Category Archives: Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap 1: Arie Is Still, Apparently, a Person That Exists

I can’t promise I’ll write about this season consistently. There’s not a ton of time being a human with a real job and having an infant daughter. Apparently kids require work.

That said, here’s a little kick off to a show I’ll be watching because after listening to six months of a baby talk, I think the level of conversation on this show is a really nice primer before returning full-time to talking to real adults. These contestants are really good intermediate speakers. They are ADULT-LITE™.

So, Arie. GTFO. Why?

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If you need to do fifteen minutes of backstory to remind me who the Bachelorette even was that turned him down before even reminding me who he was, you’re really digging at the bottom of the barrel.

If Sean Lowe is the only dude willing to come give advice and they aren’t even friends, it’s a bad call. Since Sean is for sure reading this, because, well what else would fucking Sean have to do but scour social media for himself, congratulations. You have a cute kid and you’ve stayed married.

I’m actually not being sarcastic. I didn’t see that coming. Good work. Being a Dad is hard. Keep up the good work. Keep off ABC, though.

Arie has been like a TOTALLY successful race car driver which sounds believable because no one watches minor league IndyCar racing. North Korea has nukes. I don’t have time for MAJOR LEAGUE IndyCar racing, let alone whatever this dude did that aired on ESPN The Ocho.

Also, he hasn’t raced since 2010. Before he was on the Bachelorette in 2012. So spare me the “I became a realtor to center myself” shit. He needed money. Dad cut him off.

Side note. Is becoming a realtor the new “entrepreneur” designation on this show? I have friends that are actual realtors. It’s 24/7. It’s hard work. It’s a grind. I don’t believe anyone who is “casually going into real estate” because I already had to listen to them tell me about their “start up” in 2008 (2 years before Arie stopped racing in races no one watches).

Let’s just keep it real. His father was a race car driver. In fact, a great one. A real IndyCar driver who looked like this:


Dude should be the mascot for a Dutch beer and give the former Dos Equis spokesman a run for his pesos. This man has probably killed a woman from heartache. Her father probably dropped the charges after being promised a throw blanket made from his luxurious locks of Dutch hair.

Bro, Arie Sr., the REAL Arie IndyCar driver won the Indy 500 THREE TIMES. Bruh. Bruh. Bruh.

That is badass and again, I think racing IndyCars is dumb. I like sports with balls. Literally, like baseball. Or football. Or futbol. Just an actual ball. I’m not making a point about manliness to a man who is holding a trophy bigger than him in a Good Year hat that would cost 1,000 bucks in a vintage boutique in Soho. But like, it’s cool when your teammates aren’t mechanics. They are other people who share the ball and attempt to score.

Of course, Arie Sr. scores plenty. Look at that hat. Look at that trophy!

But wow, Arie Jr. Doesn’t growing up the low-res, power-hairless facsimile of a man this good at something explain Arie and why he’s going on the Bachelor?

The Kardashians were there for his dad. Hell, this is so textbook daddy issue I don’t know what to say. That’s Arie IN THAT PICTURE and he’s rocking his dad’s haircut at maybe 33% of his father’s FOLICULAR POWER™.

I feel bad for the guy. His whole life knowing his father was at the top of a sport he only is involved in because his father was at the top of that sport. How many people get to race million dollar cars until they are in their mid thirties before having to become a realtor? Again, realtors are no fucking joke, but when your dad probably has a room filled with VHS tapes of himself drinking milk out of IndyCar trophies using Dutch models (male and female) as a bed, you’re for real stoked to show people track homes in Scottsdale, Arizona?

No. You aren’t. So you cut your hair, let it gray and then keep being on reality TV hoping that pain goes away one awkward “for the right reason” at a time.

GOOD MORNING AMERICA - Arie Luyendyk Jr. is announced as the new star of ABC’s "The Bachelor" on "Good Morning America," Thursday, September 7, 2017 on the ABC Television Network. (ABC/Lou Rocco) ARIE LUYENDYK JR.


But whatever. Arie is here.

He’s “nice-enough” and “has hair” that is “age-appropriately grey” and “wears 2010’s skinniest tie for no reason.” He talks like a therapist who can’t act interested in what you are saying, even though you pay them to listen and care.

But Arie is our Bachelor and we all have to watch and ask ourselves the big question – what the hell is wrong with him? I mean beyond whatever the effect of being the son of a Dutch lovemaking champion who only feels truly comfortable going 200 mph.

Readers. If you were put on TV in 2010, branded to the world as a good kisser, a race car driver and then painted in a sympathetic light because you got dumped on TV – you’d be meeting lots of people. Arie was sorta famous for almost a decade now and he’s still single with only three noticeable changes: he’s graying, he’s not racing in any form wikipedia mentions and he now sells houses for ReMax.

He’s single because he’s either broken, broken, broken, not into girls, broken, boring, broken or an asshole. Or just unlucky. How turned on are you, ladies?

Homie is bad news (even if he doesn’t mean to be).

He dated Courtney (Swimsuit Issues) after friend of the blog and world class lazer tag champ Ben Flajnik did. That’s one way to prove to dad you can finish first.


“Oh. That didn’t make you love me Dad? Fine. I’ll date another brunette. AN EVEN BETTER BRUNETTE.”





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(I just puked in my mouth a little. How bad was a photo op at this place. Did he have to go inside after and share “A Groupie” with his model date? FxxING help.)


“Wait. The first girl was a model. Sorry Dad, BRB.”

arie sydney

This girl was more about making Emily Maynard jealous than impressing his Dutch father, which is probably impossible. “Wait. I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU DAD!”




“Lol, JK, Dad. This was who she chose. FR FR. I’m not feeling good about myself. What should I do?”

Oh. What everyone who went on the Bachelor and didn’t find happiness does. Go back on the show and try and fail at fake love for a career.


See. You aren’t alone, Arie Jr. In fairness, Nick’s dad seems a lot more low key than your dragon-riding, lion-maned, probably has whatever Zodiac sign is the best at sex and has the most erogenous zones father.

Arie. When you close your eyes at the strip club, do you see him?


OK. Back to the show!

For Arie’s sake, stop trying to make Kissing Bandit happen. Stop trying to make the fact he “kissed a woman against a wall in 2010” something pop culture relevant in 2018. This wasn’t the second coming of the Spiderman kiss. This wasn’t winning the Indy 500 with the hair of Hercules, a Breck girl and an Icelandic pony all at once (Arie’s dad is rad).

This was a kiss from a man who almost always puts his hands around the woman’s neck when he kisses her like he’s the weakest strangler on earth or a pediatrician feeling a sick child’s lymph nodes. Either of those turn you on, ladies?

If no, read further.

If yes, OMFG you live in a rural area and your husband needs to get checked for diabetes right now. Like, go. If this baby-handed, salt and pepper shaker’s neck squeezes do it for you, your current man, possibly the father of your children, is in need of medical attention because he must look like a close up of Steve Bannon’s skin.

Arie is low-energy, pale from years of being in his dad’s shadow. His eyes are dead from all the flashbulbs going off in his face as his father, a man who once parallel parked a Land Rover in a bike rack without a scratch, takes photos and checkered flags.

Arie creepily stares at the sea of 23 year olds walking into the house like he’s an old person and they are prime rib buffets in Vegas. It’s bad. He’s 36 and drinks vodka sodas in front of women he’s trying to impress. It’s only week one. It’s only week one and I feel like it’s the scenes in the beginning of a horror film where I’m being dummied into liking Arie before finding out I’m not only going to dislike him, I will have to at some point run from him, probably in the dark, probably right as I’m about to hook up with a cute girl (who he also kills). And then run from him again when we think he’s dead.

Wait, I’m supposed to say what happened this episode. Fine.

Lauren shows up in a racecar. Then one Lauren who lifts weights a lot and donates food to the homeless shows up where she meets Lauren, who is a social media marketing manager. Two Lauren realtors arrive and neither discusses real estate with Arie or each other or Lauren, who doesn’t like them already. Lauren is impressed when Arie catches a ball she throws him. Lauren has a hand tattoo. So does Lauren. A Lauren wears a mask for a few minutes. I know, so lit FR. Lauren steals time from Lauren. Lauren is angry. So are Lauren and Lauren. One Lauren is from a town called Weiner. She gives Arie a toy weiner and he gets uncomfy when asked if he already has a small wiener. No Laurens drank too much.

See you next week for more IndyAmateur Jones.


Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap VII: The Worst Turtleneck

I didn’t post last week. Here’s the thing. I got stomach flu. I had to fly to LA for surgery. I had work stuff. And on the happy front, we announced that we’re having a baby girl! So I was busy. I was busy writing down all the things I will strictly enforce on my future daughter.

I came to two things she can’t do: Take hard drugs or be a contestant on The Bachelor. Short of those two things, I promise to be reasonable. 38 year old prom date? Let’s discuss it. Parallel parked my future-Porsche over a fire hydrant. OK. Glad you weren’t hurt.

“I’m going on the Bachelor.” YOU ARE MOVING OUT I DON’T HAVE A DAUGHTER.

Same page?

Let’s BachCap.

So, the hometowns were weird mainly because we all know by now Rachel is the new Bachelorette. So, we’re going to go thru the whole charade knowing one person is definitely not winning which is unacceptable in the Post-Game-Of-Thrones era where we’re accustomed to any character dying at any moment. The people who are all “is Jon Snow really dead” and want spoilers are a bad influence on the Bachelor. I want the thrill of soul-crushing rejection still viable in the final episode. I already know too much.

So a few quick thoughts.

Raven is kind of the best? I mean, she for sure voted for Trump and loves just saying, “Benghazi, ya’ll” in drunk political talks, but it’s almost forgivable because she loves her dad and her town and frankly, she’s the least of any of our problems. This is a girl who took Nick on some four-wheeling in a swamp Trump didn’t drain yet that seems filled with bacteria that make you sterile (probably good in this case). The sport was called turdjumpin’ or something like that, I don’t know. The whole erotic make out in standing fecal water is probably to Arkansas what the pottery scene in Ghost was like to all my mother’s friends.

I mean honestly. We have to root for a girl from Hoxie. The town has negative population growth (truth) and literally looks like a staircase leading to a door to GTFU.

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Rachel’s date was a super fun quick visit to a “black church” that Nick was “totally comfortable” going to. Honestly, Nick is just as uncomfortable anywhere God is looking at him directly because at some point he has to ask God why it is that every woman he sleeps with turns to an ex-girlfriend. He’s always like WHY GOD WHY™. Mercifully, he didn’t do the “white-guy shuffle” to the beautiful church music going on in Dallas because I might have burned my eyes out with my wife’s curling iron.

The afternoon date was mainly about seeing how good looking Rachel’s family was, discussing how hard being an interracial couple is and Rachel’s white brother-in-law acting holier-than-thou like he invented marrying someone whose skin is a different color. If I am being honest, and my mom told me I should always be honest, this guy doesn’t care about anything beyond protecting his status as the white comic relief in the pretend Tyler Perry movie he thinks he’s living in. He doesn’t want Nick to show up and steal his white thunder. He’s found his niche, only it’s not a niche, it’s just being married to a human woman. It isn’t Tyler Perry’s I Can Be White All By Myself.

What struck me as interesting in this date, besides Nick’s “Dallas” outfit that’s best described as GUY WHO COLD CALLS YOUR AD AGENCY WITH A SOCIAL MEDIA PRODUCT WITH A DUMB NAME THAT YOU WON’T EVER BUY COUTURE™, was the constant debate over how Nick would handle an interracial relationship. While it’s a great point that even if the people in the relationship aren’t racist, the rest of the world can be.

There’s a really simple answer he could have dropped and shut the whole thing down. I’d have been, “My plan is to love your daughter and move her ass out of Dallas and immediately lower the racists-to-interracial-couple ratio. To quote Mayer Hawthorne, who is the Fernet of human beings in that he’s overly embraced in San Francisco, “Things ain’t gonna work out.”

Corinne’s date was weird. She just bought Nick a ton of clothes at one store that I’m pretty sure donated clothes for the cause. Then they went to her nice-view, but not-as-big-as-advertised condo where we got to watch them debate “how good this olive is” and also wonder what is going on with her mother’s face. She’s giving JoJo’s mother a run for her money as star of the next botched plastic surgery reality show. DON’T DO IT LADIES. AND IF YOU DO, FIND CHRISTIE BRINKLEY’S TEAM.

The truth is, I like Corinne now. She’s honest. She’s basic, she’s open about it, she doesn’t lie about who she is. Nick is the gay best friend she’s always wanted and he’s just not sure that’s who he is even if he really loved his 600 dollar sweatshirt. He looked amazing. Honestly, they could have a totally open relationship and probably function really well. I feel like they get each other. I feel like if Nick wants to take 20 topless Instagrams (we remember Nick) and make out with a girl and then a guy and then bring one of the two home, the worst Corinne says is “I’m tired, go play in the other room.” My wife just closed the browser. But she closed it knowing I’m right. 50 Shades of Nick.

Let’s see. The Canada date. There’s two things worth commenting on. The first is that even though the week before in Bimini Nick pretty much shut her down when she confessed her love, she woke up thinking, “this is fine.” Don’t do that.

The second is that her dad kept it super, super real. I respect when guys are like, “dude, I in no way respect this process that makes my human daughter a pawn.” I mean, I get not getting in the way or saying “if that’s what she wants I support it.” But Nick comes off like a two  year old and then gets rejected by dad in a feeling he experiences every time he has to watch football in a group of men. He’s just not believable.

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Anyway, they did the stupid “to be continued” thing again. Can we Make Bachelor Great Again? You can make America great again by checking out this app made by some awesome folks I’ve worked with.

Andi shows up because, frankly, she isn’t doing anything after she realized she has the worst taste in men and then America realized she’s about at interesting as waiting for your number to be called at the DMV. I don’t even know what they talked about. I don’t care. I don’t know why they are just drinking Bulleit Rye when there’s so many other options when you aren’t paying for booze yourself. I don’t know why they are staying in Brooklyn instead of downtown. I don’t know why we still have the electoral college. Honestly, Andi showing up just sent me off into a wistful state of reflecting on my past mistakes, how I might do better for my daughter, data science and automation and universal basic income. Hell, I even flossed to avoid listening to her talk about nothing while staring at her chicklet teeth.

We only got one fantasy suite. It was in Finland. Nick was wearing a turtleneck so audacious I didn’t know what to feel. And, he popped it. Like, he wore it not even turtle’d. I don’t know what was going on. I think it was his chastity turtle because pretty much he was covering as much of himself as possible to defend himself from Raven, who is the world’s most literal person. She was saying things like, “I am not sure how I feel about tonight because we are going to probably make sexual intercourse with his private parts and frankly I have not had an orgasm with my one previous sexual partner who I saw penetrating the vagina of a girl he cheated on me with and I should probably tell Nick all of this in extreme detail as if he was at a military briefing (unlike our President).”

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BTW. Raven’s sweater was falling off making the editing of this show impossible. She’d go from fully clothed to pre-shower and back between cuts.

Oh. And Nick throws darts like mothers give high fives. It’s like he is going to scream “Ya!” after each throw. Like, “Mom, I aced my spelling test!” and she’s like, “Ya!” He throws darts like he is expecting his mother to take him for ice cream.

In any event, I’m ready for the fallout from this date and for an episode longer than 37 minutes of content.


Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap VI: Bimini To Tell You Something

Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope you’re playing the so-titled track from Andre 3000’s side of the Outkast album. Actually, just play all of that. And play some Spottieottiedopalicious later to get in the mood. I know the song has some serious themes, but today I learned people have sex to some strange tunes.


Apparently in Australia, they listen to the song from the Cantina in Star Wars. Really.

This is a big week. We know Michael Flynn didn’t get the rose (unless Putin called Teleflora), but who else? With hometowns at stake, let’s BachCap.

This week was confusing because one of the best contestants was announced to be the next Bachelorette. I’m talking about Rachel. The lawyer. The role model. The person I’m not sure why she’s here.

I avoid spoilers for this show, but it was telling they just put this on blast. I couldn’t avoid it. It’s a triumph in three ways. First, she doesn’t have to attempt to marry Nick. Second, she is one of the smartest, most capable contestants ever to lead the show. Last and most importantly, she is the first black person to helm the show. She’s going to carry it. We’re going to watch. She’s going to be super fun.

But what does it say about Nick, how utterly boring this season is, how not into human women Nick acts if we are just going to announce one of the women getting hometowns is the next Bachelorette?

Chris Harrison switched off the hard drugs for this season because it’d be a bad trip. The only answer is hard liquor.

Nick left the room and hydrated from crying from all the shit going on INSIDE OF HIM™ because zero dramatic things are happening that we can see as audience members. On the surface, the water ripples, signaling deep distress below all the magical layers of this human onion. Nick. Be free.

He rolls back into the no-chill room of women strangling cheesy Caribean hotel pillows and then tells them that he feels like the “rug has been pulled out from under him” which is the biggest misuse of a turn-of-phrase since Ron Burgundy was trying to figure out when to say “when in Rome.”

Pulling the rug out from under yourself seems like an Aladdin-themed gif waiting to happen. It still doesn’t make sense. But let’s just agree Aladdin is pretty great. Sugar dates. Sugar dates and figs. Sugar dates and pistachios. My wife just closed the browser.

Nick explains why he sent Inner Side Boob and the other human home. It was cold because he basically just bashed them in his ten-year-old girl way. Like, “Our relationships are like, so-so-so much stronger and like who wanted these bitches at our sleepover anyway. We only have one bag of Twizzlers and you know how she gets when there’s candy involved.”

Nick, the sorority girl with a speech impediment, then is like, “Whaddya say we just get away from the big city in St. Thomas and go to Bimini where it’s like relaxed, like a more-mellowed-out-chill-kinda-vibe.” He talks like Rebecca Bunch on Crazy Ex-Girlfriend when she’s trying to not act crazy. Also, I love that show. Free plug.

Noticed that some of the girls were napping when Nick showed up. What’s wild about women is that they can nap next to someone even if they hate them. Like, I had a hard time on tour with my band sharing a bed with my best friends. Women can be like, “I hope you have a UTI and an overdraft charge for BofA at the same time, k, goodnight” and then just nap.

That’s so stone-cold killer. No wonder women are going to save the world. Nerves of steel. Love you, women!

And ladies, stop pretending you know what Bimini is. I mean, maybe Corinne does. Maybe she hooked up with someone on the Dolphins there or something. But like, you aren’t a thing Bimini. You sound like something that goes great with hummus or a country Trump is going to ban next because he is a racist who doesn’t like hummus.

Bimini is a little island near Miami that looks like a a man hiding from the cops inside an avocado.

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You don’t see it?

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Drawing this was more fun than I’ve had at any point during this season.

Bimini is famous for smuggling booze during prohibition. We didn’t cover any of that. We just did dumb ass shit the whole time. Ponce De Leon looked for the fountain of youth here. We didn’t cover any of that. Nick was all, “who cares, Kiehls and Aesop are my fountain of youth.”

I make such a mean girl face when I type things I picture Nick saying. You just have to picture me at my desk scrunching my face being like Nick said, “whatever, I Bimini to tell you girls that none of you win.”

So I Married An Axe Murderer gets the first date and they go snorkeling in Nick’s itsy-bitsy bathing suit. He isn’t into her, the ocean, being on TV or the cool Spanish galleon wreckage covered in graffiti.

She tells him she is falling in love with him after telling him it’s a day of firsts (all yacht related). He shuts that down like a web browser full of porn when your mom gets home. Hi Mom! My wife just closed the browser. Not for porn though. God. Sorry, wife.

The next date is the group date with Hoxie, Putin on the Ritz and Ivanka. They are going to see some sharks. Nick is like, “Guys, this will be a redonkulous story when we get back because so many people claim to like swim with sharks but they like went to SeaWorld and just want to sound impressive, who does that?”

Hoxie said she’s punch the shark in the nose if it messed with her and for sure I believe her after her describing seeing her fiancee having sex. I actually really like her, but there’s like a high likelihood you can’t say stuff like “Jesus effing Christ” in front of her, even if you for real cut your finger off or something where you didn’t even mean it, it slipped out. Like, all day you’re trying not to take the lord’s name in vain because you’re agnostic and she’s really fun and cute and punches sharks, but you spill a bowl of ciopinno on your penis and all your can think of screaming is something about Jesus. Does that end the relationship? Does one still get the rose on that date? Asking for a friend who loves ciopinno and has bad hand-eye coordination.

Hoxie gets the rose and they go to a concert by some band my wife described as “the Caribbean Train” which is better than anything I could have come up with by a mile. They have for sure covered Drops of Jupiter, right? All reggae style though.

Corrinne, for all her flaws, is kind of the GOAT. She’s the only person I have EVER seen consistently eat on the show. She talks comfortably about her body. She doesn’t deny being horrible. She goes for what she wants. In this day and age, she’s the least of our problems. I’m confident when she heard the president may have paid Russian prostitutes to piss on him – she was like, “grow up, whatever, everyone does stuff when they are rich.”

By the same morbid token, when Putin on the Ritz said she ate lipstick as a starving young girl, Corrinne FOR SURE pulled out her wet-mess make up bag and was like, “If you’re hungry, I have a bunch of last season’s MAC colors you can snack on.”

Oh Jesus, I am going to hell. Sorry Hoxie.

Nick takes Neonatal Narcoleptic Nurse on a date (for real, she’s asleep the whole time). They do the old Bachelor standby “indigenous sport date” and play basketball with the local youth. She tells him the truth about being afraid to fall in love because the last guy died, which makes sense. Nick responds by crying (because his diet is crying to lose water weight) and then sends her home.

Corrinne, sensing an opportunity, tries to go have sex with Nick who stops her being all, “I just showered and don’t want to get ready for bed again.”

Rachel’s date omitted because she clearly doesn’t win this show, she is the next Bachelorette and I am letting her be. Love you, girl. You go Glen Coco.


Finally, Nick gets rid of Putin on the Ritz, making him better at vetting Russians than our current administration. It sucks because she is lovely. I hope all this TV exposure hooks her up with the kind of man who likes amazing women who are smart, strong and pretty and have actual jobs. Keep being those girls, America. Or Corrinnes. At least she’s honest.



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap IV: Alternative Facts


This week, we learned Alternative Facts are a thing. Not a thing we do, but like a thing-thing. Like if your boss tells you that you were late, you can just say “I was on-time, in fact, if anything, you were early and your family needs more attention.”

For readers of this blog and watchers of this show, you knew alternative facts existed forever. The Bachelor mansion is the home of the alternative fact and frankly, I’m surprised it took the government so long to catch up to the cutting edge of culture that’s been sweeping the nation ever since Chris Harrison first drank a martini with the adrenal glands of a rattlesnake instead of olives (#AF). If you’re curious, you order that martini like, “dry gin martini, three rattlesnake adrenal glands, it’s tongue as a twist.”

Do that, you get a show.

First random observation. Nick holds girls hands vertically. He holds hands like how Oprah holds hands when she’s saying, “girl, you are gonna beat this and I’m betting on you with A NEW CAR.” Supporting my theory Nick does something really, really wrong in bed, he holds your hand like Oprah holds another woman’s hand. (For the record, I support Oprah and her hand-holding.)

Chris Harrison arrives to let the ladies know they are going on a journey around the world. As they bubble with excitement, Chris lets them know that journey is to Wisconsin (which I don’t even allow as a connection flight). Nick is so a part of the Bachelor machine, he so has no idea who he is, they basically were like, “we’re saving money so when there’s 20 of these crazy humans chasing you, they get airfare to Milwaukee (which I didn’t even attempt to spell because I don’t care, I just literally wrote it phonetically and let the redline correct it because no one needs to know how to spell it.)

We get to see Nick’s parents again and his mother cannot stop crying. There is so much going on here. She definitely drove from WAUSUSHSAH to MULFEKFKEE to get a big city haircut and she’s been on the elliptical like the Target Lady since Nick went on Paradise. As nice as she seems and I’m not one to shame a mother ever, she very much seemed like a Kristen Wiig character we haven’t seen yet. A mother hoping her son will stop being on reality television while trying to mix a deadly combination of vodka to relax her and bulletproof coffee to jack her up (she read about it in a wellness email passed to her by another friend and the title of the email was in ALL CAPS™ because it’s BREAKING MEDICAL NEWS™.

Nick’s dad, by contrast, just wants his wife not to explode because he’s digging his big city sweater and glasses combo and feels like he’s definitely sitting in the Shamu “Splash Zone” with his wife’s persistent crying.

Do I remember what they talked about? Eagle Rare Bourbon. I just kept drinking it and thinking how much better it was than this conversation.

Inner Side Boob (the beauty salon mogul I’ve nicknamed because while she has a commitment to side boob, it’s the opposite side of most of what we encounter on the internet and bad night clubs). My wife just closed the browser despite probably agreeing. Gwyneth would never do anything but TASTEFUL SIDE BOOB™ – again, she would agree, but my wife is long since left her computer and thinking about what to do to take her mind of her decisions (specifically, marrying me).

But Goop doesn’t have an Inner Side Boob email. Just saying.

Oh yeah, they go on some date and Nick brings out an ex-girlfriend, presumably to prove he’s been with a human woman (our only evidence comes from this show). I was so sure it was one of his 20 siblings and this would be a funny joke. But no. It just made me sad. This was his ex-gf (now bff) who he put on TV. Because he loves women and this is one of them. Accept it. He’s tremendous at dates. He goes on the best dates.

Then, let’s keep it real. They went rollerskating. I like rollerskating dates. I like rollerskating alone. I mean, it’s pretty good. But Nick is a REALLY GOOD ROLLERSKATER. He was doing like step overs and going forwards and backwards and Oprah Hand Holding. How does one get good at this in 2017? If I wanted to, I feel like I’d end up on Craigslist and on some Amber Alert watch list. I mean, he was beautiful on the rink, don’t get me wrong. Nick was like a young Nancy Kerrigan out there, but how? Why? When?


The group date was on a dairy farm which Nick in no way has ever been to before, but in the effort to culturally box in every location, Wisconsin has cheese and cheese is cows, go to cheese cows. Then again, if the Packers aren’t playing, what else would one do?

Watching Nick milk a cow made me feel the same way I feel watching a sex scene in a movie theatre with my parents. Like, nothing is wrong, but something is wrong?

I did enjoy all the girls shoveling manure in white pants. That’s just great and big, steaming shovelfuls of cow shit is a great metaphor for this show in general.

Ivanka doesn’t want to do this. Any of it. She whines, says some epic stuff I don’t need to repeat and let’s just get to the point. At the night date, she gets in a million fights, gives a million great one liners in some language between baby talk, internet and trust fund and then grabs her boobs. Oh yeah, and she was mad racist about her nanny.

But, New America was on display when she gaslighted Nick and was like “dude, everything is amazing, the girls are great, these facts are alternative in nature.”

Epic. She may be the first contestant who gets executed by her co suitorettes – my money is on So I Married An Axe Murderer, who is still so normal and attractive that I don’t get why Nick. Why.

Raven had a one on one at some point as well, but all I remember was she had a really crazy accurate description of seeing her boyfriend cheating on her and then her beating everyone in the room up. It was like an X-rated Carrie Underwood song. Or a G rated Rihanna song. However you like to roll. Hillbilly song off Lemonade? I could do this all day.

One last point – can we not do the Rose Ceremony at the beginning of the next week? It’s a series. I get it will be continued. Unless Chad is about to slice someone’s head off, I prefer just to know who dies at the end of the show.

That’s all. Survive the week. Get out of Wisconsin.


Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap I: A New Hope

O Waddup, 2017. Now that the earth has finished rotating around the sun and we arbitrarily are calling it a new year, everything will be better. Starting with this blog. I’m all in this season, but I need to warn you of a few things before we get started, you start tweeting at me all day asking where my posts are and all the cute things we do as a couple together.


Trump is the president. I am trying to Make This Blog Great Again (#MTBGA) so you don’t have to solely focus on what promises to be THE MOST DRAMATIC SEASON OF AMERICA EVER™. That doesn’t mean from time to time I won’t slip into pointing out the giant burning turd monsters we’re all going to be dealing with. If you supported Trump, that’s okay. You’re more than welcome to enjoy my free content. If you don’t like it, I’m sure there are plenty of hilarious, GOP-alt-right-friendly reality television bloggers in REAL AMERICA™ because Mississippi is known for two things: holding on to the Confederate Flag like the last person at a party who just won’t go home and BLOGS ABOUT WEST-COAST LIBERAL ELITES LIVING IN A MANSION TRYING TO FIND LOVE.

Oh crap. You’re stuck with me. Like we’re stuck with Trump.


Let’s BachCap™.

The first episode is always the worst. We’re treated to some staples of the show, all of which are less fun than what comes later.

We start this time, like we start every time, with a Nick-retrospective. This is Nick’s public rehab tour and the first thing we have to do I get him to never-ever talk or appear in public. But that would make for bad TV, so they decided just to coach him up. It’s sort of like when Chris Columbus was directing the first Harry Potter movie and he’d literally just say every line to the young actors exactly how they are supposed to say it and with the perfect facial expressions and then tell them, “Don’t act, just mimic what I did.”

What I’m saying is Elan Gale or someone is sitting in front of Nick being like, “If I get knocked down, I’ll get up and show everyone my true self.” I’ve seen Nick’s true self. It’s on his Instagram. He’s shirtless. He’s a shirtless “software salesman” who is shirtless with ten other shirtless folks at Chicago nightclubs. He’s a man who posts pictures of himself like this:


Kudos on not eating carbs and what I assume is a pretty good pilates regime. But, when people tell Nick to go eff himself, he’s like, obviously, what else would I eff? Take the lower left photo. Outside of a 25 year old, pre-metabolism girl taking an “I’m thinking, but mainly about how fun I am” staring off to the side photo on a daddy-sponsored beach vacay, who takes this shot?

Actually, what guy have you ever met that created a five photo montage, pic-stitch of themselves? Did you like that guy? I don’t either.

Look. I think the person deep inside Nick is probably solid, but his family is super religious and he’s constructed some kind of effeminate playboy image that he thinks pleases them. Which is weird because how is that what pleases a 37 person family is Waushcheecadka, Wherever USA?

Be yourself, Nick. Like you almost were on Bachelor in Paradise. I got your back.

Wow, Elan Gale is good. He got me to say it. Shit. I’m brainwashed NICK I LOVE YOU TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF. My wife just closed the browser.

Speaking of his oddly religious family (oddly because Trump proved God moved on to another planet already), kudos ABC for only showing 5 or 6 of them and mainly just Bella, who seems like a good kid. As they moved through Nick’s varying “suit game” – which I interpreted as the many personalities he’s tried on over the years to feel accepted – his dad asked if one look was a “vampire thing.” For clarity, naming your daughter Bella in the Twilight Era is the most vampire thing you can do short of actually drinking another human’s blood.


Anyway. Nick, like all broken men who want to be the Bachelor, is afraid he won’t find love. After coming in second to so many men on this show, you start to break down what happens. The question I ask is what is happening when he sleeps with women? I’ve never seen someone succeed so often in conversation-leading-to-coitus or (CpC in advanced metrics, write that down) with such a terrible Deal Sealing Fail Rate (DSF/R).

He mostly nails private convos with girls. He’s mastered being something between the Backstreet Boy they grew up fantasizing about (maybe it’s One Direction now) and their female best friend they listened to the Backstreet Boys with (maybe it’s One Direction now).


Then, the girls sleep with him and decide it’s not a forever type of thing. Which is very ungirl after finding the unlikely mix of sensitive guy with a ripped body who also is kind of a dick. See my point? What isn’t adding up? That is literally the 3 part recipe for MILLENIAL GIRL HEROIN™ (maybe it’s Molly now).


They did the awful scene where they have Nick meet up with former Bachelors for advice. This was the bottom of the barrel. Ben is a child who couldn’t make it work with an Oregonian flight attendant, a human who comes from a state known for politeness in a profession requiring you to deal with turbulence and assholes simultaneously while trapped in the air. Oh, and she won’t eat a carb unless she gets the stomach flu.

They brought out Chris Soules, who’s back to being Fat McConnaughey and still has no personality. The fact he did the show to drum up promotion for his hardcore Trump-style land-takeover business makes him even worse. Chris Harrison said this show is a journey to find love, not land ripe for fracking. The only fracking this show allows is in the fantasy suite. My wife just closed the browser.

Then there’s Sean Lowe (Strawberry Lemonade), who at this point looks like a Westworld robot somewhere between being in milk form and human form. I commend him for getting married and having a kid. I just don’t know if that’s because Jesus told him to (personally) or he means it. Still, I’m leaving him alone, because unlike the other two cowards “pretending” to drink whiskey, he finished his glass.

BTW, they were at Bogie’s, which is in my hometown. It was voted the Conejo Valley’s Best Spot To Hook Up With Your Friend’s Newly Divorced Mother Now That You’re An Adult While Santana’s “Smooth” Is Playing. When I bought a house out there before moving to Portland, I tried to take my wife, but it became obvious we were both going to end up swingers by the end of the nights. My wife just closed the browser a record third time.


Side note, snuck into the Golden Globes once and smoked a cigarette with Stiffler’s Mom and the lady who wrote My Big Fat Greek Wedding. They were lovely. We just smoked and talked shit about Diane Lane who “doesn’t eat.” I thought it was a brutal, rockin’ takedown and they are perfect.

I’m just gonna cover girls I remembered because it’s frankly too damn early to care.

  • The first-impression rose recipient who’s a litigator, LOVES VACUUMING and most be broken in some way if she is on this show.
  • The Canadian Italian French special needs teacher (bacon must be confusing in that house) who seems great so she must be broken in some way if she’s on this show.
  • The girl from Secaucus (read, the train station in NJ where you transfer trains trying to get to your family in better parts of NJ while you are staying in NYC and don’t want to pay 232 dollars for an Uber in 2 hours of traffic) who dresses like a shark and claims to be a dolphin.
  • The girl who slept with Nick and didn’t give him her number (read my previous explanation of what happens when girls sleep with Nick) and then lost 30 pounds and her fucking mind and now wants another round, but not of pastries. She’s past that.
  • TEETHY, who wore yellow and thought it was SO WEIRD™ that she had a fan. Um.
  • The Golden State Warriors cheerleader who brought Neil Lane’s botox-reanimated-latex face with her on day one.
  • The 1990s Love Interest girl who said she wasn’t wearing underwear and when she smiles it’s like A LITTLE TOO BIG and you wonder WHAT’S WRONG THERE.
  •  IVANKA TRUMP, the horrible bacon-wrapped-turd who speaks in the third person, runs a “multi million dollar business” and has a nanny who brings her cucumber snacks. Please bring back MESA VERDE and CHAD and lock her in a room with them. Spin off. Bachelor in Horror-dise. I’m in.
  • Other people who are probably totally broken in a really bad way that we’ll all exploit while drinking wine (bourbon for me).

Well, Nick. You got what you told your parents you wanted. A bunch of weird girls virtually guaranteed to pick you first. Hope you stopped doing whatever that thing you’re doing in bed is. Stop reading Cosmo for male sex advice. It’s not something you can reverse engineer.

I got your back. Make this season great.

One other piece of housekeeping. Have a quick read Trojans – or people who don’t feel like going back to working yet!


I’m CLINICALLY LIT™ that my USC Trojans won the Rose Bowl last night, effectively ending the original purpose of this blog, which was to be a propaganda machine to combat the NCAA sanctions handed to USC for “not knowing Reggie Bush (the one who dated Kim Kardashian) and his parents took money from a guy who wanted to be an agent.” Last night, USC beat Penn State, another team who was sanctioned, but managed to get their penalties lessened – even though they got in trouble for three decades of covering up 30+ cases of child abuse that happened on campus in team facilities at a state school with tax payer money.

Just because I have a large readership, I want to point out that there’s a big difference between Penn State and USC. Or Miami (who did some pretty gnarly stuff). Penn State put business/football ahead of morality and good judgement. I know people love their schools. I know we want to fight against people who point out that we’re wrong. But Penn State covered up something really bad for a long time and their excuses are terrible. Especially that the current players and coaches and administration “had nothing to do with it.”

I object to Penn State having a football team the way you’d object to  your meth-addict child having meth. It’s the bad influence causing you to make really heinous decisions. I’d buy the argument “it’s all new people” if you had the courage to shut your program down for four years and hit the restart button. Maybe then we’d pull for you or admire your team. You have to actually repent to be forgiven.

Until that point, rooting for Penn State football sort of feels like seeing the movie Spotlight and rooting for the Catholic Church. Sorry.


Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap Finale

Where did the time go? This season never really got going for me. The guys were boring besides Chad. JoJo flushed all the goodwill of being a seemingly smart, calculating person down the toilet with each choice she made. I saw more sequined dresses than it takes to elect a decade of Miss Americas.


I know I bummed a lot of you out by writing so little. Sometimes, like when I was in Amsterdam on business, there was just no way to see the show. Sometimes, the episode was so, so, so boring I couldn’t bring myself to squeeze a G of words out for you. Sometimes, honestly, I meant to and then just got busy, tired or all the other stuff that happens when you are not as young as you used to be. I started this thing I think in 2008, when blogs were a thing, and 8 years and millions of reads later – I’m a suit.

But I’m writing today. Thanks for reading. Let’s BachCap.

The last episode is always the same. My wife, the blonde genius forensic scientist on CSI: Future Breakups pointed out as much. They always make the underdog seem WAY better to the parents to create drama and then the first dude out of the limo is invariably that guy. He eats a rejection burger and then she marries the boner.

This episode was no different.

A couple quick notes before we go macro, because there is no way I am describing the play by play of a show that made no effort this year to create a compelling play by play. Thank God Bachelor in Paradise starts tonight. That’s the real MVP now. That’s the one the crew gets excited for . It’s the new GOAT. It’s LeBron’s return to Cleveland. It’s Becky with the Good Hair.

JoJo has had some work done. Her mother had too much. Her sister, so little they made her sit off screen and not talk. This is the Goldilocks Principle at work. Somewhere in between too much and too little is JoJo: the ideal amount to the tune of being worthy of a show about twenty men vying to wed her.

Is that messed up? Yes. Should you all vote for Hillary now to repeat for what this show says about the fairer sex (yes, but also because Donald Trump is a human turd dipped in orange paint with a speaker in it that reads facist manifestos in a tinny voice)?

Her mother, to be fair, lowered her daily dose of bacterias injected into various parts of her face and I was surprised at how much her face mask could emote. Let’s give her credit. She was mainly sober. She was kind. Parts of her face moved. She was a big winner. Dad was great. And her brothers didn’t like how they looked last time. They just smiled and enjoyed their dress shirts worn only by Cam on Modern Family and guys in Dallas who don’t get that when the fashion lords created the oxford, they got it right. We didn’t need more to the tune of floral prints in the inside of your shirt. Just stop. You aren’t a Tootsie Pop. We don’t need a surprise inside.

While they tried to play up how great Robbie was and what a d-bag Jordan was, it honestly seemed true. The only thing I like about After The Final Rose is that you get to see everyone without editing so you know it wasn’t the producers faking a story.

Jordan is a huge tool. And let’s get into that. It’s for a good reason. He’s got no self confidence. Want to know why the older brother plays in the NFL and dates an X-Man? He can make decisions. He doesn’t waffle. When Aaron Rodgers sees a man open, he throws the ball. Quarterbacks make decisions. They try to get in the endzone.

Jordan answers every question by repeating what was asked of him so he has time to think of a non-response. Like, JoJo can’t think this would last. She can’t think that when her normal, clever brain we experienced on Ben’s season will put up with Jordan after the tenth time they have sex. Does she not know that the only way she will be able to get off will be to picture different things to bludgeon him with when he runs his hands through his hair.

I’ve never had a friend like Jordan, and not because he’s this bad guy. Because he is not confident in anything. He can’t even tell you what city he will be failing as a sportscaster in. He couldn’t ask her parents for her hand. He called them the day of and didn’t even FaceTime – but that might be because her mom just looks like a screengrab in that format.

Robbie is a boring, basic himself, but I’d be his friend. He can make decisions, even if they are horrible, like wearing a hot pink tie with that suit. Maybe it was to match her nails so the shot where she reached into his chest and pulled out his heart really popped on camera. Maybe he was gonna sell a time share. Dunno.

I felt bad when JoJo said how everyone is rooting against them when she said it’s been rough going for her and Jordan. But the thing is, advice turns to annoyance when you just ignore everything. He just smiles, walks super weird, dresses fly and gives zero shits about you. I feel horrible for both of you. Just break up and save yourself your quality years. He’s a fine human. He just isn’t going to be anything you want him to be and the weird part is YOU ARE SAYING IT OUT LOUD.

I get that the “heart wants what the heart wants” but the heart wants donuts and strippers and hardcore narcotics and that is because your heart is a drunk two year old with the nuclear launch codes to your heart and no matter what the brain tells it, it’s just like “FU I can have another bottle of rosé and text him right now because he loves me guys, you don’t get it.”

We get it. We just want to avoid the next six months of the same depressing talk with you. My wife just closed the browser. OUT OF RESPECT™.

So, another failed season. I need a good one. I’m working on a new plan for next year. Maybe a pod. Maybe some Snapisodes (ghost emoji: lostangelesblog).

Thanks for playing and have a great offseason.



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap CatchUp

I’ve been busy. I told you this wasn’t going to be the season I was consistent. But I also said I wouldn’t let you down, so here’s some musings from the season so far in no particular order.

I’m going to start with JoJo, which would be a cooler name if she was a dope wide receiver names Joe Johnson and he had like a Twitter handle like “YungJoJo” and his snaps were lit af. For a girl named Joelle, can’t it just be Jo? Or how about Elle? How cute do we need to be? Do we need to duct tape a kitten on every facet of our existence? Can’t being wealthy and attractive be enough in Dallas?

Truth is, if we need to rename JoJo, we rename her Beady, because she exclusively wears beaded, sparkling dresses. It’s like she’s been chained to the DJ booth at a never ending prom and chewing her leg off to break free would be bad because calories.

Truth-truth is, I like Beady. She got the raw deal last year. She’s really pretty smart all things considered and genuinely seems like someone who’d be fun to be around. So other than the fact her STYLE ICON™ is a disco ball, I love her. I hope she finds love. And any form of matte fabric. And a better plastic surgeon than her mother.

Come to think of it, this season a lot of the people are likable.

But not Chad.

Chad is what the guy from Veep would look like if he was weaponized by the people who turned Wolverine into Wolverine.

This guy from Veep:


And Wolverine:


Chad is LOOKING FOR A FIGHT™ and this house of dudes seems to want to give it to him, only they never really do. Most interactions are like this:

Chad eats a raw sweet potato and sweats through the same fleece zip up he wears in every scene. Someone gets mad at him for eating and not being in love with Beady yet. Chad tells everyone they are idiots if they are already in love with a girl they barely know. Someone gets upset and tries to define what Chad is all about. Chad responds by eating a pound of deli meat and saying he’s trying to mind his own business. Someone else calls Chad a joke who is there for the wrong reasons. Chad threatens violence while eating a head of lettuce. Someone says the answer with Chad is always violence. Chad threatens to kill said person while drinking some kind of glowing neon protein drink.

That’s been the season so far pretty much. I just wish Chad let me write his threats. His are like 90% ridiculous, but I think if he got to 100% ridiculous, we’d actually totally love this future restraining order of a neck vein. I think he’s like right near the line of the villain we love. Like, we love the Joker and he actually kills folks. We loved the Terminator. If Chad just upped it a little bit stylistically, he might be our Deadpool. We might end up rooting for him to kill everyone in the house instead of JoJo finding love.

Since anyone can tear an empire down, here are some suggestions next time Chad puts a threat on someone:

“I’m going to crawl up your ass and tackle you from inside your body, bro.”
“I’m going to cut off you fingers and fax them back to your house in the early 90s so you are afraid to grow up, bro.”
“I’m going to buy you tickets to Hamilton and then when you get out, I’m going to beat you so hard you don’t remember seeing it and can’t brag to your friends, bro.”

Side note. I haven’t seen Hamilton on any of my business trips to NYC, but I’ve seen the titular song performance a lot. Does anyone else get pissed off at the SERIOUS ACTOR FACE™ that goes on when Lin Manuel Miranda gets all quiet and drops into singing “Alexander Hamilton” – ???

Screen Shot 2016-06-09 at 11.42.17 AM

That’s the face The Rock would make before he gave people the People’s Elbow:


Hamilton probably is pretty badass, but this blogger who so cavalierly connects the worlds of Tony Award caliber theatre and WWE gamesmanship is not ready to compare the moment Hamilton gets introduced with the moment The Rock sends 50,ooo Trump supporters into a frenzy with the promise of a choreographer elbow to the face of someone who probably just told the crowd they are huge assholes.

Lin, you’re singing man. You didn’t just blow my mind by proving we live in the Matrix. I’ve never seen anyone so amazed the music went from aggressive to reflective. Aaaaaand… my wife just closed the browser.

What are we talking about?

Chad’s number one enemy is Mariney Mouse, a small dude who dresses to look smaller somehow. This guys seems ready to fight Chad but never does. They are both Marines. It made me sure I wasn’t supposed to be one.

In the grand tradition of the 2 on Juan date ending with one person left in the wilderness, Chad got removed, but we are made to believe he’s out stalking everyone. I’m sure not much happens, but let’s be honest. In the same way that 23 Jump Street is going to be Men in Black 4 (for real, Google that), Chad can turn Bachelor in Paradise into I Totally Still Know What You Did Last Summer. DO IT, ABC.

Hey, Jake Pavelka is still alive! Next.

We had one helicopter so far, but I was more focused on the date. I’m not counting it.

Let’s spend some time on Zorg from Fifth Element (who Chad and many readers called out). Evan, who fixes penises for a living, is the kind of person in civilian life you probably like, or at least tolerate. But put in this environment, it just seems like he’s the guy at the high school party trying to clean up as it’s all going down. He probably collects keys and stocks bowls with condoms. He’s just a fish out of water. Maybe a fish in outer space. He actually is such a fish that he makes you question what a fish is in general. They don’t have hands? They breath underwater? They aren’t lovable. I don’t know. You may not realize you’re thinking things like this when you see Evan on screen, but you are. That’s why you aren’t into him ladies and gents.

Also, poor dude. His nose just bleeds on contact. And on non contact. And he’s not doing blow and rocking out or anything. He just stores emotion in the capillaries in his nose.

The Canadian dude deserves a little ink too. He is so an actor and crisis negotiator ABC hired to handle Chad. Like, the dude just acts goofy, jumps in the pool first night and lasts this long? Please. He’s ABC’s man on the inside. He’s undercover. He’s in so deep he may even think he’s a contestant at this point. His contacts at the station are calling him and getting his voicemail. He’s creating a backstory. He’s no longer there for protection. He’s there for the right reasons.


That’s all I feel like writing about right now. Sorry.

But good news. More next week.







Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette


First, a humble apology. For fans of my Instagram (INSTAFANS™) I have spent a month between Portland, NYC, Dallas and LA for work. I’ve watched each episode, but by the time I have absorbed them, the next one is basically on. I have drained several hotel mini bars out of pure guilt (and wanting to be NOT SOBER™). I’ve had many of you offer everything from words of support – come on Zack, hang in there and post! – to messages that were more like Zack WTF my Tuesdays are hard enough without you taking selfies at the Soho Grand whining about being tired. Being tired is having a 6 month old and negotiating 2 hours and 15 minutes of me-time a week. That’s 2 hours for this godforsaken show and 15 minutes to read your stupid, un-proofread blog.

So yeah. I got some of those too.


Instead of going into Olivia getting sent home in what is now a disturbing trend of 2 on 1s ending with one person being stranded in the wilderness like they are suddenly started an impromptu episode of Naked and Afriad (or Survivor Wench) – I am just going to talk this week.

After I talk about JoJo’s mother, who drinks champagne right from the bottle, didn’t realize she was on TV and has had so much work done you’d think she married a contractor.

Also, her brothers. What’s up with that? And the fact her ex is a man after all.

Also, Caila and Lauren only two to pass the PARENTAL FITNESS TEST™. You know what I mean. They will always look good. JoJo is fencey. She looks great, but there’s more debate over DNA in her family than in The People vs OJ Simpson.




The thing is, and I’m not anti-Sandals or anything, I just have to point out the specificity of this particular Sandals. This is where Michael Scott takes Jan. This is where the naked photo happens. This is like, a stop on The Office memory lane tour.

And now these idiots are going to ruin it with television-mandated sex in front of millions. Actually, that ruins nothing. I love this episode and what’s more, this was a GREAT version of this episode. I said early on that Benilla was dangerous. Ben crushes hearts because he wants you to feel something you’ve never felt. He lulls you into a coma of telling him that yes, in fact, HE is capable of being loved. And when you finally give in – BOOM.

HEART RAPE™ – in theaters, July 7th.

My wife just closed the browser.

While Neil Lane was getting some last minute botox touch ups, date one went to the Disney Princess herself, Caila. For real, I’ve said it before. Any time anyone tells her anything, it’s the reaction an animated squirrel has when they discover a bunch of acorns.

She’s dressed like she’s playing some 90s vision of the future aerobics death match competition, but whatever. According to the women around he her hair game is strong. I was more focused on her looking like she was attacked by pastel wallpaper.

There’s a generic rafting date to go eat spicy jerk chicken and enjoy a sexual metaphor. Jerk. Get what I mean? What I mean is that the word jerk has a sexual connotation in this case. Oh. You got that? Sorry. I thought it was SUBTLE™.

The date is weird. Caila who was once afraid of breaking Ben’s heart now is cold buggin’ about having her heart broken because she JUST NOW realized he’s dating (and having sex soon) with two other girls. Eventually she relaxes and just violently makes out with Benilla like she’s bobbing for a hidden apple behind his face.

Ben talks more about being unlovable. Jesus, Ben. This is why you are the guy who we call for rides and not the other way around. This is why you went and got me a Powerade Zero in Vegas while I was fighting a hangover without me even asking. Ben, you would be more lovable if you were less lovable. Girls love their teddy bear. They just don’t date them when they grow up.

Go ahead and marinate on that for a minute, lady readers. I wish we lived in a world where nice guys could simply be nice without having to find other ways to ADD VALUE™ – humor, being a dick, sports, money, being an even bigger dick, having a boat – but we don’t. That’s why nice guys perfect the slow roll.

My wife just went to close the browser. Paused. Had a think on it. Paused again. Closed it and made a note to ask if I “slow rolled.”

Caila at one point said she “can feel his in his breath he feels the same” – maybe about what to order for lunch. All she found in his breath was jerk spices. Also, girls don’t say shit like that. Ever. It’s pulling an Isla Fisher in Wedding Crashers.

Either way, she says she loves him. He smiles and offers “Chris Harrison’s Sex Contract” and she accepts. Off to the room to make out in front of enormous FIREWORKS METAPHOR™. In Benilla’s case, I don’t think it was coincidence the fireworks were going off before they even got busy.

Flight Attendant rolls out to date two in a sweater tank top because I guess that’s happening again now. That’s cool because most of us had a thing for Rachel on Friends and so this trend will probably close some fetish loops for men out there who were too young to date a women with this item of clothing the first time it was around. Good luck out there, fellas.

Their date is sort of adorable as they lead baby turtles to the ocean where they will be eaten by basically everything. You could almost hear the crunches as Benilla waved at them.

Ben goes into total “this would ruin it if I wasn’t the Bachelor” territory saying he cried in front of her parents and that she is too good for him. Honestly. Readers. If your prospective partner told you all this after a month, what are the odds you would feel comfortable falling asleep before them? If you step back, this is “collect your hair and make dolls out of it” talk.

Not to fear. He’s the man of her vanilla, non-fat greek yogurt dreams.

The night portion is where the HEART RAPE™ happens. Ben reciprocates “I Love You.” No, no, no. They profess love for each other 100 times and then take it to the mattress and now he’s got 2 girls he’s slept with in love with him and 1 of them hearing it back.

Lauren has this won…


JoJo’s date starts WITH A HELICOPTER!


They go to a waterfall and do the classic make out in the water date. Fun was had by all crotches, by all accounts.

The night portion is identical to the other two. AM I UNLOVABLE? Dude. I got over my homecoming crown in college. I feel like he needs one every year. See that part where I told you I won homecoming. Man, I’m lovable. Ben. Get me a fucking Americano.

So here’s where this goes off. JoJo says she loves Ben. AND HE RECIPROCATES AGAIN. JoJo is like wait, what? You can say that? YEAH. To everyone, I guess. Wow. This is gonna end bad.

One CHAMPAGNE POP METAPHOR™ later, the tally becomes clear.

3 Sex
2 Love Yous
1 One Effed Dude From Indiana and Not Just Because He’s From Indiana (but a little bit)

Caila comes to surprise Ben, but he decides he needs to cut her like fifth period French, which was #17 on his list of 100 Things I LOVE About High School – by Ben Higgins (written in crayon).

She’s going home. She’s getting in the car. She’s getting out of the car. She’s asking if he felt this way all week. She’s wondering if he slept with her with no intention of picking her. YES. But he just says no and she leaves. Man. That could have been an honest moment. Girls, don’t be confused. Saying a lot of things that sound like feelings doesn’t mean a man is telling you anything. Don’t let him coo you to sleep like a baby.

There’s a weird rose ceremony because they all sort of awkwardly high five that they are the final three.

It’s going to be weird. See you at the finale.






Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap #5: Viva El Mispronounxico

We were immediately welcomed to another night of entertainment by Benilla being coerced to yelling confidently, “Viva El Mexico!” I love the producers, all living in Southern California and well aware of how to pronounce Spanish words, if not being fluent, that Ben was saying MEX – SI – CO and not MEH – HEE – CO, and just saying whatever, doing nothing to help the perception of midwesterners.

That said, the Iowa caucus celebrated Trump and Cruz, so, Ben might be the best thing that region has going. Chicago, you are exempt.

Chris Harrison was predictably not present this entire episode. I am glad we have gotten back to the habit of Latin American trips where we are treated to a vibrant culture and Harrison is treated to incredible options of smuggling narcoticas back into Los Estados Unidos (EEUU).


As we head to Mexico, the women fly coach which is a great metaphor for this show in general. Benilla is telling us all about how Mexico City is the cultural hub of Mexico. That said, it’s always dangerous as hell these days and dangling ten of the least culturally aware humans in the world out reminded me of parading a gaggle of pugs through the raptor cage at Jurassic Park.

Lord, help them.

Their suite at the Four Seasons is pretty epic and Mexico City is on my bucket list. I regret not having been there yet. That’s what I get for not being on this show. I live in Portland and despite all the accurate things you hear about the amazing food scene, the brunch paradise, the whiskey dripping ceilings – there is no Mexican food of note and I’m not hearing anyone say otherwise.

I want to go to Mexico City. I want to be Chris Harrison’s accomplice. We know he’s how El Chappo got caught (think of when this show was filmed) and we know that had I been there, it’d have been a buddy cop movie far better than Ride Along 2 and instead of being cops, we’d be the new Westlake Village Drug Cartel making waves south of the border.

Harrison. Jerome. South Of The Border. Tuesday nights on Freeform (formerally ABC Family). TV-MA. Stick around for an all new Pretty Little Liars. My wife just closed the browser… ON MY DREAMS™.

Amanda, the mom for OC (Orange Mommy?) gets the Juan-on-Juan date (see what I did there?) and we’re all glad because she seems like a pretty good person. Harry Potter Mermaid (Olivia) throws some serious shade and now I’m starting to think she’s crazier than MESA VERDE from last season. We all know Olivia is going home at some point, can we just commit to enjoying her on Bachelor in Paradise?

Ben rolls into their room early and shines flashlights on them – because he will do anything the producers ask. Ben, also, can you pick me up and wait with me at the DMV today? Thanks dude, you’re a good friend.


Bird Lady has her retainer in and that’s cool and all, except I’m still not over her racist soccer mom comment from earlier this year. While she is probably not a racist, oh fuck it. Whatever.

I do enjoy seeing all these hot girls sleeping like teenage dudes do. Sprawled out, hiding from light like vampires. Except Orange Mommy, who is sleeping in full make up and a blow out – either because the producers tipped her off or this is just what is expected of single mothers in Orange County.

They go on a hot air balloon ride. They look at the city of the gods. It’s cool. I guess.

I keep looking for the specific way Ben is a sociopath, because he has to be, right? And this episode, it kind of hit me.

He’s has a savior complex. He likes you better when you reveal how you are broken. I mean, opening up is good in any relationship, but I realize Ben digs this because his parents raised him to be a hometown hero. When Jubilee talks about her past, he sees a chance to be stable in her life. When Orange Mommy tells him about her dickhead ex-husband and her kids, he sees a chance to be the best step dad ever.

The savior complex is dangerous shit because it’s not about you. It’s about saving you. You will never be his equal, even if he’s a nice guy and all. He’s like the star of a weird Human Renovation show on HGTV. Ben, as your friend, as the dude you save from having to drive to In-N-Out or pick up his own laundry, let me help you out. Your junk isn’t going to solve their problems.

He’s the most dangerous kind of boy for girls. The one who gets your problem and due to the availability heuristic, he’s the solution. When he breaks up with you, even when it’s super respectfully, it’s not as simple as moving on, it’s validation that your problems are too big to solve, even for a so-called savior.

Not to GET HEAVY™ or anything.

What I’m saying is the end of this season, as the breakup stakes are raised, Benilla, he of little interest, is going to be DESTROYING SOULS™.


Date goes great. Orange Mommy gets the rose. And another week of false hope in a world where I can name ten dudes who’d gladly raise her kid to be with someone that nice and attractive.

The group date includes Olivia and Jubilee – so we all knew where it was going. Leah is also on this date and I keep wondering when we’re going to find out something about her other than that she wore the dress Orange Mommy wore to the night date at the last rose ceremony. What are they hiding from us?

The group date starts with an ESL class, which in Mexico, is Espanol as a Second Language. That worked out nice from a branding experience. You go, Glen Coco.

It’s amazing to me in a country becoming increasingly Hispanic that none of these girls had even a year or two of high school Spanish. The last time so much Spanish was butchered was For Whom The Bell Tolls. Too soon? Come on. Pan’s Labyrinth? Come on, it’s not easy to tell a Spanish Civil War joke. Probably for good reason.


Jubilee is getting pissed and it reaches a boil when they go to a cooking class – see what I did there? I wanted to spend all day with these chefs, he with a Portland moustache. There’s a Mexican Standoff – see what I did there – between Olivia and Jubilee for who gets to be cooking partner with Ben. Olivia wins as part of an episode long motif of her being first to grab him for anything. I mean anything. Ben seems annoyed. Until he gives her the rose.


And also JoJo said something about Ben tasting her taco. Write your own damn joke, America.


Jubilee turns up the heat and refuses to hold Ben’s hand, finally done with him dating 9 girls and in the end, who knows if Ben really liked her or if he realized it will actually be hard to “save” a complex individual – hell, maybe the Indiana Pacers game was on and he just couldn’t even right then.

Jubilee is booted.

There’s a fashion show related date with Soccer Mom and like, whatever. There’s a fashion show. She got cheated on. I don’t much care. I can’t imagine she is a long term candidate. There’s not much to save. She’s a concierge human. She’s polite, she’ll raise the kids, she’ll be nice and whisper to other soccer moms things you wish she wouldn’t whisper.

Back at the ponderosa, Olivia goes after Orange Mommy and calls this an episode of Teen Mom. I don’t think she even means it. I think she is better at talking than thinking. Everyone turns on her.

We end on a cliffhanger as Ben is taking her aside for a lecture. She’ll come back in. This isn’t the end. We’re not even close to finished BREATH BASHING™ Olivia.

But heed my words. This is going to get messy. Ben’s not a headfucker. He’s a heartfucker.

Follow my feeds and stay in touch so when I’m late to post you know why.

XOXO Gossip Zack.







Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap #4: Viva Las Shameless

**this post was written across many bottles of bourbon in many different locations, including Salt Lake City**

Live from NYC in the aftermath of WINTER BLIZZARD JONAS™, I’m hanging out in SoHo, working too much and just talking Bachelor with you fine people. There’s even bourbon. What a country.

If you’re here for the right reasons, let’s jump in. HEART FIRST™.

Chris Harrison hadn’t been to an illegal underground snake versus mongoose fight in months and so he demanded they film in Vegas. Did you wonder why he let the girls know that Ben was not in Los Angeles?

It’s because he held Benilla against his will in a drug-induced fugue state at an undisclosed location until the producers agreed to offer a week of dates in Vegas in exchange for Chris Harrison releasing Ben and admitting he knows the real truth about what happened in Manatowoc County. I’m Serial.

After all that was sorted, he let the girls know they were going to Vegas. This was exciting for the twins because they are those real people that are actually from Las Vegas.

Their gleeful reaction!

It’s the same thrill a child gets when they recognize a word they learned at school on a street sign. It’s just basic recognition of something that exists that you are aware of. Like there’s an apple. I’ve eaten one of those. :: cue shit-eating-grin::

Screen Shot 2016-01-31 at 9.16.42 PM

Then the producers tried to make them talk at the same time because apparently that’s what twins do and they failed. The producers put it in anyway because they do not consider contestants REAL PEOPLE™.

This show is the weirdest. It’s pretty clear you are going to be invited places. The minute they come in and tell you anything, everyone opens their mouth so big a large part of me wants to throw a bean bag in there like I’m at some fucked up clown carnival.


You know what turns folks on? THIS™:



Olivia is WAY TOO EXCITED™ and she shows us by showing us her tonsils, molars and all the other teeth I can’t remember the names of. Bicuspids. That’s one.

Ben is excited to take them to Vegas because it’s a place “people actually get married” which is cool because it has that in common with every other town on earth. Ben, demand more of yourself. And also, I want some In-N-Out. Bring it to NYC. I’m already in my sweatpants (they are fresh Nike camo ones, don’t think I’m frumping out, girls).

But seriously, Ben, we’d be friends and part of that friendship is me consistently talking you into BRINGING ME THINGS™ that I truly am TOO LAZY TO GET MYSELF™ and then rewarding you by telling you about MY LIFE™.


JoJo gets the first date and that’s good. It’s been years since there was a bonafied potential STRESS EATER™ on the show. I’m not that shallow in real life, but I take incredible joy with this struggle. It’s kind of what I imagine NASCAR fans like. For most of us it’s boring, but if you’re all in on NASCAR, you are like noticing the tires are wearing unevenly. I notice her worrying about her arm girth. It’s palpable. WATCH THIS SPACE.



I literally looked at the menu for room service and they don’t make carbonated tear elixir, so I’m out. THANKS SOHO GRAND.

JoJo was just like dude I wore something blousy – this is so dick that now I’m in a very revealing wind situation. My wife just closed the browser.

But you feel me.

This helicopter was so bad ass that all the girls were sure JoJo was in ROMANCE TOWN™ and they are right. Sorry. That’s a winning helicopter. She was fish in a barrel. It was gold plated.

This date sucks though. It’s one of those talks where they literally SAY NOTHING™ and it WORKS PERFECTLY™. My guard goes down. I get scared. There are things about you that are attractive. I never give myself completely.

But hey, kudos for trying to explain you were homewrecking by saying “you weren’t a part of their lives.” That’s legit the way the dude from Silence of the Lambs explains why that girl has to “put the lotion on its hands”.

Look. I feel bad for you dating a married man because in all likelihood you both are great, but the thing about married men is that they tend to have a hard time breaking up with the person they are in a LEGAL CONTRACT™ with. Like, even if you are winning by 10 points in the basketball game of love, you bet on the wife because she’s the CEO.

I watched the move The Intern on the plane and even though it was racist to people who use the internet, it got one part right. BET ON THE SPOUSE™. Even if he’s out of his depth doing dramatic work and should stick to Workaholics where he is superb.

You don’t want to be the SIDE PIECE™. No one goes to a restaurant and says I’ll have fries and a burger. You don’t go, “I’ll have the shaved brussels sprouts – oh, and let me have a porterhouse steak on the side.” They are steak frites, not frites steak. I’d know. I just ate some Raoul’s tonight and I told them to HOLD THE FRITES – carbs are for the weak, girls.

In short…

BE THE STEAK™, ladies. And men. America. Be USDA Prime, k? If you aren’t good enough to eat cooked medium rare, you shouldn’t be allowed in the oven. That’s a metaphor. My wife agreed, paused, then closed the browser.

Ben loved this talk though because JoJo told the truth, isn’t mean and rode in a helicopter with her. Oh, and then had the most enormous fireworks display ever. So yeah. Of course he left saying she has charisma and intelligence and humor. But there’s no evidence. MAKING A MURDERER™.

Group date is made to seem like a showgirl date. Lauren H. says something about nipple tassles being NOT GOOD™ but she said it in a way that had me curious. Like not good in the way we all think—like—wearing clothes is a good idea on TV? Or is there something devious going on? What’s the deal? Why did you go straight to NIPPLE FEAR™?

Also, still not over her being an UNKNOWING RASCIST™ the week before with the soccer moms comment about Queen Jubilee.

The girls are doing a talent show with Terry Fator, who I assumed was pretty good at entertaining because every time I am TOTALLY SOBER™ in Vegas and riding around in cabs, I see ads for him. He’s that dude that you see on some Forbes list as making 50 million bucks a year and you think he must be aces.

Then you see he’s a fucking ventriloquist who does the same voice with all his puppets, is overweight and ISN’T THAT INCREDIBLE AT NOT MOVING HIS MOUTH WHEN HE HAS HIS HAND UP A PUPPET.

Sorry. Like, he’s a millionaire. It’s working out. But he moves his mouth. Sorry. OVER THE LINE!


The twins do an Irish tap dance. Jubilee is the best and plays the cello in addition to defending our freedom and being an orphan. The racist soccer mom lady dressed up as a chicken which felt super honest. I mean, all in all it was fine.

And then Harry Potter Mermaid dresses up in some red sequined dress and pops out of cake and then just tools around for a while. She then has a fake panic attack. Makes ZERO FRIENDS™ and wastes the next hour of my life telling Benilla she was “not herself.”

Dude, she was the definition of HERSELF™.

That’s her. I just hope when Ben cuts her it is super fun for us in America. Her greatest contribution will be on Bachelor in Paradise this summer when she dates “whoever still hasn’t found a that Hollywood gig that isn’t coming ever” guy. Looking at you Bukowski. And Nick. And Sean Lowe.

I don’t even remember who got the rose.

The final one on one is with BLANK SPACE™, the girl from Chris’ season who is still a virgin and despite being a pretty nice person, I have no idea what is going on between her veneer’d smile and generally down-with-whatever attitude. If a light beer ad procreated with a Martha Stewart recipe – it’d be Blank Space.

You talk to her, it’s like:


Ben gets ordained – 20 bucks, five minutes, trust me I’ve married four of my friends – and decides to marry people that were willing to sacrifice what is traditionally an important day for the cost of getting married in a Vegas drive thru chapel. Next time you pick on a girl on Instagram who DIDN’T PAY FOR ANY OF THAT™, remember at least she went to Dubai and got to drink champagne. These folks got to have Benilla marry them for a free prime rib and a savings of 75 dollars. DREAM BIG!

Time out. Real quick. 70 percent of these girls are voting for Trump, right? Gut feeling.

There’s a random TWIN OFF date where Ben goes to their house, meets their mom who is nice enough and then cuts Haley like fifth period French.

I don’t care. This whole thing was weird and I’m against people who have wooden sayings hung on their walls. You aren’t a butterfly.

Ben cuts two people I don’t remember after Olivia makes ZERO FRIENDS™. JoJo looked smokin’ in her greenish dress. WATCH THIS SPACE™.

Oh yeah, he punted Amber who is a mean girl anyway and then she drunk talked to herself by some random pool. Whatever. 

Tomorrow, we go to Mexico. I cannot wait. Sorry this was late, but we’re caught up. CAN’T WAIT.

XOXO, Gossip Zack.

Click the links below – I’ve enjoyed getting to know you all on Insta and friends.






Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette