BachCap Week 4… And/Or 5

With the schedule returning to normal after a double shot of Bachelorette last week, we finally are getting to the point in the show that allows me to look forward to it. There are less people to remember, they start traveling to cultural locations that prove how uncultured you have to be to be considered for this show, they go to exotic locales where at least when they are saying things that make us all collectively dumber, they are half-naked and we can be judgmental about all of it.

This is like the playoff race. We’re done with the warm-ups, the early season gaffs. These are all potential playoff teams for the Divorce World Series and it’s time to take note.

The Traveling Meatsicle World Tour has what looks to be a windy landing in Marseilles, France until I realized these guys flew their on a Ryanair livestock puddle jumper from Heathrow. Yeah, right they’d pay for these guys to fly private unless the French government told them they couldn’t film inside the country and Harrison had to use his private coke smuggling jet to wing them in.

Okay. Maybe they flew private.

BABYTEETH™ has me wanted to rub a cheese grater on my face immediately as she must be contractually obligated to say “France” after any mention of Marseille, either because she was too drunk to remember where she was or the network’s faith in Americans knowing Marseille was in France is pretty low.

Either way, the French flag, a symbol of liberty and great charcuterie was flown at have mast. This was because the Bachelor is the worst thing to happen to France since Robespierre. Because BOOKS™.

Harrison shows up wearing a chain mail turtle neck just in case the Mountain comes back to life and he has to fight for Tyrion’s life. How many gram bags can he smuggle under that collar? Wow.

All I could think about is how Andi is one of those people that just go places in the world and eat the food and drink the wine and then feel like they now know something of a place, despite having no fucking clue where they really are, why it’s actually interesting or anything of the sort. Like Harry Potter is the first thing she thinks about when someone mentions London, despite that 90% of those stories take place in a fictional wizard castle you need to take a secret train to reach. The second thing she thinks about in London? It’s a tie between every Hugh Grant movie ever, even the ones where he’s in America because NOTTING HILL THO™.

First date goes to Crap Leinart who is STOKED™ to get a letter from a producer pretending to be Andi in French. We know it’s not from her because she can’t speak spanish, she can’t speak french. Really, her english is limited to getting drunk on dates and going STOOOOOOOOOP.

But seriously. Stop.

This date is just standard LOW TALKING™ in a tone that is pleasing to Andi, who despite saying he is a jock who is just her type and will likely cheat on her, she is like FUCK IT WINE and just gets hammered at which point, the tannins make he say “I DUN EVEN KNOW HOW TO OPEN MY EYES OR NOT LOVE YOU RIGHT NOW.”

He tries to tell us that he could still be playing baseball if he wanted, but instead he’s not. Don’t front. Those that can, do. I could still be playing as well. If Little League allowed me to sign up again. I get that you got drafted. But the fact that I am seeing you on a dating game and not in a Dodger game is all the proof I need that I WASN’T GONNA HAPPEN™.

Back at the crib, there’s a blank group date card, proving that these guys will OOH and AHH at anything. Even nothing.

The real news was when Panstapreneur, who still is apparently a thing, tell Marquel that the Social Media Marketer has called him a “blackie” or some version of racial comment. Marquel is the coolest person on the show and he takes this pretty well. At some point, I wonder why they even show this. It just points out the worst part of this show, that it’s a pageant of white folks bastardizing the concept of marriage. There are often complaints that there have no been more diverse Bachelors, or hey, even a same sex season, but in the end, there must be ratings somewhere that suggest the main audience only wants to see the sanctity of marriage destroyed by white people and the occasional sociopathic Juan Pablo.

Back on Andi’s date, she’s hammered and believing a bunch of bullshit coming out of Crap Leinart’s mouth. WHATEVER I LOVE YOU WHY CAN’T I OPNE MY EYYYYYES???

The group date is some weird miming thing that I just feel no need to comment on. They looked like morons. Andi barely dresses up because she is self conscious and drinking herself to death on TV, much like how Adam Richman one tried to kill himself with hot wings challenges on Man v Food.

Ellen DeGeneres hair Nick is a wet blanket on the date to prove he is ANTI GROUP DATES™ and I hear you man. But again. Come on.

Andi mimes “drinking” to end this terrible date, but mainly because she hadn’t had a drink in a couple hours, was starting to feel self conscious in that square full of French people.

The night date featured Andi trying to walk in heels drunk, which looked like she was snow-shoeing through the Ice Planet from Star Wars. Mrs. Doubtfire was more graceful in heels.

While she’s trying to walk places and not spill glass seven of pinot gris, Marquel is confronting Nick about the racism. Nick either lies or doesn’t lie, but either way Marquel is a good guy, way to good for this show.

On a less heavy not, pretty sure they had to blur Andi’s crotch because her wardrobe is SCANDALOUS™. Or she’s just drunk and forgetting the whole “if they aren’t pants, it’s just an open window” theory.

Time Is A Fat Circle seals his fate by telling Andi that Nick is a bad guy. See you later man. Good luck finding the man with green ears. Sean Bro does the same thing, except dressed like the girl from Willy Wonka midway through her transition into a blueberry.

While everyone else fights, Richolas Goscage goes in for the kill and does some of the best (read:worst) tongue kissing since Sean Lowe’s season.

Somehow, Pantstaprenuer gets the rose proving you can fail at life and win at this show. Keep dreaming.

Basketball Coach, or DeGinger Brody or just Homeland gets the one on one and they do the eat weird shit date followed by the LETSWATCHADISNEYMOVIE date and FUFUFUFU for it not being the Muppets.

No matter how bad the date was going, Andi got shitfaced again, potentially the shampoo effect, and ends up making out with him.

She decides NO to a cocktail party. Instead, she holds each rose like a glass of wine (or like Ricky Bobby’s hands when he’s interviewing in talladega) and then cuts Marquel, Social Media Racist and Possibly Dead Tall Guy.

Marquel is heartbreaking because he now knows racism = alive and well, at least on this show. Make him the next Bachelor. Prove you are better than this already.

Highlight of the show is Creepy Tall Guy who just says he’s head from multiple people NOT JUST GIRLS that he would make a perfect husband. And loves to make human bacon out of sleeping people’s faces. JAYSUS.

Next week, VENICE after Andi sleeps it off.





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BachCap Week 3

Week Three and Four were combined for one of two reasons. The first was Chris Harrison went on an uncontrollable coke binge and he needed MOAR BACHELOR RIGHT NYOW™.

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The part where he talks about blow isn’t even the most cocainey part of this. It’s the general run-on nature of this post and the afterthought @tag. Please be the next Bachelor, man. Please. You would be like judge, jury and executioner. I would dedicate my life to spreading awareness of your program.

THE OTHER REASON™ they combined week three and four is probably to get Eric, the dude I KNOW IS DEAD (seriously, guys?) off the show because between Andi’s BABYTEETH™, her getting hammered in a non-fun way on every date and the fact there is literally a ghost on the show, this season has the lowest ratings ever.

Gentlemen may prefer blondes, but everyone prefers contestants that are still alive. It’s hard to watch.

Let’s just deal with Eric. I intentionally ignored this subject because it does not matter to the purpose of the blog. Every good joke I had about the situation was distasteful. Do I think the death of a dude who rejected his childhood where he was raised to not be allowed to drink alcohol or have sex reacting by infusing constant adrenaline into his life traveling to war zones, jumping off anything he could and generally taking risks whenever possible is tragic?

Yeah, but it’s not shocking. You can die crossing the street. You are more likely to die if you are on a quest to take risks. No one deserves to die, but Eric died doing what he loved. You don’t want to know my opinion on what he loved. The best jokes, the jokes you read the blog for, probably would offend you, mostly because they’d hit close to home.

I ignored his death because it wasn’t relevant to this show, where in the end, he was a dude who got sent home week four. I don’t watch this show to feel bad about anything. I watch it to feel good because I met my wife in civilian life. If I am supposed to feel worse for Eric because he was on this show, then I’d never get up in the morning with all the atrocities in the world from disease to genocide to dickheads that murder college students at UCSB.

Guys, any death is a tragedy. Not more so because they were on four episodes of a reality show pairing people together at a far worse success ratio than random chance. I’ve had cancer two times. I get it. Death comes for all of us. Valar morghulis, Game of Thrones fans. All men must die. Even extreme sports afficianados who vacation in Syria. Crazy, right?

Just know, since I punted on talking about Eric, some of my readers lost their minds thinking I literally did not know. Some just wanted to help. Some thought I was the devil.

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So let’s put it to bed. Rest in peace, Eric. Glad you died doing what you love. May we all be so lucky. You didn’t deserve it. Hope your family recovers as best as can be expected and that you being off the show allows them to move on.

My wife may finally close the browser. I still expect Muppets.


So anyway. Can we get back to being a dick? Perfect. Let’s bachcap. I’m gonna miss a lot because two nights is too much.

Her first date is with Nick, who is a bigtime frontrunner and also rocks the “Ellen DeGeneres hair cut” as Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist taught us (watch it again with someone you love). I think they went like hiking? I don’t know. Who fucking cares. She’s into him. He doesn’t bother me even at all. As Norah said when touching Nick’s hair “you’re soft man” and so is Nick.

The group date was fun because I got to hear some bad singing and also know Boyz II Men are still alive. And cool. So literally we also learned that washed up celebrities holding onto the early 90s are more socially adjusted than the traveling meat circus that is this show.

The worst part of this date for me was how Crap Leinart thought he could sing. I may be biased because I played in bands for almost two decades, but in fairness, I can’t fucking sing. Never stopped me from carrying a tune. It’s not that hard. Like, watching this meatsicles try to sing was so painful I literally opted to have my prostate checked during it to relieve the pain. That’s right. A gloved finger checking your prostate = MORE COMFORTABLE™.

Opera singer, who knows how to carry a tune, tried to achieve TOTAL VICTORY™ by singing on key and also using his patented DOUCHÉ VIBRATO™ and paid the price, which was confirming he’s exactly as toolbag as his Disney canine sidekick haircut.

Crap Leinart gets the rose for no reason beyond Andi is an idiot, says she knows better than to go for her exact type, and then goes for her exact type. Literally, if she was lactose intolerant, she’d have constant diarrhea from eating ice cream because she is basic as hell.

Pantstapreneur (do we even need a nickname) goes on a date where they dress up like old people, which is ageist, but again, not my cause. Keeping it super real though, Andi decides old people all have smoker’s voices and Parkinson’s. She was faking a hand shake. WORST PERSON EVER™. Seriously.

Even worse, he entire knowledge of old people is probably from the Notebook and she confused Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. Good for you.

Rat Tail Hair Man and Opera Singer go home. Opera Singer cries like it’s the end of Billy Budd. You know. The Herman Melville gothic English language opera about responsibility and, um, sailors? Yeah. I’m 72 percent cultured. Buzzfeed told me.

Next episode….>>>.>.fweopfk[

The go to the most budget casino ever in Connecticut. I mean, how many better casinos did they pass en route to this one? In the end, these meatsicles decide to jump in the hot tub together and “air toast” to their BARELY KEEPING IT TOGETHER SEXUAL FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER™.

Emo Ed Burns gets the first date, which is Connecticuit’s famous DEPRESSING TRAIN RIDE™. He goes for the worst idea ever, the patented LOVE ME FOR SAD STORY™ offense, which never works. People like it when you lead with your personality, then tell them your sad story later. Like, wow, you are so well adjusted. I recognize he just went through this. Here’s an idea then. DON’T GO ON THE DAMN SHOW.

Worse, Andi had zero fucks to spare. The entire date was her waiting for him to ask her questions about her, just like with Wapalo, where the point wasn’t Wapalo being a dick. It was WHY AREN’T YOU FASCINATED BY ME AND MY INFINITE ME-NESS. In fairness (like I’m fair) Andi did cry, though maybe from lack of attention or because she was in a train with depressing faded polo green napkins and not on a helicopter. She was a pretty crier. Big win for the agency.

As I often do, I hope this sad guy leaves soon so he can heal, which he won’t on national television. PITY ROSE™ accepted. Dismissal: imminent. I mean, he had serious bitchy resting face (BRF™) while telling her this is the happiest moment of his life. Everything about everything I just typed was depressing.

Next there is a group WNBA date. Yep.

These idiots are getting schooled by superior female talent until it’s time for them to play each other. They have ROSEBUDS jerseys that the producers recycle for the other team by flipping some inside out. Way to put on the ritz, guys. Nothing screams “LET’S BALL” like sharpie numbers and wearing clothes inside out.

They show a montage of these dudes going at it, scoring buckets, rocking out. Then we see it’s 6-6 at halftime. They only scored 3 baskets a piece. That wasn’t a montage. That was the entire first half. WOW.

After one of the teams loses (as if a 6-6 halftime score on national television didn’t make them all losers), the music is super heavy. IT’S THE MOST DRAMATIC PICK-UP BASKETBALL GAME EVER.

I like the Basketball Coach and it was pimp that despite his argyle half zip he sunk a half-court shot. Andi seemed turned on by a male act of strength setting the female gender back another five years. My wife just closed the browser.

He could hit a half court J, but couldn’t kiss a turned on admirer. NEXT.

Ellen DeGeneres Hair is running away with this show. A nerd with game. Unstoppable.

The last 1:1 date is with the man who looks like the scrambled facial features of Nicholas Cage and Ryan Gosling. I give you: RICHOLAS GOSCAGE™.

This dude seemed like a prick in the house, but he seems super cool away from everyone. He has ZERO FEAR™ for an extreme rappelling down a building date. He’s basically hyper trained from all the action movies the Nick Cage part of his face was in. Andi is TRIPPING BALLS™ but he gets her to eventually rappel. I laughed genuinely at Andi when she was asked what her mother was like and she said “Nicer”. For a moment I forget I am rooting against her. And humanity.

He gets a rose and they dance to another country band I didn’t know was alive.

At the cocktail party, Andi decides to get shitfaced and wear a disco alligator carcass as a dress. She can’t even walk in it, especially hammered on dirty martinis. In fact, I’ve never seen a bachelorette get this shitty and emo on cocktail parties.

Eric had what I think was an even better exit than Andi did with Wapalo. Tired of being accused of being disingenuous, he basically gave Andi a bowl of TRUTH JUICE™. She’s the faker. She’s too drunk to hear any bad news. Eric goes off the show humble in his recognition that this won’t work. I am glad this was how he left the show.

Drunk Andi runs off to make sure everyone knows RIGHT REASONS™ because VODKA+WINE™ is a super-combo. Whatever, SHUT UP ANDI. Blood alco-ya’ll level: .09.

They don’t show a rose ceremony, instead trying to give a tribute to Eric. I don’t feel like commenting. Tough situation for everyone.

Hoping we can move on now. I am.





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BachCap Week Two

Week two still falls in that part of the movie where ever character is speaking in sweeping explanations of the landscape, making classic dialogue and character development impossible. What’s worse, this is not a movie. This is a group of non-essential employees from various companies that are half-heartedly competing to loan a Neil Lane diamond to a woman posing as a DA before they breakup in a magazine your wife (or you) reads exclusively to deal with the anxiety of takeoff and landing on airplanes when it’s too early in the morning for a cocktail (although, I don’t buy into time=alcohol acceptability).

Time’s a fat circle, yo.

The meat popsicles arrive at the Bachelor Mansion and set the record for “most excited people ever to arrive in Agoura Hills” and I know. I was the president of Agoura High. There’s all this fruit in the kitchen and also a table full of apples, bananas too. One of the apples was bruised too. Below the eye. What happened last week?

Explorer gets the first date and HELICOPTER! I blacked out for twenty minutes because this was such a make-good for last season. We barely waited a week to be rewarded with our first aerial romance inducer. The love was flowing and so was this awful theme of “dudes wearing sweatshirts without shirts underneath them.” Look, just like Lululemon (you heard me guys in the Marina), just because you saw someone rock this in a catalogue doesn’t mean you can. It’s like spring in LA and you are fighting the season and worse, you are dressing like your mother let you pick your outfit. Nothing screams “you are going to need to remind me to brush my teeth every day” like wearing sweatshirts with nothing underneath. It’s called Northern Commando and unless it’s done by necessity, it’s bad form. It’s a devil-may-care look and you are doing it intentionally, which defeats the purpose. MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL™.

Date one tho…

It was pretty much the visual representation of the douchey thing all Southern Californians say to anyone regarding why it’s so great to live there, only I don’t know anyone who’s ever done it. Basically, “I can snowboard in the morning and surf in the afternoon”– and sit in 6 hours of traffic between San Bernardino and the PCH also. I mean it’s cool, but think of all the things you could potentially do in life. I mean, I could eat breakfast in the Willamette River and have dinner in Tokyo. I could kill a man and bury him in Kentucky and take a tour of the bourbon distilleries. I could expose myself to a bus filled with seniors on a Grand Canyon tour.

We can do a lot of shit. We don’t. We watch BAD TELEVISION™.

The part of this date that was not cool was Louie Vito shows up to give a snowboard lesson to BABY TEETH™ and it put Eric in the corner. He had been feeling pretty good about his CARELESS BEACH BACKFLIP™ earlier, but now a soprano-voiced, gnar-shredded was doing the one instructional activity on par with the perviness of teaching a girl to golf.

Later, a story about Syria and how he’d give that all up for a woman. He likes the danger. He likes the romance. He likes letting Louie Vito steal his thunder.

Date card shows up back at the mansion and every year the men get more like the women when they read each other’s names. More and more, the men selected are this horrible time capsule of men from the mid 2000s, the kind of people that still remember storylines from Entourage and probably cannot wait for the movie to come out. Dudes that somehow didn’t understand it is 100% manlier to spill half your burrito on your dress shirt and not care despite your girlfriend thinking it’s WWIII than to shave your chest hair and spray tan. If your grooming routine allows you to share multiple products with your wife, you probably need to club a baby seal and eat it raw and get in touch with what made our species Darwinize.

So, after about twenty minutes of dudes not knowing the difference between “bear” and “bare,” eventually they went to Laurel Canyon and Sunset (I guess Crescent Heights) and went to a night club where they entered to find Magic Mike breaking out. Honestly, have you ever seen straight dudes more excited about seeing male strippers? Look, I’m a 23rd Century Male. I’ve been to every kind of club from WeHo to Old Town PDX and I can hang anywhere and have a good time. I guess I’ve just never gone into a fist pumping seizure at the sight of men in kevlar stripping down rapidly to prove they are the dong police.

Most of this was fairly boring, but I’ll say a few things.

I learned from a man wearing a blazer with no undershirt that Firefighters are one of the most popular female fantasies. #noted.

SeanBro needs a mother figure in his life. He was wearing a tank top to show off his misguided attempt at what women are looking for in a body outside of Wet Dayclub in Vegas black out drunk on a mission to have a sorority “what was I even thinking #yolo” story. Better than the tank top was the fact he was wearing a ladies hyper-thin sweatshirt around his neck like an infinity scarf. Damn.


I thought making the dude who shaved his chest from the nipples down (ok?) do a Top Gun dance when he looks just like Goose was messed up.

But the highlight was Chris Harrison slapping that ass. For real. I mean, I know he blew a line of Angel Dust off one of these guys’ lower backs and I hate the producers for robbing me of that moment. But I love Chris Harrison and I think he’s hitting that age they depict in Viagra commercials, where he is in total command and he knows what to do with the problems in his life. Divorce? Drank. Host a bad show? Drank. Male stripping? Drank.

Sharleen was there with Dog Lover which was depressing because you never truly leave the Bachelor. But for context, it’s great that this Opera Singer had free time on a Tuesday afternoon to watch amateur male stripping without being paid. CAREER GOING WELL™.

Craig, who I dub OH SNAP! (because his face gets red any time he talks and he’s about to yell OH SNAP to start every sentence) was this season’s version of the person who blacks out at a cocktail party. I’ll give him this, he did it right. He ran into walls, shoved dudes telling them to fuck off, he went swimming and lost motor control. I mean, honestly he really brought it. He had to be restrained by the producers (also in infinity scarves-in spring-in LA). He was drinking Fireball, so I knew it was coming. It’s puke juice. And terrible. Whiskey already has the best flavor. Whiskey. If a man loves Fireball, date a different man.

What was most disturbing was how badly BABY TEETH™ took this. She was easily the second drunkest person at the party. She went into a WHAT THE EFF THESE PEOPLE AREN’T HERE FOR ME spiral in week two because one human was in the swimming pool. It took me right back to her getting mad at Wapalo not because he didn’t care about her, but because he didn’t lie and say he did. CONFIDENCE CRUSHER™.

She gives a drunk speech about FOR THE RIGHT REASONS™ and I took a shot of rum and ignored her and her goblin teeth. Side note, she’s on a mission to push up bra this season, yeah?

Also, worst extensions since Aly. Period. I think she yanked them out at some point. Like, fuck it bro. Just fuck it. Doesenteyevenmatter. Ezzaactly.

The former pro ballplayer – I dub him Crap Leinart – just swoops in and give her a lady boner. Good work. Big win for guys that don’t try hard everywhere. Andi says he’s the kind of dude she always goes for. Still goes for him. Consistent.

Next day they try to make Santa Anita look nice because these people weren’t worth the 50 dollar round trip to Del Mar on the Surfliner. Time is a Fat Circle was kind of a great dude. In fact, he’s not even fat. I’m just trying to peddle my wares here, people. Andi is not into him even a little bit, because like anyone on this show the goal is to make a failing choice, not a smart one.

At least at the end they are treated to signature RANDOM BAND™ of Linkin Park-looking guys that gave up and started playing what I call INOFFENSIVE PORTLAND BARISTA ROCK™.

While they do kiss, she goes ASS OUT™ and LEAN BACK™ which is the opposite of how she kisses Crap Leinart.

He gets a PITY ROSE™.

Cocktail party, OH SNAP! sings an awful apology. Andi gets drunk again and says “ya’ll” more and more with each shot of whatever. It’s her BLOOD ALCO-YA’LL LEVEL™.

Believe it.

Oh snap and some other dudes go home. Can we get down to ten dudes already and do this?





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BachCap Week One

Welcome back from the mid-year break as we ride this last train into summer. Will this be my final season? Quite possibly. Then again, football fatigue and the holidays tend to make me miss this show. On the other hand, the fact they are doing Bachelor in Paradise this year to replace Bachelor Pad may be enough for me to cancel cable, grow out my Portland beard to political dissident length and possibly retreat to Forest Park and eat only beavers (take that non-sexually, please).

First and foremost, I missed the first fifteen minutes of this episode because upon realizing it was delayed to an obnoxious 9:30 pm due to the fact that Dancing With The Stars is still on television and presumably in the middle of some seven night finale event. Honestly, when ABC is gonna end a show, they drag it out long enough to sneak in a Lord of the Rings trilogy.

So I’ll assume they recycled some cop work images from last year, they met with her family and asked if her dad was more accepting of the fact this baby girl will be breaking hearts not vying for the love of a broken man with broken english, they showed how little she’s been eating since we last saw her and definitely fifteen minutes on her readiness to “find love” although as Heavy D and the Boyz said “now that we found love what are we gonna do… With it?”

And I’ll answer that for you. Spend a month in the tabloids until you get divorced, grow a huge instagram following for no reason, revel in strangers weighing in on your life and then ending up a trivia question or worse, continuing to go to Bachelor alumni events and After the Final Roses. GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN.

Andi and her patented BABY TEETH™ are back, they are moved into the mansion at a lighter weight than before and she’s talking to her sister who has an even more powerful jawline than her, but somehow I think she is a happier person. And her teeth are full grown, so big win for the agency.

They also debated which dress the guys would be more impressed by. Let me save all of you who date people who would consider going on the Bachelor time debating what will fly best wardrobe wise. Go with the one with the BOOB REVEALING™ technology, or the one that is generally just smaller or made of less overall fabric. I don’t want to be specific beyond less is more. Not more subtle. Just less. In actual square feet of fabric.

Total tangent. Every time I hear Patton Oswalt talk, I picture there is an animated rat cooking French food. Sorry, I just heard some Patton Oswalt and literally I hate this show so much I’ll take any diversion. Anyone giving out PROSTATE EXAMS™? I’m trying to find five minutes away from this blog and I quit smoking cigarettes.

With the condensed time line due to ABC SCHEDULING™ and PONZI SCHEMES™, we pretty much got right to the limo parade. I mean, like always, there’s not much to go on here at all and with a condensed episode, we barely got any time with anyone and I found myself in some negative integer space of caring so little that I might have cared a lot?

One dude said from the limo that Andi’s smile was devastating, but we knew that because of her patented BABY TEETH™.

One guy came out and went by the profession of Pantstaprenuer and unless he invented Chubbies, probably isn’t. Either way here is a picture of him in ugly SF Giants gear looking like GENERIC MARINA ASSHOLE™ who has self-confidence coming from his mother telling him he could be anything.



One dude came out with mini gauge earrings, a killer decision that screams “I have BAD TASTE™ but also am not willing to go the distance to truly mutilate myself as a statement.” His name was like Tasos, which is close to tasso, which in Portland means thick cuts of bacon. This is the coolest thing about him.



Conversely, he may be some kind of Latin Warlock, making her do some weird ass ritual with a lock and a key and throwing something in a fountain. In two days, she goes into a coma and can only be woken up by true love’s kiss, which means she’s totally fucked because she is surrounded by contestants on The Bachelorette.

Then, the best doppleganger ever came out. Sean Bro. That’s a bro version of Sean Lowe who took so many roids he looks like a meat bowling ball. He has a face that screams “I’m so roided out that my chemical imbalance of testosterone could make me cry at any moment if someone eats sugar snap peas.” At any point in this butterfly’s transformation, did he have a single friends say STOP?

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There’s a surfer guy who if he didn’t get eliminated was going to be called ASS OUT HUGS™ because it’s like his crotch and whoever he hugs have reversed magnets in them. Try a little tenderness bro. Share your gift.

Some doctor gets the first creepy bachelor theme of the year for some fever joke. And then there’s the other guy with the ill-fitting suit (PARASUIT™) and I just feel like he stepped out of the movie Mannequin after being trapped on a backlot for years. Fuck both these clowns.

Emil, who wanted desperately to let you know to pronounce it like “Anal with an M”, which I am pretty sure was a Taking Back Sunday song, got cut and I am just pissed because he was a HELICOPTER PILOT. I mean, my god. Are we against fun on this show? Do we hate it?

Some hairstylist brought a lamp. Eff him.

Then the dude from Silicon Valley showed up, but he failed and had a radical tirade at the end of the show that was equal parts HURT SAUCE™ and FUCK IT, LET’S WATCH GAME OF THRONES™. I liked him.

A man who totally front ran and has trained for the show by being a world traveling explorer who likes extreme sports impressed early. I have no idea what would prevent a man like this from winning this show.


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FAT MCCONAUGHY, TIME IS A FAT CIRCLE or DALLAS FRYERS CLUB. You choose. Alright, alright, alright?

Andi says something about being worried people would be disappointed with her being the Bachelorette which is the main difference between the mental defect required of a lady to be on this show compared to a man. Woman must be insecure she is an object of desire. Man must be convinced his previous problems with women all related to the fact there weren’t 20 competing for his junk and being flown around the world. It’s the system’s fault, not the fact you are a spray-tanning megalomanic.

Then Chris Bukowski, who I think was called Shitty Tobey Maguire or something (which is hard to do, Tobey sucks to begin with) decided to try and crash the show in a last ditch effort to turn his awful string of local magazine editorials in which he took douchey photos into something other than whatever he was doing before trying to stretch his 15 minutes into something like 3 years.

Some people went home. Let’s trim the fat. We’re back. God help us. FOLLOW ME.






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Some Words on Lon Rosen and Our Dodgers Non Mascot

I rarely write about the Dodgers. They are are one of the four chambers of my sporting heart. Other than making my voice heard about the racist treatment Yasiel Puig got last year from the media, I pretty much chilled out since GBM bought the team. They put money into the roster and the stadium. They stopped pissing on our proud legacy and you were starting to forget the smell of the McCourt era.

So other than being a prick on Twitter about their lazy marketing last year (A Whole New Blue, derp), I pretty much left it alone because no McCourt and a good on field product was enough.

But now the gloves come off and I need to burn it to the ground to save it. As I did with those that thought USC sanctions meant something, as I did with the NCAA and those who had no courage to speak up, I’m going to say it loud and clear.

I’m tired of the Dodgers’ marketing department playing us for fools. It’s unbefitting of the organization that integrated the game, employs Vin Scully and brought us an image like this at the time it was taken:



The Dodgers have added a mascot. We were one of three teams including the Yankees and Angels that did not have one. It made me proud the way USC used to sell beer at the Coliseum even though the rest of the sport quit. The Angels have a rally monkey and it’s clown shoes. I felt like the Yankees and Dodgers refuse to bow to this. I felt like if we keep putting a good product on the field, we keep celebrating Tommy and Gil and Jackie and Sandy and we listen to everything Vin says, we’re above it. We’re better than a mascot. We don’t have one.

But now, we do.

We have one, it’s terrifying, there’s more coming and Lon Rosen, the marketing whiz behind it is trying to get you to eat a shitpie by saying that it isn’t a mascot.

He said this that I’m lifting from Steve Dilbeck’s piece at the LA Times:

“It’s not a mascot,” said Dodgers executive vice president of marketing Lon Rosen. “It’s a unique performance character.”

A unique performance character? That’s what you are calling this thing?

Screen Shot 2014-04-08 at 2.36.31 PM


Tell me, Lon… What unique performance does this horrifying, androgynous creep show partake in? He’s got the wobbly underarms of a 95 year old overweight grandma, but none of the lovability, hugs and family recipes. His pupils are dilated from doing Molly in copious amounts on EDM night at Los Globos just down Elysian in Echo Park. He seems to be naked under his jersey, but has 3/4 sleeves.

But more than anything, he has a giant hair covered phallus coming out of his forehead. He has such a raging chocolate-dipped Balboa Island frozen banana rolled around on the floor of a busy salon that he literally must wear his baseball cap sideways.

Or maybe he was cleaning toilets with his face. You choose! Share your guesses in the comments field.

He’s terrifying a man and his daughter who probably didn’t ask this pedo-unicorn to join in. But the KIDS LOVE IT says Lon:

“The kids are wild about it,” he said. “They were all taking selfies with it.”

Oh, Lon. Kids going wild. Busting #selfies. Sometimes we take selfies with things because we’re making fun of them. Did you go through and read the responses when they instagram’d these selfies? Here’s betting Erisbel Arruebarrena’s minor league salary that at least one annotated it “posting this so you know who murdered me if I don’t come home from the game.”

Also, not to argue with the over 50 internet crowd, but I’m not calling it a selfie unless it’s just of oneself. If there’s multiple people in it, can it just be a picture? Unless Lon is implying this unique performance character is a ghost and therefore doesn’t have a soul and doesn’t count towards headcount in a selfie. In which case this is even more ridiculous and creepy. Or maybe not.

This is the same marketing and PR department that just said, somewhat by mistake in Australia, that they release news on their own website, not to the press so they can control the story.

This is the same group that bought an ad campaign with the tagline “Live. Breathe. Blue.” which makes so little sense it actually set back the LAUSD further than it already is. I mean, it’s just two random verbs followed by a Dodger-ish adjective.

I mean, I think they are telling us to live and breathe Blue. You need to breathe to live, so that’s already dumb. But throwing in periods?

In the comments field below, feel free to write your own advertising taglines! Verb. Verb. Adjective…

Run. Hide. Mascot.
Stalk. Terrorize. Mascot.
Dance. Dance. Revolution.

Lon Rosen was quoted on the Dodgers’ website saying this about that tagline:

“Our new tagline encapsulates how each of our fans feel about the Dodgers organization. We feel it is a natural evolution of last year’s slogan ‘A Whole New Blue.”

Well, not each of us, Lon. I feel like the Dodgers organization needs the kind of visionary marketing that knows not to fuck with the things that make the Dodgers unique. Here’s a great marketing lesson. If you have unique attributes, differentiators with your competitors, it’s a great starting place to EMBRACE THOSE THINGS not REMOVE THEM.

The Dodgers are above mascots, uniform overhauls, gaudy stadiums water elements in center field, hideous alternate road jerseys (minus that one time we did the blue thing). We have Vin Scully. We have Tommy Lasorda. We have Sandy Koufax.

But now we have a mascot. Sorry. A unique performance character that kids love taking selfies with.

You can’t just change the words and pretend it changes what you are doing. You are destroying a differentiator between us and everyone but the Yankees, who are the most famous sporting brand in the history of people competing in uniforms.

Some of you will say I am blowing this out of proportion, it’s just a mascot (sorry, unique performance character). Only it’s not. This is a slippery slope. Lon’s adding more of these. He’s going to have them everywhere. And then who knows. They get rid of the Three Sisters to make room for something stupid. They remove Nancy Bea on the organ.

You remove enough differentiators and you lose your brand. I know a thing or two about this.

And If the LA Times and Sports Illustrated are beating me to the punch, then it is 100% a big deal. Stop killing who we are. One bad decision leads to another. We’ve all been to Vegas.

Anyway, maybe I can’t kill it. I need help. I need you all to bitch and moan on the internet and at the stadium so this goes away. It needs to go away, it’s never to late to admit you are wrong. Or  you hate good marketing. Or you aren’t sure what marketing is.

But let me teach Lon a little lesson in the internet. Since you are using “marketing speak” to avoid giving this Dodger mascot a name, it means there’s not a ton of SEO going on for it. It means that this idea is half-baked, half-pregnant and half-witted.

So, to help give Unique Performance Character (or Dodger Mascot) some SEO love, I’ve decided to embed him in a bunch of pictures with other people and events that people love as much as the idea of a Dodger’s Mascot and maybe when people image search for him (or her?), they will find my helpful guide to knowing how actual Dodger fans feel.

So, enjoy this gallery and tell your friends. We stop nothing short of a formal apology from Lon and the removal of Unique Performance Character.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) celebrating a Giants World Series win.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) celebrating a Giants World Series win.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Bernie Madoff.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Bernie Madoff.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and bearded antisemetic Mel Gibson.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and bearded antisemetic Mel Gibson.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Alex Rodriguez (A-Rod) kissing himself in the mirror.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Alex Rodriguez (A-Rod) kissing himself in the mirror.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and The Yellow King from True Detective.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and The Yellow King from True Detective.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Ben Affleck as Batman.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Ben Affleck as Batman.


Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Jar Jar Binks.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Jar Jar Binks.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Justin Bieber.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Justin Bieber.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) soliciting prostitutes in Amsterdam's Red Light District.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) soliciting prostitutes in Amsterdam’s Red Light District.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Kimye.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Kimye.


Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and King Joffrey, Game of Thrones.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and King Joffrey, Game of Thrones.

So if it isn’t clear yet…


Stay golden.





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It’s The End of The Juan As We Know It… And I Feel Fine.

I think this was the critical juncture. The strings of the marionette were exposed. I am not sure how to proceed. The Death-Eaters producing this show almost came out looking rosy. The Bachelor killed Chris Harrison’s high. The parade of former contestants got no screen time because this operation went FUBAR. This was Vietnam. It was hell.

But let’s be linear, even if time is a flat circle. If Harrison is the Yellow King, then Wapalo is just a creep making snuff films in the bayou.

AIJAIAIAIAIIAAIAI. St. Lucia. Ess perfect, man. I can’t listen to Wapalo describe anything anymore. In the morning, he gets his chilaquiles (I know, he’s Venezuelan, Twin Peak Fire Walk With Me already) and just goes “oooOOOOoohhh, I liiiikeeetttt” and makes a stupid face at you. That’s life. That’s what Crickets and JDLC are competing for. The loser goes home to heal, the winner goes home to bleed with a sociopath.

Crickets rolls up doing super aggressive even for her eyebrow and lip spasms as she talks about how “hot” it is that Wapalo is a Dad. Because nothing is hotter than a dude who was such a dick his wife left him and now he uses his child to keep women around after he has sex with them and shames them for doing so. So hot. Frankly, even as a straight guy, I’m so turned on it’s hard to see the screen.

His family comes out and frankly, they all seem pretty nice, even Rodolfo, who has to live with a homophobic cousin. Another cool thing is that their particular accents sound like Nacho Libre’s tag team partner Esqueleto. Close your eyes and listen. You can hear them saying “I don’t believe in God, I believe in science.” Need to watch that movie again.



What’s so weird though is that the family all unanimously say Wapalo is a dick who “runs” from relationships and is “hard” to deal with. Basically, they are here to smile and tell these girls to get gas at the next truck stop because this is going to be a bad scene from a horror movie.

Somehow Crickets is relieved about this, but mostly because she flipped the “I hear what I want” switch weeks ago. Folks, you know that switch. You’ve all done it. This is why you shouldn’t. Even worse, Wapalo’s dad says he’ll be her dad, which triggered all the daddy issues she has going on. Defcon 1, meltdown status imminent.

Nikki rolls in, this time with a conservative 70% of her boobs covered. She gets the same speeches from the family. Again, I hear what I want. I am surely the one to stop this sociopath from being so… Sociopathy. Wapalo likes kids because you can hug kids, smile at them, ask them random questions and they love you. He applies the same model to women, plus sex and besitos, and in the end, this is what is disturbing. He is great with children and bad with women because he thinks they are just older children you can have sex with.

Then a weird part. Wapalo seemingly says he loves Nikki. Given that it was whispered in aijaijai broken english and what happened on ATFR, it seems impossible. But we rewinded it twice. He said it. #headfuck

Back in LA, Harrison calls himself out on his use of “the most controversial season of the Bachelor ever” and I just kinda loved the guy for it. Sure, I call him an international drug trafficker, but I do that because I want to go on that journey with him. I’ll smuggle with him. It’ll be the best buddy movie since I Love You, Man and frankly the both of us can wear a suit like the desert misses the rain. You’d enjoy it more than this show or this blog.

Finally, a fucking helicopter. The more I think of it, the more I think they just held out on him. And I get why. The minute this rapey slut shamer gets a girl in a helicopter her tells her that he barely knows her but he “loves fucking her” which would be conjecture if Clare didn’t literally say it out loud when things go wrote.

Note to the show. Talk about sex. I get not doing it when things go great and being subtle. But when people are in the ocean boning and people are talking dirty in an helicopter, we need to get it. Having sex in the ocean and then blaming a girl for it and then later telling her he doesn’t know her but loves fucking her (his words, not mine) is a lot different than “swimming in the ocean and then saying some offbeat remarks.” That’s like saying the Nazis were touring Paris. #historicalreference #comaparedthisshowtoWWII

They skip the rest of this date, robbing us of the vacation we won’t get to go on this year and instead, Crickets opts to confront Wapalo, which is Sacramento for “talk shit until he says anything back and then blindly forgive him and explain impossibly how his non-statement removed all doubts.”

When she starts addressing the slut shaming, the going back on “no kissing” he just tells her “don’t blame me.” Marriage to this guy seems fucking awful. He just factually says “I’m listening” then says “I’m just being honest” and then tears your guts out. It’s like the Ricky Bobby move where he says “with all due respect” and then talks mad shit thinking if you say “with all due respect,” fucking fire away bro. This guy is so much worse than even how we’re explaining him. Most girls on Women Tell All hated because he didn’t pick them. He’s so much worse than that.

He just plays their song, lip syncs and she magically forgives him and then besitos fest 2009.

Every time I think Clare is going to be the hero, she just tumbles back down the stairs drunk.

Nikki rolls to her date in at least 1/3 of a bikini (gracias, besitos) and tries to get any assurance from El Sociópathíco about what he’s feeling, but he at this point just doesn’t care at all. He has abandoned the mission. I felt like maybe all the crying when girls would leave, the crying that made him seem so enduring, was really just the shedding of tears of people leaving his cult.


Nikki asks what’ll happen when they don’t have private beaches to go to. His response was he’ll watch TV at home. She says not all the time. He says that sometimes he’ll watch baseball at his office. Sometimes he’ll beat you. And sometimes when you write him a heartfelt note, he’ll just make out with you instead because besitos make the world go round.

I knew the final proposal event was going to be bad because they played no music and beyond a quick ring shop, Neil Lane didn’t trot his freaky botox face out. Wapalo was like, fuck you, I’ll hold a ring but I either give it back or pawn it. Fuck you Neil Lane. Neil Lane was at the damn grown sexy douche wedding. If he doesn’t make a cameo, it’s because shit was gonna hit that fence.

Clare gets off the meat wagon and Wapalo let’s her flagellate before killing her. A little gumption from her and she refuses his affection, which was smart because he says he was “glad he didn’t pick her,” confirming he is that guy many of you have dated who just hits it and doesn’t have the courtesy of quitting it. He just doesn’t study for the tests, pay attention in class, or do anything to act like he cares until you settle for being a small, meaningless piece of his small, meaningless life or you get out on your own and he can blame you for it. Which helps with the next girl. He has a daughter, you know. He can’t be picky enough. It’s for Camila.

Girl readers. Sorry to out guys. But keeping it real, this is a real thing. It’s a real thing to have your insecurities fed off of and your natural competitive nature taken advantage of. Wapalo is a pretty normal variety of super turd. There’s one in every public bathroom. He’s not the devil. He’s just proof that women aren’t any different than men when you don’t listen to what a boy says because he’s hot. Sound familiar?



Clare just drops the line and we heard it. Wapalo is the dude who disses you and tells you he likes having sex with you. She snaps and peaces out and I liked her for a minute. The live audience cheered. It was like when Will Smith punches the fucking alien in Independence Day. People went crazy.

Nikki comes out and gives Wapalo her heart and he says no ring, no nothing. Which would be fine if not for what happened on ATFR.

Opera Singer, while right, was just so “fuck off” because he seemingly wanted her which gave her this holier than thou right to talk about him like she was smart enough to turn him down. Only she made out with him on national television. She gets credit for not being the kind of person who doesn’t see through a reality television show, but I mean, let’s be real. In the end, Wapalo wasn’t marrying her either. He just wanted to see if he could seduce a smart girl and then do the same shit to her. Her folly is thinking she’s special. He’s a sociopath. He’s the only star of his play. Even Andi, our new Bachelorette with the tiny razor teeth still wanted Wapalo to tell her she was special. It started with venom, but then it was more like “so why didn’t you want to know about my life?”


Because you aren’t special and he doesn’t fucking care. This show unintentionally got into the world of REAL dating and I don’t know if I like it. Fucking Chris looked like he was going to cry sitting next to Des. Sean Lowe, who is the biggest celebrity whore on earth, wanted to beat down Wapalo.

But it’s for not adhering to this show’s fucked up hilarious fantasy vision of Hunger Games courting. And that’s okay, but now we have to look behind the curtain.

It’s a world where your insecurities are used against you as weapons and asking for truth in the world leads to heartbreak. This trains people to pull the wool over their own eyes as if being alone was so terrible.


I am very happily married. My wife is my best friend. We’re equally comfortable eating fast food on a road trip as crossing off every Eater 38 restaurant in the country. We’re gross together, we dress up together. We argue, we’re allowed to say whatever we want. We’re not perfect. But we’re allowed to be ourselves. We make business decisions. We’re a little company that sells love (and reasonably priced knock off Pendleton blankets).

This show is famous for creating a system that is less effective than randomly finding a spouse (which is incredible considering the divorce rate). But this season, we saw what happens when the real world finds its way into the fantasy suite.

What we got this time wasn’t a closeted airline pilot or a “born-again-virgin” or any of the other weirdos that join this normally funny traveling cheap chardonnay road show. This year we got a standard issue, dime a dozen douchebag.

sweet infinity scarf

sweet infinity scarf

His accent fooled us. His looks made women do anything to ignore the signs. His daughter made it seem like he cared. His crying at sending girls home made it seems like he had feelings.

But this kind of douche is in every bar in the country and he’s spending more time on his abs than becoming the kind of person a girl might want to be with. And thank god for him because it’s the Wapalos of the world that allow dudes like me to get wives like I have. I’m not perfect, but this guy is the one-word nightclub of humans.

He said on the show that people hide behind computers and throw stones. We’re not hiding, pal. Happy to invite you to Portland and chat about it. And this picture:


And this one, you starfucker:



I’m the first to criticize this show, but Grown Sexy had it right. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. You went on this show TWO TIMES. You want the attention. You want control over Nikki and you told Harrison you had some surprise, but then reneged on the show. And you pissed off Chris Harrison and that sucks. Just like this picture:



You are a dime a dozen and shame on you and shame on America for expecting anything different. The whole thing is so bad. Bad enough even Chris Harrison said he was glad to be moving on.

That makes two of us.

Next year, let me write the story arch. Let me pick the Bachelor. I’ll fix it. If the Bachelorette doesn’t make us all jump off a cliff. I’ve never gotten so many “FUCK THIS SHOW” emails, tweets, etc from fans.

The helicopter is in your court, Bachelor.






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Chad Kultgen Guest Blog on Women Tell All

Today is a bonus for all of you. One of my favorite writers is guest blogging here. Chad Kultgen is the author of some classic work that everyone should read and be slightly terrified in the best possible way. When I read The Average American Male, the people on the plane thought I was nuts, I was laughing and feeling ashamed at the same time hungover on a flight from Vegas.



While I knew he lives near where I used to in Beverly Hills and that he went to USC film school like I did, I recently discovered he watched this train wreck show. So I solicited him to write a post for Women Tell All.

Read below and follow him on TWITTER. Chad owns. Zack out.


Women Tell All – Chad Kultgen

The Women Tell All Episode is without a doubt the most useless episode of any season. It promises an opportunity for the women to have some long held questions answered by the bachelor himself and for us, the viewers, to get some answers from the women about certain moments in the show that left us curious or confused or angry or empty. And much like Juan Pablo himself the episode was not honest in this promise.

Chris Harrison opens the show by telling us that this Women Tell All Episode will feature, “The most memorable women from the most controversial season in bachelor history,” a hyperbole that is mimicked, if not outright stated verbatim, in virtually every season of the bachelor to open this episode. What follows, regrettably, is a tame recounting of the most mundane events of the season up to this point with only minimal attention paid to the culturally significant events from the show and from Juan Pablo’s statements outside the show.

But before the audience can even get to the disappointment of avoiding any meaningful discourse from the main cast of this season, we’re made to sit through Sean, the born again virgin bachelor from the prior season of the show, being emasculated by his new bride who claims that he ejaculated far too quickly on his wedding night. Then Chris Harrison does his best to emasculate himself and, by proxy, the entire male gender by saying “Welcome to the club buddy,” only to have Sean top it all off by telling a story about a sting ray attacking his genitals. I’m unsure if this was a move by the producers to make men seem less threatening after the season they’ve had with Juan Pablo or if Chris and Sean are truly that bad at being men. Either way, within the first two minutes of the show my seething rage is already full to capacity.

At this point it would be reasonable to think that we might get to the actual show. It would be within the realm of probability that on the Women Tell All Episode, one of the women might now tell at least one thing of the “All” that I’ve been led to believe they will eventually tell. Instead, we’re treated to the Muppets demeaning both the show and themselves by appearing with Juan Pablo, a publicly identified homophobe, as their new movie is promoted in an awkward scene that ends with Kermit and his evil twin performing what appears to be cunnilingus on Ms. Piggy simultaneously. And this, it turns out, will be the closest to any discourse about sex we’ll have all night aside from Sean’s open admission that he’s terrible at sex.

Finally, after returning from a commercial break in which every commercial is forced to play out within a Bachelor rose frame graphic lest we forget what we’ve tuned in to see, we see that every contestant is there. They are each seated and smiling, happy to be back in the spotlight for a brief encore in which they’re given just enough screen time to be further distilled into a the shallow stereotypes of themselves that we came to know on the show.

One of the chief complaints of several of the girls throughout this episode was that Juan Pablo didn’t get to know them, that he didn’t ask enough questions about them, that he didn’t get beyond the surface. But they fail to realize that this is the very nature of the show. It promises a chance to find deep and meaningful love, yet it only gives the contestants a series of weeks in which to do it. It claims support of the idea that the Bachelor is there to get to know these women and yet the show itself reduces the girls to titles like “Free Spirit” and “Dog Lover.”

And then the first question asked of the panel of failed daters is “What did you like about JP?” Their unanimous answer : “He’s super handsome.” In this moment we’re shown that they’re obviously just as shallow as he is, just as shallow as the show itself is. Not one, after being asked this question, mentioned anything about his personality. They each claimed that they enjoyed kissing him or seeing him play soccer or do some other physical activity. They fail to see that the very thing they most despise in Juan Pablo guides their own attraction to him. And again, this exact same lack of depth and substance is what drives the show itself.

If the point weren’t crystal clear, Chris Harrison asks the contestants, “You were attracted to him. Why wasn’t that enough?” And because the show has already established for us that Andi is something of a voice of reason, an unprecedented truth-teller where contestants are concerned she is allowed to say, “Looks can fade, ” which gets a few shots of knowing nods from older ladies in the audience. This is an obvious fact that most human beings are well aware of. But in this case, in the context of the show, any small piece of truth is dangled in front of the audience as though it were a precious gem so rare and beautiful that we should marvel at it.

Renee then reveals that she and Juan Pablo only ever really talked about their children. I’ve long held that each season of this show harbors at least one sociopath. Statistically one in twenty-five people is a sociopath or at least exhibits sociopathic tendencies. I theorize that this season’s sociopath is actually Juan Pablo and Renee’s revelation corroborates my theory. He’s incapable of talking about anything of substance where his own character is concerned because he has no substance. He’s only a manufactured version of what he thinks the public would consider a good parent. So in this case, he talks with another parent exclusively about his own child reasoning that this is what a good parent would do when, in fact, a good parent would more likely be spending time with their child instead of having sexual encounters with multiple women on national television.

Next the contestants have a brief conversation about Claire’s ocean rendezvous with Juan Pablo. Phrases like, “She goes swimming,” and “they go swimming in the ocean,” are used but no one ever says that they had sex. This is simply one more way the show forces not only the contestants, but the audience itself into a false frame of mind in which honesty can’t surface. Even in the context of this specific episode in which all questions are to be answered, the scenario cannot even be properly discussed. The show aims to uphold antiquated views on sex, relationships, gender roles and marriage even in the face of facts that everyone knows to be obvious.

What’s worse, though, is that although a few of the contestants claim that what Juan Palo did to Claire by shaming her the following morning was terrible and using his daughter as the method by which he shamed her was just as terrible, none of them speak about Claire’s reaction to it. Claire took the initiative to ask Juan Pablo to have sex with her. He willingly participated. Clearly his shaming of her the following morning was deplorable. What’s more deplorable to me is that the show and Claire’s fellow contestants seem to see nothing wrong with how she handled the situation. Claire never stood up for herself. She never told Juan Pablo that he was arrogant or wrong. She never even said that he was just as much to blame as she was if there was any blame at all.  Maybe she reacted as she did to stay in the competition for one more round. Maybe she actually was shamed enough by Juan Pablo to accept the blame. In either case, it remains disgusting on a basic level to me that not one girl said anything about the fact that Claire didn’t stand up for herself.

As Sharleen takes her spot on the hot seat Chris Harrison declares, “You’re the most intriguing person we’ve had. Your relationship with our bachelor, I’ve never seen anything like it.” To which Sharleen replies, “I was honest the entire time.” This what Chris Harrison has never seen – honesty from a contestant from the beginning. And I have to agree with him. In every prior season it seems that all of the contestants will do anything to prove that as soon as they meet the bachelor or bachelorette they can’t think of spending their life with anyone else despite knowing them for less than a day. Sharleen truly was the first contestant to view the situation logically and react honestly.

Chris goes on to quote Sharleen on the show as she said things like, “No cerebral connection,” and, “I wish I was dumber.” Then he asks, “What do those things mean?” We know what these things mean, Chris. They mean that Juan Pablo is very, very stupid. But similar to the way in which Claire is made to accept the blame placed on her by Juan Pablo, we see Sharleen accept the blame implied in Chris’s question, “What do these things mean?” Sharleen says, “I think too much. I can’t shut it off,” instead of using her self-professed  honesty and saying that Juan Pablo is too stupid to have a meaningful conversation. There is some inherent tone on the show that I think all contestants feel, certainly more with women contestants on the Bachelor than with men on the Bachelorette. They feel as though they have to prove their value or their worth and any misstep is their fault. It’s made clear in Sharleen’s answer. The fault clearly lies in Juan Pablo’s stupidity but she accepts the blame by telling us that she thinks too much, which is obviously absurd.

Renee’s  hot seat was as boring a hot seat as maybe I’ve ever seen. When asked, “What was that connection?” she essentially claims that it was them both having kids, which means that she could have the same connection with any single dad. When pressed on the issue she says, “I don’t know. I don’t know,” which is followed up by Chris Harrison saying, “It’s hard to define.” This exact exchange can almost fully describe my reaction to people when they ask me why I watch the show.

Despite everyone defending the process and claiming that it is not a competition, that it is not a game, Renee goes on to explain that she was “behind,” that her relationship with Juan Pablo was slow paced, that she was the last one to kiss him. This, of course, gives more credence to the idea that it is a game, that it is a very regimented series of events that must occur in a specific sequence and at certain specific times if a contestant is to have any chance to win in the end.  A contestant must kiss by a certain date or show. A contestant must say “I love you” by a certain date or show, etc. Renee knew she wasn’t playing the game at the same speed as the other girls and because of this I think she didn’t get as emotionally invested which is what allowed her to walk away from the experience having learned something other than how to cry on camera.

Andi’s hot seat was terrible. She gave no new information about the most controversial night in bachelor history, as Chris Harrison would have us believe. She failed to enlighten us at all about any new details related to her decision to leave. She only really mentioned Juan Pablo’s negativity and that he wasn’t grateful for his opportunity. Once again, there’s no actual talk of sex but it is implied a few times when Andi describes Juan Pablo telling her about his prior overnight date with Claire. I don’t know why I get outraged by this after having seen as many seasons as I have, but there’s something so basically absurd about prohibiting the discussion of sex where relationships are concerned that I’m still offended every time it happens on this show.

And then Chris Harrison proceeds to make one of the strangest comments that he might have ever made by saying, “Everyone’s had that date where you pretend to be asleep.” It’s obviously strange but it’s interesting in a few ways. The first is that one of Andi’s main complaints is that Juan Pablo was his dishonesty with her and yet she chose to fake sleep rather than talk to him on her last night there, an act that’s clearly dishonest. It’s also interesting in that it reflects the basic idea of the show that you must be dishonest with yourself and with everyone else on the show in order to win. If Andi knew in that moment in the fantasy suite that Juan Pablo wasn’t the guy for her, why did she stay and why did she pretend to be asleep? Why didn’t she just leave or at least talk to Juan Pablo, or even really sleep like a normal person. Instead she faked unconsciousness for some inexplicable reason and that reason is seemingly that dishonesty in that situation was the best thing she could come up with. It’s just one more way the show itself upholds outdated ideas of what a relationship should be and of what a woman should be in the presence of a man – silent, avoiding conflict, pretending to be asleep.

Andi then invalidates any forward progress she might have made the following morning when she opens her eyes that she apparently kept shut all night without ever entering unconsciousness by saying, “The things he said were entirely inappropriate and rude but he wasn’t mean to me. That should be clear, like he wasn’t mean to me,” and then one sentence later saying, “In no way was that funny to me. It was mean and it was hurtful towards me.” It’s as though she feels obligated to remove blame from Juan Pablo, just as every other woman has so far but Andi can’t quite help invalidating her own false defense that he wasn’t mean by contradicting herself a few words later.

And she wraps up her hot seat appearance by saying, “Everything was under this guise of honesty and that really frustrated me.” This describes the entire show sweet Andi.

And then we come to Juan Pablo himself – El Bachelor. In much the same way it seemed like the women felt obligated to do some damage control on his behalf, he attempts to finish the job by insisting that, “We can be friends,” which raises very little if any objection from the contestants and even gets some sincere and hopeful smiles from the live audience. Of all the lies told on the show this season, this one may be the most egregious. Even Juan Pablo seems to not believe this as he’s saying it. He shoots a forced smile to the audience giving us proof of a phenomenon known as “Duper’s Delight,” which is one of the rare emotions exhibited by a sociopath. It’s extreme and momentary elation felt when the sociopath becomes aware of a lie in progress that seems to be working. In many cases the sociopath will be unable to withhold an actual smile or smirk with this awareness of success.

When asked if he has any regrets this season he claims to have none, which means the shaming of Claire for engaging in mutually consensual sex was as it should have been in Juan Pablo’s mind. Most of the rest of the first half of Juan Pablo’s time in the hot seat was spent discussing the merit and meaning of his designation of the two mother contestants as his “Special Ones,” which was pointless.

Juan Pablo’s second segment in the hot seat yielded nothing more of value. Andi gave a half-hearted attempt to catch him in an admission that he wasn’t really there for a wife which he avoided by stating basic truths about trying to make connections with the contestants. Sharleen defended him and her own image as the “most interesting” contestant by saying that she felt he did, in fact, get to know her and further offering that maybe they had a different relationship than the other girls. Lucy, the once proud free spirit, dirties her hands in the conversation with some forced outrage by exclaiming, “It’s not a game – this is a relationship!” as though any viewer or contestant could ever possibly believe that.

And finally it seems like we might get to something of value, some cultural commentary that is sorely needed when Kelly the “Dog Lover” bring ups the homophobic comments Juan Pablo made earlier this season. He apologizes and blames it on context saying, “I love gay people. I respect them because they were born that way,” unaware that the designation of being born “that way” and even feeling the need to say “I respect them,” invalidates the idea behind what he’s saying. Although it’s veiled, his statements are still homophobic and once again one of the contestants feels the need to defend him. This time it’s the “most interesting” contestant, Sharleen, whom claims that she found him to be open-minded even though no one else has been provided with any evidence of this.

And possibly the most disturbing thing Juan Pablo says about the matter, and easily the most evidentiary in favor of him being a homophobe comes when he tells Kelly that he’s not going to take four minutes of the show to explain to her why he’s not a homophobe, but he’d rather take an hour after the show to tell her in person. How would it ever take an hour to explain to anyone why you’re not a homophobe? It obviously wouldn’t. Furthermore if you ever need to explain to anyone why you’re not a homophobe (or a racist or a sexist) then you probably are.

Juan Pablo’s estimation that taking a long time to discuss a subject makes his intent more serious is simply an error on his part. Most sociopaths will try to mimic what they feel is the correct emotional reaction to any given situation without actually feeling the emotion. Here, he’s very obviously attempting to seem very concerned about the matter by allotting what he thinks is a serious amount of time, one hour, to the subject. Instead it reveals his true nature of deeply ingrained homophobia.

The obligatory bloopers reel brings us to a moment of levity on the heels of what could have been a decent public debate about how the show is harboring and supporting a deplorable homophobe but wasn’t.

As Chris Harrison moves us into the final phases of the Women Tell All Episode he asks the contestants how they think it will end up and Kat says literally, “It’s anyone’s game – I hate to use the word game because it’s not a game.” And yet it is. We know this so intrinsically, as does she and every contestant on this strange game show that she can’t even stop herself from literally using the word “game” to describe the situation.

And finally we arrive at the sneak peek for the final episode of this season. Phrases like, “ Every little girl dreams of their wedding,”  “fairy tale,”  “down on one knee,” “ring on my finger” not only reinforce all of the outdated ideas about gender and romance that the show rams down our throat every season but one of the final lines used in the sneak peek,  “I can pick out all the negative things and dwell on them but I don’t want to lose this,” proves that even the final two contestants, the ones who should at this point be completely in love with Juan Pablo, view this as a game that must be won or lost. And the prize to be won is shown to us – a giant diamond ring. It’s a gleaming symbol of a woman’s value and it must be given to her by a man. One contestant will claim ultimate validation from the very man who abused her psychologically and the other will remain without value, broken and crushed on her way home alone and finally out of the spotlight where we assume she’ll pick up the pieces and move on with her life, unless she’s proclaimed the next bachelorette. Time will tell.



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BachCap Chad Ochocinco

I am fucking tired of this format. I am tired of eight night premieres, no helicopters, virtually no Chris Harrison, unintelligible dialogue and the same “Iseeeee” or “ay jai jai” or “Iliiiiikeeeeet” every time. In what started out potentially being the best season, we have fallen so far that I literally am doubting if I want to cover the show anymore. And I mean actually, not in that I have to get drunk to make love to this show kind of way. In that, I’m tired of watching videos of abused animals to Sarah McLachlan songs way.

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Maybe next season there will be a reason, but no helicopters and a homophobic, misogynistic and faker bachelor who repeats the same thing over and over is leading me just to one conclusion: This show kind of sucks now.

Not in the fun way it used to suck. Just in the way the House of Lies sucks now. Or in the way that getting a prostate exam sucks. Like, I can’t even enjoy the tropical locations or the highlighter colored outfits. I need something redeeming because I want to attack my television every time it is on.

I hold out a little hope. Besitos.

But I do love you, my passionate following, because you are the reason for me. So, let’s just do the damn thing and don’t get pissed at me if I literally go to a subscription model next year because I literally need to get paid to do this if there’s no helicopters.

Seriously, share this, yell at producers, motivate me. This season jumped the shark which is crazy because this is a show about jumping sharks. I need follows, likes, shares, compliments (fished or farmed). Consider me an insecure 15 year old girl. That’s how this show has made me feel.


Off to KANSAS CITY (Kansas or Mizzou?) to see the true location of Dawson’s Creek with Joey Dawson Love Child. Her skin was looking way better so I know for certain she went to the dermo and said “give me the nuclear option, I know the risks and I’ll sign a waiver.”


They went and ate some barbecue, which is a good call in KC, and then went to ride a mechanical bull together. Just to be clear to Wapalo, who is the worst dude ever, that dual riding of a mechanical bull is actually a worse image for Camila than underwater ocean sex. Want to know why? When she grows up, if she condones and adopts the actions of this show, which she will because her daddy did these things, you’d rather her be with the kind of guy who can afford to take her to a private beach than the dude whose idea of foreplay is Jim Beam shots with a beer back followed by a moonlight dual mechanical bull ride in the south in front of a bunch of drunk Chiefs fans.

Which he’d know if he really had a job working with athletes.

Let’s see. Her mom was good looking minus the mom cut and her dad was basically Ray Liotta. He gave a great answer to the “will you give me your blessing” question. He’s like, if she’s in, I’m in. Basically, I love my daughter, I think you are a ponzi.

I mean the big theme this week was “Dad knows the guy sucks just like America does.” No amount of crying and tear wiping will change that, Wapalo. I’m ready for you to be as depressing as Jake Pavelka is to us now. Fire up some Avicii, need you to FADE INTO DARKNESS, bro. Your show is canceled.


The DA’s hometown in ATL was immediately great because her nickname is Pookie. That’s all.

They go shoot guns and the producers tried to make it seem like Wapalo couldn’t hit a target ten feet away. They invented the gun so killing someone at ten feet was almost idiot proof. Stop fronting. There’s nothing cute about him, this or a gun shooting date. I’m not anti gun shooting, but WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE HELICOPTERS? IS THERE A HELICOPTER UNION STRIKE I HAVEN’T HEAR ABOUT?

Beyond his name being Hy, which I’m pretty sure came from a nickname related to taking the V cards of a lot of girls, this dude was doing the “Imma kill you sweats” from the get go. I would not want to hang at that dinner table, but I made a point in life of only eating dinner at the houses of women I respected or never slept with. Wapalo and the answers he gives to everything are the kind that would set any dad off. If I was like that to my father in law, I would have lost respect for him if he DIDN’T punch me through the face and yank out my brainstem.

Daughters, don’t bring dudes home that aren’t the one. That’s messed up. Like no helicopters messed up.

Hy’s answer to Wapalo was the best ever. Basically, you have a daughter dating a guy who has 3 girls. Don’t fucking ask me for permission until you kill the other girls and we’re talking in a helicopter. Stop wasting my time. I want to kill you. Soccer sucks.


Gonna gloss over Maniston’s hometown because I love her, her kid, her parents and her silent but lovely brother as well. Her son throws a baseball great which means either she taught him or she is kind to her ex or her dad and bro are taking care of it. I just wish they didn’t introduce the kid to Wapalo. It’s so clear she is better than him. I don’t want this kid anywhere near her. I have a wife and we both agreed we’d help her raise this kid. He was like the dude from Ratatouille. Who didn’t like that guy?

I hope America can deal with her being smart and sporty (not an Emily Maynard), because I think she could be Bachelorette and she’d make great decisions and actually find a great dude who’d love to step into a nice family and a loving wife. Somewhere out there, that’s the point. And helicopters, of which there are none.

Crickets date is in some roseless rose garden, which explains Sacramento to anyone that hasn’t gotten my references. Crickets’ house is like a brothel. It’s just a billion women of different genetic combinations, Claire being the best combo. Well, other than her mom who seems like the best one. Like at any moment if a helicopter was available, she’d have jumped on it and GTFO.

I don’t know what her one sister was doing with the ultimate cockblock, but considering how much Wapalo sucks and how brainwashed Crickets is, she was probably doing him a favor. Besitos.


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He sends home Maniston (thank god for her) and she turns out to be a pretty crier. If she wants to contact me, I am happy to set her up with a fucking winner who would take her in a helicopter and everything.


Off to helicopterless St. Lucia to the dope ass Viceroy Sugar Beach (my nickname in high school) (also, my wife just closed the browser).

The Crickets date has solidified that Swimming In The Ocean is the new “we had sex.” Like, if you go on a nice date you should ask your partner if they feel like swimming in the ocean or if they are too tired from work to tread water or too bloated and need to wait thirty minutes before swimming. I mean, not to be disgusting but there is some “attracting sharks” excuse for, well, you know for when.

Thanks Bachelor!

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Claire does the thing where she acts like she has a backbone and then just gets naked and hooks up. Here’s the thing. She is who I want to win. She is the only one who just doesn’t care about anything a normal person would (like helicopters) and just pretty much wants Wapalo. And in any marriage it is more important what goes on between the involved parties than how we see it. She’s all in. She’s his best chance for love, even though I have one fuck to spare for his aventura.

Andi had a waterfall date. Yawn.

What was amazing though was a Bachelor first (for me at least in my 6 or so seasons) in that she basically woke up and said what we were all thinking. He’s selfish, boring, misogynistic, name-dropping and totally not into helicopters. She was just like “I’m out” and that did it for me. Hy, her father, literally high fived his buddies because he “dadded” the shit out of his daughter. It’s like the boxer you train knocking a dude out. I hope I have that feeling one day when I train my daughter to hate you future children boys of millenials.

Nikki dresses in “cowboy hooker” attire. She’s mastered the tight top at the perfect latitude for optimal cleavage. They ride some horses. She tells him she loves him. Whatever.

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No helicopters later, Andi decides she’s going to let Wapalo have it, and she does… Until she goes typical girl and basically begs him to convince her otherwise, that she WAS special. I was so into her gumption until then. She got it back in the car and I guess breaking up is hard to do. I can’t say I was any better, we all want validation. Here’s hoping she does what other smart people do, find a better model that likes you more and post tons of pics to social media about how happy you are. Andi, just go put some perps in jail, keep being you and you will be great. Fuck him and his lack of helicopters.

Side note, he is GOOD at breaking up with girls. It was like trying to catch smoke. That’s a warning sign, FYI. A dude who expects the Muppets has been to a lot of puppet shows, bro. Yafeel me?

Rose ceremony was only funny because Nikki was like I NEED AN ANSWER NYOW and then she was like “whatever, abs.”


But I will be there for you at the 13 part finale. And hopefully that’s the end of this.

And I saw the helicopter in the preview but I’m not convinced until I see it and I get the triumphant bachelor theme music. This has been a Batman film without a Batmobile like object.






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BachCap Siete

Ay jai jai! We are going to Miami this week in what is becoming a Wapalo hate fest. This week, the producers worked hard to throw us off the scent that Wapalo brings a swaggy misogynistic perve (wrong word, I’m sorry, my language isn’t so good) to every interaction he has with women.

Seriously, sometimes it makes the life of being chained to a Viking range cooking in weird lingerie and reciting from the bible that Catherine Giuuguiguidici is being doped into via Sean Lowe seem like a cake walk. Wapalo will get his face next to yours, whisper to you not to cry or have feelings and then mind rape you into loving him.

Side note. Catherine actually posted this. I guess the problem with PR for a show like this is it takes a special breed in most cases to want to be on it…


I mean, it should make for good TV, only…

The intro had a DISTINCT feel of “we shot this the minute Wapalo got in trouble for saying bad things about gay people.” That’s because his first defense was “I have a gay cousin” and apologies if my radar is off, but pretty sure the only reason he randomly had a cousin over in the completely pointless intro montage was to show he hugs his cousin and loves his cousin.


Dude. The best way to not be a homophobe is to not be a homophobe. You don’t need to prove you love your cousin. Just don’t say shit that is homophobic. When someone asks if you think there could be a gay Bachelor. You just be like “Fuck yeah, why not” and go back to hooking up with 27 women.

If that cousin he showed for no reason wasn’t his gay cousin… Well then cool braces big guy! Looking forward to the final product and thanks for showing up. I don’t care either way.

But seriously, if that wasn’t his gay cousin, the PR engine sure made it seem this way. Frankly, we don’t we care less.

The first date was complete fucking garbage. It was a garbage salad sandwich. It was Opera Singer doing VO about how Wapalo is basically a moron, but she just wants to hook up with him because [insert male equivalent of boobs].


All he does is press his face into these girls, bite their lips, make out with them, tell them not to cry, then when they do elaborately wipe their tears in a way that makes me think it’s a fetish. There is a bunch of “you look goood, I liiiiike that” and then rinse, repeat, try not to kill yourself.

That is all this date was and literally having to watch her Gag Kiss him on a boat. There was no talking whatsoever and then they cut to her VO and she repeats over and over that he is basically just a piece of meat. But then she’s like “I’ll give up my career for you” and then back to “no fucking way.”

Bottom line, people debate making bad decisions for brief lusty encounters. FIGHT THE URGES (except in college) and then date for love. It lasts longer.

At some weird non-linear point of the evening the producers had Maniston be the crying shoulder for the 11th time this season. I mean, just play this the minute she comes on screen.

The next date is with Joey & Dawson’s Infinite Lovechild (Nikki) and it’s mainly about torturing his ex-wife, which makes sense because when not slut-shaming, repeating the same pick-up lines or looking fascinated by boats, Wapalo loves putting women in their place (according to him, please don’t close the browser wife).

Seriously though, JDIL is going to go to Camila’s dance recital, meet his parents and his ex-wife, who looks like she wants to take a razor to her cheeks and make face bacon. I am dying to know what Venezuelan telenovela dramatic closet skeletons Wapalo has on his ex to make her subject herself to this. Also, nothing screams “Camila is the most important” like bringing one of six potential new moms to a dance recital. Totally won’t manifest in her personality later. She’ll probably totally make good relationship decisions.

But the real star of this date was the wardrobe designer. I mean, they know she’d be meeting an ex wife, a child and two parents and they put her in a front-less tank top thing. I mean, we all got to know her better. I don’t want to be the guy who is angry about boobs, but let’s be honest. Wapalo is a slut-shamer and nothing screams “gonna get shamed” like showing a child, the grandparents and the last woman your breasts at a children’s dance recital.

Pretty sure at one point she turned it around for the interviews. Still, I think she did pretty great, didn’t back down, knew how to talk to and about Camila. I don’t fault her for hating the other girls in the house, or rather, not paying attention to them. I mean, I can barely.

That night, Nikki decided to wear even less and go to Wapalo’s “office,” or rather Marlins Park, where he once translated a letter to a player’s side piece girlfriend one time. STOP FRONTING YOU HAVE A JOB WAPALO. The field was empty, which would have been more special if Marlins Park wasn’t always empty. I mean, nobody watches them play and that makes it an even better front for Wapalo’s fake job. Who would even notice if he was ever there or not. This is what it’s like on gameday:

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Nikki should endorse boob tape because she dressed like Leeloo Dallas Multipass to play baseball and we didn’t see much at all. Good for her and for the innovators at 3M.

Later that night, common sense wins the war and Opera Singer goes to dump Wapalo who basically just wipes her tears and they whisper in voices that made me want to puke. I mean they were all lip-smackey and gross and made me feel like a drunk girl was chewing gum in my ear.

Whatever, she left the show and is probably better off.

Group date was with a fucking plane boat or something that’s still not a helicopter so fuck you everyone. I don’t care. Let’s go sit on a fucking beach again and do nothing. Wapalo says “niiiiiiice, I liiiiike eeeeet” thirty times, District Attorney gets all insecure and then gets a rose. I mean, I have not two fucks to give for this date.

The only fun part was Crickets losing her Sacramento mind because she didn’t get a rose. I just can’t wait to see her reality show where she coaches a team of stressed out junior high cheerleaders into eating disorders. She is going to have a hilarious mouth in middle age.


That night at the house, Cricketts decides she is going to pick a fight with JDIL. If you could follow what on earth they were even talking about, handcuff yourself and start screaming help. Literally, at one point they argued if the room Nikki was sleeping in was “her” room because she doesn’t own the hotel. That happened. In fact, this conversation was the greatest argument for vasectomy ever.

The cocktail party had a really long manufactured pause between these two, but it was better than listening to Wapalo kiss a woman, so whatever. Crickets takes such long pauses between words, for all I know she was talking the whole time, we just saw the middle of her sentence.

Chelsie gets sent home and I learned for the first time that they let you drink on the ride to the airport. How humane.

Fuck this. Hometowns.





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BachCap Seis on Seis on Seis

I have to admit, I’m sort of captivated this season. Wapalo is so reasonably likable on the surface, but then just drops incredible, potentially-language-barrier-based bombs that shake the already flimsy foundations of these reality television tributes from their respective districts.

And it’s getting down to it. Every year I want to quit writing this thing, but once they start traveling and unravelling, I get sucked back in.

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And what better place to get sucked back in than Middle Earth. New Zealand, as it was called before Lord of the Rings, became the the backdrop for this week’s bloody, misogynistic beat down. Wet Mess (Scottsdale) tried to tell me how some resort was the most exclusive resort in the world or something, but I’m really not prepared to discuss “exclusive” resorts from a Phoenix area NBA dancer who pays for bottle service at nightclubs in strip malls. I’m sorry. I’m not hating on her (other than calling her Wet Mess, I mean you know dating her means finding extensions, Q-tips, make up pads and fake eyelashes stuck to pretty much everything in your place), I’m just not ready to believe this place is exclusive and also I’m not Googling it because… Well, I just don’t care.

Neither did Chris Harrison, who has been MIA forever now. He could have gotten really pinched in Vietnam and you just feel like he gave up on visiting Middle Earth and smuggled some shit to Hong Kong. Godspeed, you ageless man.

The DA gets the first date and as she smiles with her tiny razor teeth, Crickets goes from upbeat to complete meltdown mode. When she gets upset, you’d think she got a lower score than she expected in figure skating.


Truthfully, that was a metaphor. By ice skating, I meant ocean sex and by lower score I mean being slut shamed on national television.

So, yeah. Crickets is not impressed. For now.

Vertical Natalie Portman (prettiest crier in years) and Maniston have a little heart to heart in which you realize they should just Big Love that shit and be sister wives. It’s actually a pretty good option for some illegal polygamist out there. I mean, all they need is the weird one, but they can find her near the compound. I’m about efficiency and if they both married Wapalo, they’d assure fathers and siblings for their communal kids. And they’d have 3/5 of a basketball team, which is good because Vertical Nat has connections, I’m told.


DA’s date is on some whacky speed boat, whatever WHERE ARE THE FUCKING HELICOPTERS THIS SEASON IS KILLING ME. The fun part is next time you want to go to an 80s party, just ride in a speed boat. Wapalo came off with 1987 cocaine dealer hair.

They go through some rock tunnel to go lick each other’s faces in a waterfall and DA is super impressed that he’s so chivalrous for helping her through the rock maze. If your standard of chivalry is “man not letting you die while being filmed,” you need to see a fucking therapist stat. Set a higher bar. It’s the Olympics after all.

Good news for criminals in her home town. No one is going to take her seriously in court. If she’s bringing heat on them, they’ll be like “man you are grinding me like I was a Venezuelan under a waterfall.” Which is also a new thing you should all say.

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At dinner, a geyser goes off providing 3 full minutes of “that’s what she said” jokes. I’m sure you did it already. She gets a rose. The criminal defense system gets an F. F minus.

Crickets gets the Juan on Juan, which means he wanted more sex, more slut shaming or setting her up for a private kill shot.

Group date looked like everything I ever wanted in high school. Action sports in a self contained water slide packed full of NBA dancers. So basically, this scene should have been in the Hobbit. And other media. All the media.

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After all of that 14 year old wet dream is over, they literally go to 14 year old super-heaven by literally going to get drunk at The Shire. Not some place like The Shire. They full on Hobbit Party.

Wapalo tells Maniston she is one of his “special ones” which is what every girl dreams of. Being one of many special people. Dawson Joey Lovechild plays tonsil hockey. Gross kissing ensues. Who is the kissing instructor for this show?

Then there’s the issue of the Opera Singer. She plays hard to get. She invites a kiss. She looks like she is gagging when he kisses her. Like her body language when being kissed is like when they put eyes drops in at the ophthalmologist. Whatever, it seems to be working.

It’s Vertical Natalie Portman’s birthday (potentially her Sweet 16) and Wapalo tries to stay awake when she says generic nice single mom things to him.

Rose goes to Opera and her gag reflex.

Then he takes Vertical Natalie aside to tell her she is ALSO one of his “special ones” and that she’s getting dumped on her b-day.

I was glad she lost this show. Because she is the tallest, prettiest, best crier, most NBA dancerist person on the show and also getting child support from a millionaire. Now the world knows you exist and you are ready for love (and to take your driver’s test). It’ll work out for you. Now move out of Michigan. Just a thought.


Crickets gets her Juan on Juan, and they even dressed alike. This ends up being a conversation where he manages to convince her he apologized for making her feel bad for “swimming in the ocean with her” when he actually didn’t. You hear what you want to hear, especially when you are from Sacramento. She is literally proof of California’s public school system being 2nd worst in the nation (AND I AM A PRODUCT OF IT SO I’M SUPER ANGRY).

I mean, all he said was that he “felt bad saying no to her” so he had sex with her out of pity and that “she should only cry when she’s happy.”

Uf. Que lastima. He rewards her with a rose because she bought it and, well, fantasy suites. Which Camila will totally understand. FACESMACK.

Side note, when he puts Crickets in his harem pants or whatever they are called, I realized he has multiple pairs of these. One is too many. Sorry, if you want your dating life to improve, don’t date anyone with those pants. You don’t need to know why. I know why. Don’t do it. It’s a bullet train to velour jumpsuits in 30 years. Trust me.

Harrison sneaks up super creepy for a brief interview in which I had no idea what Wapalo said beyond he aventura and mundo and fuck this guy.

In last ditch efforts to become arbitrary special ones, Wet Mess and Chelsie decide to go for it. They know they are on the fence and at this point their options are pretty much ocean swim, steal a rose, kill the competition or hide in someone’s luggage and continue the aventura.

Wet Mess goes for the sob story, which made me sad, but it’s also the second most likely way to not win this show. The first is shit talking another girl. But this is a close second.

Chelsie spoke at supersonic speeds and covered a lot of shit that, well, I’m not gonna cover.

Wet Mess gets the boot, but what was weird was whatever was going on with Opera Singer. They were BFF or something. A world-traveling opera singer and an NBA dancer. It’s like a Disney film.

With slut-shaming.

See you next week when Harrison cuts the production budget and takes us back to America, but to Miami where he can put the production budget he saved directly into cocaine.






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