BachCap Week 7

Mercifully, we’re getting into the episodes that are hard to ruin.  The “meet the family” dates tend to always be amazing because if you are the kind of person who has a family (i.e., not Tarzan, although his jungle family still counts and they clearly raised him with love), then you know families on their own are some of television’s best bed-shitters.

That has nothing to do with this week’s version of “for the right reasons” where the Bargain Bach got to tour the most geographically convenient island to Barcelona to save production costs.  I mean, we could have gone to Ibiza, but not only would it be too cool and expensive, a 5am Tiesto set and a few tabs of E might be enough to send Team Smedium into the grinding, make-out session usually reserved for the off camera people left behind during one on one dates.

So, we’re at Madeira Island, which ABC felt we were too dumb to absorb “Isla Madeira” or anything else that made this feel more like a vacation as less like “the only place that would have them”.  Madeira, of course, is famous for Madeira wine, which of course, is famous for being used as a buzz world in Olive Garden or Carrabba’s commercials.  Try the new mezzaluna medeira ravioli and bring a gallon of it home for 9.95 and free breadsticks and diabetes.

Valorie Kilmer said some line about being built for love and the homoeroticism began early.  Now that we’re paired down to 4.5 guys that don’t like girls, we see the ponzi Des has gotten herself into.  This is sad because I kind of think she’s a cool girl in the end of the day.  A cool girl who requested gay best friends and steroid users as her two types of potential suitors.  Huge victory for gay best friends so far.

Catherine Giudici

We get treated to some former contestants coming back like they do every year.  There was last seasons winner (read, loser) Catherine Goodoodoochi who talked about her boobs like they were special or something, there was Leslie (Pretty Little Liar) who proved her political career went to shit as predicted and had nothing better to do than fly across the Atlantic for this cameo and Jackie Parr, who I was just glad to see was still alive because I totally forgot she existed until she was sitting there in a bathing suit she probably spent five weeks deciding on.

The girls all stared at the guys with binoculars from like eight feet away and were judging their body parts.  They asked why Lady Tom Brady was wearing a tank top and frankly, he’s too dumb to know if he was wearing one or not, so I found the question null and void.  Catherine asked about who Des thought had the [bleeped out] which I took to mean “biggest penis”, to which she said Middle School Dancer, and she’d know because if middle school dancing was about one thing, it was pressing your weapon into your dance partner partly out of fear of your whole middle school seeing you dance with a boner and partly out of fear that your whole middle school class knew you were the kind of person who gets a boner dancing to “forever young”.

Side note, all the girls were swilling this bright yellow dehydrated urine martini and that was about right because this show is just taking a piss.  It was a metaphor not lost on me, the man shackled to my TV and laptop.

Des doesn’t know how to have girl talk, probably because her brother scared them all away growing up. In tents or whatever her story is.

First date is with Lady Tom Brady who confirmed his heterosexuality in a big way by telling us that “he’d forgotten how to be on a one-on-one date with Des”, likely because he’s been used to group dates with Team Smedium, his warm security blanket.


AND SPEAKING OF BLANKETS, Lady Tom Brady brought one with him on the world’s most boring Smart Car (way to spring for the Jeep, ABC) tour of Madeira.  They climbed up to cliff and looked over because the Bargain Bach was not getting the crew required to rappel off it or dive off it or do anything besides just fucking look at it.

Then they went to have a picnic in the clouds and said “cloud nine” about ten times.  A friend watching with me asked the question of who even says cloud nine anymore as a phrase?  Are grandmas producing this show?  “Hey Des, you’re the bee’s knees!”

Lady Tom Brady found a new way to hold a wine glass that was inspired by Incan glass blowers and the time you first discover how to masturbate.  So, I have some new shit to talk about in therapy now.  My wife just closed the browser.

Lady Tom Brady basically slow rolls her and kind of says he’s behind in the love race in his own “I just mixed Zanax with Chardonnay” sort of way.  Then he explains his sexuality in the guise of explaining their cloudy location by saying “you’re not quite above the clouds completely but you’re not below them, you’re just in them”.  This is his way of telling Des he’s bisexual.  I’m sure of it.  I would pay big money for him to sing “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman”.  Now I know who that was written for.


Back at the hotel, Middle School Dancer gets the next one-on-one and dropped his male status in half by being the first person ever to “sniff” the fucking date card which was written by one of the grandmas writing the show.  Did it smell like witch hazel, Chris?  Tool.  AND HE’S STILL THE ONLY LOGICAL CHOICE.

For the night date, Brooks wears chambray because it rhymes with his sexual orientation which he’s been trying so hard all day to tell her about.  I feel like he wants her to meet his family so they can tell her for him.

My wife made a good point.  Bachelorettes, Des included, always make it out like the meeting of families is somehow a mutual decision.  Bachelors are like “yeah, I’m gonna meet these freaks and see if it makes you less hot”.  Lady Tom Brady tells her he’s behind where Des is emotionally, which naturally triggers her hormones into Defcon One:  ignoring all reason and forcing him to love her.

Middle School Dancer’s date starts on a boat and he gives her the least sexy sunscreen rubdown of all time.  He asks if she needs some and she’s like “on my back”, just to clear up any thought viewers at home had that Des wanted him to massage her boobs on national television. Face smack.  “Yeah, on my back?”  Seriously?  NO SHIT ON YOUR BACK.  “Yeah, on my upper thigh and blindfold me.”


Middle School Dancer has gone full-emo at this point.  He’s saying he can feel “all her emotions” in her kisses.  Then they make it like they are going to go through this cool hole in an island like on other seasons.  BARGAIN BACHED.  Nope.  They are going to sit “shore-adjacent” and Chris is going to force her to write a poem and put it in a bottle, which he throws into the ocean like fifth grade softball player.

He says writing the poem together was so natural.  No it wasn’t.  For anyone ever on earth in time and space.  Read the room, fucko.

Then, the awkward quotient goes up when Chris tells her he loves her… WITH A POEM.  Didn’t see that coming.  Way to name it “Individually Defined”.  You are supposed to tell people you love them drunk.  Not with a poem.  Be American.

Final one-on-one is with Medusa and they walk around town eating phallic shaped food.  They ride a straw toboggan down a street and that is the closest to adventure they are going to fucking give us.

At dinner, Medusa rocks the Zack Morris bright shirt/blazer combo and talks about his (SURPRISE) daddy issues.  Then he says he was cheated on and discovered it on Facebook when he saw a picture of his girlfriend on top of a mountain with a dude in Vail.

Really?  You didn’t see her getting all her ski shit when YOU WERE LIVING WITH HER?  You didn’t notice when she got home and hung out her wet snow clothes?  Did she get you to believe she was going on an Arctic fact-finding mission about global warning?  Look, we all can get cheated on, usually just by some asshole willing to go the extra mile to act like a slut/manwhore/whatever.  It’s another thing to live in denial.  But, that’s nothing new for any Team Smedium member.

Off to more street musicians ABC didn’t have to pay for.  I’m over this date.

Final two on Juan is with Valerie Kilmer and Secretly 50 (who is listed at 31 years old but I think they mean the year he was born).  They go Go-Kart racing, which is a lot less expensive than racing real cars like on the last two seasons with Emily and Arie.

This really felt like Valerie Kilmer was on a date with Secretly 50 and they brought Des along to make sure the chemistry was there.  The whole date was an innuendo.  Des at one point said “how about you two go at it” and they were like “YES!!!” which was funny, but I was hoping for “again, I’m still tired from earlier”.  Oh well.


Oh yeah, Valerie Kilmer said he was falling for her.  Two dudes in love with her BEFORE hometowns and this show is still so boring.

This date is super boring and it ended right when I decided how I was going to kill myself.  She picked Valerie Kilmer for the safety rose leaving Secretly 50 (brought to you by Crest Whitening Strips) to wonder what was next.

Rose Ceremony was boring also.  Middle School Dancer is addicted to collar popping.  It’s only second to his addiction to unwanted poem writing, but more of an addiction than sniffing letters.

We did get Chris Harrison asking heartfelt questions of Des in a windswept, lantern-lit veranda, which made me wish Chris Harrison asked me heartfelt questions in a windswept, lantern-lit veranda.  Pass the dutchie, bud.

We got to see Des relying on the framed photos of Smedium as if she didn’t remember the five still left.  Then, into the killing room to tell one of these guys she doesn’t want to meet their family.

Medusa is finally beheaded and he takes it well, the manner expected of a man who doesn’t want to date a woman.  He almost seemed relieved, but he pulled the wise move of saying it will be hard to date after her, a prerequisite to being the Bachelor…  AND WHAT WOULD HIS SEASON BE LIKE!?!?!

All was well though in the outtakes where Medusa said one fruit looked like a corn on the cob had blown its nose in it.

I’ll leave you with that.






Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap Week Six

We’re finally globetrotting and Team Smedium could not be more excited.  Well, they could if they got to see a bullfight because “there’s something about how tight a matador’s pants are”…  And how.

This season is suffering a bit from the fact that knowing Des has never been anywhere outside of Southern California and she’s not super comfortable being a tour guide.  There’s a little bit of producers feeding her lines, but literally when Ali the Muppet was the Bach, she would be giving Drunk History of the City tours with her bleached rat tail extensions faring poorly with humidity.  We need that.  “Barcelona is like a city that’s so about art.  People say the ancients worshipped Picasso which rhymes with Pico De Gallo which is cool because I love chips and salsa and burritos, the national food of Espana”.


See.  Don’t you miss that?

So the dudes meet up and await Chris Harrison to get his “party favors” as he’ll be in Ibiza for the rest of the trip.  They have them eat at this little tapas place that could pass for Santa Monica and knowing the budget for the Bargain Bach, they probably did just film this in LA.  Also, I am positive at one point when someone thought of ordering mussels, Little Big Head flexed and said “what, these muscles? Right?  RIGHT?”

Biff Get Your Damn Hands Off Her, who now looks like a feminine Val Kilmer (I dub thee Valerie Kilmer) gets the first one on one date and prior to it going on, the boys are turning fierce against Little Big Head and setting up ONE OF THE MOST DRAMATIC EPISODES OF THE BACHELORETTE EVER.  Or not.

That said, this was clearly a defining moment in the season.  It was the moment the ratings sank to the level that they weren’t going to give us more fun on the dates, more context, more conversation.  Instead, they were going to take a moot point, turn it into a frothed up bitch-slap fest and extend it so long there was no time for a fucking helicopter, an extreme date, a cocktail party or just anything awesome at all.  You are in Barcefuckinglona and you don’t get anyone half naked, drunk, eating a live piece of seafood, etc.  You just tell a ten hour story about a guy doing what all guys do.


Let’s back up.  Little Big Head and Gabagool had a conversation in a car where basically Gabagool was saying he could introduce Little Big Head to a bunch of tall, rich hot chicks in Chicago when the show ends and Little Big Head basically said if you make the final four, worst case is maybe you can be the next Bachelor.

Valerie Kilmer, Hashtag, Middle School Dancer, Lady Tom Brady and Medusa all took the “for the right reasons” rap with Soulja Boy so seriously that if anyone on this fucking show accepts the possibility that they are not winning and may need to re-enter civilian life, they must hate Des and be playing her like a banjo (same body type).

This is the mentality of a suicide bomber.  NO ONE IS ASKING YOU TO STRAP A LOVE BOMB TO YOUR CHEST AND EXPLODE IT IF DES LET’S YOU GO.  These guys are like all or nothing and the fact that the roided out, over-shirt adjusting, beef-stick who is rationally accepting he may not win is causing them to menstruate at cascade setting.

So the rat fuck is on and we’ll see if Little Big Head is going to survive the night.

Valorie Kilmer and Des share a really awkward I’M GONNA KISS YOU NOW moment as they walk around Barcelona on the eight dollar budget ABC allotted her to buy hot chocolate.  Something about having Valerie Kilmer make Des lick cream off his face bothered me.  Maybe it was the fact that he chased it with a speech about his dad being an alcoholic and that he had never told anyone on earth about it before, which has to be a lie and if it isn’t, well, hey, might as well tell the whole country at once.  And then he chased that with his dad has cancer.  But yeah, let’s make out some more.  That will fix everything.

I mean, it was definitely the helicopter of sob stories.  Somewhere Little Big Head was thinking that he should have continued on his Atlantic City date story about how he cheated on a girl in eighth grade and told the truth BEHIND the truth which was that he cheated on a girl in eighth grade with a cancerous tumor snowman shaped into a real girl.  Damnit Valerie Kilmer.  You upped the hit on girls with sob stories game to new heights (lows).

They are pretending to eat dinner and then steals Des to sprint through some charming streets and corridors that seem like a reasonable place to get molested by a stranger and then he decides to bring back the Ari wall make out move.  I guess this is somewhat like getting molested by a stranger, so the location was corrected.  No wonder they didn’t eat dinner.  He was making every effort to eat directly from her upper esophagus so hopefully lunch tasted good the second time around.

After the make out session, Valerie Kilmer gets the rose and decides to go right back to being a ten year old girl and tattle on Little Big Head and you can just see somewhere in Des’ eyes all the self-loathing brewing like bile in a french press.  You are literally watching someone realize they are spending no money on her season or dates, her dates are dropping like flies by their own accord and she potentially only has four people left that like women and one of them can’t speak English.

That said, what a ball drop moment.  Kilmer has the first date where he is able to convince Des he likes girls and then pulls the most sorority move ever.  Now that we’ve made out, let’s talk about boys.

Back at the house, it seems like Juan Pablo is upset about not getting a one on one (Juan on Juan) date, but then again he could be telling me about a great churriascaria somewhere in South America.  I can’t understand him, but neither can the women watching, they are too busy making noises like they just ate chocolate they found out had less calories than expected.

The date card was a soccer themed date and to make sure the Real Housewives of Team Smedium understood the sports reference of Gooooool! they went so far as to draw soccer balls as the O’s.  Still didn’t help Lady Tom Brady, but short of euthanizing him, what will?  Why does he talk like he had a stroke?  I can’t figure him out.


They go to the home of La Liga side RCD Espnayol (that’s how someone who actually watches sports explain it) and decide to play soccer.  If Des knew about soccer, she’d know they took her to the stadium of a team in 13th place which would bum her out being that FC Barcelona is the best team on earth and just down the street.  Harrison used that money on ceviche, Catalan prostitutes and vino verde mixed with mescaline.  He does Spain right.  VALE!

This is where the over-playing of the Little Big Head issue ruined the episode.  Why not show more of this hilarious soccer game?  The credits showed some funny stuff.  Juan Pablo used to play.  This was a chance for some more fun (and shit for me to dog).  Instead, Des comes out with a bunch of girls and only Juan Pablo figures out they are the pro women’s side and even though they are good, the boys should win.

The girls spot the boys two goals and then decide to trounce Team Smedium, who blames it all on Little Big Head, who should never get to have sex with girls again after how he was afraid of a soccer ball.  It wasn’t Ronaldo booting line drives.  I mean these girls were worm burning shots and he looked like a neon orange sausage that fell out of the pot and started bouncing on the floor.

The night time session had Des reading a poem back to Middle School Dancer, which was the first nice moment of the show so far and who better than Middle School Dancer to lay on a bed and exchange poems with.  Dawson’s Creekage.

The rest of the guys were doing their best straight dude impression and decided to confront and very drunk and sleepy Little Big Head about his comments about being the Bachelor and all that crap.  At first I was annoyed with him, but then I got annoyed with the other dudes.

Team Smedium in their feminine glory don’t have a lot of friends like Gabagool and if you are like me and enjoy whiskey, red meat and fucking hitting home runs, you have some guy friends like Gabagool who just talk to you about all the chicks they can get, all the tag teaming you both can do.  It’s much easier and to bro code to be like “yeah bro, chicks, sex, radical” than to “HOW DARE YOU OBJECTIFY WOMEN” these guys.  He will get the message anyway when all his friends get married and he’s the old fucker in the night club.  Let Darwinism handle it.  Not Team Smedium.

This conversation goes nowhere because Smedium are whiners and Little Big Head is drunk, tired and roady.  I got bored really quickly during this argument that WAS DRAGGED OUT TO THE NEXT DAY TOO.  YOU ARE IN SPAIN.  EAT PAELLA AND MAYBE DO A LINEA DEL MUERTE.

The one highlight was when they said “let’s have a man to man” and I was like, at best this is a “two and a half men to man”.  At best.

No group date rose and instead, WE GET TO HEAR THE WHOLE BORING STORY AGAIN.  In an effort to boost ratings, you are killing ratings ABC.  HELICOPTERS.  EXTREME DATES.  BINGE DRINKING AND EMO WEIGHT GAINS.  BAD EXTENSIONS.

Bread and butter, people.  There’s a reason restaurants all serve it.  The people want it.  FEED THE PEOPLE OR THEY WILL FEED THEMSELVES.

I enjoyed watching Little Big Head get emo trying to talk his way out of the wet paper bag of insecurity Des is proving to be.  It was awesome because I finally got to see what a steak looks like when it cries.  He had neck tears going, it was like someone was juicing his adam’s apple.

At some point Emily Maynard tried to make it about her and compare LBH to Ryan from her season and my first inclination was to tweet to her and suggest she date another famous person and pretend to be nice so more.  YOUR FIFTEEN MINUTES ARE UP.  GO THE FUCK AWAY.

Smedium was pissed when Little Big Head got home.  In their quest to make sure he was there for all the right reasons, suddenly, they were there only to get rid of the walking porterhouse steak.  RIGHT REASONS INDEED, SMEDIUM.

Next date, Secretly 50.  He’s doing his best job to not admit his brother was old enough to have fought in the Spanish Civil War and that he’s been to Spain twice before.  Instead, he just kind of smiles at everything and draws a hideous picture of Des, but she kind of looked cute laughing at the hobgoblin demon he depicted her as.  Then a naked guy came in and I felt so bad the rest of Smedium wasn’t there because they must be tired of naked posing for each other at this point back at the henhouse.

Secretly 50 decides to model himself, which was fun I guess for women, but I couldn’t get over his tightie whities.  He IS from an ancient time.  At least they weren’t Depends (who totally is the Kleenex of adult diapers, right?  I mean it’s impressive.  When you are too old not to shit yourself, you go to Depends, like ordering a Coke or needing a Band-Aid).

My wife just closed the browser.  That’s what having drinks with me is like only you are super turned on the whole time.  Yes, I will accept this rose.

They go to a wine cave later, it’s more pressing Des against a wall and trying to eat food out of her mouth.  Wall kisses are the new Spiderman kisses apparently.   He gets the rose and doesn’t piss me off that much.  I loved both my grandpas too.  Maybe it’s respecting him and the rest of the Greatest Generation.

The next day there’s more of the same fucking argument and I’m on my phone looking at other shit.  I just don’t care at this point.  I am rooting for a riot or someone to pull the hotel fire alarm.  Medusa gets offended by profanity.  That really happened.  Little Big Head literally is the only guy who talks like a man left, so she’s having a hard time kicking him to the curb.  Middle School Dancer says he is not thinking of being the next Bachelor which means he will be the next Bachelor.  You never expect the Muppets.

Des comes in to get Little Big Head, they go down to the steps and in the distance, three squirrels in the midst of self-discovery poke their heads over the balcony to see if this is in fact the end for Little Big Head.

We waste a full segment with more of the same and now I am considering burning down a building in Portland in protest, but I like it here and would never hurt the city like this show was hurting my eyeballs.


I could produce this show with my eyes closed.  I wish they produced it with their eyes closed.  Next time you have a conversation about if a guy needs to leave, do it in a helicopter with the door open like the scene in Scarface where they hang the dude to let Tony know the stakes got higher.  This season’s budget is so low the only helicopter so far was to tour the aquarium formerly known as greater Atlantic City.

Des caves.  Little Big Head stays.

No cocktail party, Des is over her liquor budget.

Then it got weird.  She cuts Little Big Head, Juan Pablo and Hashtag: Peace Out MFer.

Sooooo.  We spend forty minutes of they should kick LBH off because he’s a pig only to let him stay only to kick him off again?  WHY ARE YOU WASTING ALL THE TIMEZ?!

Chris Harrison had to come up with this on mushrooms, it’s the only reasonable excuse.

I’m done.  Do better next week Bachelorette.  Your preview was provocative, contained helicopters, boats and beaches.  Fantasy suites with men who have never seen a naked woman.  There’s hope.  But it’s fading fast like this season.

Last, NOT least.  A pic from some awesome readers Dani and Ashley doing a re-enactment of Secretly 50s strip…








Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Dwight Howard’s Houston Pitch Sounds Amazing

A rare basketball post from me, but I felt like weighing in on the Dwight Howard mess just because I find it hilarious.  Let me go on the record saying I hope he leaves because I am of the camp that he is a paper tiger.  D12 has become someone known for everything but basketball in the last couple years and the fact is, the idea of having to sell the Lakers when they have the most to offer you is absurd.


If you want to play in Houston-fucking-Texas, please do.  Don’t think James Harden would even blink if the Lakers were able to offer him a max deal.  He’d be on the Buss private jet before the ink was dry.  Dwight is someone who wants the spotlight, but not one too bright.  The Lake Show is about winning.  Period.  It’s a meritocracy.  We forgive you everything if you win.  Kobe is the biggest dick on the planet but he understands the value of the purple and gold.  Sure, he wanted out a while back citing ownership needing to step up.  But they got him Pau, he shut up and gave Tinseltown two more rings.  He put his money where his mouth was and now, he’s going to retire a Laker and a top five player in the history of the game.

Shaq and Kobe had an ugly end, but guess what?  Now we love Shaq.  Because he brought us three titles, didn’t go out of his way to alienate the fans and mostly left his beef with Kobe (no pun intended) which was fine, because we knew they were both assholes anyway.  Legendary assholes who gave us five titles (three together).


LA wants you to drop a ton of ecstasy, get on stage and knock out the DJ and play a set no one will ever forget and you can’t remember you did and then they want to make statues out of you.  Dwight wants to hang out in a room with average looking girls that want to sleep with him and watch him play awful acoustic covers of Dave Matthews.

And he can do that in Houston.

For those of you curious, Dwight is having all his glitzy suitors (from Texas and Atlanta) coming out to Los Angeles to take him on the Universal Studios Tour.  It’s weird that he doesn’t want to fly out there to get courted.  This just seems like a bunch of “asking for respect” instead of earning it by winning titles like Lakers expect you to.

Anyway, today Houston met with Dwight Howard and here is what ESPN’s Dave McMenamin and Ramona Shelburne (both condemned to chasing this turd all summer) said about the “pitch”:

The Houston Rockets, meanwhile, also met with Howard early Monday in Los Angeles.

The Rockets contingent who met with Howard included players James HardenChandler Parsons, coach Kevin McHale, general manager Daryl Morey, owner Les Alexander and Hall of Famers Hakeem Olajuwon and Clyde Drexler. Yao Ming talked with Howard via Skype from China, and according to the Houston Chronicle, Dikembe Mutombo recorded a video message for Howard.

Yao told KRIV-TV in Houston that when he was contacted by Rockets CEO Tad Brown and Morey to help with the team’s pitch to Howard, he told them he “would love to help.”

Yao, who spoke to KRIV-TV in a telephone interview from Beijing, said he spoke to Howard via Skype and told him the Rockets “have a young team, a talented team that has ability to reach championship level with you.”

Yao said he will be in Houston on July 11 and hopes to meet with Howard.

After a late-night hotel dinner, Morey tweeted that it was “great” meeting with Howard and “obvious” how he and Harden could be “the next great big/wing combo.”

“Dwight is focused on winning championships,” Morey told KRIV-TV. “So are we.”

Does this remind you of that episode of Entourage where Vince was going to different agencies and just showing his face on monitors with Nike and McDonalds logos?  Seriously, picture this day.

Dwight comes in a day after hanging out in Anaheim at a video game convention and he already knows exactly what Houston can offer him.  So, we’re not talking deals here, we’re talking “why us”.

Houston brings in the usual suspects, James Harden to say what a text could do (something like I can’t wait to throw it near the rim and you dunk it when your shoulder/back isn’t hurt, you aren’t making YouTube videos, bricking free throws, blaming your coach and demanding a trade) and Hakeem and Clyde.

After they talk about how they loved being Rockets (even though any of them would have gone to the Lakers if needed at any point), the Rockets really pulled out the stops with the audio-visual part of the show.  I mean, seriously, picture this.


Some IT guy is plugging in his Macbook asking everyone if they have a dongle to use, he’s switching the HDMI inputs around, they probably dim the lights and spend five seconds getting the volume right.



It’s Dikembe Mutumbo, who is most famous for being a Nugget and played with Houston looking more like the guy in that Geico commercial than the young man from the Congo who said not in my house.  Mutumbo at least knew whatever building he was in was in his house.  He didn’t need a parade of people to tell him “it’s your team”.  Dikembe made it his house.

What Dikembe told Dwight via video about coming to Houston is a mystery, but please someone leak that video.  Please.

I promise it wasn’t a story about their upbringings.  Dikembe got out of the Congo.  Dwight spent the summer eating at Sprinkles on Little Santa Monica.


Up next was a Skype session with Yao Ming, who is responsible for the Houston Rockets looking like the Chinese National Basketball Team.  Remember when Yao was a thing and suddenly the Rockets went Asian inspired font, China flag inspired colors?  Yao must have told Dwight if he plays in Houston, they will all wear Superman capes and miss every free throw in his honor.  Then, the Chinese Government shut down the Skype session, put a gun to Yao’s head and forced him to play 95 hours of consecutive basketball on zero knee cartilage as he waits for sweet death’s embrace.

Yao told him Houston could reach championship level with him, something Yao knows a lot about having never won an NBA title.  If Dwight wants to know about championships, he should shut the fuck up, listen to Kobe, listen to Pau listening to Kobe and then look up because we keep them in the rafters at Staples.


My favorite part of the article (and pitch)?  This:

According to the Chronicle, Houston planned to emphasize the “marketing potential” the Rockets continue to hold in China, being Yao’s former team. 

Dwight Howard, who everyone eventually wants to shut up and play golf in every city he goes, is looking to keep rehabbing his image and win championships and he’s going to do this in HOUSTON with James Harden (who couldn’t fucking win with Kevin Durant and fucking Russell Westbrook) and he’s going to look great to American fans as Houston pimps him to China.

Like (as I already reminded you) the time Houston did a full China rebrand.  Go ahead Dwight.  Please.



Suddenly, all my job recruitments seem lazy.  Why have none of my employers told me that I’d be huge in China?

Oh yeah, because I am American and I’d rather be huge here and win championships.  Like the Lakers do.

Laker fans, do not sweat Howard leaving.  Embrace it.  What we have is a culture of winning in multiple decades.  D12 is the bad pain in the ass.  The kind that can’t do it without Kobe.  The Lakers might have some more down years getting their cap together as the league continues to find new ways to fuck them (literally the kama sutra is on the table when Stern holds CBA meetings), but we should enjoy watching Kobe retire as we plan to rebuild through draft, trade or the 2014 free agent class.  Let’s all chill.  We can’t win them all, but we seem to win plenty.

And no matter what, the Lakers will likely win before Dwight does in Atlanta, Houston, Dallas or Golden State.  It’s his funeral.  And he will be main man at that funeral.  Just ask Yao.


Filed under Rants and Musings

BachCap Week Five

This week it became obvious why the Bargain Bachelor was having to scrimp and save.  She eventually was going to want to go to Europe for the first time, thus confirming her family was in no way in one of the musical, roving gypsy camps that were so fashionable after the last Sherlock Holmes movie came out where the girl from Prometheus who gives herself a C-section with a robot moonlights as a sexy, dangerous gypsy fortune-teller mercenary with a brother who had a face transplant.

Shit, I should review movies.


Team Smedium has traded in their neon deep-v necks for a rainbow of smedium hoodies because, well, Europe is fucking cold in the spring.  Chris Harrison, trying to pimp his new dating app that you probably should check out if but for no reason beyond the fact he is surrounded by hot chicks all the time, seemed to be looking forward to Germany as a chance to detox with giant pretzels, fast and precise S&M women and some giant beer steins.

Harrison smugly lets Smedium know that the Bargain Bach has never been to Europe in a “I MEAN, WHO DOES THAT?!?!” sort of way.  Chris Harrison was going to Europe in the cargo holds of opium freighters since he was eleven, so it’s understandable his shock when a transient youth somehow hasn’t wandered to Europe like that crunchy girl who lived in your dorm at SDSU.  There’s a big world out there and someone needs to explore all of its drugs and sex acts.

They are staying at the hotel KOCKENHEILMLER STROKKEN EACHOUFFSEN, which according to Ben the Sunstroker is probably the nicest hotel in Germany.  This opinion must have been formed from Yelp because two minutes prior he said he’d never crossed “any of the oceans” so this would be his first time in Europe.  Definitely in Germany as they really don’t like letting Nazis in after they clear that issue up in the 40s.  The way this guy talks about being Christian and his son on repeat, you kind of feel like he has Nazi china in his garage like Chris Cooper in American Beauty.  Right?  If you are his neighbor, check out his garage and get back to me.  Also, tell me what his dog tag from the princess army means.

They are all stoked.  They are there for the right reasons.  They are reacting to the fucking clock with the mechanical Germans like they are watching a UFC fight.  You don’t grab another dude and go “oooohhhhh!!!!” when you are watching a clock.  You do it when you see some dude GET clocked.



Middle School Dancer gets the first date which involves dancing (CHRIS HARRISON YOU CRUEL TEMPTRESS) and trying on Lederhosen and generally being racist against Germans.  They should go on “American” dates in the US.  Like, we should go to a fast food place and eat until we have diarrhea, shoot some guns, discuss celebrity baby names and then maybe go to the airport and wait through security a couple times with TSA being extra gropey and using a rotating x-ray to get some 3D renderings of our junk.


I like Middle School Dancer.  He’s a little cheesy, but he dresses reasonably well and probably likes girls.  This shoots him to top of the pops for this group.  I also liked how he wore his scarf UNDER his peacoat so it dangled between his legs as sort of a visual cue for Bargain Bach to check out his crotch.  That’s thinking outside the box.  Think I’m making it up?  They literally shared a sausage after staring at a case of sausage.  Middle School Dancer thinks like a middle schooler and I like it.

Meanwhile at the HOTELLEN FERBOISSEN TOEXPREERIMENTEN, Zero Dork Thirty finally concluded his military-installed “self-destruct” sequence and decided that despite sitting in a plane for half a day, he was ready to go home.  Or he started thinking Desiree was some form of Mexican which he could never explain to his family in Montana.

Zero Dork Thirty takes to the streets asking Germans if they have seen TV cameras.  When scary American war vets wander around public places asking if there are TV cameras, that’s how people get arrested.  Jesus.


But hey, kudos to military intelligence.  If he’d been thinking (or if this wasn’t more staged than a faked orgasm), he’d have turned around TO THE FUCKING GUY FILMING HIM, put a gun to his temple and said “call you buddies in the crew and lead me to them or I start cutting off toes, Hollywood”.

And when this kind of man calls you “Hollywood”, you do what he says.

Recognizing Zero Dork is terrifying, Middle School Dancer is like “for sure” when ZDT wants to steal Des away for a chat.  During said chat, he basically says he’s gonna piece and Des is like “wow, you flew all that way” bringing into question the show’s paltry budget for the Bargain Bachelor.  Had he stayed in Atlantic City and saved them the plane fare, they would have let her pick two items from the hotel minibar.

Desiree cries because it doesn’t matter how shitty a guy is, a woman will cry when rejected, unless she is the kind that slices your tires.  So we learned something about her.  Bargain Bach is no way as insecure as Hey Bear was.  This shit happened weekly and she’d flip out.  It was like the world’s first quad-monthly period.

Middle School Dancer is playing the Hunger Games.  He dealt with his date being interrupted by asking her about her feelings.  He did some waddle dancing with her.  He wrote her a poem.  He’s in it to win it and given that he is into women, this could be the year nice guy finishes first.  He’s probably so nice he’s cool that all his roommates are hooking up with each other.  He probably sleeps with earplugs in.

Desiree asks “will you accept my rose” instead of “this” rose and that makes it seem like she’s talking about something else.  It sounds like talking dirty in the Victorian era.

The group date is in the mountains and I was about as pumped as I could be without a helicopter because finally we’re seeing some money spent on the Bargain Bach, who despite being kind of boring, I think I like.

There’s a yodeler and it made me wonder who Team Smedium’s parents were because none of them had ever heard anything like it.  I just wish there were more yodelers when they turn the lights on at closing time at bars.  You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay yodeleheeeeeheeeeeere.

Juan Pablo did some yodeling and none of you noticed because you were all too aroused.

Gabagool takes Des to make snowmen, but instead makes a big snow penis.  This naturally attracted a fellow Team Smedium member and Secretly 50 showed up with some hot toddies (so straight) and yodeled a bit more, clearly still aroused from Juan Pablo doing that.  Des was bored of making snow cocks so she went to hang with Secretly 50, who told her he wanted to be a priest.


CAN THESE GUYS NOT BE INTO GIRLS MORE.  Between this speech and Ben’s Jesus talks, it was a bad day for Christianity.

If you ever here me use the “I was gonna be a priest” pick up line on a girl, buy me a hooker.  Chloroform me, steal my wallet and charge a prostitute to my AMEX.  You will be doing me a favor.

My wife just closed the browser.


There was an igloo everyone went in.  Hashtag: Please Stop was like “this isn’t an igloo, it’s an ICE HOTEL” and was like this is an ice one-bedroom condo stuffed with sausage.  Speaking of which, the boys wearing blankets phenomenon was kicked up a notch when they decided to share blankets and do god knows what under them.

Lady Tom Brady tried to form sentences and was giving air HJs with his arms until Des made out with him just to get him to shut up and I appreciated it.  They looked like two blowfish stuck together.

Later, Little Big Head was making out with her and Lady Tom Brady freaked out and spied on them from a corridor that was shaped like a giant vagina.  For real.  Then he got the rose, creepers prosper.


Back at Hotel Vontrouserdroppen Medusa was prepping for his Two on Juan date vs Sunstroker.  He used some fighting words.  Like, he said he’d kill him.  And he’s a lawyer.  Strike one against him representing me, but cheers to his tasteful chest hair maintenance.

Lady Tom Brady gets the rose.  Next.

Two on Juan starts with a psych out like they are going to polar bear plunge, but instead they are going in the coolest thing ever:  a boat that is a hot tub.  Then when told it was called a “Hot Tug”, the rest of Team Smedium came sprinting out of the building with their pants down only to be super sad.  News flash fellas.  You don’t need a lake for a hot tug.  BACK TO HOTEL ESSENTUGGENHOTTEN!!!

This boat ride was pretty much Medusa calling Sunstroker an absentee dad, a bad christian who wouldn’t go to easter at a catholic ceremony and various things that were true.  But was this smart?  He who slanders ends up on the plane home.  Also, something was up with his


The night gets so awkward that eventually Sunstroker goes outside to polish his sweet lat tattoo (latoo) and get red faced knowing he is a shit dad, a dude who talks about being Christian all the time regardless of how he lives and probably murders puppies.

Somehow, Sunstroker gets kicked off the show and Medusa lives.  Apparently he is a better lawyer than I thought.

Sunstroker was mad weird on the car ride home even saying let’s go out in Munich, let’s meet a chick, etc.  Look, ten minutes ago he’d never crossed any of the oceans.  Now he’s crossing one twice.

That night, Bargain Bach came in looking like Sybil didn’t die on Downtown Abbey.  Oops, SPOILER.  Oh, fuck.   You’re supposed to do that before you spoil something.  YOU NEVER EXPECT THE MUPPETS.  KAISER SOZE IS VERBAL KINT!  DARTH VADER IS LUKE’S FATHER!

My film school professors just closed the browser.


Harrison, looking bloated and tired from banging tavern wenches and drinking Hoffbrau yawned through some questions to Des, the only interesting response coming with who she wanted to kiss.  Lady Tom Brady and Secretly 50?  There’s hope fellas.  Every girl has a type.

Gabagool goes home, Little Big Head left to mourn after their tender face rub at HOTELLEN TOUCHENFEELER.  But he has more to do than mourn.  He better watch his ass because word is out that he wants to run Chicago and meet tall women (but he’s short?).


Next week, fireworks.







Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap Week Four

I learned some new things about reality television last night.  Instead of share them, I am going to use them as poison tipped arrows to Katniss all over this episode because in the parlance of our times… WTF.

Before we get into specifics, Desiree has finally earned a nickname that matters here for Week Four.  I am calling her the Bargain Bach.  No, you assholes, this isn’t about her upbringing living in tents because South Park has a monopoly on poor jokes, plus, that’s not really my style.

Des is the Bargain Bach based on the fact that they have spent less than ten dollars on her season.  They have cast a bunch of stage dancers from an off-Melrose performance of Rent as her suitors, they have had almost every one of her dates within driving distance of the mansion and when finally they decide to leave almost halfway through the season, instead of the private jet to Vegas date where you get to use the Bellagio fountains as a bidet, they go to Atlantic City and…  Well, we’ll get there.

Think about Ben’s season.  He was eating in fancy restaurants.  By this time his season, he had rented out a theater and ate at a bistro in Sonoma, climbed up the Bay Bridge with a chick he had no intention of marrying while a helicopter flew around them, turned a street into a ski slope and had women in bikinis skiing down and gone to like Montana or some shit.

Bargain Bach has gone to Malibu (where the house is), Ojai (an hour and half drive from where the house is), Sunset Blvd (40 minutes from where the house is), and like Malibu Wines (next to the mansion).  Oh yeah, and the cowboy shit seemed like it was at Malibu State Creek Park (next to the mansion).

Fucking Emily Maynard, Lady Veneers herself, was taking private jets all over the swamp.  Des, for all her being a sweet person, is getting the raw end of the deal.  The Bargain Bach indeed.


BTW, you are only getting shots of Team Smedium oiled up standing on stage.  That’s all.  Sorry.  You need to feel the pain I feel and this is how I achieve that.

But, let’s fucking BachCap.

Des’ journey to find love for all the right reasons heads to dilapidated and depression inducing Atlantic City, home of saltwater taffy, prostitution and a certain emptiness only felt when you are eating a burrito at 3am after vomiting and can’t remember what dive bars you went to and your groin itches.  That’s Atlantic City, but hey, the saltwater taffy is super good.  Even if there is no way they use the poison saltwater under that boardwalk.  Unless hobo urine is a flavor now.

Back to the Future (Get your damn hands off her Biff!) was excited to travel with someone he loves, which narrowed it down to any of the guys getting on that plane.  I mean, this show has turned into America’s Next Top Gay Best Friend.  I am all for it, but I feel like Bargain Bach doesn’t realize she is floating the bill for a bunch of dudes that were immediately Google Mapping how far Atlantic City was from Fire Island.

Team Smedium was staying at a hotel with a weird glowing ball at the top that stood atop a frozen springtime Atlantic Shitty.  City.  Who cares, at least they have each other.


holding hands this time

holding hands this time

First date was with underbite champion Cable Guy, who when he cries looks like a bulldog being forced to sniff pepper.  They went to a saltwater taffy plant, so they were one hand of blackjack away from covering everything there is to do in Atlantic Shitty.

They went down to the pretzel room which I mistakingly thought was a fake dog poo plant.  They proceeded to just have at it, grabbing the food, pouring shit all over it and covering their faces in pretzel feces.  This was such a food safety issue.  Fuck anyone who wasn’t outraged, especially if you care how your meat is killed.  Me, fucking shoot a cow in the face and let’s charcuterie.  But I would much rather eat a tortured animal than a chocolate pretzel that was mouth raped by a couple reality television stars.


They ate dinner in a light house, which was depressing.  I knew this date was going poorly because Cable Guy actually ate.  When they show you eating, you soon be leaving.  I guess the random, unexplained sandcastle they sat by earlier, probably commissioned to a creepy artist living under the boardwalk didn’t get their juices flowing.

Cable Guy literally talks in sounds.  She asked what he likes to do.  I had to rewind six times.  “I like to chill and sometimes just bongongongongong”.

Is that jerking off?  He talks like Matthew McConnaughy acts.  In noises and gestures.  Oh well.   Bargain Bach is just like, “hey let’s climb a million stairs, I want to be out of breath when I dump you” and then she cut him loose citing he could spend more time with Maddux, his son, who I am sure the producers hand to remind her his name 100 times, if not write it on her hand.

He was nice about it, but I was expecting the full Jim Carrey “soooo, what are you trying to say?” after she cut him.  Instead, he got in the car and cried like a bulldog blowing pepper lines.

This must have been a relief for Secretly 50 who did the obligatory Bachelor staring at someone else’s date and get emo vignette.

Bargain Bach said something about love should be a shining light, cuz, you know, they were in a fucking light house.  I AM TIRED OF THEMES.  MOAR HELICOPTERS.

Group date was perfect.  Mister America Pageant, which literally for Team Smedium would have been like telling my advertising friend group that we were trapped in a room of bourbon and steak and would have to eat and drink our way out with only a couple swimsuit models to cheer us on and maybe light some fireworks here and there.  That’s where my mind goes.


This officially became the Search for Des’ New Gay Best Friend.  We had Juan Pablo oiling up Gabagool.  That happened.  That’s like taking advantage of a foreigner.  Everyone made me want to kill myself.  I really don’t want to talk about this date any more.  I wanted the Muppets to fucking show up.  I wanted Hey Bear to show up.  Hell, I would have been down for a fire at the theater.  Anything to stop Hashtag: Weird Ass Story About Tap Dancing from performing or Gabagool getting naked and doing roid push-ups.  Smedium loves each other more than I’ve loved anything in my life.  They should cut the season short and let them be together.

Meanwhile, Little Big Head was taking a bubble bath, eating strawberries and wearing a robe, drinking red wine.  So, totally straight.

Second solo date gave me balls so blue I had to sit on a hot compress.  Little Big Head and Bargain Bach head out and finally, sweet baby Jesus, we get our FIRST HELICOPTER OF THE YEAR!

They are taking off, but when the triumphant Bachelor theme never comes on, when they never start saying “I can’t think of a better place to find a guiding light on a journey to find love for the right reasons” it hits me.  We’re about to get PONZI’D.

They aren’t on a date.  They are on a helicopter tour of the ruin porn from Hurricane Sandy.  Everyone watching in New Orleans was like “fuuuuck this.”  Shit, there are parts of New Orleans that still look worse than this all these years later.

So they are on this date, the roids are making Little Big Head cry, they are trapped with this horrible lady just talking about death and destruction and I’m thinking that not even James Bond could get ass on this date.  His best chance of getting a rose at this point was to chloroform her and take it by force.  If only the ruin porn tour guide would leave.

Sidenote, CLASSY MOVE ABC on the moment of Twitter silence.  The world just closed the browser.

But it was just getting started.

They land and are forced to hang out with a nice old Russian couple that lost their house and listen to how shitty their life was.  I checked my guide to make sure I wasn’t watching PBS.  Damnit ABC, I’m here to watch millenials fuck their lives up, not to watch people that actually have fucked up lives.  Why are we doing this?  Was this part of getting Atlantic City to pay the bill for Bargain Bach’s season?  We had to have an educational portion intended to make us cry?

At the end, Bargain Bach figures, fuck it, they aren’t spending on me anyway, let’s give these two people our date.

SMART PLAY.  Real people actually eat on the dates.  I was so thrilled to see them eat that I forgot how nice it was they had an intern photoshop their ruined life album back together.  While this was a Red Cross commercial, here’s guessing they didn’t retouch all the photo albums lost in Katrina.  This is why this show needs to stick to ruining a few peoples lives and not saving lives.  Leave the life saving for people like Oprah.

Later, they eat at an Italian place and Little Big Head is doing pretty well going with the moment until he decides to talk about how he cheated on a girl way back when.  So way back when that when I started to do the math, I was like, soooo he dated her in fifth grade and cheated on her in 10th grade?  And we’re supposed to care?  Back then you broke up with people by just not informing them you were not dating anymore.  We all did fucked up shit back then.  Hunger Games, bitch.

Des took it well and let him live another episode.  Frankly, if there was a reason to lose interest in Little Big Head based on this admission of guilt, it was that he decided to do it on national television.  I am sure his clients in advertising love that.  He’s definitely who you want protecting the weird shit your parents did to you.  Yikes.

Back at Home Base Smedium, Zero Dork Thirty starts having war flashbacks and needs to know Bargain Bach is in it for the long haul immediately or he will kill a Smedium once an hour, every hour until he kills himself (which would be more interesting than anything in Atlantic City).

They took the old couple out and then gave them the best gift in the world.  Darius Rucker.  You have a Russian couple that lost everything.  Solution?  A brother who went country.  How convenient.  They were totally just listening to his “CD” in their CD player that totally survived Hurricane Sandy.  May God have mercy on your souls.

The cocktail party was stupid.  Sunstroker wore his 11th yellow t-shirt confirming again that men from Dallas dress like assholes.  Medusa drew letters and recited a poem that totes made him more masculine…  Sorry, just puked in my mouth.


In the end, No Neck Zak W gets cut and burns my alma mater USC.  Zak, we never knew you, but you will now have to live with knowing that you lost to 2 juice heads, 10 guys that like guys, a guy who is in love with his son and a disturbed army vet.

At least you get to go home to the OC, throw down at some bars, snag a Newpsie mom or two and publish the fuck out of some books.

Oh yeah, and Gabagool said “you make me sweat” when he got the rose.  My sperm count went immediately to zero.  It was like when honeybees all die at once and the colony collapses.  So fucked up.  I hate you Chris Harrison.

This episode played like a bad mission in Grand Theft Auto.  The good news?  They are going to Munchen next week.  Beer, pretzels, football and, knowing this show, a couple tours of Nazi death camps.








Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Fuck Cancer and Help Tabby Leave It On The Road.

Cancer is a subject we’ve spent more time than we should have to talking about on this blog.  It’s in all of our lives.  I pretty much brought all of my readers along with me when I faced it for the second time.

I promised that I would do more this time around.  More than donating to research.  More than having heartfelt email exchanges and phone calls with readers and friends (same thing in my book) comparing experiences or giving advice.  Part of that is pointing your attention at projects that deserve your attention and support.


My friend and co-worker Mike Tabtabai is an accomplished Creative Director and cyclist.  Like many of us, cancer has touched his family.  What’s amazing is what “Tabby” is doing about it.  He’s fused his creative energy and his love of riding to form Leave It On The Road.   In their words, LIOTR is:

On June 17, 2013 Michael Tabtabai and Andrew Hudon will ride 3,450 miles in 24 days from Oregon to Massachusetts to raise funds and awareness for the fight against colon cancer. We will challenge ourselves. We’ll share the stories of what it’s like to attempt a ride of this scale. And all of the pain that cancer has caused us… we’ll be leaving that on the road.

It’s just that simple and also that ridiculously hard.  The amount of support for the journey is incredible, but knowing how much this blog’s readers were there for me, I am asking that you be there for Tabby as well.

We’ve worked together at three agencies in two states now, I’ve gotten to win some awards on projects he lead creatively and he’s a blast to have a bourbon with.  When he’s not working a grueling schedule as a creative leader at an agency that has won Global Creative Agency of the Year two years running, he’s biking hundreds of miles and putting in countless hours lining up sponsors and raising awareness for this cathartic and important trek.


I am so damn loud about the things I do, I appreciate the thought of the quiet hours Tabby has put in on the road or on the rollers he has set up in his house.  I’ve run a good amount of distance races and I understand something happens out there between you, yourself and I.  What’s amazing about LIOTR is that it’s taken to such an extreme.  The message literally will go across the entire country and everyone who comes across it has time to reflect and notice and hopefully, donate.

So here’s what I am asking.  DONATE whatever you can to raise some money for colon cancer.  Send THE WEBSITE to everyone you know.  Then tune in as they head out and leave it on the road.  It’s a tax write off and you are doing your part to fight something none of us will get to avoid until we beat it.  Take it from a 2x survivor.  Anytime someone goes big and does something to raise money, they are saving YOUR life.  You may not realize it, but that’s what’s going on.  Help these guys save some lives and raise some awareness.


We’re literally saying goodbye to him today and god knows what he’ll see between now and then.  I will say no matter what, he’ll have done a lot of good.  Trust me, on a ride this long, every donation large or small will serve as motivation when the days get long and the miles get unnerving.

So, enough.  DONATE right now and let me know you did.




Filed under Uncategorized

BachCap: Week Three

I am going to bring the lumber today.  I’m bringing the lumber and then I am dousing it in gasoline, patronizing it like a scene out of Scarface and then lighting it on fire.  Why?  Because this show is finally hitting its stride and basically, this blog is going to write itself.

Let’s fuckin’ BachCap.


First things first.  This is the most effeminate group of suitors ever to be put in the mansion.  My fraternity didn’t like each other this much.  Frankly, there are Mormon choirs that don’t like each other this much.  There are soldiers who have literally fucking saved each others’ lives that don’t come close to liking each other the way Team Smedium likes each other.

Why Team Smedium, you ask?  Well, this group of brain dead ass slappers clearly showed up on day one with way too many shirts with logos on them and the producers had to roll in the treasure chest of neon American Apparel v-necks for them to scavenge through so some poor producer wouldn’t have to spend 16 hours a day rotoscoping a blur over Gabagool’s extensive collection of 2003 Abercrombie gear.  And you think your work day sucks…

Basically though, American Apparel is for regular to tiny sized boys and everyone on this show is juicing and on a journey to find love (with their roommates).  That’s why everyone looks like they are dressed to competitively cycle or something.  Heads up fellas and cyclists.  You’re in tights.  In public.

Let’s talk about the dodgeball date.  This was fifty shades of wrong.  All these guys come out in athletic gear, confirming none of them have every played sports, which was later confirmed when a legit 80% of them now seem like they are there to meet guys.  I am 100% good with this, but I need to keep it real.

They had Medusa and his shaved chest hair narrating in tandem with Back to the Future (BIFF GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF HER) and literally everything was said more feminine than a French perfume saleswoman at Le Samaritain at Pont Neuf.  It was “balls are flying at my face, my chin” and “I was reaching for balls when some balls hit me in the face” and then guys acting impressed by the National Dodgeball League.


Dude, if I walked into a garage in Glendale and saw a bunch of dudes in uniforms competitively playing dodgeball and taking it seriously, I’d be worried about three outcomes:

1.  I have to play dodgeball with the kind of guys who practice dodgeball this much instead of try to mate with women and continue the existence of the human species.

2.  I am violently raped by nerds in headbands who simply outnumber me.

3.  I am murdered and my kidneys are harvested for the black market.  This is probably my desired outcome if you read the other two.

Regardless, Team Smedium has a huge collective boner for the experience and when Harrison walks in with Heart Socks looking like a pink highlighter (color and shape) in her full Kabuki makeup, Smedium could NOT be more excited they are playing each other in a public place.  These guys would rather play with each others’ balls than anyone else’s.

They go to Americana in Glendale and they are dressed in like short shorts and tank tops and the dumb part is this looks just like they look in their American Apparel clothes.  The producers are like “fuck, we probably need to paint them in body latex to get anyone to think they are dressing embarrassingly” but then Medusa would be like “I saw that body latex on Real Sex in the 90s, always been curious” and then he puts his hand on your leg.

What followed was the most homoerotic sports scene since Top Gun’s beach volleyball scene.  They literally would slide legs spread at each other into each other and then grab for the line of balls and then we’d get treated to more “it was a ballpocalypse!” testimonials.  I fucking love this show right now.  It’s like 5 straight dudes and 15 gay guys living in a house, having a blast and then Heart Socks is kind of just there to dress them up as cowboys or eighties gym coaches.  It’s like the best thing ever for everyone involved.


Every now and then Heart Socks does a full open mouth laugh where you are pretty sure she could swallow a whole rabbit like that boa constrictor your life sciences teacher kept in a cage in his high school classroom.

Lady Tom Brady broke his finger in a crotch first slide for balls and then you’d think he was run over by a truck dumping hot tar on him.  He was shaking so much while Heart Socks comforted him I thought Giovanni Ribisi was going to run up in his Saving Private Ryan gear and give him morphine while he took a letter and promised to get it to his mother.

When they found him at the hospital, he was hooked up to life support, a first with a broken finger.  Look, I get passing out when they set a bone.  You don’t have much control over it.  But you do have control of screaming at the camera crew, breaking shit and being like GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.  At least if they air it you will have a cool Hulk sequence.  I mean seriously, Lady Tom Brady was such a pussy.  Ames fucking kickboxed in 200 degree heat a couple seasons back, he definitely loved the dudes and he got hospitalized after getting DECKED.  You slid balls first into a another dude, broke your finger and then it was like you got your dick amputated.  Grow the fuck up.  I had a kidney stone once.  I cured it by flexing and enduring the pain until it exploded.

Rose went to Sleeper Cell, the man who dances like an 8th Grader but is winning by default because out of nowhere, he’s the only dude with a fully functioning brain (you heard me Zero Dork Thirty) that I can confirm likes women.  This isn’t a journey for love.  It’s a journey of self discovery.

Back at the house, we had the most staged BS ever between a guy I forgot was on the show and his maybe girlfriend with a baby.  I hate that Des was all mad about it because she forgot this guy was there.  Probably, she had fun because this guys’ ex/currrent girlfriend was the chubby girl from Love Actually that Hugh Grant throws down on.  That was exciting.  Sorry.  These were actors.  ABC needs to cast better.  Sorry I’m not sorry.  Hashtag:  Meisner.


Now that we know Heart Socks has a backbone (ABC mandated), we got to talk about the “right reasons” for another twenty-five minutes.  If anyone had “take a shot when someone says right reasons” in their drinking game, they are dead now and I am sorry for your loss.

This totally ruined Des’ date with what’s his face, um, Hashtag: There Are No Ad Agencies in San Luis Obispo.  He’s nice enough besides his game show host face.  If you combined him and Zack K., you’d have a reasonable looking Orange County type dude.  Zack needs a neck.  Hashtag needs to look less like one of the characters from Fantastic Mr. Fox and to move south to OC.  Together, they could sell insurance and have a hot blonde wife who thinks it’s still the 50s.  YOU HEARD ME OC.

They bandalooped or whatever the fuck it is, basically running around sideways like an asshole on a building.  I am glad I saw this so if my future kid ever wants to get into it I can say “do you want to end up poor and having a killswitch built into any attempt you ever make to land a mate?”

I mean, really.  You’re at dinner.  It’s going fine.  Eventually, interests come up.  You are a bandalooper.  You don’t have a 401K.  You are living paycheck to paycheck, but you found the loot to dance sideways on a building.  CHECK PLEASE.  Have fun with your right (or left) hand tonight.

Heart Socks hated the date.  Hashtag: Stoked On Life didn’t mind it.  He’s a good guy I guess.

Then it was so cold on top of the Andaz (where I once went to a party as 1987 Coked Out Chevy Chase, you missed out) that shit was blowing over and it was like Oklahoma up there (too soon?) and so they decide, let’s swim.  But it’s too cold.

Andaz wants their money back.  They have a roof in tornado alley, they don’t have a heated pool and they had nowhere better to put Des than a fluorescent lit hallway?  YEAH LEMME GIVE YOU THAT 400 DOLLARS A NIGHT, BECAUSE COMFORT.

Hashtag:  Pity Rose.  Go easy on the hair product.  You look like an anime teenage warrior.

That one guy, we’ll call him All the Single Ladies, started crying back at the mansion because he had a single mom and what that guy we don’t remember his name did to that girl from Love Actually reminded him of all the men he fell in love with that left (seriously, CAN THIS SEASON GET MORE HOMOEROTIC?).  He has all the feelings.

Group date two was the annual “Disney Puts Their New Movie In” and after the Muppets, it’s all downhill.  This year, it was Lone Ranger, because nothing builds up a man’s confidence like looking like you can’t shoot a gun and then having your date stare at Johnny Depp and Armie Hammer for two hours.  That’s like backwards Viagra.  You know your date is picturing someone else that night and who wants that?

Anyway, this date consisted of doing some stunts, dressing like cowboys and inspiring Americans to fight muscular people because as was proven during the fight scenes, muscles don’t equal fighting ability.

Juan Pablo did a good job and even had time to adjust his suspenders mid fight.  He said a bunch of shit in Spanish, made his “I’m on ecstasy tongue out” face that he loves to make and won the badge.  I swear if you close your eyes when he talks to Des it is like the audio track from a weird Brazilian porn.  Not that I know about those.  My wife just closed the browser.

They watched the movie, he pulled some popcorn out of her bra and then they made out all brazilian porn style (again, not that I’d know).

Later, she had alone time with Little Big Head who was all like “my feelings need to know if they are friends with your feelings because dad” and she’s like “sure, I always wanted to kiss a slab of brisket” and he lives to fight another day.

Secretly 50 got some alone time and told some hyper animated jokes about kissing her and then didn’t kiss her.  Folks, you’re on the show because you are slooty and want to kiss people.  Just do it.

Time out.  WHAT IS WITH THE DUDES WEARING THE BLANKETS ON DATES?  This has long been the girl move, but every guy on this super sensitive homoerotic season is curled up in a blanket at every opportunity.  It’s madness.  I feel like they’re in some Cape Cod romance novel.  Or just cold.  I guess roids don’t keep you warm at night.

Zero Dork Thirty combed his hair and looked human until he talked where he was like Forrest Gumping the shit out of the situation.  He’s all “I like kiss-ing her and I hope there’s more of kissing”.


Pool party replaces cocktail party and we got more homoerotic forty guys in a hot tub action.  Not before Sunstroker (added the R to be pervy) stole Des away in her hideous Bentley and made out with her with the whole house watching.  He was wearing a tank top last seen in a 98 Degrees video in the late 90s and a dog tag necklace from some secret “Douche Army.”  Then he lied to everyone and that meant Gabagool and Medusa took him aside and pretended they would fight him and instead… HOT TUB PARTY!!!

All the Single Ladies tells the story about how he lost all his moms BFs, then said he wouldn’t cry while crying, then told Des he loved her despite having no alone time, then told her he wanted to tell her a secret and then kissed her.  She almost laughed.  It was rough.

Then they SENT HIS ASS HOME along with some other people we never knew.  The weird part of All the Single Ladies wonders why his father figures left so fast.  Maybe they didn’t like being told “I Love You” eight minutes in.  Jerry Maguire was a movie.  Men don’t meet a woman and get excited about the kid and not the woman.  We’re not out shopping for kids with wife accessories.  Not to say you can’t love an inherited kid, but here’s guessing the policy of I LOVE YOU DON’T LEAVE made the commitment seem enormous.


Next week we ALMOST leave the country.  Off to Atlantic Shitty.  Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!








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Mail From A Disappointed Fan

Old fans of the blog remember a time when I would post hate mail and my reactions to it.  I don’t think I can consider this last bit of user comment to be hateful, my BachCap fans are some of the nicest ever (for people who like sick beatdowns of strangers on their TVs), but I felt like this was a great opportunity to have some fun.


“Jess” had this to say to me:

I am such a big fan on this blog and tell all my friends to read any chance I get. However, I can’t help but be disappointed in the first two posts of the season. I’m not laughing nearly enough and you’re all over the place not remembering what order the dates are in! I’m excited to read the upcoming weeks and hopefully be more entertained.

I want to make an official statement back to Jess and quell some of her fears, if possible.


Thank you for calling me out.  Like any three Michelin star restaurant, I only grow with user feedback.  I wanted to assure you that I want to make the situation right and do anything I can to help you reach the appropriate laugh levels you expect from a blog so incredible, it isn’t even a blog, rather me acting as the conduit between some celestial laugh deity and the audience.

First, thank you for telling you friends to read the blog even though it’s been letting you down lately.  That said, if it’s been really bad, please refer them to my earlier work.  I think we can all agree my work on the subject of Brad and Chantal’s outdoor African Safari Sex Party was a shoe in for a Pulitzer.  When I was not nominated, I cried because I knew my opus was played for the deaf.  How can the literary world not celebrate the incredible travel writing I did when the show went to Belize?  I can’t Belize Anthony Bourdain has a travel writing job and I don’t!  F. Scott Fitzgerald succeeded because people referred their friends to read The Great Gatsby and not lesser known works like Captain Tangerine and the Georgia Dumpling Contest.  Had people sent their friends to that story, perhaps Baz Luhrmann would be ruining someone else’s great American novel and what a tragedy that might be (especially for you Catcher in the Rye!)

To address the part of your comment where you can’t help but be disappointed in the first two posts of the season… I swear as they trim the fat I will make sure to up my game to midseason form.  I feel like these are like August baseball, the dog days of summer, after a great ending to Bachelor and before we reach full steam on Bachelorette.  What concerned me was when you said you can’t help but be disappointed.

I have to ask, does this extend beyond the blog?  I just watched the movie Side Effects with The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and The Talented Mr. Ripley and what I learned is that saying that kind of thing out loud can lead to people making you take pills and then you kill people for money so you can hook up with your lady psychiatrist.

All I am saying is if you can’t help how you are disappointed with my blog and only my blog, that’s cool.  I promise, I’m going to hit a home run tomorrow.  A moon shot.  But if you can’t help feeling disappointed with everything, you need to see someone.

You aren’t laughing nearly enough.  This is on me.  That’s why I want to offer you a special service.  I will jump on the phone with you any time you need a laugh and I will do whatever I have to in order to make it happen.  Think I’m above farting directly into the handset?  I’m not.  Whatever it takes.

Starting with tomorrow.  I am going to crush my post in your honor.  My humble plea to keep you as a fan (and I mean this part sincerely, not the whole part about Side Effects other than that you should watch it because it’s pretty entertaining and Catherine Zeta Jones and Rooney Mara make out, which they should have put in the preview, because money.

Thanks to Jess, it’s going to be Game of Thrones Tuesday for Zoolanderella.  Pew pew.








Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap Week Two

It’s another week and we’re able to discern some critical new data about the rampart group of menstruating  women in the house.  I am happy to see this show is getting back to the idiotic, corn syrupy roots that grew it into the fucked up tree it is.  I have high hopes that we’ll have some helicopters and extreme dates in no time at all.

Real quick, one of my pasttimes, in the way old men skip rocks on ponds, is to dog contestants on instagram (not ultimate homies Spivey, Swartz and Flajnik of course).  Last night, Kacie B. (or Beyan if you read this blog) threw me a fastball and I had to do what you do with fastballs.  You go yard.


Please.  Stop putting inspirational quotes on instagram.  I’ve ranted on here before about it but if I wanted to be inspired I’d go to the ATM, take out all my money and maybe roll around naked on my bed like Demi Moore in Indecent Proposal.  No, I haven’t thought about that before or anything.  Cough.  Next.

Let’s BachCap?



Our first date was with (drum roll)…  Lady Tom Brady who did his very best “I like girls” impression all night.  Just as I was drunkenly screaming this guy looks like Tom Brady if he was, in fact, a lady someone randomly throws him a football into the Bentley and he throws it two handed back… Like a lady would.

Let’s take a quick step back and talk about the blue Bentley.  This is like marrying a super model and forcing her to get fat and have shitty plastic surgery.  What are we doing here?  The only thing that could crap out that car was dipping it in liquid sour belt candy and congrats ABC, you did it.

Heart Sock or Zoolanderella, whichever you prefer drove her ladyfriend on a road trip around SoCal.  I was super pissed because, while I live in Portland, I still have a house in California and I don’t want the property value to go down just because Chris Harrison is too lazy to leave Malibu until they trim the dbags off the show.  They went to El Matador, one of three beaches you can often find Lost Angeles at eating a sandwich from the Trancas Market and drinking rum.  So much for that fucking beach…

Then they went to Neptune’s Net, which has been a classic Ponzi tourist trap (albeit a fun one) for years.  I was scared they went to my favorite place and ruined that too, but they did not.  No you don’t get to know it or it will not be my favorite anymore.  I’ll tell you off line.


Then they went to Ojai.  And then downtown.  Wait.  NO CHANCE this was filmed in sequence.  And there was some Hollywood sign in there too.  On the Hollywood sign, Lady Tom Brady told Heart Sock a bunch of stuff my buddy’s sister would tell him around a campfire and then he said some shit about how the Hollywood sign represented her fucking dreams or sailboats or something.  This dude needs to be more penis forward.  I know ABC deemed this the “for the right reasons” episode, but if you believe in evolution, Darwinism and the continuance of the human race, the right reason is to eventually have sex.  Lady Tom Brady has that thing where he stands like a virgin.  You know what I mean.  There’s a certain slouch that comes from knowing you have at one point successfully hunted a deer.  This guy is like “do they make gluten free deer snacks I could buy at Whole Foods?”  By the way, they do.  I can confirm, I live in Portland.

The thing I learned is that Heart Sock wants to get her face on just about anything.  Watching her kiss Lady Tom Brady made me think about that night she got hammered and made out with her best girl friend at a local bar and her brother thought it was funny until his buddies got turned on and made some jokes and then he smashed a bottle of Bud and cut some throats *GAME OF THRONES SPOILER.

Later, Lady Tom Brady got super scared driving around downtown LA even approaching a glowing pink bridge with ten TV cameras chasing him.  I don’t know if all the PBR bars in the area or art galleries or fine bedding (Matteo) stores around there freaked him out.  He should have been at the Grove.

Then they had dinner and he got the rose.  It’s just to damn early to cut a nice guy without Heart Sock looking like a dickhead.  If you cut the fat early, this show would be Fantasy Suites week three.

At home the group date was announced and it became clear that all these guys (minus Ben) are in love with each other.  I mean, normally this show teaches you that a group of women hate each other and a group of dudes are a fraternity.  In this season, this group of dudes cuddle.  It’s fun to picture Gabagool (the Italian meathead) being like, “yo, bitches, Mean Girls is on, make some fuckin’ popcorn and stop playin’ grab ass, show LiLo some friggin’ respect.”



The group date was one of the worst in Bachelorette history.  We got to see the death of Soulja Boy who at one point actually had a record people listened to, but not can be bought for 10k to do a song called “For The Right Reasons” on ABC (hit the fucking nail on the head some more, guys).



Heart Sock came out dressed as Alexander the Grape, the purple Otter Pop at the Malibu Winery which also doubled for the house robbed in Hangover Part III.  This is in Kanan Canyon and five minutes from the Bach Mansion showing again that it’s only the finest for Des.  They’ll do it if it’s cheap and within ten miles.

The dudes all had zero timing, rhythm or street cred and whoever wrote the rap, which was so inside it was outside, needs to drink drain-o.  In the direct sunlight, the naked guy from week one finally earned a nickname.  I dub him Secretly Fifty because in direct sunlight you can tell he’s old as balls.



This dude has all the baby fat loss that actors experience, possibly fake teeth, but definitely whitened.  He came off less douchey, but that must have been because he was stoked AARP accepted him for life insurance.

Everything about this sucked.  I’m done.  If you want someone to talk more about white dudes who can’t rap, read one of the other Bach blogs out there.  But you won’t.  Yes, I’ll accept this rose.

The night date was comedy because Ben (who I am calling Sunstroke in reference to his son) was ready to talk about his kid some more.  I think child services needs to step in.  It’s funny in movies when dudes use their kids to fish for women.  When you see it in real(ish) life, it makes you feel like an old guy is watching you shower.  Not that I know what that’s like…

We also saw no one could master the tie clip, which depressed me.  If you can’t use one, you don’t need one.  It’s like the new sorbet flavored vodka.  If you need your booze to taste like sorbet, maybe you should go right to pills.  Just a tip.

Sunstroke stole Heart Sock away from a guy who doesn’t like girls deep in a story about having Diabetes.  When did this become a competition of ailments?  Such a bad strategy to lead with that. It’s not opening up.  It’s saying “don’t send me home week one”.  Being that this dude is probably not into girls, he is a genius because he was trying to ensure he got to make the travel team and go to wherever Chris Harrison is meeting his drug mule, somewhere in the Antilles or South America, usually.  I’m retiring when they go to Medellin.

Anyway, Sunstroke pulls what is a normal group date move and Diabutthurt gets Gabagool to lead a Juicehead Rebellion.  After Sunstoke does some weird “IMMA LEAN RIGHT IN AND KISS YOU” shit and then talks about his son, Gabagool corners him.

Sunstroke talks his way out of it by comparing shoes and making friends, confirming again this is the least straight set of suitors ever to grace the mansion, a fact I am super stoked about.  Diabutthurt called out Sunstroke for wanting to “guard and protect the heart” of his son, so I kind of love him.

Wait, this took place at the final cocktail party.  I’m out of order.  DON’T FUCKING CARE.



Final date is with Zero Dork Thirty, who says like no words at all.  Wait, was THIS the road trip date?  I am so confused.  Oh yeah, maybe because all they did this episode is fucking drive places and have awkward dinners while the dudes at the house tried not to paint each others’ nails.

The gist of this date was that Zero Dork Thirty brought graphic images of a terrible car wreck to dinner, which is fine cuz no one eats at these things, and after Game of Thrones, we’ve seen enough violence for the week.  The guy is nice, boring, possibly a 95 IQ and potentially a killing machine.

Des tries really hard to make out with him and eventually just does it herself.  I’d compliment his slow roll, but I think he’s just like, slow-slow.

Rose Ceremony, she sends home the sign guy, she sends home a dude I didn’t know was there, and then Bikram Yoga who was so fucking hammered he got blinded by his green shirt and almost walked into the bushes.

Promises of drama next week and no sign of helicopters, but I think this season is working out.  I didn’t even have to get the people lined up with their dates correctly.  Bless you Chris Harrison.







Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Over 1/3 Funded. Time to Fight On.

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It’s time to get stoked, but it’s not time to get complacent.  We’ve had a big first beginning of the campaign.  We’ve had Lost Angeles Blog super homeboy Matt Barkley tweeting about it and then later making the front page of Yahoo Sports for talking about it.

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This project is going to happen and while Bobby DeMars is the director, I am going to be right there making sure your voices get heard and we take the swing we all want.  While the intent is a proactive approach to players’ rights, I am here to ensure we’re pointing out some of the gross misconduct of rule on behalf of the NCAA from their Draconian behavior to their lack of a clear vision beyond their piggy bank.

And Mark Emmert will have me to answer to (or hide from).

CLICK HERE and donate a few bucks, or go big and get a producer credit.  Sign the boxing glove if you will.  We won’t make change unless we force change.

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