BachCap 3: The Date Show With Jimmy Kimmel

You need to take this show with a grain of bath salts. I am typically against any deviations from the formula. Give me a helicopter. Give me some drunken rose ceremonies. Give me a couple sneak attacks with Chris Harrison popping out of a bush with a champagne flute and a knife clinking and for the most part, I’m a HAPPY CAMPER™.

So when the episode starts with Jimmy Kimmel sneaking into a very staged wake up scene (or they just film Chris sleeping all the time, que lastima), I get skeptical that we’re adding a designated hitter to my game. I like my sports traditional and this was a very scripted departure SANS MUPPETS ™ so it was pretty much NOT OKAY™.

I’m not Jimmy Kimmel fan. I reluctantly laugh at his promos. I appreciated when he was chubby on Win Ben Stein’s Money (we all had a 90s, Jimmy but mine was high school). I get that he’s had more plastic surgery in his face than most of these women have had in their NOT FACE™. Seriously, he is one nip/tuck from being on Real Housewives of Late Night Television.

But the thing is, he shined here and I didn’t expect it. I mean I know he’s the 5th best late night host on television, but being 100% honest, he won me back. I am for Kimmel. He went on there and did a very polished version of what I’d do. He talked about everything. He called them out for saying “the right reasons” and called them “sister wives.” Even better, he started a tip jar for when they said amazing. He allowed the show to go to a self-reflexive place and in doing so, took a great season and it HYPERGREAT™.

Chris Harrison looked very annoyed to be sharing the spotlight. It really brought into question what he does on the show (besides hardcore narcotics to be able to look in the mirror). You could tell having a real improve talent in the room was frusterating for him. He even left his tie at home in the beginning, opting to go for the “new-divorced at a cougar bar” BLAZER x V-NECK collab. Chris, you’re better than that. Just because Jimmy got some laughs when he said he’d be taking sexual test drives with all the girls in front of you doesn’t mean you need to get all Scarface hang a man from a helicopter on him:



As you can imagine, this is my favorite drug related murder in any drug film. I mean, besides the fact a helicopter is used to murder a rat… The helicopter is the damn star. I could go on for days. Watch Scarface. Just do it.

First date is with the Breakdancing Hoser (she’s Canadian). Jimmy makes it seem like they’re going somewhere pretty swanky, bottles, basically all the lyrics to Like A G6, only instead they go to Costco. They have a ridiculous shopping list and have to buy all the stuff.

Many times on this date, there were lines about this being “normal” – doing the things a real couple would do like Costco or BBQing. The thing is, nothing about this Costco trip was like one my wife and I might go on. For one, when we go to Costco, we buy nothing but paper towels and toilet paper. When we go to the checkout counter, which is as chaotically crowded as most religious tourist spots in Israel, the cashier looks at our bricks and bricks of toilet paper and wonders if all we do is eat beans and drink hard alcohol. I mean, no one should need to wipe their ass as much as it seems like we’re going to. Teens talk about the embarrassment of buying condoms at the drugstore. Are you kidding? I was dancing up and down the aisles when I bought them, I looked really cool (and responsible).

There is no shame like seeing your next 2,000 stomach aches depicted in the form of palettes of TP. You go to check out and you feel like the cashier is sizing up how your ass contributes to this:


The other thing that was a real departure was when they got in the awesome blow up hamster ball and rolled down an aisle. How many companies of militia were needed to clear out the hordes of old folks looking for samples of protein bars and microwave pizza for them to inflate a giant ball and roll it down an aisle. I literally feel like I’m trying to cross the 101 on foot when I walk around there.

Also, how scarred are those kids that pushed them. I’d have been so tempted to be like HEY KIDS THIS IS HOW BABIES ARE MADE. I really should have gone on this show.

Later they go back to barbecue and Kimmel is there being pretty awesome. He asks about the fantasy suites and being Canadian, the Hoser pretty much says it’s cool he can take some people on a test drive. I respected her for understanding the game. Not for being okay with it. Either way, she was quickly flying up my list for that reason and the fact she can get away with that kind of midriff. O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

We definitely realize here that Chris laughs like a sorority girl being tickled by a boy she likes. Forget Time Is A Fat Circle. He’s now called Gigglepuss. BELIEVE IT™.

When they get in the hot tub (before Kimmel shows up to eat ribs), they start making out and the truth about Canada comes out. She is not an aggressive kisser. She talks a big game, but she is definitely not a face-sucking awkward mess. This seems to substantiate that she’s been the BEST FRIEND™ a lot and cleaned up on a lot of TRANSITIONAL TRYSTS™. What I mean is, she’s adjacent to a lot of her friends’ relationships and they confide in her and when they break up, she gets a quick TRANSITIONAL TRYST™, but then he finds another HOT TICKET™ and moves on. She’s a Katherine Heigl film, back when they made those.

I like her strategy and I bet, despite her devil-may-care attitude, that she’s a catch. She’s trying too hard to prove she’s not great. I like her.



The group date is great, save one big time issue: MESA VERDE is there and we get nothing, barely even a creepy stare from her. She even did her hair and didn’t crawl on the ground chasing cats. She had so many opportunities to terrorize animals, I felt let down.

Anyway, this date is American Ninja x Farmville. Much like hot tubs and helicopters, girls milking animals is becoming a motif on this show and you didn’t need to go to the best film school on earth (I did, NON-HUMBLEBRAG™) to catch what that is about. And if you didn’t, Kimmel mentioned there was one boy goat they had to milk. HJs. We’re talking about HJs. Also someone said something about “warm and salty” and “in my mouth” and at that point I was wondering how many US dollars it took the producer to just force that sound bite. Whatever, grateful. #blessed

In this race to shovel shit, crack eggs, milk a goat and chug and to shuck corn, the real news was not Carly going balls out to win. The real news was that Jillian finally earned her lasting nickname. I dub her FLIGHT RECORDER, you know, because of the Black Box they had to put over her butt the entire time. Presumably because she wears TOO-SMALL™ sizes, but after BUTT PEACH FUZZ™ talk from last week, basically who knows what’s going on there. But a producer doesn’t like her she lives with a superimposed black miniskirt the entire show.

It was epic when she leaped over the fence. For every reason from Plato to Voltaire. It was the Sistine Chapel of black box leaps into pig pens. Venus di Milo and Otis.

Carly wins, she gets a blue ribbon and an American Gothic photo shoot with Gigglepuss. I know all of us at home felt we missed out.

The cocktail party is another makeout fest, which makes sense as Gigglepuss only has access to women he’s related to in Iowa. He’s making up for lost time and laughing like a girl. He also only holds a woman’s hands directly over their crotch. Real talk.

MOTHER OF KALE has a mild aneurysm and blacks out. She basically asks Gigglepuss why he makes out with other girls, but asks as if she just noticed this. What does she do all night at these cocktail parties? Does she just look at salads and debate which vegetable she’ll name her next kid after? Spinach and Artichoke Dip is my vote. My guess is where she’s from, that’s considered a vegetable.

Becca gets a rose and now I need to figure out who the hell she is. THANKS.

Second date is with the fertility nurse who talks like a baby. Fertility. Kids movies. Fern Gully. I dub thee FERT GULLY. They go to Saddlerock in Malibu, mere miles from where I went to high school. Fairly sure my cousin was married there. This is a nice spot and there’s a mountain that looks like a cat which brought me tons of joys every time I drop DURING CLASS AFTER SCHOOL to the beach.

She decides that we’re going to crash a wedding and despite how much we are meant to think this is spontaneous, it is not. I do appreciate them shooting the wedding all shady from bushes, even if everyone knew.

I don’t know if Gigglepuss is just someone who falls in love at weddings or when drunk, both which are LOVE HEROIN™, but he seemed like he dug FERT GULLY, especially when he dropped the uber subtle clue about “seeing himself marrying her.” So there’s that. Garden State. The Shins.

Instead of a cocktail party, we opted for an all day pool party. Of course, this is useful for two reasons. The first is obvious. Day drinking in the hot sun makes for a drunker rose ceremony. But the second reason I am proud to have figured out. It’s definitely the way they get girls in bathing suits to cry so that in the COMING UP THIS SEASON ON THE BACHELOR MONTAGE in episode one, there’s the potential that any of the girls could have made it to a tropical vacation trip, or better, the fantasy suites. They are getting smarter. Clever girl.



Kartrashian is a hot mess the entire time, alternating between crying and laughing in rapid succession and then kissing like a virgin, meaning, she like stands, awkwardly almost yanks Gigglepuss off a roof, all kinds of rookie mistakes. Sexy isn’t dying after rolling down a Spanish tiled roof to your doom. It ain’t belly rings either (not since the oughties).

Juelia (spelling?) decides she is going to pick a pool party as the right place to tell the world’s most horrible story about her dead husband threatening to kill himself when they just had a newborn and then actually doing that. Chris handles it well, but definitely regretted THE LAST MARGARITA™.

Bratzny grabs a make out and then Jade (who is a Playmate, FYI) cuddles him in bed in her stilettos, which I’m sure all of you do at home, yeah? GIRLS. So predictable. I mean, if I had a dollar for everytime a secret playmate wanted to cuddle in bed I’d have more dollars than the AMAZING JAR™ or at least more than Jade has after her first feature dance at Spearmint Rhino.

There’s a weird hot tub situation with Flight Recorder, who literally won’t leave. She’s like in old war movies when the archers are gonna shoot and the captain keeps being like HOOOOOLD. Only she never fired. She just sat there with presumably the lion’s share of her ass hanging out.

Rose ceremony, three folks we barely knew are gone. One, the teacher I think, seemed great. Lucky her to be gone. Also, three weeks in, we are basically an all white cast again. Do better, guys. This is crazy.

That said, loved this week and last. I’m all in for this season. Share this around and follow me below so we can cuddle. I’ll wear my stilettos.






Filed under Uncategorized

BachCap: Dropping the Deuce

Well, I’m late. I guess I’m pregnant with a blog post.

Actually, I’m in Atlanta for work and that’s great because I am so damn close to the burning wreckage that is Andi’s life. It’s fun to be so close to a prediction I made. That said, I gave them six months. Josh and her made it less than six days.

Whatever, let’s get unpreggers. BACHCAP: ENGAGE.

We start with a scene from last week, a brunette with the kind of GUMPTION™ Eli Wallach said Kate Winslet had in The Holiday, or as it’s often called HOLIDAY WOMAN CRACK™. Gumption. She took Chris out side and said, “It’s light out, I haven’t slept in over 34 hours and 2 bottles of Kim Crawford and we never even talked so if you send me home I’m crying. In broad daylight. On TV.”

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For a farmer to ignore this request, well, it would be like killing a prized cow, not unlike the cow from Into The Woods, minus the music, plus Chris Harrison. For the record, she’s a pretty girl. I just like making references to Sondheim musicals because I am super postmodern and I keep my wife happy. Plus, he’s a farmer. So like, cows.

She gets a reprieve and when she comes back in, one girl says “I feel like this is a slow clap” proving she doesn’t understand what a slow clap is. It’s a positive. Oh man. Has society fallen this far? This means she hasn’t seen Rudy, which means she won’t succeed in marrying a guy in the midwest. Also, if you haven’t seen Rudy, but can name all the Kardashians (I mean all of them), you will die alone. So Netflix that sniz. (Also, same girl said she’s “more Kardashian than country” – so yeah. Also, Kardashian and Country is barely alliteration, read a book).


Side note, pre roll ad for The Boy Next Door with JLo… It’s about sleeping with a young dude who then stalks her and she has to kill him or something. Is she a praying mantis? Are all her movies about being duped by a dude and then killing him? What did Ben Affleck do? Does this relate to Gone Girl? I love lamp?

Okay, I’m back.

Chris Harrison, on a wild Molly and ecstasy bender, demanded a collision montage where Chris was in an awkward outdoor shower at the same time that he explained the Bachelor was living in a Moroccan sex den just down the driveway from the Bach Mansion. If you aren’t into subtly, Harrison kept saying, “HE’S DOWN THERE, RIGHT NOW, NAKED, OUTSIDE and YOU NEED TIME WITH HIM. I’m not saying go down there, but if you did, he’s showering outside. It’s just like showering inside, but you don’t have to ring the doorbell to get in with him. Some people are birdwatchers. You guys can walk right outside, take shots of tequila, and look at him shower. So, don’t abuse that, yeah?”

What a pimp. Not slang, I mean, like, actually. What a man who contracts other people out for sex.

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First date is at some weird roof pool I’m pretty sure I used to drink across the street from. The girl who almost got kicked off has a nice meet/cute, and then is totally respected by the producers when she gives and interview on the street in a bikini with pool hair. DIGNITY™.

Don’t worry, they made everyone walk half naked down Fig in DTLA. I’ve done it. So what. Go Trojans!

Some girls went to sneak into Chris’ house and said it was gonna be an everyday habit. I think one of them banged their head or something, I don’t know, I was pouring a drink. I’m sure we’ll revisit it later. Or not.

Just when I was enjoying the ridiculousness of girls being convinced that racing tractors in the city in their bikinis was somehow a test of love, we get to know Juelia (spelling?) who goes on to explain her daughter’s father died. By killing himself. This show sometimes is the equivalent of switching between cocaine and codeine on repeat. DUMB HAPPY™ and HYPER BUMMED™ on a loop.



Really. Why.

Back to NAKED TRACTORS™. Seriously.

Kartrashian wins the race and gets some precious alone time, but it doesn’t matter. Chris gives the night date to Mother of Kale, who looks as shocked as I was that she got it. Then all the girls get really insecure and walk around abandoned streets, but without zombies or anything post-apocalyptic, which felt like a miss. Like in 28 Days Later (which is a great hashtag for this show because every couple formed on the Bachelor breaks up… 28 Days Later).


While Kartrashian played armchair psychologist about the night date, Mother of Kale was pulling off miracles on her date. She managed to tell Chris he had a big nose, discuss aliens (in a serious, off-putting way) and tell him she has a son (named after a vegetable) and still get a rose.

All of this while making every sentence sound something in between a guess and a question.

Takeaway, having a child buys you a week. If you adopt like ten kids and reveal them weekly at cocktail parties, you probably at least hit the fantasy suites. Just my gut.

Megan got a date card which she didn’t know was a date card, which is a good thing, because living on a farm won’t be an issue. If you are easily confused, you probably don’t care where you are. No one can be sure she’ll even know she’s on a farm, in Iowa or even on earth at all. Mother of Kale is like, did some say aliens? Do they have hot noses?

Megan’s first date started with a limo and when she saw a plane, she held his hand and pushed it into her chest, a pro move. I felt the same way seeing an airplane. But then…


I would pick on Megan for saying things like butterflies are smiling in her stomach (they don’t have teeth), but I was too busy freaking out that there was a helicopter already in week two and guess what?


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I was screaming “we did it Miyagi” and crying in my hotel room. This is why I play this game.

And then Chris Harrison, for the second time tonight, orchestrated a death story.

Megan’s dad died just weeks before going on the show. Despite whatever quaaludes she was on in her brown blanket at the mansion when she didn’t understand the date card, she seems pretty nice and they seem pretty happy. Pretty sure you can wear big blankets on farms in Iowa. Got my eye on her.

She gets the rose. Duh.

When the new group date is “death themed” – like the rest of this episode – one girl says “death is zero percent sexy.” But truth is, I know she digs every guy on Walking Dead. Stop pretending. If Chris Pine played a dead person, she’d be like “death is like 110% sexy.”

Then they go in a limo to a creepy set and zombies attack the limo, presumably not the reanimated zombies of any of the deaths described earlier in the show. Ups and downs on this show. Death is sad. Death is funny. WE’RE IN THE MOVIE SEVEN AND CHRIS HARRISON IS GONNA SHOW US WHAT’S IN THE BOX.

I hate this. Also, was the empty downtown LA walk a foreshadow? I was thinking, where are the zombies and now… ZOMBIES!

The scariest part was they drank Fireball to calm down. Whiskey is supposed to taste like whiskey. Whiskey is not a flavor that needs improving. If you drank the Fireball and did it before you blacked out, you don’t get a rose.

Zombie Date ensues. We’re taking paintball guns and killing zombies and finding the beacon. It’s Call of Douchey. Highlight? Ashley goes nuts and earns the name FULL METAL WHACKIT. Everyone is having fun, but she’s hammered on Lexipro and Fireball and threatening to shoot everyone.


At one point, she just freakishly takes a serene walk through the zombies and then starts shooting the ones already pretending to be dead. To be clear, these are just actors on the ground and she just starts capping them. It was terrifying. Imagine actually shooting downed humans on a battlefield. She was like that “horror of war” scene from every Vietnam film ever.

And then says she feels like she’s in the MESA VERDE™.


I was only there once (or twice) in college and I regretted going there. It takes days to recover from a trip to MESA VERDE™. It’s hell, okay? You need an iron mind and stomach.  You need to be able to say goodbye to normal life and relationships. One does not simply go to MESA VERDE™.

Right? Pound it. £££

It kept getting weirder. She said the rose might go to an angel. She said a lot of different things and crawled around looking for cats. Honestly, I believe she had a drug interaction. There’s no commentary I could make that would be funnier or more disturbing than watching it. One of the most memorable segments ever. Period. History. This is a banner episode.

Chris is even a good guy, sort of.

He gives Caitlin the rose, who seems like she’s SECRETLY SHY™ by the way she fronts a big game and is a very reserved kisser (and someone who moves to Germany for a man, or nah, bruh).

Bratzny didn’t like it. She even said she had “mixed emotions” about it. Then said she was in a bad mood. Which isn’t mixed. Actresses need scripts, I guess.

Oh yeah! Jordan, back at the mansion, talked about Jillian (HGH) and then said she had a hairy ass. Not kidding. Peach fuzz. Then she twerked. Slowly because booze. Again, banner episode. It almost doesn’t need me.


Kartrashian goes on to tell Mother of Kale that she is a virgin and while that was interesting, what was more interesting was Mother of Kale’s reaction, which was so odd, for a mother especially. She felt like it was great leverage because dudes like taking girls’ virginities. I’m glad Kale is a boy. PARENTING™.

Kartrashian goes off and then does a really weird belly ring make a wish thing that made me super uncomfortable, but I did enjoy that Chris is farming kisses like crops. He’s the biggest kiss collector since Ben.

Jordan was drunk some more. This episode had everything.

Bratzny freaked out a little bit because Chris is kissing everyone.

Then, the highlight was the rose ceremony, when Jillian went to take Juelia’s (spelling?) rose and then took out half the carpet on the way, chasing this awkward move with an awkward laugh. Basically the world’s worst charcuterie pairing. I dub her Zoolander (come on, the scene where he accepts Hansel’s award?)

In the end, he drops a lot of girls, but he keeps FULL METAL WHACKIT in proof the producers will do anything to keep it good. And why shouldn’t they. This episode was amazing. Pure gold. This girl literally sounded like an extra from True Detective. She’s talking about Carcosa and black stars and the Yellow King. She’s straight cold buggin’ and we might as well get another week of her.


See you in MESA VERDE™.






Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap One – Farm to Cable

Sitting down to write this, I have the feeling I have seen described by lots of mommy/fashion/yoga/food/whatever bloggers on Twitter. I feel like I am about to eat a box of unnecessary pastries that I don’t even want that will probably make me sick but I’m doing it anyway because the praise I get on the internet makes it okay.


That’s where we’re at. Happy 2015.

Before I get started, I’m giving a few caveats for the season. I may not post every week, but I plan to try. Fact is, I’m not a scrappy young producer at an ad agency anymore. I’m reaching in-barrel maturation and lots of people need this bourbon. I have a Super Bowl ad campaign to help land. I have to go to Spain and eat all the jamón. Basically, I’m on planes. A lot. And I won’t always write.

I will always tell you. On Twitter. So follow me. HERE. I’ll tell you everything.

OK. Let’s do this damn thing. But promise me one thing…




I’m not going to spend a lot of time covering the “live” element of this premiere, because it was so up-its-own-ass that I felt like I was watching a colonoscopy. I guess it was nice to see a ton of pseudo celebrities still have enough time to get on airplanes, fly to the world’s fakest red carpet, dress really poorly and search for meaning amongst people who still have enough time to wait in line to see pseudo celebrities you could easily see by going to [insert worst bar ever] in [insert city].

Andi’s basic bro fiance is definitely not ready to commit to planning a wedding because life is hard when you are NOT A DISTRICT ATTORNEY™, but he is ready to try the cake and food because “you know he can eat” – even though he cannot wear a tie. America, if you are built like a brick, don’t wear a skinny tie. I know James McAvoy wore it well on the cover of GQ and you are basic, but he is 5’4″ and 123 pounds. When this meat bucket wears it, it looks like a half-drained river running through the vast tundra.

Breakup in less than 6 months.

Grown Sexy wore the world’s most ridiculous shawl, it looked like those awful clear umbrellas and the most depressing part was she loved it so much she wouldn’t take it off. Actually, the worst part was that she said her and Sean are “practicing” having kids. No. The worst part was his goatee, comb-over haircut combo. No. The worst is that these people still exist and that people still care. Tim Tebow is the only fake born-again virgin I can deal with, only because the sports media tears him apart. Why am I the only person wishing Sean and Grown Sexy would just go away. Forever.



The red carpet was totally just a big step-and-repeat in a parking lot in Burbank. They weren’t going into an award show. There was no paparazzi. This was a glorified cocktail party at 3pm in the valley on a weekday. That people got dressed up for so they could be on TV again and stand in front of the most desperate form of fan, those that would commit time and resources to attending a red carpet of former Bachelor contestants.

Chris Harrison was wildly snarky, because he is finally blooming out of his cocoon. Soon, the blood bath will begin and Grown Sexy and Sean will wish they weren’t so eager to show up anytime anyone from the show calls them. It’s our fault. We allow them to give relationship advice despite one of them saying “grown sexy” and wearing an outdoor clothing item inside because she thinks it looks good (it doesn’t) and the other who can say with a straight face he was a BORN-AGAIN VIRGIN™. What is the ceremony that makes you such a thing? I just ate too much and wish I didn’t. BORN AGAIN DINNER™. Who wants froyo?



Time is a Fat Circle (Fat McConnaughy) returns and despite getting the worst ratings of any Bachelor premier (maybe it was that whack ass red carpet wax museum), I love this guy. Driving around his town, you actually understand for the first time why a human being actually would be on this show. In a town of like 400 people, how many of them are actually options to date? If you literally know zero women and live on a massive farm in a landlocked midwestern state, you have two options.

The first is this:



The second is a deal with the devil:



Chris needs this show and I think he’s actually serious about finding the right woman. He can dress well (he has good tie to suit to shirt ratio) and he’s rich. Make no mistake, this is not a humble farmer. He owns 6000 acres of Iowa. Chris Soules owns LAND™. Land like Tom Cruise almost died to get in Far and Away. That kind of land. Like, he owns a towns-worth of land and it has zero women on it that he isn’t related to, or judging by the live audience members from his hometown, aren’t obese.

He is here FOR THE RIGHT REASONS™. And he trained for it with CodyCode SeanBro fresh off his WORLD’S MOST PREDICTABLE BREAKUP™ with Michelle Money, who at least got a morning news anchor gig out of going on Bachelor in Paradise, which seems like more than anyone else got (beyond an invite to that whack red carpet in a parking lot).

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So, he’s doing his montage of outdoor showering in the newly redecorated Bachelor house (not the mansion). Someone got inspired by Morocco it would seem. Nothing screams corn and soy farmer like a Moroccan tea house.

We got to meet some of the girls and as you know, nicknames not coming out right away. Half these people aren’t people I will ever see again.

There’s Britt who looks like a Bratz doll. She’s also a “waitress” from LA, which means she auditioned for a guest spot on Modern Family and they were like “take it easy, Topanga, are you single?” and sent her on this show.

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Jillian Michaels was pretty intense with her cross fit regime and monster traps. Loved her in Rocky IV though. DRAGOOO!

There was the adorable widow who lives in ATX and told us that her husband just died out of nowhere. I had a hard time drinking the rest of my whiskey in fear my own heart would stop, but don’t worry. I just switched to rum (Ron Zacapa, if you must know).

There was one girl who named her son Kale, so we know the world’s ending. That’s good.

There’s a cute flight attendant, but if the Bachelor can film on a plane, why can’t Don REPORT THE NEWS™ on Newsroom?

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Bratzny definitely hit it off with Chris from the get-go and her act was pretty worthy of her getting the part. She totally rehearsed, but acted naturally. A real Misener kind of gal. No surprise she got the FIRST ROSE™ and sealed her fate of not ever winning this show ever.

I enjoyed Pam Poovey From Archer, who came out of the car in cowboy gear and then snuck back in the limo in a dress, then proceeded to crush a ton of Jameson, almost pass out standing up and then get the rose anyway.



She didn’t even take the taco for craziest this episode. That went to the Onion Hunter, who, well. Hunted onions. And then found a pomegranate instead. But wow. That’s a special kind of drunk where you can be terrifying without being threatening. Like, to date that girl is to know that there is a part of her brain that only vodka can reach that is incapable of functioning as a human. She’s picking flowers and being amazed by psychedelic fake onions. She will kill you in your sleep.

There was a WWE Diva in Training, which just means surgically enhanced female wrestler. She had the gnarliest pink eye ever. But she seemed nice for a woman who fights for a living.

Kaitlyn was kind of fun with her awesome contrast of skin color to eye color, her extra dirty pick up line and then great ensuing recovery (WHO IS SHE™). But she loses points for having matching bird tattoos on her triceps, something shunned even here in Portland, a city that is famous for putting birds on shit (and coffee and the might Portland Timbers).

The secret admirer was very scary, both in her outfit and the fact she opened her eyes so much I thought they might swallow something. She also lives at home with mom and dances ballet. The look in mom’s eyes was that of PLEASE DON’T WEAR YOUR PRINCESS JASMINE COSTUME SO YOU CAN WIFE UP AND MOVE OUT.

Too bad.

Let’s just cut to the ending.

It was light out. It was FULLY DAYTIME™.

When I lived near the mansion in California, I ran into a friend at Brent’s Deli who works on the show. He was coming from a rose ceremony that had gone all night. I know they go late. I’ve seen random LED clocks reading 3:30am. But this was extreme. Usually the limo and walk of shame is in the dark. This was a daytime dismissal.


There was a long ass crying montage. And then I blacked out. See you next week. Click the links below for updates on when I’ll post.






Filed under Uncategorized

Stab the Field and Support Sark

Arrogant Nation, I know I have only posted two or three times this year. I know I’ve been basically limiting myself to Twitter during games and it’s been fun. But the truth is, I only want to write about what matters. That’s what got me to start Arrogant Nation to begin with.

I noticed our fanbase was down about sanctions, a lot of new kids being downright UNTROJAN about football and I tried, with a lot of success, to flip that script. It took writing weekly comedic posts just for us to act like idiots, be fundamentalist football fans and not care too much about what happened.


The thing was, not only did that work, we played better than we should have. In fact, better than anyone who got levied sanctions near ours. Frankly, a lot of people don’t realize that USC has been behind only Stanford and Oregon in wins during the time we have barely fielded 50 scholarship athletes or had no postseason bowl as incentive. Hell, we even won the Pac 12 South once. We hung the worst loss ever on UCLA.

Now, I only feel like writing when I have something to say. Or… When I think there’s something you need to hear. Like now.

Steve Mason already dropped an open letter to the Trojan community and it didn’t go over well. He dropped plenty of facts about the pros and the cons of Sark’s first year, with far more pros than cons. Read it, it’s worth it.

I know this post is going to make people angry, but everyone was angry when I said Coach O was full of it, that he should have just stayed to be the highest paid assistant in the country, but his pride or his desire to be a head coach lead him away. For the record, as I usually am when it comes to “not totally overreacting”, I was right. No one wanted Coach O to be a head coach at a big time school. He was too emotional. And now, he’s trying to open the door to come back. As an assistant. Like he should have stayed to be. When Sark (of #firesark fame) asked him to.

Even flawed Lane Kiffin, who wasn’t as bad as we thought he was, is enjoying his time as OC for the top team in the nation. That doesn’t mean he was who I liked repping our program, not by a long shot. It doesn’t mean I understood his bubble screens (or Norm Chow’s for that matter), but again, our offense was better with Kiffin than it was before him. It’s largely been better with Sark too. We have lots of moments we actually look like the team we want to be. We have moments we do not either.

Of course, we had those moments with Uncle Pete too. A lot of the time here in Oregon. Corvallis. The forest. You remember. Or at Stanford with Harbaugh doing whatever he felt like to our dead, rotting corpse.

Let me get to the point, Arrogant Nation… Too much whining is coming from our fan base.

I think I said it perfectly after Sark led our team to one of the biggest beatings of Notre Dame in our rivalry’s history:

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It’s pretty true. I can’t miss the parallels between my freshman year at USC when Uncle Pete found new ways to lose really close games culminating in a Christmas Day snore-worthy loss to pre-good-pre-bad-again Utah in the all-mighty Insert Sponser Las Vegas Bowl.

Things I remember about that season, our worst in well over a decade including all these so-called awful years under Kiffin and now Sark, was that we showed so many glimpses of explosiveness. Suddenly, I started knowing players names. Wow, that WR is going to be great if he’s ever consistent. Man, why is America not recognizing how good Carson Palmer is. If they were a little older, they’d be great. This system has signs of life.

Like I said, if Twitter existed in 2001 (or Facebook even), we’d have seen deluges of morons calling for Pete Carroll to be fired because we didn’t get it now, now, now.

The reason you liked this blog, the reason I hosted two effing pep rallies, the reason you bought thousands of shirts was because you were buying into one concept.


If we keep being us, eventually, we’ll win. The big wins. The wins that drive everyone crazy. The stay on top forever thing.

Sure, some different coaching decisions (and some of you are going to go to the comments and get into incredible detail I already have heard a billion times and still don’t care about) could have gotten us two wins. Two losses were beat downs. Yeah, 10-2 would feel better than 8-4. The UCLA loss would suck either way. Blah, blah, blah.

Look at how our freshmen played. Look at our quarterback. Look at our recruiting class. Look at what we looked like when we looked good. It looked right.


I want a bowl win. I want a 9 win year heading into next year where depth gets a little better and we’re a year older. And guess what, I am ready to wait for it.

Sark’s team in his first year, outmanned and very young, was almost a 10 win team, but even at 8, he did some things we desperately needed. He ended the Stanford losing streak. Oh man, he cleaned up after Pete Carroll on that one. Who cares how it happened. It happened. Stanford lost to us last year and it might even hurt their recruiting and keep them trending down. You need to win those games to win these wars.

He beat Notre Dame. He beat them bad. In fact, they were as short handed as we were and you saw how bad we beat a winded team. Did that not teach you anything? Wow, did we compete. Tired as hell all year, we won 8 games with like 8 dudes. They did this a week after a horrible loss that killed a ton of incentives. They got up for a game that bad teams can’t get up for. Hell, UCLA couldn’t get up for a home game against Stanford to win the South.

Look at the player development. You worried about Algohlor leaving? Me neither. I mean, I want him to stay, but for the first time in a long time, we developed the hell out of young players.

More proof, who had a better year than Kessler at QB? Next year, with a better O-Line, more seasoned supporting cast members and defenses having to game plan (and maybe more than 2 scholarship RBs), wins may come easier.


Or maybe they won’t.

But #FireSark? Please. I’m #StillSark. I’m willing to go the distance and see it through. I know I don’t want to be fired for a possible 9 win season in my first year with my predecessor’s players. Why should he?

It’s not about this year. It’s about getting ourselves ready for the long run. If we want to be Arrogant Nation, we need to stop whining and start just enjoying the wins and ignoring the rest.

I want to talk about one more thing. Something I was fuming about. Something that made me want to smash my phone against the wall.

If you don’t think the team showed up for UCLA, if you think Sark didn’t show up, let me point out, neither did we.

We didn’t stab the field. We let some deflated Thor looking punk walk-on (WALK ON) stand on their cheeseball logo and protect it from our drum major, who wasn’t going to stab it anyway because [insert excuse].

I’ve heard Haden said we couldn’t. I’ve heard the future of the band depended on it. I’ve heard that some streak of a billion games performed at in a row matters. It doesn’t. What matters is we never, ever take orders from UCLA ever, not even at work even if your boss went there.

I love our band. I felt amazing at the pep rally when I was talking and they’d strike up. They gave me a shirt and despite the fact I’ve sold thousands of t-shirts I designed myself, I wear the band shirt every week. I effing teared up as a high school senior hearing them play and wanting to go to USC so bad I would have torched Westwood to the ground. I still tear up.

I say that because COME ON GUYS. We put streaks, Haden’s thoughts, etc. ahead of the one thing we COULD control: Telling UCLA to eff off.


They deserved to win. They were dictating the game before we even left the tunnel. They told our band what to do, then they pushed us around all day. For some reason, for one day we were all “me, me, me” instead of “FUFUFU”…

This isn’t on our drum major who I love because he is in the band. This isn’t on the band who do more for us than anyone. This is on every single person who reads this or has ever read this for not sending reams of paper to every administrator at USC demanding we fight back. If we can’t have our tradition, UCLA can’t bring their band to the Coliseum either (not that anyone would notice) and then stab the field anyway.

What was so sacred? How on EARTH did we let a team that spray painted ASU’s field dictate anything to us. A team that planted their flag in our 50 yard line the year before.

BaX6otJCcAAEsbn ByauMvICIAIpA3O.0.0

Give me a break.

I don’t care we lost. We’re going to beat them more than we lose to them forever. John McKay said it best in that “there is nothing worse than losing to UCLA and nothing better than beating Notre Dame” – he said that because UCLA sucks, even when they are good. They are the kind of people who choke away big games, ACTUALLY desecrate fields and print billboards proclaiming superiority before taking huge dumps in big games. Always.

Who are we? We’re the team that has tradition and we will uphold it no matter what. When Traveller was going away, we found money. He must ride each Saturday.

Look at how we are when there’s threat of a new alternate uniform. We flip out.


Had we stabbed the field, only good things would have happened. Maybe our streak would have ended and UCLA would have tried to stop us from playing, but then ESPN would be covering that. I fail to get how no one understands that UCLA banning our band due to poking grass with a sword would be the single greatest recruiting tool we ever had.

Could YOU play for a school that sanctioned a band? Every outlet on earth would have made fun of UCLA. They would have brought up the fact UCLA desecrated ASU’s field. They would have made so many points we didn’t have to, except in national publications.

The great joy of this blog at its height was that I gonzo’d myself into a story I wouldn’t normally be a part of. A film student turned ad man hosting pep rallies and getting millions of reads.

This issue is YOUR CHANCE to hurt UCLA in a way only they would even expose themselves to. Only UCLA could be this myopic to leave their most vulnerable weakness so exposed: the are they kind of tools that sanction marching bands.

Please, let us not be the kinds of tools that allow them to.

I let you down not leading the charge. Pledge your support in the comments. It’s up to Sark to win the games, but it’s up to you to win the rivalry.

This is where I stand on the issue. Until we start acting like Trojans, I’m not blaming the players, the coaches or anyone else for not playing like Trojans. If we’re stabbing the field and two years later, Sark is losing games left and right, if we truly gave him a shot and it fails, I’ll be the first to say it’s time.

But we gave Kiffin some time. Let’s give Sark some. In the meantime, let’s get our own house in order Arrogant Nation.

Cheers to the bowl game and hoping it’s a swift, violent two years until we make this right.






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USC v UCLA – A Smack Talk Suggestion

I’ve been quiet this season. Too quiet? Nah. I drank 50 bourbons and now have a plaque on a wall at a local bar for said feat.

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I’ve been hustling at the office making ads that don’t make you want to break your television.

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I’ve been making apple pie bourbon and lots of pork for dinner.

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I’ve gotten my FIFA game strong. I’ve been a soccer hooligan with Timbers Army.

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I’ve spent some time watching sunsets while drinking in an infinity pool. (kept my phone dry)

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I’ve stocked and restocked my home bar over and over and even put it near a palm-like tree to remind me of home.

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But in the end, it’s UCLA week and as I stare at the endless stream of back and forth between our fans and their seasonal, twice a decade enthusiasts, I had to jump back in and put things in order.

Do me a favor. Don’t engage with them. You know how they say to not move if you see a bear in the forest. Do that. Do the shit out of that because talking to a Bruin about football is like arguing about Michelin rated restaurants with a person who lost their tongue from cigarettes.

They have bad taste. They have nothing to hang their fluffy, bow-in-the-haired mascot’s head on. They will never understand facts about football and to be honest, their boy-who-stumbled-into-a-movie-theater-mid-movie tactics tend to bring out the “Fundamentalist Trojan” in us and it turns to us exchanging cartoon photos of Trojans sodomizing bears and then them sending pictures of bears sodomizing Trojans and as USC grads, I deeply hope you have better things to do.

All of us do it from time to time, but let’s be honest. We get excited to play Notre Dame. We get excited to beat UCLA. They are our baby rival. They want to talk basketball, but no one wants to talk basketball.

So let’s just make a quick Troy Week assessment of what happens when you engage Bruins and why you might as well just smile at them.

First, they are going to say the OWN USC right now. Two wins in a row after their worst loss in history (50-0) and suddenly, they own us. As I’ve said when I’ve indulged in a little shit talking, if anything, they took a lease out on us that they likely cannot afford.

Owning is the last 15 years we’ve been lining up to play (including their two year lease):

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12 wins to their 3. Scoring 2x as much. Gaining 2x yards. Sitting on their QB’s head 2x as much. Since I was taking driving lessons, enjoying all dating from first to marriage, raising the money for and then buying a home, selling it and then moving to another state and then buying another home… Basically, for fifteen years, it’s been one way (until the lease).

Until the lease, UCLA literally made t-shirts about a 13-9 win over USC that prevented Troy from going to the National Title. Printed a t-shirt. It was that big a deal just to win (even though a month later we won one of like 5 Rose Bowls that decade in their stadium). Our punishment was a Rose Bowl win, something our whole conference covets so much you almost want to donate a couple of our dozens of them.

But if you bring up this decade, you get “The Cheating Discussion” – which of course is the line of unstudied discourse about what specifically USC was sanctioned for.

I made a video about it years ago and realized there was no point to bring any of it up, nor is there a point to bringing up the handicapped spaces the last really good UCLA team parked in illegally. One dude and his family taking money (and a lot of it) from a ex-con in San Diego completely unaffiliated with USC or athletes forcing handicapped people to park far away from businesses. Forensics, Ethics and Reading Comprehension – not taught at UCLA. Even as I type this, a moron from their school who is reading this for some reason unbeknownst to me is about to post something like this:

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Sigh. Murderers is used a lot even though they are citing one person. If that’s the game, here’s a Bruin football player who did the same, well, arguably even more insidious:

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Once a promising football player with the UCLA Bruins and the Los Angeles Rams, Darryl Henley found himself in a heap of legal trouble starting in 1995. Henley was convicted of drug trafficking and sentenced to 20 years in prison. He apparently was not too pleased with that verdict, as he allegedly hired a hitman to take out the judge and a key witness on the case. That earned him another 21 years to his sentence.

But the thing is, murder is sad and doesn’t have to do with UCLA or USC. It’s just a dumb argument. Neil Armstrong went to USC. USC doesn’t own the moon now. Alumni are cool. Some are embarrassing. Like the ones who invoke homicides for the purpose of football.

Some alumni from UCLA happen to be the lawyer who defended OJ Simpson. Just saying.

Liars, yeah. Josh Shaw was an idiot. He’d tell you that. He committed no crime. Served a ten-game suspension. Hurt his draft stock. We good? Play ball.

Cheaters? Again, please watch this video I made.

Next, don’t post crap like this…

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Beyond how embarrassing this boast is, beyond how lame “SUC” is as a hatful moniker, why so homophobic and if so homophobic, why make that point via a Trojan on his knees, crotch-level in front of a Bruin. WHY NOT FIND A PICTURE OF TWO TROJANS? I’m a modern man. I don’t care who is crotch-level with who, but I don’t get the desire to constantly use male-on-male sex or male-on-male beastiality to get fired up for a football game. Those people need help.

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I enjoyed this. Here’s a taunt that at least tries to be clever. Unfortunately, the product on the left is an actual product from UCLA. So whatever we think we are getting, we can actually get the Bruin plush doll on the left at the UCLA Bookstore, right behind the bruin statue USC graffiti canvas.

Let’s wrap this up.

When UCLA is hyped up, ranked well and respected, they flop. Like a fish. Every time. All the time. All day. Every day. Instead of trying to tell them we’re better, just prop them up. Troll them. Tell them how great they are. They are so good, I’m scared to play them.

Look, when we were winning 12 of the last 15, we weren’t reminding them we were the best team on Earth. They knew because ALL THE MEDIA™. They are only talking because they know we know they “underachieved” and in the end, are the same basketball school no one cares about.

Just tell them they are great.

If you MUST compete with these people this week, do it for a good cause. Like this one:

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Enjoy the game this weekend. I’ll be watching it with a bottle of bourbon and an Arturo Fuente Work of Art on an island just east of Seattle, with friends that did not go to USC, but through knowing the Bearfighter, see why we are the only reasonable choice. Even the Ducks up here know. What USC is in an up year or down year is a champion. History matters.

Which is why I’d be thrilled to cancel their short lease this weekend. If not, I’m sure it will end next year with no Rose Bowls or National Titles to their largely-irrelevant name.

Happy hunting, Arrogant Nation. FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER already. Been tweeting all year.





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Well That Sh*t Was Fun

I was down in Los Angeles for the weekend, you totally could feel that, amirite? It was strange. Everything was in its right place.


I was at breakfast eating a lot of ham and eggs and mainlining some coffee than was infinitely worse than it is in Portland (sorry, Southland, they got that part right up there) and I was swiveling my head around to watch the UCLA game. I couldn’t take my eyes of the screen.

A cool alum-bro was sitting there in his Trojan shirt staring at me like I was a UCLA fan and giving me the smug look I’ve given a thousand Bruin fans who publicly admit they root for UCLA. I had to throw him a victory V before he realized I was just enjoying watching the vaunted #7 Bruins play some awful, awful football.

It was easy to pick on Hundley with all of his Heisman hype, but the truth is, he had very little to do with how awful the much over-hyped Bruin squad looked. I mean, one could critique him for not checking down enough, for being one-dimensional the moment his first option was gone, but that’d be unfair. One of the two Achilles’ heels of this team was glaring.

Their O-Line is awful.

They were getting worked by a Virginia Cavaliers (yes, Virginia Cavaliers) D-Line that is slower, smaller and weaker than probably any set in the Pac-12. They had Hundley contained save one long scramble. They didn’t fly off the edges, they just leaked through the holes in the porous UCLA line. They didn’t have to do much. They were in the backfield keeping Hundley largely in one spot, unable to scramble or check-down. They were sitting on Bruin running backs heads.

Which brings me to the second Achilles’ heel. UCLA’s skill positions are slow. I don’t mean that as a hater. I mean that as someone who just recognized that the #7 team in America could not get their wideouts open against a defense that’s not exactly sending ten dudes to the NFL.

Their RBs were getting stuffed in the backfield. They couldn’t get to the edge. It was crazy.

In the end, I saw two factions of Bruin fans after the game. Those that understand that maybe they O-Line can be coached up, but as they say, you can’t teach speed and their skill positions looked flat. And slow.

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The other fans said “good teams find ways to win” and “the defense scored three times” and both are true, but let’s be real. Their first QB got benched because he was throwing TO the Bruin defense. In a game the Cavs came into thinking no chance they compete, they benched their QB. Worse, the backup brought them back into the game. So the pick-6s were good, but it wasn’t exactly making an athletic play to snag one from Mariota from the hands of a guy wiht 4.3 speed. This was “oh, there’s the ball and oh, the Cavs are so weak there’s no one to stop me, oh thank god.”

Mazzone looks like a bad hire. Their recruiting classes look devoid of speed. When USC would get in close games with really, really mediocre teams. I knew we were heading for some losses. I’m sure they feel that way. Don’t really care.

Here’s why…


We looked awesome. We looked like I think I look when I am drunk standing in the mirror in a tailored suit. We can say it was against Fresno State, and it was, but Fresno State would be favored against more than the Virginia Cavs. They’d be favored against Colorado. Maybe Utah. They weren’t a garbage team. They were just not a great team.

But when you play a not great team (or a garbage team like the Cavs), you want to run the most plays in the history of the Pac-12 (which is totally mind boggling with Oregon and the amount of spread O played out west). You want to drop a billion points. You want your freshman to exhibit burning, elite speed and the ability to catch the ball in traffic (against a probable first round draft pick at CB). You want your freshman tight end to smoke a safety and leap a wall after scoring.

You want to score the most points your program has since 2005 when your team was the worst team in the NFC West basically.

It’s EASY and sometimes dangerous to make too many assumptions on the first game. UCLA won’t be THAT bad all  year (although my 5 loss projection feels pretty good right now based on their tough schedule, slow skill positions and Swiss cheesy O-Line). We won’t be hanging points like that on elite defenses either.


Any time you do “the most of something” since “when you were good” it’s a good thing. Any time you show you have updated your offense and you out-Oregon, Oregon. That’s good.

Over 700 yards. Something like 37 first downs. Name it, we had it. And, wow. The freshmen. To every Washington fan that came here talking about their talent, etc. Sark + USC = people like Adoree Jackson and Juju Smith. Toa and Mama. Beasts of the SoCal Wild. 


It’s scary in a way. Oregon runs less plays, they score faster. What I dug about our performance and our offense is that Sark explained it well. It’s just uptempo pro set with slight mods. It’s not the gimmicky get to the edge game Oregon plays until they meet a team big enough to dominate the clock (Stanford) or fast enough to take away the edges (SEC).

We just got the ball to a million people in a million places from the flats to the middle to deep on the edges. There was no area we didn’t drop the ball. Kessler had shades of Leinart, lobbing balls where our guys could get them, playing conductor to a symphony of speedy options.

It didn’t suck to watch.

I said earlier in the day all I wanted was some vibes that we’re going to get back to having fun, get back to scoring and enjoying it. Even with our penalties, we looked disciplined. It looked good.

Stanford might be a tough one, but I am excited to see it roll out. This is why Arrogant Nation was there during sanctions. In a week of adversity, the media doing anything they could to blow things out of proportion, a RB who couldn’t crack the starting lineup making awful accusations, we just came out and dropped points.

UCLA got it’s ass kissed and that apparently distracted them enough to be the ugliest win of the “big boys” on Saturday.

It would seem that this clown college might be good at eliciting smiles this season.

See you in the endzone.

*dictated but not proofread. ever.





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And Our Hibernation Ends Again

Enjoy this moment, Troy. Really. Enjoy it. Stick around, I’ll remind you why.

As a freshman some terrifying 13 years ago (fuuuck), I remember going 6-6 and losing by a total of less than 30 points. I remember thinking we might be good. That we might have some good years.

I remember my sophomore year meeting Pete Carroll on the Row. I asked him how we looked. He sounded the same way he sounded when he won the Super Bowl. Like Uncle Pete. I remember thinking that I’d love to play for a guy like that. I remember wondering if he was right.

I remember taking a piss at the Orange Bowl after Iowa ran back the kickoff for a touchdown. I remember the overweight Iowa fan who made some mention of So Cal plus some vaguely homophobic slur. I remember telling him to meet me at half-time because it was going to get pretty shitty. Storm’s coming, homeboy.

I remember by the time I was back at my seat, we were figuring out new ways to embarrass the weak ass Big Ten. The dude never met me back at the bathroom. I assumed he had left early with the rest of the Hawkeyes.

I remember most of my time since then was realizing how bad the Big Ten is, at least where Troy is concerned. Penn State. Whack.

Michigan. Hail to the victors must be a song about us.

Illinois, oh yeah we played you too. Kinda forget for a second. JUICE WILLIAMS!

Ohio State, it was close at the Horseshoe when our quarterback was a freshman. It was embarrassing when you came to visit.

I’m probably forgetting a Big Ten team. Probably because they are mostly forgettable teams.

I remember spanking top ranked Auburn on the road. I remember spanking Oklahoma. I remember spanking Arkansas worse than any team every spanked them in their stadium a year after spanking them harder than any team ever spanked them in history. I remember that Arkansas team won their division in the SEC, don’t let them tell you that team with Run DMC was weak.

And then I remember the flood. The deluge of total and utter bullshit around sanctions. The shit we thought wouldn’t stick because the evidence pointed to a hard-to-prove infraction and then suddenly the punishment was indicative of far worse. A seemingly “failure to monitor” type penalty went full blown “lack of institutional control” and we got slapped with a hard backhand.


I remember wondering how the now dead guy from Miami made the ruling and didn’t live to see his school barely wrist-slapped for buying drugs, hookers and abortions for their players.

I also remember all the articles of our demise. I remember that even with four coaches, 30 less players and a nation of haters, we won ten games two times. Most our conference wish they won ten games two times in the last thirty years.

UCLA went 29-24 since we got sanctioned. USC went 35-17. Where was the structure fire? There’s been a few bumps, namely a couple losses to UCLA that in a way are great because it’s been a long time since I gave a shit about playing them. For all their hype, we still put them in a position to take a sloppy seconds trip to the Pac-12 Title Game and after they lost, enjoyed them petitioning the NCAA to give them a bowl berth despite being 6-7 only to lose the bowl game and finish 6-8, the worst team ever to play in a bowl. UCLA is the gift that keeps on giving. Can’t wait to see how they handle the pressure of people not thinking they suck.

I mean, for all the images of Matt Barkley getting knocked out of a game on a blindside sack, I pretty much can’t get past the 50-0 game that happened. A couple wins doesn’t erase that. Just like the John David Booty loss to UCLA was such a point of pride, but history forgets in a month we just came back and won another Rose Bowl in their stadium. Well, it’s kind of our stadium. Our oddly located one.

But let’s talk about what happened here during sanctions, our making lemonade out of lemons and pouring vodka into it. Well, bourbon for me, but you know…

I remember coming into prominence. I remember this stupid blog becoming a t-shirt empire. I remember hosting two pep rallies at Galen. I remember the high fives at the Coli, the shouts of “BEARFIGHTER” and the shots of bourbon offered by fellow Trojans.

They never did sanction the endzone. If a 7-5 record is sanctioning the endzone, Colorado should be excommunicated from having a football team.

In a time where UCLA ran no less than three ads proclaiming we were dead, we dealt them their worst defeat since electric lightbulbs and frankly had a better record then them in each year we were sanctioned or on probation. Sure, they have gotten back into the fray and I am for that.

But let’s keep it realer than a fart in an elevator. If UCLA had gotten sanctioned in the same manner, you think they’d go 35-17? I think they’d have had between 35 and 17 people showing up to watch them lose.

The sanctions are over, but we’ll still be short scholarships for now. And that’s fine. It’s fine because UCLA is getting a brief moment in the sun and using it to unveil new uniforms called “LA Steel.” They are draining the ocean from their basketball gym and they get their shot. They earned it, I guess?

Now we have Sark. That was Pete’s guy. The guy Mike Garrett cock-blocked while he was making things worse with the NCAA (even though they never had a real case and pretty soon those files will be unsealed, FEELS GREAT CAN’T WAIT). He’s upgrading the offense. He’s recruiting like an animal. We don’t have distractions in Kiffin, sanctions or frankly, Coach O. We’re just gonna play football and that’s pretty fun.

We get to enjoy revving up the war machine again. When you are on top for a decade, you let it get stale. You all read this, you all made me a cult figure at my college because it was pretty crazy how hard the NCAA came for us. But, four years later, who would you rather bet on? USC or the NCAA.

Hate to break it to you, but we pretty much won. Yeah, they need to bleed out. Yeah, they need to make changes and call them progress. Whatever. You hit like a toddler, NCAA. You barely bruised the apple.

The NCAA is so soft they literally acknowledge the championship we “gave up.” Why? Because they list co-champs all over their own website and since the AP never took our title away, it never got taken away. The people who took our title away literally acknowledge they were unable to take our title away.


So, here’s what’s going to happen as we climb back to prominence some time in the next five years, as we have in just about every decade since we created football (and don’t say the 1990s were hell, we won a Rose Bowl and that’s more than basically our whole conference has done ever).

We’re going to get our depth back.

There was a time where we’d offer full rides to players we didn’t necessarily want, but our rivals did. Mainly this was just to fuck them over. With no limits on offers again, this has started again. It is a vicious cycle for the Oregons and UCLAs and ASUs and Stanfords. We can offer to players we need less than they do and elite high school guys want to prove they can do it. Deep down, they know who puts the most players in the NFL (facts!) and how little our conference wins anything outside of Troy.

I mean, the last time anyone in our conference won a national title that wasn’t USC was in 1991. I was 9. I had never been to California before.

We’re the only relevant conversation in west coast football and while living in Portland has softened me to the Ducks, it’s also exposed me to the mentality of expecting the wheels to come off. You walk around Portland the day after the Ducks lose, it’s not anger. It’s not shock. It’s a feeling of “I saw this coming” and I had to move here to understand. How depressing is that!

That’s why Arrogant Nation is still better than bacon (kind of). It’s not just that we’re on top the most. It’s the fact we’re good at being on top when we’re there. And everyone knows when we aren’t on top, we’ll just get back there again. It isn’t fair. Blame the NCAA for that. They sure did their best to slow us down for a hot minute to the tune of 35-17. #rough

Enjoy right now.

Enjoy right now because we’re far from back, but we’re only heading that direction again. Anyone who tells you otherwise is ignoring a century-long pattern of taking breaks between winning. This time, our break was a bunch of winning seasons that the world considered failures. 35-17. MUCH LOSSES. SO FAILURE.

We’re almost through it.

Doesn’t matter what happens this year. It’s that we’re going to have a lot of fun soon. I won’t be convinced otherwise and neither will you.

I know how the story ends.

Happy fall returning.

Happy footballing.

Happy ups and downs.

In the end, we’re going to be on top again.


I’m just excited to go for the ride. You guys can be my DD.





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Final BachCap

I don’t think I can commit to writing about this final week in a normal way. I don’t feel a need to be linear. I think this season has been the worst since I have started watching this show. As some of you have noted, it’s been like pulling teeth to write about any of it. Andi is just slightly too smart to make too much fun of, slightly too put together to put down and so predictable it was like watching a romantic comedy unfold.

I miss Jake Pavelka pretending to like girls and having the occupation “fighter pilot.” I miss Ali making awkward moans and groans and having her extensions constantly look like they were being clawed out of her head. I miss Sean Lowe being a born-again virgin.

Andi is just that girl who went to law school, hasn’t quite figured it out and is dating the same kind of dude over and over. Literally, how many of these people do you know in your life. Some of you may be these people. AND THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT.

Just please don’t go on national television only to take us on a journey around the world so you can find the same failed minor league baseball player from your hometown that you could have found in any bar in Buckhead.

What did we even see? They worked so hard to give us a hook, from the guy who died skydiving to the creepiness of Nick’s scarf game. Blah.

I mean, even Hy, her father, who was great when he told Wapalo to eff off was subdued and kind of basic. I missed Desiree’s brother, I wanted to fly him in just to call Nick a little punk ass and challenge him to a milk chugging and arm wrestling contest and the winner pays for tickets to “dollar vodka red bull night” and “insert inland empire club.”

I enjoyed her sister who I just wanted to get into Bar Method and maybe tell her “I’m sorry you have to deal with this” because I am pretty sure she is the best choice in the family. She just doesn’t have the benefit of constant spray tanning, constant hair and makeup and the inflated sense of importance you can only get from having a coked up Chris Harrison ask you questions about your love life like they are questions about how to resolve the situation in the middle east. In real life, Andi’s sister is the good one.

There was something so serial killer about Nick the whole time, but it slowly got revealed more and more and more and more and MORE AND MORE AND MOAR AND MOAAAARRRR. I mean, honestly the guy looks like a dried up felt tip pen wrapped in the one available leather jacket in Wisconsin. He falls in love with girls in the way only guys who aren’t interested in girls do. He fell in love with the idea of loving a girl. Yes, yes a thousand times yes.

If you asked him his favorite episode of Sex and The City, he’d have an answer. For the rest of us, our favorite episode was the second movie because that meant it was finally, mercifully over. Like this season.

Gut check, can’t you picture Nick abbreviating all his TV shows when he mentions them on Facebook? Like SATC reruns! SYTYCD! I love TV! Then he gets mad at you because TV is “The Voice” to him and he hates you for not getting it. His abbreviations. Abbrevs. Brevs. Evs. Umbrella. Ella. Eh. Eh. O.

I think I just figured out Rihanna.

I feel like Nick Cage in National Treasure, but mainly because Diane Kruger is making eyes at me and Justin Bartha keeps texting me to hang out.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, there’s Crap Leinart. Or There’s Something About Dillon. Like, there’s nothing really wrong with him except he is the male equivalent of a basic bitch. He’s not a bro. He’s just a dude who’s been in so many locker rooms and on so many golf courses that he’s gone taste blind.

His favorite person? His dog. His favorite song? Insert 90s R&B slow jam. His favorite clothing? Shiny golf shirts pre mid life crisis. His favorite meal? STEAK, bro. Just kidding, tacos, but only if it’s Tuesday.

He’s the girl you are so excited is interested in you but then you are like you cannot come home to Mom.

And then when he got engaged he was wearing a suit that was three sizes to small. I didn’t know a man could look slutty in a suit, but he did it. It was so embarrassing. And he was sweating like he was getting kicked out of minor league baseball.

But I guess they are happy, can live in ATL, eat well and fade into a life of being overweight on golf courses. Or divorce. BUT, huge props to Josh for handling Nick’s slut shaming, which shall be the final rant of the season. But first, yes. Josh was a man for not caring. The only anti-dote to slut shaming is saying sleeping with someone doesn’t make you a slut. And it doesn’t. Andi may be a lot of things, but not a slut and we shouldn’t as a society say that about people. Period.

So, Nick was having his crisis and basically outed that they had sex, admittedly in the whiniest way ever. This is crazy because this show NEVER admits it. I mean, Ben Flajnik (who I drank with in Portland this weekend, sweet name drop bro) had his hook up referred to as “swimming in the ocean.”

Nick. I think you have more stuff going on. But in the meantime, note to self. Slut shaming a woman on national television does not increase the likelihood of more women trusting you with intimacy. Or ocean swimming. Sex. I’m talking about sex. Get a strategy. Start from “the opposite of everything you think you should do.”

I’m glad this terrible season is over. I hope Chris the Farmer gets it because I genuinely wanna see how he does. See you next year most likely… But first some housekeeping.


Thank you to my readers on Twitter (who know when I delay a post or cancel one)  and just my generally kind readers, but when you don’t write a for a couple weeks, relax. I don’t ask for money, I do this for fun. And it is fun, but when I get “shamed” on my blog, it’s a huge drag. Like when this happens.

I could not agree more. Sure, it’s a bit sad that I’m fired up over a (lack of a) blog about the Bachelorette, but I feel like a fool when I get excited to read Lost’s analysis and then there’s nothing for THREE weeks.

If something’s going on in your life, sure. But another very popular Bachelor blogger, Jen Frase, announced a few weeks ago that due to a family medical situation, she MIGHT not be blogging the rest of the season. And apologized. And thanked people for being great readers. Totally respectful to her readers who looked forward to her column every week.

Whatever, Lost. You’re deleted from my bookmarks. Off to read the other blogs who keep their commitments to entertain us!

How would you know what’s going on in my life? I’m sorry you don’t want to read anymore, but it’s okay. This is a safe place. A happy place.

I’ve always said my readers are my friends. My friends don’t consider the blog my commitment to them. And I don’t think it’s my responsibility to talk about when medical results, business commitments or family obligations kept me from posting about a show I only write about because it is awful. This is for shits and giggles, guys. You can always tweet at me and ask what’s up. Those of you on instagram know everything that’s going on. Sometimes, I am traveling and don’t get to see the show and by the time I do, it’s basically next week. Sometimes, life gets in the way.

I’ve been very consistent for no other reason than I enjoy it. For some six years now. Millions of reads and thousands of readers. It’s just for fun. Let’s let it be that.

So if I keep going, it’s going to be for my thousands of friends who just like reading the crap I write when I have something to say. And to the upset poster I quoted, nothing personal and thank you for reading. I didn’t mean to single you out (and still don’t). It was just a perfect example of the things that make this largely unpaid pursuit so frustrating sometimes.

And by that token, to my USC readers who allowed me so graciously to slip from structured coverage into freeform content last year, that’s why I love you. I’ll be writing this year to be sure, who knows how much or how often, just know that when there’s something to debate, the Bearfighter will be there.

Thanks for another season, hopefully it’s better next year and I want to write. I really enjoy your company.



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BachCap Hometowns

First off, friends. Just check out Twitter. I was traveling for work, am I was moving into my own bachelor mansion, sometimes you just don’t have time, even for watching Andi get wasted and then writing run on sentences about her.

I finally caught up on the previous two weeks and actually was pretty TURNT UP for hometowns. Belgium and Italy had some intrigue and the people going home made sense. We even got to see seven infinity scarves from Nick. And Sean Bro tell a girl she was IN TROUBLE because she’d fall in love with him. Only to get sent back to the gym with no brotein shake.

I mean all that was good. Andi was hammered the whole time. She gave us a very traditional Bach Moment on her date with Crap Leinart when she wanted answers as to why she could trust him or nah and he basically was like YOU CAN and she’s like I FEEL ZO MUCH BETTER NOW ABOUT FEELZ. Who knew a man who looks like Matt Dillon did in Something About Mary post teeth enlargement could have this effect on a girl who went to college. There’s something about Chicklet Teeth.

Actually, between her baby teeth and his giant teeth, their kids would be okay.

So with all that goodness, I thought hometowns would be good. They weren’t. They were sweet at times, somber, honest…

Terrible for writing. Thankfully, Nick was first in his SWEET LEATHER JACKET and infinity scarves 2 thru 4. At one point he thru it on to walk her to the car. Betch. He was like hold on, it’s cold bae.

He is from Milwaukee which taught me last night that there are places that can make a life on a farm seem good.

Andi made some comment that she’d never been to a brewery before. Call me a snob (really, do it, it turns me on), but how is that possible. Atlanta has everything. She’s never been to a brewery? And then she smells the fermentation tank and they both sit there thinking it smells good. FERMENTING HOPS SMELL GOOD? Stop. Portland has more breweries per capita than anywhere outside of Munich and let me be clear. Beer is great, the smell of making it does not. We made beer in my friend’s kitchen one time and I considered the fact his wife did not leave him as one of the greatest gifts I’ve seen exchanged in matrimony. YOU SO FAKE, BABYTEETH™.

I aM mizpelting thz sntencz bkause of I dnt carez.

They went shitty dancing, drank shitty beer and had shitty conversation before going to meet all 200 of his siblings, all commemorated on a wall of photos I wouldn’t have believed in a Wes Anderson film. They were all nice enough but come on. If the Milwaukapocalypse started you know they would use the photos as inventory to remember who they ate.

Nick’s parents are his age, which is fun? Also, loved his mom in Swingers as the girl who Vince Vaughn gets her number and then immediately rips it up. That joke will take a while, but you will eventually laugh and well, that’s how I keep our marriage strong, internet. I just keep giving.

Look, Nick just sucks. He totally just got beat up a lot in high school or he was like slightly too short or something. He just never got the girl. He is not much of a villain. He is just a standard issue douche. Meh. Not worth getting riled up about. His hair is soft and so are his scarves. Andi would probably like sarong shopping with him at Neiman Marcus.

Off to Time Is A Fat Circle’s farm in Iowa where part of me hoped to see a weird antler adorned crime scene to complete my joke because this is my world, you all just living here.

Sadly, no. Just million dollar tractors and homes and great family and a cute plane dragging a cute understated XOXO type banner. Look, he isn’t even fat. This dude is my next Bachelor because I just know Andi doesn’t have it in her to move to a farm, but this family was awesome. I’m telling no jokes. They made me literally think hey, a farm would be fine. And I have a bar cart with four kinds of rums and I’ve spent over 75 bucks on bitters in the last month. I’m so yuppie that I judge people on how they make an old fashioned (or when they do) and I was like “fuck it, I’ll marry him and live on that fucking farm.”

I really like the guy. And you know why? Because he talks to women the way a man should talk to women. On a farm with no one nearby. KIDDING.

What I mean is he doesn’t give her answers, he gives choices. He can’t move his farm and so he answers her pretty damn honestly. You could raise the kids and enjoy the fact I’m a rich and kind farmer. You could go be a DA in Iowa. You could use your degree for something else. He’s going to get behind it and appreciate every day that she came to Iowa for him, because again. CAN’T MOVE A FARM.

Look, the family was great, the rest was great. I’d be his friend and when Andi blows it and picks Crap Leinart, he better be the Bachelor. We can actually root for this guy.


Andi next goes to Tampa (that sucks, sorry) to visit Crap Leinart. She didn’t wear any pants and in the end we can play a guessing game or we can just notice SHE BARELY GOT DRESSED TO SAVE TIME LATER.

His family was nice enough, even his moron brother who isn’t that good at football. But even here, I felt bad for him. I thought the baseball thing was cheesy at first until I realized his family had him on some deep spiritual mission to promote the success of his younger brother. He wasn’t good enough and he had to push his brother. His failed dream constantly rubbed in his face despite being bigger, better looking, etc. For whatever reason, his brother had Zeus’ lightning bolt.

His only satisfaction in life comes from the dog who loves him best. Maybe.

Andi is so marrying this guy and it is so a mistake, but I understand why he is the way he is now and that’s enough for me to root against his brother in the NFL. Oh wait. 5th rounders don’t play.

Finally, we had Marcus who immediately stripped. He was super cool with his brother. His mother, even though she supposedly beat him, was one neon blue eyeshadow streak more than a totally chill seeming lady who the years have been kind to.

We all know Marcus went home. Richolas Goscage is defeated and it’s the wrong choice. He was graceful in defeat. I don’t feel like talking to him.


Let’s talk about Chris Harrison pulling everyone over to talk about Adventurer dying. First, let me say the good part. It’s a weird “family that dates” kind of thing and so I get how a death messes with their heads. I have some trouble with the fact that these people only knew him for what, three weeks? I tried to come up with a scenario like if my college roommate left after three weeks and then a month later died. It’s depressing, but I don’t know. I get why Andi would be upset. It’s not fun to send someone packing or end on a fight and that guy dies. But still. The dude was on a quest to risk his life and thrill seek and this stuff happens. It’s sad, but he died doing what he loved and that’s no snark. He actually did.

Enough of that though.

Let’s talk about Chris Harrison’s “house.” WOWOWOW.

No rug, no paintings, coffee table guys think is rad (and doesn’t show leftover blow) and women would never let you buy… This is his chick killing den and we got a rare, rare glimpse into it.

Kind of like at the rose ceremony how we got a rare glimpse into the wallpaper they put in saloons when we saw Andi’s dress. It was like she was ducking a firefight between outlaws and the wall came with her. Yeesh.

She cut Marcus and a bit of my soul.

This episode was so somber in many ways, it was so different. I am ready now for next week. I am ready for the FAHNTAHSEESWEEETS.

Let’s get it together.



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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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