ratings ever.
Gentlemen may prefer blondes, but everyone prefers contestants that are still alive. It’s hard to watch.
Let’s just deal with Eric. I intentionally ignored this subject because it does not matter to the purpose of the blog. Every good joke I had about the situation was distasteful. Do I think the death of a dude who rejected his childhood where he was raised to not be allowed to drink alcohol or have sex reacting by infusing constant adrenaline into his life traveling to war zones, jumping off anything he could and generally taking risks whenever possible is tragic?
Yeah, but it’s not shocking. You can die crossing the street. You are more likely to die if you are on a quest to take risks. No one deserves to die, but Eric died doing what he loved. You don’t want to know my opinion on what he loved. The best jokes, the jokes you read the blog for, probably would offend you, mostly because they’d hit close to home.
I ignored his death because it wasn’t relevant to this show, where in the end, he was a dude who got sent home week four. I don’t watch this show to feel bad about anything. I watch it to feel good because I met my wife in civilian life. If I am supposed to feel worse for Eric because he was on this show, then I’d never get up in the morning with all the atrocities in the world from disease to genocide to dickheads that murder college students at UCSB.
Guys, any death is a tragedy. Not more so because they were on four episodes of a reality show pairing people together at a far worse success ratio than random chance. I’ve had cancer two times. I get it. Death comes for all of us. Valar morghulis, Game of Thrones fans. All men must die. Even extreme sports afficianados who vacation in Syria. Crazy, right?
Just know, since I punted on talking about Eric, some of my readers lost their minds thinking I literally did not know. Some just wanted to help. Some thought I was the devil.
So let’s put it to bed. Rest in peace, Eric. Glad you died doing what you love. May we all be so lucky. You didn’t deserve it. Hope your family recovers as best as can be expected and that you being off the show allows them to move on.
My wife may finally close the browser. I still expect Muppets.
So anyway. Can we get back to being a dick? Perfect. Let’s bachcap. I’m gonna miss a lot because two nights is too much.
Her first date is with Nick, who is a bigtime frontrunner and also rocks the “Ellen DeGeneres hair cut” as Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist taught us (watch it again with someone you love). I think they went like hiking? I don’t know. Who fucking cares. She’s into him. He doesn’t bother me even at all. As Norah said when touching Nick’s hair “you’re soft man” and so is Nick.
The group date was fun because I got to hear some bad singing and also know Boyz II Men are still alive. And cool. So literally we also learned that washed up celebrities holding onto the early 90s are more socially adjusted than the traveling meat circus that is this show.
The worst part of this date for me was how Crap Leinart thought he could sing. I may be biased because I played in bands for almost two decades, but in fairness, I can’t fucking sing. Never stopped me from carrying a tune. It’s not that hard. Like, watching this meatsicles try to sing was so painful I literally opted to have my prostate checked during it to relieve the pain. That’s right. A gloved finger checking your prostate = MORE COMFORTABLE™.
Opera singer, who knows how to carry a tune, tried to achieve TOTAL VICTORY™ by singing on key and also using his patented DOUCHÉ VIBRATO™ and paid the price, which was confirming he’s exactly as toolbag as his Disney canine sidekick haircut.
Crap Leinart gets the rose for no reason beyond Andi is an idiot, says she knows better than to go for her exact type, and then goes for her exact type. Literally, if she was lactose intolerant, she’d have constant diarrhea from eating ice cream because she is basic as hell.
Pantstapreneur (do we even need a nickname) goes on a date where they dress up like old people, which is ageist, but again, not my cause. Keeping it super real though, Andi decides old people all have smoker’s voices and Parkinson’s. She was faking a hand shake. WORST PERSON EVER™. Seriously.
Even worse, he entire knowledge of old people is probably from the Notebook and she confused Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. Good for you.
Rat Tail Hair Man and Opera Singer go home. Opera Singer cries like it’s the end of Billy Budd. You know. The Herman Melville gothic English language opera about responsibility and, um, sailors? Yeah. I’m 72 percent cultured. Buzzfeed told me.
The go to the most budget casino ever in Connecticut. I mean, how many better casinos did they pass en route to this one? In the end, these meatsicles decide to jump in the hot tub together and “air toast” to their BARELY KEEPING IT TOGETHER SEXUAL FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER™.
Emo Ed Burns gets the first date, which is Connecticuit’s famous DEPRESSING TRAIN RIDE™. He goes for the worst idea ever, the patented LOVE ME FOR SAD STORY™ offense, which never works. People like it when you lead with your personality, then tell them your sad story later. Like, wow, you are so well adjusted. I recognize he just went through this. Here’s an idea then. DON’T GO ON THE DAMN SHOW.
Worse, Andi had zero fucks to spare. The entire date was her waiting for him to ask her questions about her, just like with Wapalo, where the point wasn’t Wapalo being a dick. It was WHY AREN’T YOU FASCINATED BY ME AND MY INFINITE ME-NESS. In fairness (like I’m fair) Andi did cry, though maybe from lack of attention or because she was in a train with depressing faded polo green napkins and not on a helicopter. She was a pretty crier. Big win for the agency.
As I often do, I hope this sad guy leaves soon so he can heal, which he won’t on national television. PITY ROSE™ accepted. Dismissal: imminent. I mean, he had serious bitchy resting face (BRF™) while telling her this is the happiest moment of his life. Everything about everything I just typed was depressing.
Next there is a group WNBA date. Yep.
These idiots are getting schooled by superior female talent until it’s time for them to play each other. They have ROSEBUDS jerseys that the producers recycle for the other team by flipping some inside out. Way to put on the ritz, guys. Nothing screams “LET’S BALL” like sharpie numbers and wearing clothes inside out.
They show a montage of these dudes going at it, scoring buckets, rocking out. Then we see it’s 6-6 at halftime. They only scored 3 baskets a piece. That wasn’t a montage. That was the entire first half. WOW.
After one of the teams loses (as if a 6-6 halftime score on national television didn’t make them all losers), the music is super heavy. IT’S THE MOST DRAMATIC PICK-UP BASKETBALL GAME EVER.
I like the Basketball Coach and it was pimp that despite his argyle half zip he sunk a half-court shot. Andi seemed turned on by a male act of strength setting the female gender back another five years. My wife just closed the browser.
He could hit a half court J, but couldn’t kiss a turned on admirer. NEXT.
Ellen DeGeneres Hair is running away with this show. A nerd with game. Unstoppable.
The last 1:1 date is with the man who looks like the scrambled facial features of Nicholas Cage and Ryan Gosling. I give you: RICHOLAS GOSCAGE™.
This dude seemed like a prick in the house, but he seems super cool away from everyone. He has ZERO FEAR™ for an extreme rappelling down a building date. He’s basically hyper trained from all the action movies the Nick Cage part of his face was in. Andi is TRIPPING BALLS™ but he gets her to eventually rappel. I laughed genuinely at Andi when she was asked what her mother was like and she said “Nicer”. For a moment I forget I am rooting against her. And humanity.
He gets a rose and they dance to another country band I didn’t know was alive.
At the cocktail party, Andi decides to get shitfaced and wear a disco alligator carcass as a dress. She can’t even walk in it, especially hammered on dirty martinis. In fact, I’ve never seen a bachelorette get this shitty and emo on cocktail parties.
Eric had what I think was an even better exit than Andi did with Wapalo. Tired of being accused of being disingenuous, he basically gave Andi a bowl of TRUTH JUICE™. She’s the faker. She’s too drunk to hear any bad news. Eric goes off the show humble in his recognition that this won’t work. I am glad this was how he left the show.
Drunk Andi runs off to make sure everyone knows RIGHT REASONS™ because VODKA+WINE™ is a super-combo. Whatever, SHUT UP ANDI. Blood alco-ya’ll level: .09.
They don’t show a rose ceremony, instead trying to give a tribute to Eric. I don’t feel like commenting. Tough situation for everyone.
Hoping we can move on now. I am.