Tag Archives: chris harrison

BachCap #4: Viva Las Shameless

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their gleeful reaction!

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

Screen Shot 2016-01-31 at 9.16.42 PM

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

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


You know what turns folks on? THIS™:



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

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

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


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



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

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

But you feel me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In short…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Dude, she was the definition of HERSELF™.

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

I don’t even remember who got the rose.

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

You talk to her, it’s like:


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XOXO, Gossip Zack.

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






Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

BachCap Week Juan

What a day. I have been calling it “Week Juan” for ages. I call the one-on-one dates “Juan on Juans” and now finally, we are calling everything Juan. It’s Juanderful. I Juan to hug somebody. I just Juan somebody to love.

So, hola! We’re back.


And is there anything dumber than every girl saying “hola” to Juan as they arrive? I know everyjuan thinks this is super exotic, but with 37 million Spanish speakers in the US, hell, over half of Los Angeles is Spanish speaking, “hola” is about as exotic as knowing how not to stumble ordering a venti nonfat misto at Starbucks. You aren’t pronouncing vichyssoise correctly at a brasserie in Paris. Stop looking so proud. Imagine if one said “hello” in that Agador voice from the Birdcage when Gene Hackman comes over before Calista Flockhart died of not eating.

Wait, she’s still alive? No…

OK! It’s been a long offseason and it’s nice to be back chained to this effing computer each Monday until football starts again. It’s not, but at least I get an influx of good looking people who send me pictures (which I’ll post) of their viewing parties and flattering signs. That’s good for my confidence, especially up here in PDX where it’s cold and rainy right now.

It’s the first week, which means I am not going to bother knowing any of these peoples names.  I mean, when you go to dinner, do you learn the names of everyone eating around you? No. They’re mostly going home at different times and in the end it’s just the ones who stay to last call that deserve nicknames. For the most part.

So bear with me in the beginning. We’ll tighten it up.

Juan’s intro had plenty half naked beach running, because that’s the point. And then we got to learn about his made up job, basically a fluffer to athletes who speak Spanish. Given the reaction to the women in the room I was watching with, he should just charge junahundred dollars an hour to hang out and he’d be fine.


Actually, Juan is a likable guy from the way he pronounces “Bah Chay Lore” to the fact that he seems to actually love his daughter and family, so much so he brought along his padres to the Bach Casa to watch his daughter, assuring she would grow up normally and that I wouldn’t have to endure the poor man’s bearskin rug in front of the fire date for 18th season in a row, ABC you cheap bastards.

I mean, the more I saw Juan with his daughter, the more I am convinced Lady Veneers (Emily Maynard) thought her daughter was a hand bag. Hey Maynard, way to stick it out with One Direction (Jef with one F). None of us saw that coming. Oh shit, I can’t see my keyboard I rolled my eyes so far back in my head they’re stuck.

But really, what were the odds One Direction the band would out perform their relationship. That math makes my head hurt. I’m done.

There was a reprise of a newish Bachelor tradition of bringing the last Bachelor in for advice, which meant my birthday wish of never seeing Sean Lowe again wasn’t granted. Fuck that kid in Liar Liar. Why do his birthday wishes come true?

Anyway, Sean has been really annoying on instagram leading up to his wedding. I hate that this show gives people the self-importance to start dressing like assholes (Sean, you never wore all-over print button ups when you were just a virgin in Dallas) and doing constant media appearances. I managed to find love without a reality show. A lot of you did too. Basically, Sean, after your wedding, I don’t wanna see you. No one else does unless it’s in the snow.


I mean the only advice you could really give Juan is how to turn your skin darker than your hair. You’d be the shittiest X Man of them all. They’d call you Thermometer and if it got cold, the other X Men would know because you’d turn into a grey-haired troll doll.

Juan then asked him advice on kissing and I was disappointed that he lied. If Sean was being honest, he’d have just said “pretend she’s got food in her mouth and try to lick it out”.

I just got queasy. Get married and leave, Sean. Fade to black.

They did some previews of girls and most of them seemed okay. The single mom who throws a football better than either of the QBs in last night’s BCS Championship definitely gets the first nickname: Jennifer Maniston. She was pretty likable, but there’s a chance she’s taking HGH, but I don’t think this is like major league baseball. I think you can roid. You can certainly get breast implants. I say “play ball”.  Or “pelota”. So exotic. [fart noise]

There was CSI: Juan’s Crotch, an attractive young assistant DA who is tough enough to hang with the boys. She’s good looking and smart and will make your life hell. Can’t wait for her series on ABC. Not sold on her winning, but Juan should definitely say his employment status in this country isn’t exactly “street legal”. If she doesn’t arrest him, she might contend because she is hot.

Then there was the girl who cried the entire episode who I know we’ll see on all kinds of Bachelor reunion montages as if any of us remember she was even here. She already had her wedding dress after six weeks and admitted that on television. Stress has caused her teeth to seem like they are actively trying to get out of her face and she’s broken out big time because she is bugging out.

There was Old Man Torture, the surgically enhanced owner of an elderly home in which she wears revealing tank tops and ushers old men around from bed to bed. I mean, put me in a room with old guys when I’m there. Let me watch baseball. The last thing I want is some hot rod, beach bod reminding me it would take an injection of rocket fuel directly into my junk to have sex ever again while she gives me sponge baths and talks about her boyfriend who probably rides MotoX in the Florida panhandle.

Just shoot me. That’s not my game. That’s old man torture. Leave old men alone.

There was the girl from Sacramento who is disqualified because Sacramento. I’m sorry her dad died, but not as sorry as I am for Juan if she shows him the DVD her father made for her future husband. I am guessing he didn’t make that for a man on a reality show and he definitely didn’t want that on national television, but being that cocaine cowboy Chris Harrison is running the show, I think that dying man won’t get his wish.

At the mansion, Chris Harrison was wearing the same clothes as the night before (I know they shot the same day) and it reminded me how MESSED UP that preview was. The Gia part. They do this montage with people who were on the Bachelor for four episodes. I mean, one of the people was literally sent home night one. At the end of the tribute, they say for more information (like on suicide prevention) go to ABC.com. I did and was not surprised you had to click on BACHELOR and then on GIA’S STORY before finding any advice.

So, to clarify: The show used your grief over a reality star hanging herself to get more clicks to their site to increase ad revenue. If you tease help for suicide prevention and list ABC.com, HAVE THE DECENCY TO HAVE A HOTLINE ON THE HOMEPAGE.

Hunger Games, bitch.

Chris Harrison told Juan that there were 27 girls this year, not 25 because of the incredible demand to date him. In television, this translates to “there are two producers’ daughters that demanded to be on the show to meet you and this is their way of making up for the fact that they missed a lot of birthdays and divorced mom”. I mean, incredible demand lead to 2 more contestants? Not 5? 10? Can I hear 15? NOT SOLD.

The limo scenes are such a cluster, but I remember a few things besides the fake boob parade.

The one girl in the gold glitter dress I swear looked just like Miss Piggy. It’s crazy when you call someone a puppet pig and it’s not because they are fat. I mean, this is totally avoidable and she decided to dress like she was about to sing Rainbow Connection with Kermit. You never expect the Muppets.

The soccer thing was cute, the piano thing was not.

The girl with the stethoscope who is a pediatric nurse is a Taylor Swift song waiting to happen. She’s too nice, too cute and all that to survive in the meat grinder that is the Bach Mansion.

My main takeaway was that Juan’s reactions (due to limited English and the fact that all of America wants to sleep with him) are identical to the reactions your parents make when you show them how to do things on their iPhones. It’s like “oooOOOohhh” and a little dance. So now I know the language barrier is like seeing FaceTime for the first time.

BMFXBokCMAAbkk9-1371256874 copy

One girl from Georgia sounded just like Eastbound and Down. If she lives, she is called that. I won’t remember her until she talks again. The first night is just like the running of the bulls if the bulls had extensions and were in wholesale prom dresses.

Let’s talk about the girl in the pink dress and pink lipstick and pink nails with the bright red hair. She comes in dressed like she’s waiting for Mario to save her from Bowser and then spends the rest of the episode shocked she’s not reeling Juan Pablo in. She should move to New York and play Mario against Luigi and date whoever likes her best. Both of those guys literally quest through magical kingdoms and fight turtle-backed death lizards for her hand. Juan Pablo needs subtitles to order an omelette.

I dug how Juan was drinking scotch but then drinking water. It’s better than watching Sean Lowe drink Bud Light like a ponzi. I mean, really. Unless Sean Lowe is inverting his skin and hair, I am not interested.

Juan also had lipstick on his cheek the entire time and no one seemed to care, I think someone is going to end up pregnant this season.

In the end, Princess Daisy and Week One Meltdown Clone went home along with a bunch of people I didn’t realize were there and let’s speed this up. It gets more fun when I get to know the women more.

No nickname for Juan yet. Need to leave you Juanting more.

Juan to follow me on social media? Check out the links below and see you Tuesday. We’re just getting started. Share with your friends. I like the attention.






Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelorette Recap: Week Ten

When we tuned in to the finale and were told by a smiling, hopped up just to make it through the show Chris Harrison that this would be a very special “live THREE-HOUR” finale, our hearts sunk.  Nay!  That is too pedestrian.  There’s no hyperbole to state how sad I was.  It was like finding out at mile 25 of a marathon that hey, guess what, we’re making this bitch 36.2 miles now.  Our faces literally were the scene from Independence Day where they try using a nuke on the spaceship over Houston and they think they blew it up only the dust settles and it’s still there and the dude is like “target remains, I repeat, target…  remains”.  Only there was no Will Smith to cheer me up.  I’d have to sit through this like a rectal exam.

The live episode consisted of nothing but Harrison leading his roomful of pill-popping disciples through canned camp counselor volume contest games like “who’s a fan of Jef???” and then they’d just cut back to Curacao.  Which I am doing now.

Back in paradise, we were reminded that Ricki Bobbi is the center of Lady Veneers’ life.  For realz, if you don’t get that she’s the center of her universe, kill youself.  With a pizza slicer.  Or like, drink the shit they use to inflate your popped tire so you can drive it five miles to the dealership for service.  Ricki is the fucking sun, asshole.  We are all just spinning around her and we should be grateful as fuck.

One Direction’s game finally became unbearable (although I did dig all his clothes this episode from the green bathing suit I wish I had last Cal gangster pool party I went to, to his not fucking around Mad Men suits.  if you are an old reader of this blog, you know I can’t stand when a man can’t wear a suit.  it’s like playing baseball, you have to know how to do it.  also, learn to tie your tie already.  you can wipe your ass, you can tie your tie.).  Jef literally was pulling the 40 Year Old Virgin repeat everything game (“Do you want me to be fucking retarded?”).  Like, I admire how his game is effective, don’t get me wrong.  Emily says “this beach is pretty” and he’s like “yeah, it’s cool” then he adds something every girl has always wanted to hear like “we should like build a sand castle together and just really enjoy each other forever”.  He headfucked her on the Ricki meeting line, although, I gotta say it.

This whole shit felt contrived and the loser was Arie.  She knew she picked Jef and wanted to look better about it and faked the whole I may not introduce anyone to Ricki, I may not get engaged thing.  She seemed genuinely like she didn’t want to crush a man’s soul on national television, but is that the bar we’re setting?  Hey, I don’t want to kill a puppy in front of a bunch of Kindergarteners.  Does that mean I am a good person?

So the contrive a whole thing to show One Direction is TOO GOOD and it literally made Emily know JUST THEN and now she JUST CAN’T make Arie propose and she DOESN’T KNOW what to do. And still, they fucked Arie so brually I thought I had ordered an adult film off OnDemand.

Jef did get to meet Ricki and it was sweet enough.  Somewhere at the bottom of all this snocone flavored with toilet water is a little girl who deserves a father and I hope One Direction is that guy, super TOMS water company and trips to Africa aside.  I want that for Ricki.  Hell, I want Emily (or anyone ever to be on this show) to end up with anyone in a normal sense.  Still, there was so much planning to make this seem normal, I felt, well, unnormal.  It’s the concept of Uncanny Valley, which normally applies to CGI representations of humans.  Basically, the closer it gets to looking human, the more fucking uncomfortable we get.  Bachelor in a nutshell.

Watch this shit and tell me you don’t feel this way at least once a season:

Let’s jump back to Emily’s family.  YES!  This was the first true perfect example of how this show is supposed to go.  You had the date who didn’t bother to dress up because just being on camera ain’t no reason to be “fussy”.  You had the mom who had held up well except for her voice which was so dripping in North Carolina nicotine that she sounded like a she’d been gargling honey.  At one point she said “eeny meeny miny moe” and it was like “inaminaminahmo” which I am fairly sure is the state fish of Hawaii.

You had the future sister in law who might be hot if Veneers wasn’t crafted in a lab of hotness, so she’s a little pissed in general.  Then there was Ernie, the belle of the ball.  This dude’s hair was as horizontally combed as One Direction’s was vertically.  When Jef was chatting him up, his face looked like he was watching male on male heavy petting (remember, he’s southern).  Then suddenly, they bro hugged, which was nuts.  He was like BIG RICKY was the best man ever.  Wasn’t he 18 and knocked his sister up out of wedlock?  That’s so West Virginia.  Knew I liked him.  The dude had the Mitt Romney fan club look going well.  Or like, NASCAR pit crew enthusiast.

He looked so upset until he gave his blessing I was shocked when that night it was like THIS SHIT IS OVER.  If it wasn’t over then, it was over when Speed Racer showed up with a box full of flowers he saved from rose ceremonies like when you go home with that girl from college and she has all her prom roses petrified over her bed so as if it wasn’t weird enough getting down in her parents house, you have the ghosts of proms past rating you college-level intercourse.

Back to the future.  Speed Racer is dead and he doesn’t know it.  Finally, another quintessential bach moment.  He is with some woman with no teeth being forced to make a love potion that won’t work.  We are made to watch him wonder why his normal kiss first, ask questions never approach isn’t working.  Veneers goes for the kill finally and Arie earned this guy’s respect.  He was nice, but he didn’t give her any closure either.  He politely peaced out, but let me remind you guys this is the Hunger Games.  Just because this season tried to be adorable and about being a single mother doesn’t mean they let more than one fucker out alive.  Arie, explosion, your picture in the sky, play the mother fuckin Panem national anthem.  At least the muttations didn’t get you.  Yet.

They tried to make it out like there’d be no proposal, but it was just more BS.  You knew the deal.  Jef made it happen and their super weird relationship begins in earnest.  The country was so smitten with Jef.  I mean look, I’d kick it with the guy.  He’s kind of the guy you ask to do you favors with no expectation of him asking you for any.  And maybe that’s what Veneers wants, although she wanted a guy with edge.  The guy is an ex-Mormon guy who owns a charity bottled water company and lives in Utah.  There’s nothing wrong with that, but if that’s edge I hope you don’t need to slice anything with it.

After the final rose, I was ready to induce sleep, but like the Romeo and Juliet kind.  They are together, hooray!  They are going to Africa, good on them.  They are moving to Charlotte because Jef can work from anywhere (or by the look of his ranch, he’s independently wealthy).

The worst part was Arie’s story about flying to NC and leaving his diary. Then she didn’t even read it.  I love Speed Racer now.  Like, getting kicked in the dick on ABC was so good the first time, I came on the air and admitted to a weak move just to make sure the next kick didn’t miss the other nut.  Sheesh.

I keep hearing Roberto is the next Bachelor, but I don’t know.  Arie deserves a shot.  He got his ass kicked by a hot girl.  Let’s let him ride helicopters and make out with tons of people.

Speaking of which, kudos to Emily’s line about it being like real life “she dated all his friends”.  Maybe there’s hope for Chompers yet.  We’ll see.

And that’s the end guys.  I want to take the opportunity to thank you all for the insane response this year on the blog.  Every season it grows and I appreciate you spending your Tuesdays with me.  I am a guy who used to blog about whiskey and being an asshole.  Then I blogged about USC football and that really is my passion, that school and those fans.  I honestly started doing this as a joke with my wife, but now, my “offseason” is my second season.  I really have a good time, even when the season is this bad.  I remain hopeful for next year.

If you aren’t following me yet, do so especially on Instagram because that content is just me, not football or tv or anything.  I mean, I made a mask out of a tortilla the other day.  My wife was really stoked…


So, I encourage you to stick with me.  My USC fans read the Bachelor posts and I hope you read my football posts, even if you hate football.  People say to me all the time they read the blog even though they don’t watch the show.  Same thing.  Either way, I’ll post about other things, especially in the fall when life gets more busy.  I hope you stick with me.  Either way, you’ll see me after New Years for more coverage.  If you are ever in LA, tweet at me.  I’ll be drinking somewhere looking super handsome.

Now, let’s send the season out with some amazing user submissions (highlights of my week):

Here’s Hannah and her crew repping Jersey hard!

Next up are my self-proclaimed biggest fans in San Diego (where I met my wife sort of and spent most weekends for a 2 year period), so you may have competition.  That said, this is a great start :)  Mehgan and her cool friend, love the shirts, oaky chard and helicopters.  Nailed it!


We’ve had some doctors and nurses submit, but Audrey and her homie are studying for the bar and taking a timeout for me.  As they should.


Lastly, a group of ladies from Laguna Niguel that are tossing compliments my way and so YOU KNOW I ACCEPT THIS ROSE.  Thanks Kelly & Company!


See you next season…  USC fans… THE BEARFIGHTER RETURNS.



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelorette Recap: Week Nine

We’re rumbling to the finish line.  Not in the exhilarating way you come to the end of a jungle zipline tour.  More like if you were skiing a double black diamond and your helmet exploded and you started grabbing trees, puppies and children on your way down to slow you explosive tumble.  That’s how we’re reaching the finish line.

I think this all is a ploy to make Bachelor Pad watchable.  After Lady Veneers “forgoes” everything we have come to know and love about this show, I may literally need to just see people half-naked acting gross and competing all cut throat just to restore my faith in the “journey” for next season.  Many of you picked on my homebody Ben’s season, but in retrospect, he made out with everyone, road horses and tractors and shit, made girls ski in bikinis on the street, climbed bridges, rappelled, hot tubbed and threw down in the fantasy suites.  Also, there were at least 14 helicopters.  At all times.  Apologize to Ben now.

If there was ever any hope for Lady Veneers, it was this week.  My favorite week.  The Fantasy Suite date (FAHN TAH SEE SUIIIITES!).  This is the date where ABC obligates innocent suitors to have sex for a chance to win.  This is the hunger games shit right here.  This is when young people learn that in order to “find love”, you have to blindly trust that giving up your dignity is the only possible way to ensure your mate will choose you.  Behind closed doors in a fantasy suite, suitors are pulling out every move they have learned since that first awkward sexual encounter (awkward for you, I was terrific, they based the film Cinderella Man on my first time) in an attempt to show which sex you want to put a ring on it.

Even better, the dates on this episode almost always take place in the Caribbean or Bora Bora or some shit like that.  You get taken to a fucking private island or a boat and act like an asshole dry humping in the water until you are purple skinned and ready to not eat the dinner they put in front of you so you look slim for your all night sexual interview.

Leave it to Lady Veneers to ruin this whole thing and make it a total sob fest.  How I didn’t enjoy a surgically enhanced blonde traipsing around the Caribbean breaking hearts for two hours is her superpower.  Luckily for you, my super attractive readers, my superpower is calling her toothy ass out for it.

Emily arrives in lovely Curacao (or Cyoorasao as she Southerns it) and tries to say the name of the magical hotel they are staying at because this dumb island decided to admit they were filming here.  Clearly they didn’t know the glamour shot treatment Prague and D’Bananas, Croatia got.

We get the standard gauze lensed flash back to what she likes about these guys, so we got to relieve all the boring shit she did and subjected us to.  GET READY FOR MORE.

Strawberry Lemonade gets the first date and he’s dressed like a blueberry injected with human growth hormone.  My heart skipped a beat when I saw they were going to get in a helicopter.  Finally.  It was like seeing water after crawling through the desert.  No.  It was like seeing a helicopter after crawling through a helicopter-less season of this awful girl’s quest to find someone to fail to marry in six months.  Hell, two of my readers friggin BOOKED A TRIP and got on a helicopter before she did:

Loving Sam and Josh on their “babymoon”.  Eight times cooler than Lady Veneers and they didn’t have ABC footing the bill.  Also, notice the helicopter behind them.  THAT’S THE RIGHT HELICOPTER.  Did you notice the one Emily picked out?  It was big enough to carry marines.  If they don’t tilt it down all gnarly at waterfalls and play that “we’re on a magic trip” theme, you are just riding in a big van with a propeller.  Way to ruin it Lady Veneers.  Be more like Sam and Josh who have huge balls and are committed to finding love, even when pregnant.  I love these people.

All these dates are incredibly hard to write about.  They were all boring.  I appreciated seeing Chompers more naked than usual, but she was also more orange than usual, so it offset any excitement we would otherwise experience.  Strawberry Lemonade and her just made out in the ocean and I suffered what was to be his last freakish frog tongue kiss.  I hope he never goes on television again and I hope you guys out there learn what an asshole you look like when that’s your go to kiss.  She’s not an ice cream cone, bro.  One Direction has the biggest nose I have ever seen, literally it has angles I didn’t think possible on a human face and he can still figure it out.

Strawberry Lemonade was all “I love you” and wrote Ricki a letter she will never read, until she watches this show later in life on YouTube when all her guy friends talk about her MILF mother and then she figures out her mother kissed half of the eastern seaboard on a quest to meet that guy who was around for 8 weeks.

Then came the most hypocritical thing I’ve seen on this show.  Chompers’ treatment of the fantasy suites.  She basically said she would go to the fantasy suite, but not have any sex with anyone because it would set a bad example.  This, of course, makes perfect sense because leaving your kid at home to travel the world making out with strangers on national television is totally the perfect example to send your child.  With YouTube, it will be the gift that keeps on giving, Veneers.  Smart play.

Either be prude the whole time or don’t.  You can’t fish for compliments, make out sessions and declarations of love with multiple dudes on a television show only to play high and mighty about the fantasy suite.   Everything we’d think about Veneers if she cashed in with a hayride we already think.  Pointless.

We get it though.  You’re a mom.

Next date was with One Direction who at this point, just repeats everything Emily says back in a cool “I could be down” sort of way.  Girls, please see through this.  You were warned in 40 Year Old Virgin in the speed dating scene “Are you a retard?” “Do you want me to be a retard?”  If Apatow is up on it, you know it’s not brand new.

Emily’s like “we’re going on that boat?” and One Direction is like “Oh, that boat?  We’re going on that boat?” and this is their conversation the entire time, unless he is reciting poems that would only fly in a Channing Tatum film.  His video testimonial where he says “when we were on the ferris wheel in London I never wanted to come down and when we were on the floor in Prague I never wanted to get up”…  Run, bitch.  In ten years when his eco-water line dies because bottle water turns out to be the cause of civil unrest in Africa, you will be left with a dude who knows what a Chloe handbag is and repeats everything you say.  You’ll get home from the gym and he’ll be watching The Vow and then want to talk about it all night.  Get out now.

One credit to One Direction was the fantasy suite move.  He basically fronted the frontmaster as my friends say.  Emily was going to be all “I’m a mom” and instead, he’s like “YOU’RE A MOM”.  Chompers was kind of pissed because more than “being a good mom”, she wants to be a tease.  Also, Jef said something about “bridling their passions” and I was pretty sure he was a virgin.

Date three was with Speed Racer and all they did was make out.  All Chompers did was talk about how much she liked making out with Speed Racer.  All he did was lick his lips a lot before kissing her.  Let’s cut to the chase.  When the fantasy suite component came up, Emily never even suggested it because basically she wants to bang this dude back to Scottsdale.  She didn’t want to hang out without cameras because she was going to give it up like a foul ball at a baseball game to the 8 year old you knocked over to catch it and then everyone boos so you smile and just give it up without hesitating.  I mean, I bet they had secret phone sex that night.

NEWS FLASH VENEERS.  Ricki will see this and you talking about how hard it was to not have sex was more obvious than when they just take the fantasy suite and close the door.  I mean in those scenarios MAYBE nothing happens.  In this scenario, it was clear.  If they closed the door, you were opening your legs.  Which is cool, just don’t pretend you are better than us.  I mean, you literally started crying about not getting to have sex with him.  I called it early.  Arie FTW.

Now, the worst part.  Harrison showed up in “Caribbean coke party casual” attire and then watched Emily cry for the final 30 minutes of the show.  There’s no crying in baseball and there should only be a little crying in bachelorette, like when someone gets booted.  All this crying is just ruining her chance with whoever wins.

They cried, watched testimonials, the whole time Veneers was making a face like she ate too much jerk chicken and needed some stool softener.  It was like she was watching a show about puppy torture, which is kind of what watching her season of the bachelorette is like.

In the end, she cuts Strawberry Lemonade.  You knew Arie was safe because he and Harrison dressed as twinsies.  Strawberry held it together pretty well all things considered, that’s mostly because he knows he’s going back to his mansion in Texas, can stop with the super religious dad rhetoric and just destroy girls that hang out near the golf clubhouse for another year.  Good times, baby.  Texas, Forever.  Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose.

I don’t cover the bs episode they run next week so I’ll see you in 2 for the finale.  In the meantime, check out this AMAZING reader photo!

One other thing for you.  Being that I am an international resource for attractive women with poor taste in television, I have an invite for my readers I’d pass along.  If you like wine and getting your hair blown out as much as my super attractive wife, maybe you want to check this event out if you are in LA.  Don’t forget to RSVP.



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelorette Recap: Week Eight

*Disclaimer.  I’m so pissed that there are no helicopters or anything good I am just posting pictures of helicopters and zip lines this week.  Deal with it.*

I was totally surprised this week because when we sat down to eat and watch the show (nothing celebrates America for Independence Day more than eating in front of the television watching people perform sex acts for “love”) we noticed our food tasted really bad.  Then I realized that The Bachelorette this season is such a garbage sandwich that all the food you eat tastes like, well, a garbage sandwich?

Have you ever eaten a garbage sandwich?  Sure you did.  You watched the show last night.  On a scale of one to ten, this season has been a colonoscopy that you are awake for.

The producers sat down and thought about how they could spice things up and start the show in a unique way.  Then the crackshot film production major from like, Chapman University, says, “let’s have her talk about how much she missed Ricki” and people were all like “yesssss”.

So after getting our daily, mandatory shot of “Lady Veneers and the Perfect Mother Routine”, she promises Ricki she can sleep in her bed with her, which seems like chemical torture given the amount of spray tan she has on of late.  Poor little girl probably felt like she was trapped in the pool at Marquee in Vegas.  This is what Joker felt like when he fell in the vat of chemicals.

Also, I feel like she said you can sleep in bed with me and then didn’t let her?  It’s hard to tell in her mansion where every room has a monster bed as if she was a Victorian queen, but I feel like she lied to Ricki and covered her in spray tan juice.  But yeah, best mom ever.  I got an idea.  Why don’t you go meet four guys families and make out with them on national television.  How’d that work out last time you went looking for a husband.

Whatever, stick your wet hand in the faulty socket.

Date one is to Chicago where Spidermehhh is still living under the delusion that his begging to be killed after Landon Datavan last week means he no longer is in the bottom 2.  This is just like being excited that if you are in line to buy an Apple product on opening day and you are fifth in line and the nerd comes out and says “we got 3 left”, getting excited when the guy in front of you leaves and you are now fourth in line.

Let me be clear.  Someone in front of you will need to die for you to get that iPad.  And that’s this.  Strawberry Blonde will need to die in a freak Sunday church stampede for you to survive.  I don’t care if your dad is Abe Froman, the sausage king of Chicago and you dress in the finest clothes.  Someone needs to die for you to get that iPad bro.

In proving Spidermehhh reads this blog (like all good people do), in explaining how Polish he was, he said on a scale of one to Polish, he’s Polish.  I’d say on a scale of one to Polish, your face looks like it’s a race for your eyes and mouth to see who can touch your nose first.  That doesn’t have much to do with being Polish, but I just wanted you know know just like you wanted her to know how Polish you were, which totally means a lot to Chompers who moved to North Carolina to avoid all people of all races, religions and ethnicities.

Spidermehhh’s parents are that supercollider combination.  They are both average looking people (except for Dad’s mandatory eastern European wide collar and huge religious necklace combo you recognize from every Russian crime film ever) but when they combine their sauce, they create hot people.  I’m sorry, his sisters were nails, all things considered.  I mean, Chicago is cold and the Polish diet is not known for things like kale and almond butter.  Who cares, these are the two hottest chicks in Chicago.

Proving Spidermehhh is kind of a tool in civilian life, his hot sister basically tells Veneers that she better let Chris down gently if (and she sounded like when) she figured out he was not going to win over a racecar driver, a fashionista with a charitable water company and a guy who blows lines of steroids just to wake up in the morning.

Then I feel like Spidermehhh’s dad lied to his kid about Emily being in love with him, although I may have missed what she said while trying to lock myself in our washing machine and drown myself.  Didn’t work.  Just like Emily being chosen as the Bachelorette.

One final surprise was a Polish traditional band coming over and beyond learning what that was, this was just a waste of Chompers time that she could have spent spray tanning some more.


Off to Jef’s Big Love Polygamist compound deep in the heart of Utah.  Just kidding.  It’s just a ranch.  His parents that are doing “charitable work” are back east methinks are converting non-believers and this gave Jef the perfect chance to have Emily see where he’s from without having to make her convert.  I’m not picking on any religion, just GUESSING that the more men you make out with in hot tubs en route to finding your blessed union, the less Mormon friendly it is.

That said, that ranch was crazy nice.  No wonder he can afford to be an entrepreneur with a water company we’ve never heard of.  It’s because land in Utah costs less than bottled water in NYC and Jef’s parents clearly would be rich for even London or Tokyo.  Combine them and they bought a county-sized ranch.

One Direction took Chompers shooting and neither of them missed anything on camera.  I said to my wife that Emily is from North Carolina and there is NO WAY she doesn’t know how to shoot a firearm.  You don’t move to a racist, all-white state to NOT own a firearm.  That’d be like going to a state fair and not eating a deep fried twinkie.  Move back to Russia, commie!

We got the obligatory “you’re hot holding a gun” comments we see on this show.  No matter what they do, they are hot.  Hey Veneers, if you are such a great mom, get Jef to say you look hot while stopping Ricki from having a tantrum and throwing food all over the kitchen.  “You look so hot when your kid goes batshit six year old and you have snot in your hair”.  Never happens.

Also, this was a big time gun endorsement.  You look hot with a gun?  Do I look hot with the gun pressed against my head because this show is making me want to kill myself?  Oh, I do?  Nice.

Jef brings her to meet the non missionaries in the family and there’s like a billion people and a girl named Kensington which means that despite being cute, she will end up an asshole.  Who was the last person named Kensington you met that wasn’t dreaming of draining small businesses of their resources?

Jef’s brother who got all the seriousness, but none of the hairline seemed like a good guy but I suspect there was a ton of stuff edited out.  I got the sense that every time he was going to bring up faith, they cut.  Still, he seemed like a good enough guy and he probably is constantly pissed he has 2oo kids while his brother rides skateboards, experiments with hairstyles and sells water with the same “he’s so hot” message as TOMS.

Chompers talks to his 34 sisters (or sister wives, sorry had to) at the compound and they avoided the hardball questions.  I just couldn’t get around the one sister who had to be adopted.  In a sea of blondes, she was the missing extra from The Godfather.

Then One Direction read a crazy sappy letter.  Any guy who expresses himself this way will have no trouble spinning a yarn about how he fell out of love with you.  Just a heads up.  They are starting to make me want to throw up.

Then HELICOPTER!  Just kidding, fuck this show.

Off to Scottsdale to kick it with Speed Racer and his European family.  His mother had the typical Arizona beef jerky skin going which was a total shame because 31 years ago when Arie’s racecar dad picked her up, she was probably nails.  He had two creepy acne twin brothers and a sister I kind of blocked out because none of them talked.  They seemed fine.

Then everyone started speaking (pronounced SHPEEKING) Dutch, which was this awkward:

Emily maakt me soms wilt doden mij, want ze is erg saai en deze show is bergafwaarts gegaan met haar als de ster. Soms HEB IK lang voor Chris Harrison te doen drugs maaltje van kliffen en vliegende helikopters en drugshandel verdovende middelen, maar wij worden getrakteerd op deze ongelooflijk saai seizoen dat maakt me vraag mijn zal wonen.

Shee my point people?  I will say that “doen drugs” is funnier than taking drugs and I am using that from now on.  You know.  Chris Harrison.  Hanging out.  Doen drugs.

There was an awkward mother conversation but who fucking cares.  I was counting the minutes until this ended by this point.

Next up was Strawberry Blonde who was so fucking red-faced and so fucking neon-shirted that he had to squint the entire time.  Immediately, Emily could picture herself living in Dallas because everyone is white, the climate sucks and blonde is the official state color.

They went to Strawberry Blonde’s mansion and met his seemingly normal family, except for the fact that the little kid’s backyard dollhouse was bigger than my first four apartments.

They tried to play a joke like Sean still lived at home and loved stuffed animals, but it barely lasted 30 seconds and then the joke was over and we went right into nice dad saying the perfect things combined with Sean saying he’s a muscle head who never gives in to girls.  We saw this with Brad already, so we know Emily digs it.

All I could think about was how fucking gross watching Strawberry Blonde kiss is.  Dude looks like a fucking frog eating an ice cream cone.  Like I get ill thinking about it.  Watch a fucking movie sometime that isn’t a porn, dude.

I’m cutting this short.  They found a way to ruin the hometowns.

We get back to the Peninsula in BH and Emily is dressed for the ice dancing portion of the Winter Olympics.  She goes up and ends the career of Spidermehhh.

They go outside and he’s about to rage.  I will never understand this.  Love is a preference thing.  Freaking out because she didn’t prefer you makes no sense.  Especially when you barely just met.  I get it if you get dumped after years and years and you want an explanation, but at some point you just say “fuck that asshole” and go find someone better (and hopefully hotter and into weirder shit).  You are on the Bachelorette, Chris.  She cuts a guy a week and the previous week you were crying IN THE ROSE CEREMONY after you couldn’t shoot an arrow like a human being after a movie about a little girl who can shoot arrows.   You begged to stay an extra week and were sure that meant you were safe and getting married.  You had this coming.  The key to a happy love life is to never, ever assume you have won.  The day I got married was the day I STARTED courting my wife.  Even low maintenance girls require maintenance.  They aren’t Honda Civics, bro.

Look, you may think in the limo that you are more of a man than these other guys, but none of them cried at a rose ceremony.  Go home, ask your hot sisters how to win.

Next week is the Caribbean dates.  Fantasy Suites.  If this show sucks next week, I may boycott the finale.  No I won’t, but I will welcome the offseason and the timeout the production staff hopefully takes before planning next season.  Admit it.  You all miss Ben now.  I know I do.  [stares whimsically at a window pane with rain falling on it]



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelorette Recap: Week Seven

Guys, this program his hit an all-time low, but that doesn’t mean you should lose hope.  Each week the top comment I receive is that at this point you are just skipping the show and reading the blog.  While I hope we have a better season in 2013 assuming the Mayans were wrong and we all survive (the boring quotient of this show this season certainly feels like a foreshadow of a fiery apocalypse), I am not going to let you down.  I am going to entertain you to the point of infatuation.  We’re seeing this thing through.

Superman wasn’t going to show up.  Zack was.

big love for this to kimberly c. on the twitter machine

Let’s get down to business.  We’re in Prague, one of the most “historic” cities in all the world (along with every other city in Europe and Asia).  From the beginning it was obvious there were serious issues with filming here.  A theme for the episode was that everything looked abandoned.  This is like the fifth fucking time we are treated to a douche circus in an empty castle.  Stop fucking with the formula guys.  You are doing this all wrong.  Hire me.  I will fix this shit.

We were treated to Lady Veneers running around the city talking about missing Ricki Bobbi (derp) and how she feels true love and confidence and sorry, I started tuning out looking around to see if there was a hot, blonde Czech girl we could plug into this journey to spice things up.  I swear even just having someone with a faint grasp on the English language could make this show more interesting.

Chris Harrison showed up VERY spry, like fresh from rehab spry, like coming down from mushrooms spry, and made the guys stand REALLY far away from him in a giant square.  He laid out the rules and that basically since hometowns were at stake, this was the most important week in the history of their insignificant lives until next week when they actually have to put their inbred, broken home families on national television.

I love how everyone thinks their family is great.  Like, if you meet MY family, there’s no way you won’t want to be with me.  How often is that the case on this show?  I think back to Chantal’s ridiculous house in Seattle and her silicon enhanced mother (not really complaining about that part) and the kitchen she used to stress binge eat (whatever, I was into her).  Or how about Kirk (right?) whose father had like 3000 dead, stuffed animals in the basement?  Or poor Kacie B., whose parents possibly are still holding out hope that the Confederacy wins the Civil War. They probably saw Abe Lincoln Vampire Hunter and rooted for the fucking vampires.

So, yeah, guys.  Your family may be a BAD thing.  But go ahead, make an ass of yourself in Prague (cue your asshole well-traveled roommate to remind you, again, that it’s Praha.  Fuck you.  I’ve done advertising for Czechvar beer.  So international right meow.)

Real quick, Praha was so jacked up that the hotel even sucked.  Any time they stick guys in a pinkish suite that doesn’t feel super big and over looks a garden (an expansive one, thanks Strawberry Blonde and congrats on using your “word of the day calendar” word), they couldn’t get a room at the W.  This was the worst suite I’ve seen on this show and by the fact that this show was basically devoid of locals lets you know this city basically Czeched out.

Date one was with Speed Racer who looked like he was infected by an alien parasite.  His eyes were red and his face looked all smashed up.  It’s like he just got out of makeup to play a dead guy in Prometheus with my homeboy and stunt double Fassbender.  That didn’t stop him from making me watch him kiss Lady Veneers so much I hoped she had her Polident in.

Then there was this stuuuupid ass thing where there was for the 1000th time some statue or clock or whatever that means something and Emily makes everyone pay attention.  I feel like this girl goes in a giftshop and buys every snowglobe on the shelf.  Stop with this shit and ride a helicopter.  Stop fucking with DNA.  How did that work for the people in Jurassic Park?  Ride helicopters, jump off buildings and get naked in hot tubs in the Caribbean.

The really dumb part of this was that Arie apparently years ago dated a producer on the show and no one brought this up to Lady Veneers which was a bad call because this chick trips out at things like this.  So, she tries to get him to tell her but he doesn’t, probably because the producer is making more out of this than he was.  I base that on the fact that when she came on camera she was, how do I put this delicately…  Not attractive.

Emily, it’s sweet you are tripping, but I’m calling the producer out on this.  She was in Scottsdale hammered at a bar in a strip mall with a one word name and bottle service and Arie was there and hammered on some sexually named shot that no man should drink and he went home with the average looking producer who was having a YOLO type of night.

The only cool thing about this segment was Chris Harrison giving us two awkward speeches “in the interest of full disclosure”, because this show is such a trustworthy news source.  Thanks, Chris, for a minute I thought this was Frontline on PBS.

Veneers basically told Arie he got a hometown date.  His race to lose.  NEXT.

Spidermehhh is tripping balls he won’t get a one on one date and like I said, his face is shitty to look at.  I want to rub a cheese grater on it after he gets emotional.  I know you do too.  That’s why I love you.  Let’s cuddle in space.

Landon Datavan gets the solo date and it’s more awkward than a vegetarian finding out that vegan mock chicken taco is actually not fake or real chicken, it’s a human toe taco.  Wow, that was a random analogy even for me.  You never expect the Muppets.

I like the Wolf.  I’d kick it with him if he lost the khakis and belt, which I am pretty sure the producers told him were okay to wear (they aren’t).  Like, nothing is working on this date.  They go to the 1000th dungeon or castle for the night date.  Nothing happens except a sob story about Wolf getting cheated on.  Tip for my male readers.  Being cheated on, serious family even, etc, none are turn ons until AFTER the girl thinks you are confident and cool.  Here’s how it works.  People respect you more when they find out bad things happened to you AFTER they think you are a badass.  Like, wow, he’s a badass AND he survived the Titanic sinking?  Let’s have sex in a hot tub.  If you tell people as a lead in, they just feel bad for you.  Friend zone.  Also, you will never truly punish your ex if you lead with the cheating line.  If you lead with it, the person on the date just thinks you are boring and deserved it.  You have to live well and then when it comes up later on after he/she is into you, they just assume your ex was a bitch/douchebag who didn’t have their shit figured out.

Timing is everything.  There’s a reason Paul Bunyan said that.  (He didn’t say that)

Landon Datavan still thinks he did great because he kissed her and given the inner turmoil that Spidermehhh is going thru, it’s safe to assume he may have a chance to be the guy who loses next week.

Strawberry Blonde had a dumb montage where he pretended to vaguely search Praha to find Emily as if the producers didn’t orchestrate this douchebaggery.  Of course, he finds her standing in an empty castlely tunnel and she makes a dumb ass face, they pretend to get a beer, she rubs his arm so much it became aroused and then they kiss with a lot of tongue for like 20 minutes.  Czech please.

Anyway, group date.

Hey, I know.  Let’s go to another fucking castle.

Seriously?  Are we seriously now having date one be “walk around below a castle” and date two is “eat in dungeon beneath castle” and date three is “let’s go to a castle”?  This is a fucking insult and to top the taco we abuse two horses that have to pull500 pounds of muscle head dudes up a cobblestone hill?  How about take a helicopter and don’t hurt a horse.  ABC, you better Czech yourself before your wreck yourself.

This date predictably sucks.  It’s rainy.

Dad is all head-injury weird and Veneers is just like, let’s talk.  She is trying to dump him, but using the same judgement he used when he threatened his girlfriend with a firearm (in fairness, it wasn’t loaded, that’s love) and gave Emily the most friend-zone kiss I ever saw including my first kiss in middle school (she exploded, I am so handsome and smart and funny, let’s all celebrate my birthday early right now).

She sends Doug home and I am glad I can stop talking about him.  Superman wasn’t coming and apparently, his “A” game wasn’t either.  Next time, threaten her with a weapon.

Later in the castle, Spidermehhh freaks the fuck out, cries a little and somehow didn’t get the Bachelorette creepster theme.  Apparently Veneers is putting them to sleep also.

Final date is with One Direction, whose cutesy game is finally starting to wear me down (like the insistence that all men on this show wear blazers with elbow patches).  They buy marionettes and then go to a library that looks like it is in a castle and do a whole skit about falling in love and I give One Direction credit, he’s good at working a marionette.  Weird, no wonder Emily is digging him.  Here’s a Chloe bag.  Douche.

They start talking about family and all that and he basically mentions his parents are super committed to something in South Carolina.  It’s being Mormon mission commanders, meanwhile Jef is clearly not practicing being Mormon because he swears a lot and I feel like he drinks too, but I can’t remember because every cocktail party on this show has sucked.  I support all faiths and all everythings, I just am making a fair warning.  This is not going to go well.

I know Jef isn’t practicing, but he makes it clear if his parents aren’t all in, neither is he.  Are his Mormon parents going to be stoked he’s bringing home a girl who selected him via drunken gameshow by making out with 20 dudes?  Or how about when they see the episode where he says “I wanna date you hard and marry the shit out of you”.  Next week should have potential to be interesting.  Finally.

Rose ceremony time.  Emily is deadset she knows what she wants to do, but with just Wolf and Spidermehhh left, Spidermehhh has an extreme bug out and case of unprovoked man tears and literally calls a time out during the rose ceremony where I am pretty sure he whined his way into the rose.  I have never seen someone so annoyed to give a rose as Chompers was.  Even worse, I have never seen a dude so genuinely excited to get a sympathy card.  Dude, you are done.

Hometowns bring hope.  There won’t be any helicopters, our best chance there is the fantasy suite dates.  Watch the show these last few weeks.  It’s out last chance.  I know I’ll Czech it out.

Here’s some fan love from Courtney and Megan.  Thanks for sending this in.  Remember people, if you want to be on the blog, you better keep flattering me like this (and the amazing Superman drawing above):

Until next week, how about you connect with me.  Had you been my follower on Instagram, you’d have gotten to see in realtime what happened n Silver Lake this weekend.  Or at least the best I could do to document it.



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelorette Recap: Week Six

This season consistently surprises me.  Literally, every time I think it can’t get any worse, it ties me to a chair and urinates on me.  I never thought looking at a hot blonde girl dress like an asshole could be so boring, but at this point I literally would pay hard earned US American dollars to get Hey Bear back to do a dance routine in some vaguely Asian market somewhere.

But hey, let’s talk about this week.  [fart noise]

If you have a friend who likes to go to Europe and then come back and brag to you, you probably already know that Croatia is so hot right now.  Croatia.  So hot right now.  While the poor rich kids are trying to cross off their Europe bucket list of taking Instagrams eating a baguette in Paris, drinking in a pub in London, smoking weed in a coffee shop in Amsterdam and eating tapas in Madrid, the really rich asshole is talking about next level shit like sleeping on a boat in the islands around Croatia and having sex with Aussie tourists that don’t give a shit about things like “STDs” and “alcohol poisoning”.  In terms of Europe, Croatia is the new Prague (or as your asshole jetsetting roommate called it “Praha”, but despite that attention to detail I PROMISE YOU they still pronounce Chipotle as “Chi pol tay” like it isn’t a fucking phonetic word).

does this look at all like the place they were? wasted opportunity.

So with Croatia being so dope these days, what does ABC do?  Hide Croatia under a deluge of bullshit product placements and lazy production work.  When the star is boring, the crew gets bored and eventually, everyone just says “forget the helicopters, hot tubs and adventure let’s just [insert fart noise].”

Let’s just rip this band aid off and hope next week is better.

We start in beautiful D’breadsticks, Croatia with it’s old world charm and Game of Thrones architecture.  It is also a place seemingly devoid of humans.  Just well lit castles.  From the beginning, you got the sense when Croatia signed up to host the show, they hadn’t seen it.  Then they watched it and were like, yeah, you can’t go to the beaches or we’ll lose the drunken Aussies.  Here.  You can go to D’breadsticks and figure it the fuck out.  It’s creepy there.  Enjoy.  Don’t let the locals steal your teeth when you sleep.

Chris Harrison was nowhere to be found, either because he’s not allowed back in this part of Europe or when he was told he was going to D’breadsticks and not some dope beach with drugs, he just stabbed a producer and skydived out of the plane flashing the middle finger the whole way up.  Or he was busy getting divorced.  Either way.  This season lacks Chris and helicopters and I hate Lady Veneers for it.  And all of West Virginia.  And Ricki.  I don’t care that she’s a child.  I want my Bach to be #bachtastic.

Veneers says it’s going to be really hard leaving Ricki Bobbi at home, but honestly eventually there’s gonna be some sex and Ricki is already messed up enough from this show.  I don’t need her in the fantasy suites.  Same time, REALLY GLAD you had to mention her, Emily.  I almost forgot you had a kid in between title cards of you holding your kid in a sun drenched field.  Wait, are you a mom?  On a scale of one to ten, we fucking get it already.

Date one is with Travis, who I don’t even think has been interesting enough to give a nickname yet.  He reminds me of the catcher from Major League II who can’t throw the ball back to the mound and has to memorize Playboy to not overthink even the simplest actions.  But I am guessing most of you haven’t seen it (but it’s on HBO On Demand right now so maybe take a peek and then swoon at how fucking right I am basically all the time about everything.  Yes you can touch me.  Five dollars.)

He had the egg, but somehow it never go creepy enough to harp on.  Whatever.

They had a KILLER date planned with no helicopters.  Thanks.  I got an idea.  Let’s literally just walk around town and say nothing.  Let’s dance for 8 seconds with some random ass band the producers probably flew in from Disney World, Orlando and then let’s cut right to dinner.  Yeah, Travis.  You are totally getting the rose, bud.

At dinner, I blacked out from boredom.  Travis talked about how his engagement broke up (who fails at being engaged?  why even get engaged if you aren’t going to go thru with it?  I have long felt the word “fiancee” was punishment meant to speed up marriage.  “wife” is so much easier to say.  everyone sounds like an asshole when they say fiancee).

Anyway, Chompers cut Travis, no rose, tough shit.  Scrambled Eggs is his nickname now, too bad he’s dead to all of us.  Seems nice enough.  Hope he finds love like the rest of us, as in, not on television with a woman who got a shitty Croatian spray tan and turned orange for no apparent reason.

Group date was the worst product placement for the ABC family of all time.  It was Disney/Pixar’s Brave, which I am stoked to see.  If I wasn’t so down to watch the film, I would have probably flipped my screen onto the ground and dumped everything in my refrigerator on it.

The ABC overlords made the dudes watch Brave in some old theatre, we had to watch them eat popcorn (Strawberry Lemonade eats like a weird teenage girl) and then discuss the characters.  Sweet.  At least Lady Veneers tried to have sex with Kermit during the Muppet integration.  This was just annoying and pointless.  ABC, we get it, she’s a mom, but you are only allowed one of these things a season.  We know it costs a lot to pay Harrison’s bail money and coke debts, but keep it real.  We allow one shameless plug for your intellectual property.  This has been two and if Mickey shows up as the chaperon for the fantasy suites, I am going to Big Thunder Mountain Railroad and leaving dead fish all over it.  And Space Mountain.  No one expects the Muppets.

So after the film, they do the most traditional Croatian activity of all.  Put on Scottish kilts and compete in the highland games, even the the highlands are not in Croatia.  Disney, no wonder our children grow up dumb.  “Mr. Geography Teacher, you’re wrong.  Braveheart was about Croatia, I saw it on the Bachelor”.  Derp.

So to make amends to Croatia, the dudes have to ride to the games on donkeys, because that is traditional for Croats I guess.  Perfect, ABC.  Problem solved.

Then they faked Chompers being able to shoot an arrow and showed that Spidermehhh is the worst athlete ever to be filmed.  They had to shoot arrows, do a caber toss with a bullshit baby caber and then point their junk at each other while wearing skirts and then pull on a wood log (so manly).  Check out what a real caber looks like:

Bigger, right?  By like a football field.  Way to take the training wheels off, ABC.  This season is less extreme than an old person eating oatmeal.  Spidermehhh got the “you’re a total bitch” cup and I think buried that hatchet with Dad when he challenged him to something or other.  Derp.

Night section was a waste of my time except for the ultimate One Direction moves.  He literally pulled the “first of all get under my blanket” move and slowly sprinkles more “I’m into boys” into his game.  Then he said “can I tell you something? you are so friggin hot” and my wife and I had to put off plans to have children until the 2020s because my sperm count vanished.  Thanks One Direction and congrats on looking like a toilet bowl cleaner.  Girls, never trust a guy who asks if he can tell you that you are “friggin” anything.  If he dresses great and knows what a Chloe bag is too, just be weary.

Spidermehhh gets the rose.  Don’t care why.

Final date is Filibuster, who I gave the perfect nickname to.  Bear witness to my greatness.  Look upon my scribblings and gasp, for I am the great prognosticator.  I can spot a douche from a mile away.  You really should send me questions about your personal life.  I will solve them.  (for those that did, I am on it).

We got to see Filibuster’s grooming ritual.  He really goes big with that beard.  The last time I spent so long grooming myself, I got in a limo afterwards and went to prom.  He picked out some turquoise shoes.  He gave himself some compliments.  All of it was useless because earlier in the show he was wearing a woman’s tank top.  That thing was insane.  I feel like some dudes had that in 2003, but most of us knew better.  Not Filibuster.  He knows nothing but the fact he needs to just keep repeating his mission over and over and it will eventually come true.  Dude should replace Romney on the Republican ticket.  Obama vs Filibuster would be the most entertaining election ever, politics aside.  I am entertainment first.  I endorse this message.

So they went oystering (which isn’t a word) on their date and at one point they spoke to an old guy with no teeth.  I could watch Filibuster talk to toothless Croatians all day.  It would be better than Frozen Planet.  It was the best.  He will not break his game for anything.  They got on the boat and were going to eat an oyster and Lady Veneers could not take it.  We were treated to the most awkwardly sexual scene I have ever seen where Filibuster commanded her to swallow the oyster until she eventually walked away and spit it off the side of the boat and then told the captain it was delicious.  I felt uncomfortable being that just ten minutes before I was being sold Disney’s Brave and hearing about Emily being a mother.

Filibuster kept calling her a trophy wife and then for dinner she dressed like a trophy just in time for Filibuster to read her a list of the 11 commandments of being his wife.  I really enjoyed this list and am considering having it emblazoned on a plate to give my wife for our anniversary (just kidding, I am taking her to Hawaii and we’re riding a helicopter, no I am not kidding).  Emily was making faces like she was passing a kidney stone that knows karate.

So she dumped him.

ENTER THE FILIBUSTER.  I have never seen the move on this show before where someone just says “fuck it, I am going to keep talking”.  He was like the villain in a horror movie.  She had to kill him eight fucking times.  It was great.  Filibuster filibusterted until his dying breath where he caught a cab and said some crazy shit.  Then he said the guys would miss him cut against shots of the guys celebrating his show death.  Hunger Games, bitch.

The real topping on the taco was that homeboy said something about the dudes cutting the show portraying him right, not like some arrogant fuck.  The editors showed how much they actually hated him by making a point of showing his “true self” was the kind of guy who shaves a beard like that, wears blue shoes and writes lists for a future wife.

Adios, bud.  Thanks for the entertainment.  Might get hard to watch without you.  Cue the David Guetta.

Speed Racer sneaks out to the bomb shelter Lady Veneers was living in to make out and tell her if she hadn’t dumped Ryan, he’d have told her too.  Kiss ass.

Rose ceremony was boring.  Landon Datavan showed he was a good dude with the death card speech.  Dad was super creep about hugs and kisses and then did one of those I’m-gonna-lose-better-start-crying-about-my-kid things.

The real surprise was that with one rose left, Emily went out back to interrupt Chris Harrison blowing lines off a producer’s neck to change the rules.  She comes in with no rose and makes it out like both Landon Datavan and Dad are going home, but GUESS WHAT?  Harrison comes in buzzin’ with two roses and she keeps them both.  HOORAY!

They are off to Prague (or Praha as your asshole roommate said) and if there is no helicopter soon, I fear I may retire at season’s end.  I need some more chaos.

Like the fact I was totally right that this is all an act.  Check out THIS US WEEKLY report that Ricki’s grandparents hate Lady Veneers now for dragging their grandkid into this whole mess and how everyone says she is a diva now.  What really bums me out is not that she is a diva, it’s that she is not being crazy with that power.  If you are a diva, be ridiculous. DO SOMETHING.  PLEASE.  SOMETHING WITH A PROPELLER THAT FLIES.  KTHXBAI.

Here’s another great shot from  reader Vicky (who has more education than I received).  Send in a pic that flatters me like this and I’ll put you in here.  I will accept that rose.

Lastly, 10:30am PST on ConnecTV in the Watercooler room I do a little live chatting.  Join me!



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelorette Recap: Week Five

Had the Bachelorette existed in the 1700s (apparently just after Filibuster believes Shakespeare was writing, sweet Jesus), our forefathers would have had it so much easier.  There is no way after seeing the travelling shitshow we call “entertainment” that they’d have fought so long and hard to retain the colonies.  I mean, truly, after watching this group tour London I am positive, the Redcoats wouldn’t have been coming, they’d be leaving.

The hardest part for me about this episode, besides everything that happened during it, was listening to Lady Veneers pretend to give a shit about London and recite the same 3 lines about William and Kate getting married.  Look.  London is one of my favorite cities.  They managed to shoot there on the 5 days a year it is not grey and foreboding.  That was misleading because while London’s foggy gloom usually foreshadows a wicked hangover for wild bucks like me, in this case it would serve a fair warning to Lady Veneers:  THIS IS NOT GOING TO END WELL FOR YOU.

We had to be spoon fed our obligatory watch Chompers and Child play on a hotel bed scene.  It was great.  We learned Ricki, despite being what, like six, still thinks dragons live in Buckingham Palace.  I don’t want to be hard on this girl, but isn’t six like a first grader?  Or almost one?  By first grade I understood the rules of baseball and am pretty sure I had no expectation that a fucking dragon was flying out of the Getty Villa.  This is what you get when your rich child has a 1700 sq. ft. bedroom and you let her watch Game of Thrones.  She probably thinks her mother is Khaleesi.

Anyway, the dates got rolling with some steamy ABC After School Special sightseeing with Strawberry Lemonade who was so excited to be in London they made him pack three pairs of “knickers” in case he got too excited.  Which he did on the double decker bus.

What immediately was offputting was the fact that Lady Veneers was clearly sick and had a frog in her throat.  This was mildly disturbing given the fact ABC went out of their way to show that it was possibly Lady Veneers was, in fact, having a torrid affair with Kermit the Frog.  A “frog in her throat”?  Chris Harrison, you pervert!  Emily is from North Carolina now and if there’s anything we learned in their last election, it is that marriage is between a man and a woman there.  Man and a frog?  Do you realize what kind of scrutiny you have put Chompers in?  How will Ricki Bobbi go to school and learn that dragons don’t live in Buckingham Palace (also the name of a Raleigh-Durham strip club) if she is constantly ridiculed for having an amphibisexual mother?  Why ruin the life of someone with such perfectly fake horse teeth?  They take marriage WAY SERIOUS in North Carolina.

I am kidding.  I support all marriages, even the 50% of them that fail.  Or 99% of them if they were formed on this television show.

Anyway, I wish I had more to say about Strawberry Blonde’s date, but he is so boring I want to find the dragon in Buckingham Palace and wear armor made of bacon in hopes I was set ablaze, eaten and sparred the obligatory “can I kiss you” move that everyone does with Chompers.  Is this because she is so hot that guys are freaked out just to let it rip?  Is this because she is from West Virginia and they based the film Deliverance on there and they are afraid she will lure them back woods and Ned Beatty them?  Is it just because with teeth so powerful you want to make sure she’s not chewing gum and creating the potential to have your face chewed off in light of the zombie apocalypse bath salt talk that’s been going around the east coast?

Nope.  It’s just because these guys are weak sauce and there has been one fucking helicopter so far and it is week five.  All of you apologize to Ben Flajnik right now who took helicopters JUST TO GET TO the helicopter he was going to use to go somewhere extreme.

When they made him say London is calling and then played a rip off too-cheap-to-buy-a-license version of the Clash’s “London Calling” a little part of me died and my wife and I spent forty minutes burying it in the yard.  Our neighbors love us.

They rode a double decker bus [fart noise].  They took a picture in front of a soldier [wet fart noise].  Then they had Strawberry Blonde give a speech about love where he sounded like Atticus Finch’s mentally challenged inbred donkey child.  Like, he was speaking like a lawyer-reverend-3rd grade speech class student.  And what the fuck was he even saying?

So you know what my wife deals with, I would have gotten up there and just read the beginning of “Trainspotting” (even though they weren’t British) while randomly nodding my head and flicking people off.  At the end I would have thrown someone’s digital camera over the fence behind me and than ran the opposite direction singing Girl From Ipanema.  Yes I’ll accept that rose, obviously.  You never expect the Muppets.

They kept trying to say London is romantic.  It isn’t.  It’s an amazing city, but it’s a city where they will give you Yorkshire pudding with beef jus in it while you are drinking heavy ale in a pub you can smoke in.  If you go out all day in London and blow your nose, it’s got soot in it.  Cops fight drunks in London over their pint which they have just walked into traffic carrying.  London plays for keeps.  It doesn’t play for romance.

Proof?  You went on a date to the Tower of London.  All that tour is about are dudes called Beefeaters (hilarious) telling you that you need to tip your executioner a lot so he cuts your head off in one fell swoop as many prisoners suffered a grisly death of like ten blows before the head came off.  If you have been to London on this tour, you know that it is just all about gross out stories.

So yeah, let’s go inside, eat food shipped in from an organic restaurant in La Jolla and talk about how many kids we want.  And what better place to talk about how many kids you want than the Tower of London in romantic…London.

And how about that?  Emily.  These dudes will make babies with you.  If you don’t quit asking, the porn music will start and you will have to put your money where your mouth is and conceive these kids.  Hell, you want so many kids, just have one with each of the top five and then marry the one who has the best DNA (or at least the one you think can get Ricki off thinking dragons exist).

He gets a rose, I went and got a scotch.

Group date was more England racism.  Let’s go perform a bunch of Shakespeare again.  The Talented Mr. Lipstick was legit creepy the whole time.  He took it really seriously, when the correct answer was this:

Which of my readers would not fall in love me with if in England in front of a bunch of hard core thespians who take shit way too seriously I just did a scene from Billy Madison and played BOTH Adam Sandler and that other guy?  Wait, you are all in love with me already?  Yes, I accept that rose and no it’s not hard to be so humble.

Filibuster grew back the Seneca Wallace and perved out hard when he got to kiss Chompers.  Speed Racer kept getting a red face and every girl everywhere was all like “awwwww”.  Seriously, from my California home it sounded like there was a cat genocide.  Get over yourselves.  Egg Guy was fine, but like I still just don’t have a name for him and whatever [fart noise].

The only other note was Kalon telling Chompers to “run along” so he could practice and America was outraged at the fact this douchebag was still a douchebag. DUN DUN DAH!

Also, Emily responded by saying “this isn’t Broadway” and I am thinking, Jesus ABC, you got her to memorize all this other shit about London but you couldn’t get her to say West End instead of Broadway?  England like invented the play.  THEY WERE IN ENGLAND DOING A PLAY FOR A DATE BECAUSE ENGLAND IS SO FUCKING THEATERY.  Just because Veneers is boring and her daughter still believes in dragons doesn’t mean you get to phone it in and not give us helicopters or fact checking.  I mean, shit.  In Belize they were like explaining the top exports and gross national product over a ten year span.  GET IT RIGHT.

Then, in more English racism and because Harrison had to go pick up some Diana Ross (they call cocaine that there sometimes, especially if you look dumb and American, are on Spring Break lost in the West End after your mother bought you tickets to see Lion King and you drank a lot of tequila in a weird bomb shelter bar right before curtains up), they went to a pub for a pint.  Derp.

That’s when the fireworks started because Talented Mr. Lipstick called Ricki baggage, and in fairness, who wants to tell a kid dragons are only on Game of Thrones.  Dad decided to throw him under the bus and then Filibuster stood up and was all “that was not a cool thing to say” and the pile on began.  Lipstick was defenseless.

Lady Veneers said she was gonna go West Virginia, hoodrat, backwoods on him, only then she let Doug do the hard work.  I don’t think she knows what West Virginia, hoodrat, backwoods is, because again, it’s Deliverance.  It’s a deformed kid playing a banjo.  It’s “squeal piggy” (please don’t see the movie if you can’t handle rape, Burt Reynolds or both).  It’s not kicking a man in a women’s sweater out of a pub to leave England in a minivan.

Filibuster bought Emily a present and what was hilarious was she totally started coming around to him, proving my point that to be on this show you need to be the kind of girl that can be bought off by jewelry and 11th grade football player game.  “I’m gonna ignore your beard shape and the fact you are a walking erection and just accept this gift because it would go great with this racerback I just bought”.  Seems like only yesterday he was writing her 7th grade poetry and calling her a future fat chick.  I love Filibuster so much.

The worst part of this date was that Emily, who apparently wants a man’s  man, expected all these guys to puke and tell her what Kalon had said.  A man’s man doesn’t puke.  He gets a guy like One Direction to puke and then says “I was gonna tell you but he beat me to it”.  Emily is creating a house full of super whiner assholes out of a house of whiner assholes.

Next date was One Direction who was wearing a suit right off the Bonobos catalogue.  How did he pack for this trip?  He had casual high sock Bermuda wear for last week.  Now, he is ready to go riding in case the show’s British racism lead to a spontaneous polo match.

They went to an etiquette class that was just a failed experiment.  Jef was fine.  Emily was sick and bored and just for good measure, they faked it like they ran out.  The lady came back in doing her best Hogwarts professor “WHERE ON EARTH DID THEY GO”.  Speaking of which, anyone else feel like HBO has been playing Deathly Hallows Part Two on repeat for a month now?  It’s the new “Call Me Maybe” which was the new “Levels”.

They left to… GO TO A PUB.  Again.

Jef ordered two pints and a fish and chips.  Racist.  (I know this is not racism, but nationalisticisimsmsm, but let’s be honest, I don’t remember what I just wrote.  You never expect the Muppets and on a scale of one to ten…  Dragons).  Look, fish and chips is fine.  I get it.  But two “pints”.  This is like ordering two “glasses” at a bar in the use.  A pint of what One Direction?  Tartar sauce?  Urine?  Oh, beer?  Got it.  Pick one.  We have 200 on tap because it’s England.

Then, super fun, One Direction says something about a Chloe handbag.  I do not claim to be an alpha male (alpha males don’t need to claim anything, we built this city on rock and roll).  I mean, look, I lived in Beverly Hills and am aware of ladies’ brands and the basics of couture.  My Chuck Taylors are made by John Varvatos.  I mean, I am kind of a dick.  The thing is, I didn’t know what a Chloe bag was.  Now I do and I know one thing:  Jef shouldn’t know about it.  He also said like “a Chloe handbag you’d want to keep forever”.  I always thought Jef was just a mellow slow roller, but maybe he’s just super into fashion or maybe, like Emily, he is into Kermit the Frog too.  Like, he’s not a Miss Piggy kind of guy, but I bet he knows what purse she wants.

Yeesh.  Emily was won over by Filibuster’s dumb necklace, so Jef might be the new Ames.  One Direction seems wrong.  Both Directions, probably.  Good for him.  That’s so not Salt Lake City and I dig it.

They then went in the London Eye, talked a bunch about nothing and it was boring.  Jef did however say he would have non-stop all night dance parties with Ricki in Salt Lake City which sounds terrible, just like Salt Lake City.  [fart noise].

Then, like everyone else, he asked to kiss her, but at least wasn’t gross about it like Speed Racer, who leads with more tongue than an ear, nose and throat doctor.

Cocktail party, Chompers just interrogates everyone as to why on earth they wouldn’t sell out a guy who would never ever win.  Filibuster continues his headfuck by just doing the thespian thing AGAIN, but it works and now Emily can be bought by jewelry or the even more timeless male tactic of “be a dick, then be nice, rinse and fucking repeat”.  Thanks Agoura High School for teaching me everything I needed to know to cover bad reality television.

In the end, having only to do with the fact he was the last non white dude on the show, Alelelelejando was booted.  Forget the fact this guy was gonna be a banker.  Forget the fact that the “mushroom farmer” as ABC calls it actually invented a way to grow gourmet mushrooms out of recycled coffee grounds which he has sold to Chez Panisse and Whole Foods and got a grant from Berkeley.  Emily likes white dudes with Seneca Crane beards that bribe her and treat her like shit.  And will lie to Ricki about the existence of dragons.

Off to Croatia.

Couple things…

FIRST.  A BIG ASS HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO KAARIN O. AND HER LOST ANGELES FANS WRITING FROM SEATTLE.  Seriously, I hope this birthday feels better than a helicopter ride in the Alps.

SECOND.  At the urging of many of my readers and now a few of my friends, I am going to do some advice posts.  Send me an email at lostangelesblog [at] gmail [dot] com and ask me your question.  I’ll hide your real name, all that jazz, but I will also solve your problems.  Want to Filibuster?  I can help.  Want to STOP A FILIBUSTER?  That too.  Send me some emails and I will post more content and probably save your world.  All I ask is that you name your kid Zack (boy or girl, don’t care) and buy them a hot ride when they turn 16 so they get some hot dates.

LASTLY-  FOLLOW ME.  My tweets are legend.  Instagram is now heating up.  Facebook fan page gets extra content.  Keep an eye out for me on ConnecTV, I’ll be doing some live chat on Tuesdays.  Google them to learn more.



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelorette Recap: Week Four

Oh hey.

Right off the bat there was a random duck shot followed by One Direction doing that pump-up-run-skip move that boy band members do before they break into synchronized dance to “let the crowd know it’s about to happen”.

Then Chris Harrison told them they were going to Bermuda and what better place to act like a nerdy group of UCLA frat boys than Bermuda.  Where there’s a triangle.  Where I hope they all get sucked so deep into the abyss that only James Cameron has the means to find them.

Ok.  Lady Veneers.  STOP TALKING ABOUT RICKI BOBBI.  I get that you want to find a dad for her.  I definitely get you want to procreate more because it’s all you talk about.  Let’s just be real.  Flying a kite with your daughter for 20 seconds before spending a week making out with strangers does not a good example make.  Nor is it good to have her help your bathroom getting ready ritual.  Ricki will be spray tanning, putting in extensions and wanting to make out on the beach constantly.  Whatever, at least she’s rich.  No one expects the Muppets.

Stop.  Scooter time.

If Emily wasn’t turned on enough by her journey to find love in Bermuda, the oven was preheat to “self-cleaning” when a gaggle of scooter douches took over the road.  A male scooter scene couldn’t turn on a sex addict.  Of course we were treated to the amazing, obligatory “we pulled up to the Starrose Lazer Tag Ranch” plug.  I forget the name of the hotel and god knows I am not kicking them a dollar of press (unless they treat me like Chris Harrison and give me rooms and a promise that when I close my door, all screams coming from inside will be ignored).

I can’t take the guys wooping it up about the room or posing on the balcony.  At least Speed Racer had some fun pretending the date card was for him, then headfucking Dad for like 20 minutes straight.  Doug is turning into total creep show murderer potential.  I don’t believe him at all at this point.  A commenter mentioned he had a domestic abuse charge in his past, but I didn’t care enough to verify.  Either way, Dad has a super awkward habit of finding ways to casually flex no matter what he’s doing.  Kind of like how Filibuster has a super awkward habit of having a face you want to smash with a tack hammer.

casual flexxxxxxxxx

Seriously Arie, just let it go, bro, seriously, kay, just let it go, bro, seriously?  Fuck Dad, I am over it.

So, Lady Veneers insulted me by going the vague Asian market route with this date even though they were in the Caribbean.  Yayayayaya let’s go try perfumes so Doug can say “that’s actually really nice” or do further things to make me want to let cars run over my junk in the parking lot.  Then they sit in front of a church and Doug talks about starting a charity (for what, asshole) and that “Superman wasn’t going to show up” and I hoped some pirates showed up and stabbed him in the leg and robbed him.

You can’t trust a man who says “Oh my god, let’s do it!” when she suggests writing a letter to his son that will only confuse him.  This isn’t Sleepless in Seattle.  This is Bachelorette in Bermuda.  Superman wasn’t going to show up.

Can you assholes get on a fucking helicopter already?

We found out Nasty Nate doesn’t want to be on the two on one date which means he is damned to go on the two-on-one date and fail miserably.  When in a two-on-one battle, you need to fucking want it.  You need to go in and just cut the other guys throat with your witty banter and then put him on an awkward defensive, but as you saw later, Nasty Nate needed no opponent to totally shit his pants.  He had everything he needed to do that himself.

So meanwhile Doug got the creepy Bachelorette music when he was unable to give his faults beyond “I am too good at being a Dad”.  Then Lady Veneers tried to show him she had faults but she did the same damn thing.  Really, Chompers?  I am sure the world is so pissed when you wear juicy pants out to the dry cleaners.  We’re pissed when your fat neighbor does that.  Doug, a good place to start with listing faults might be that internet news sites are claiming you assaulted your ex-girlfriend with a weapon.  So, if she really was complaining just that you didn’t wash her car enough, I am guessing she was on meth at the time or you misunderstood her while you were choking her.  Either way, you didn’t kiss Chompers so you are a total puss.  When I was on MTV’s Dismissed in college, I kissed the girl and she wasn’t even my type and it was gross.  Superman wasn’t going to show up, Doug.  So I did.  And I won.  And I didn’t have to get accused of beating anyone in the process.

Real quick.  Sweaters are Chompers’ sweet spot.  Good job Dr. Smith.

So the dudes had to do a sailing competition.  Strawberry Lemonade told us he played D1 College Football so he is competitive.  And he got his new nickname.  TO THE TEPID HIGH SEAS!

Not my fav.  Just a lot of dudes jumping around and showing their asses in white shorts.  I feel like some women liked it.  Women tend to think almost anything is hot if they aren’t used to seeing guys doing it.  Like crew.  I mean, honestly, crew sounds sexy to women until they really extrapolate that their man is waking up at 4am to get into tights, sit in a line and work out with a bunch of dudes.  I prefer working out without a dude straddling me while I am straddling a dude.  Maybe it’s a me thing.  Superman wasn’t going to show up.

It was massively confusing to figure out who was winning, but despite D1 College Football’s best efforts, yellow team won.  I preferred the slutty baseball game from Ben’s season.  And then Half Damon started crying because they lost and I have NO IDEA how the music supervisor didn’t drop the Creepy Bachelor Theme.

The night date was all about Filibuster’s super perving.  This guy needs to be drowned in a giant bowl of French onion soup, buried under bread and Gruyere.  I can’t hang with this dude but at the same time, he has a Tom Cruise in Magnolia kind of magnetism.  Veneers hates this bro sandwich and the producers are forcing her to keep him.  There’s no question.  All he does is that pervy occupy all your time and not let you talk and hope by default you end up sleeping with him.  Ladies, you need to stop this.  Only you can prevent forest fires and spontaneous douche attacks.

What in hell is this dude thinking?  At one point in the cocktail hour he started talking about BEING the Bachelor next time and how America deserves to see it.  Honestly, it’s so off, maybe it is on?  Like, can you imagine the chauvinistic version of American Gladiators this would become.  He’d be like “I like a women to be fit, so this week you all don’t eat”.  It’d be genius.  No one expects the Muppets.

One Direction had some more of his good, vague stony game.  It totally worked, again, and he got the rose.  He occupies this weird loophole in society where so much about him screams “total dipshit” but he somehow is able to stop the car short of going on the rails all the time.

Speed Racer is a gross ass kisser.  He’s a tongue leader.  He’s an over knee-tickler.  At least he’s going for it.  Except no one likes kissing and walking, same time.  Come on.

Let’s cut real quick to Ricki swimming.  Sigh.  JUST CUT TO A HELICOPTER I AM SO ANGRY AT YOU I MAY FIND HEY BEAR AND LEAVE A FISH HEAD IN HER CAR.  So long as Assassin wasn’t around.  JP can kill a man.

Anyway, the Two on Juan battle was between Wolf, the Data destruction specialist (who I now am calling Landon Datavan, seriously, it’s our finest soccer star if our finest soccer star had a deeper voice and more hair) and Nasty Nate.  This date just sucked.  They jumped off a cliff, barely talked and in the end, Nasty Nate had two critical sins:

  1. While quinoa is a difficult word for non-Californians, don’t say it unless you overhead the correct pronunciation at Whole Foods.  To say Quinn No Wah eight times on television is a deal breaker for girls and if that seems harsh, you don’t know girls and your wife/girlfriend/girl you can’t get would rather be with me, who can pronounce quinoa, or simply, wouldn’t mention it to begin with.
  2. Don’t cry when you talk about your brother unless he is dead, dying or fighting in a war somewhere.  Your brother being a great guy shouldn’t cue the waterworks.  It just didn’t make sense.  I know you were trying to fit a lot in at once, and look, you sure did, but crying wasn’t the tactic.
  3. Fuck it, I am adding a third.  He stole Zach Morris’ neon t-shirt under a blazer look, but used a khaki blazer.  God hates people in khaki suits.  Try to remember a time anyone won anything in a khaki suit outside of a golf course or midwest insurance award ceremony.

All Landon Datavan had to do was punch a through ball passed a sleeping goalie.  And he did, by being normal.  At least Nasty Nate can go see his brother now.

The best thing about Emily is that she dumps people colder than anyone.  I thought my homie Ben dropped girls hard.  Nope.  Emily will cut you without blinking.

The cocktail party was kind of random.  Highlights included me getting bored, Filibuster wasting more of our time, and the Talented Mr. Lipstick’s casual billiards attire.

Closing the loop from the earlier confrontation about Spidermehhh’s age, he decided the mature thing to do was pull Dad aside and have a confused, whiny conversation about demanding respect because nothing shows maturity like demanding respect.  Spidermehhh.  Men TAKE respect, they don’t whine for it.  This was like the Hulk and Spiderman getting ready to fight, only it just rained, which was probably God peeing on them because they both suck.

Lady Veneers and Chris Harrison talked and Chris was just really stoned this time, nothing hard yet, too early in the season.  His eyes were tired and he kept laughing at everything and slurring his words.  If you turn the volume off and picture the conversation being about the new Hobbit movie, you will see it.

Emily cut Half Damon and Brony Tail.  It was a mercy kill for Half Damon.  I am glad he is set free.  Like I am.  Until they go to London next week and I am forced to entertain you more.  It is my calling and Superman isn’t gonna show up.



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelorette Recap: Week Three

On this very special Memorial Day, I chose to remember all the fallen suitors over the past couple of seasons.  Just kidding, I went to a baseball game with my wife and we drank beer and ate meat in tube form and sang the national anthem.  That’s how we do it, America.  Then we went home and watched Bachelorette and in a way, the terrorists won.

Hope you enjoyed the long weekend more than the contestants are about to.  Clip’s full, let’s unload some shells.

Lady Veneers was in bed in the beginning of the episode to show us that she is just like the rest of us.  Like all of us, an odd 38 year old doppleganger mother brings us a plate of hummus, meat and vegetables in bed so that we may eat virtually carb-less before we even take off the make-up we pretended to sleep in.  Traditional as Thanksgiving Dinner, right?

I just had to ask, where was the power sander they use to keep those chompers so white?

I hate the trend in this show where the producers make the dudes say something after they read what’s on a date card.  I mean, I laughed at how close to 70s pornography it came when the card read something like “come close to my heart” and I think Filibuster was like “that I can do”.  It’s just that now when they write anything, the dude has to be like “blurrrrhghg”.  I can’t deal with a totally throw away sentence.  I talk a lot, but I feel like there’s a point most of the time.  When someone reads a note that’s like “fly with Angels” and then they say “I’m just happy to fly anywhere with an angel like her” I am pretty sure ten shelter puppies die.

So, the first date went to Spidermehhhh, who still looked like Toby is he was swinging on a web and then went face first into a brick wall.  I got to hear the hot new catch phrase of “I’m so happy to be here” eight times as they walked through Charlotte which I never knew until now looks like Gotham City from the “shitty Batman years”:

They get to a wall and down come the rope climbing apparatuses.  Too perfect, right?  Spidermehhhh has to climb a wall.  They lock into the harnesses and start going up the wall super slow and awkward.  Lady Veneers clearly had to sign a deal where she had to be fun once every 3 weeks which was tough because that meant every three weeks we’d miss the zany antics of Half Damon substitute teaching at a children’s homeless shelter.  YOU ARE ON THE BACHELORETTE DON’T TRY TO SAVE THE WORLD JUST RIDE A HELICOPTER GET WASTED ON OAKY CHARDONNAY AND MAKE A MISTAKE IN A HOT TUB.  kthxbai.

Anyway, they are climbing this building and Spidermehhh sucks at it.  Lady Veneers has the mandatory “I don’t think I can do this” moment and then Spidermehhh is like “I’ll be there in a second to help you, derp” and then he can’t figure it out.  So they just climb up and he doesn’t kiss her.  He even had a lightning storm.  I’d say the no kiss was a nice slow-roll but it was a no-roll since she gave him an in.

Meh.  Some talk about him being young.  I considered making a smoothie out of Drain-O and Comet.  More lightning.  Then they go downstairs for a Luke Bryan concert and this asshole knew the words which in my mind made him an asshole.  I know now from my wife who listens to music besides dubstep remixes of disco songs (I know what the ladies like) that this guy is popular and if you like country you probably know the words.  I’m sorry.  Ladies, good life lesson.  If I guy likes country music first, he will expect you to cook and probably try to box you one night when he finds his old high school football trophy and wonders what his life has become.  Just marry the guy who still tries to go to Coachella into his 40s because at least there’s no surprises.  I think we’re all just trying to feel comfortable with the kind of douches we are.  Don’t be country douche, even if the blonde with fake boobs and chompers likes country.  Believe me, she liked Brad.  If you told her industrial goth rock was what you were into, she’d support it so long as you were vaguely racist and gave her that minivan full of babies (which gets creepier each time I say it).

So Spidermehhh forgot that Spiderman won all the girls over by just kissing Dunst upside down and actually asked Emily if he could kiss her “at the end of this song”.  What’s next?  “Can we procreate after this re-run of Grey’s Anatomy?”  Kill me now.  Way to NOT look like a 25 year old who has never been with a hot girl before.  You can’t say you are mature and ask for a kiss once a song ends.  Even that asshole last season made out with Hey Bear when they were at the Bellagio fountain in Vegas.  And that guy cried at PS I Love You.

The rest of this date ended with Spidermehhh delusional in believing he was special and that Lady Veneers had an unbreakable bond, the kind only forged in the hot steel of a boring climb up a building in which you couldn’t give her the standard “mid-air reassurance hug” OR the “we just climbed something, let’s suck face”.  See how that works out for you, brah.

Team date.  Sweet!

Chompers came out in a green top that was like “boobs” and then all the dudes showed up in the park and what better place to find love than in a park…

Emily came out and we saw how there is zero correlation between having an athletic body and being an athlete.  The last time I saw people throwing footballs like that was 9th grade powder puff practice.  Also, every dude is bringing back the look (that I don’t think was ever in) of like a shirt way too tight for their shorts, almost like they had Under Armour on, which again might make sense if they threw a football at least at 14 year old girl level.

Shit was like a V-Neck convention in Williamsburg (Brooklyn, not Virginia).

So Emily let’s us know that instead of helicopters (again), we get to bring back her lame ass friends including random Indian lady and beef jerky, who I am now calling Chelsea Manhandler.  I mean this chick was so scary.  I was being nice calling her beef jerky.  It was so much worse than that.  She made the facial moves of an old farmer who has changed the way he moves his mouth to avoid involuntarily spitting tobacco on people coming to buy his crops.  That and when she made Strawberry Lemonade take his shirt off (yes, that’s what I am calling the random blonde guy who gets a really red face) she looked the way women look at coffee shops when you know they have 50 Shades of Grey on their Kindles.

Side note, I’ve read a few excerpts.  Girls, if you can read this crap, stop bothering your boyfriend about his porn.  If porn is string cheese, you guys are making burrata from scratch with that book.  No double standards.

Speaking of double standards, Filibuster had a great episode and by great I mean I think he slips quaaludes to goats and takes them out to dinner.  First of all, what made him decide to shave an evil beard?  Did you guys see that?  It was full on the Seneca Crane.

On top of that bold choice, he continued his awful game (that works on many girls) of just sort of bumrushing her and not letting anyone else talk.  His strategy is noble, like that of the light brigade who charged boldly into the fray with little hope of survival, in that he is simply going to play the odds that he can box out every other man, despite the fact that the show is designed to foil this plan.  I guess how smart do you expect a guy who shaves a Seneca Crane beard to be?

Then, in a move WE ALL KNOW works wonders, he told Lady Veneers that if she got fat he’d still love her but not love ON her, right in front of her miserable friends.  This is so aggressive I thought it might even work.  I don’t think it will long run.  Filibuster is a meat puppet.  His fall will be delicious.

I blacked out most of the other conversations and the part where kids came out to play just because I couldn’t deal with Chelsea Manhandler any more and also, it just seems weird to me that on this show mothers sign release forms to let their kids play with suitors.

The night part of the date was brutal because Dad was basically like “hey, my story is so depressing you will need that ridiculously overfilled goblet of oaky chard to get through it” and while I liked Dad more for his foster home story, Emily’s tears were a sign that he’d gone into the friend zone.  You bought yourself some time, but save the sob story truth until she is into it.  He’s legit a tough dude and seems like a great guy, but just from a strategic place, you want to wait longer.  He’s been all “my kids, my sob story”.  He needs to be like “I want to make babies with you” and then it’s like “how do you know you can handle it” and he’s like “my father was an orc who died in Middle Earth and I raised myself amongst the hobbits and eventually saved the day” and she’d be like, “damn I thought you just lifted weights” and then he’s like “no, Chompers.  I lift nations”.

I just got fired up.

Strawberry Lemonade got the rose, right?  I forgot.

All I know is that Barry Manilow self destructed for no apparent reason.  He said his kid was sad he was gone, but Dad AND Chompers both told him that five year olds don’t remember the dump they just took, so let’s keep it real.  Barry Manilow wanted to go home.  He wore a really awkward sweater and the awkwardness was too much and he had to get home to his kid who didn’t need him at home at all.  Something else was up with this dude (besides the sweater).  I guess we’ll never know and I am pretty sure I’ll forget about it before I finish this… what was I talking about?

Kudos to Lady Veneers though for basically saying “Dude, I’d make you stay but you aren’t winning so yeah, maybe kick it with your kid because I am not intending to adopt him”.  Cold shit, Chompers.  Like novocaine, which you are intimately familiar with.

Final date card went to Speed Racer, who I’ve said from the get-go had an inside track.  He’s a rare blend of extreme sportsman and total puss.  For a girl like Lady Veneers, it could be too much to handle.  His hair gives One Direction a run for its money.

It was easy to tell how Emily felt about Speed Racer because, well, she went with the asset-enhancing sweater/cowboy boots/non existent jean shorts look which typically works on dudes that haven’t dated cowgirls before.

Lady Veneers has effectively replaced the helicopter with the far more boring private plan as they puddle hop around the scenic armpit of the USA.  I mean, didn’t Ricki Bobbi’s dad die in a plane crash?  Like, on Brad’s season being at the racetrack fucked her head up, but now she can date a race car driver and fly tiny planes around the south?  Lost.

And what better place to be lost than DOLLYWOOD!

A celebration of country music, roller coasters and places I will probably never go, Speed Racer and Chompers roll around Dollywood continuing her tour of places this poor bastard will have to hang out at if he wins her heart.  Then, in SHOCKING FORM, Dolly Parton herself came out to surprise Emily.  You never expect the Muppets.

This was actually a great moment.  Besides the fact that Speed Racer can’t dance, Emily was so excited I was actually happy with her and you kind of have to respect Dolly for being 200 years old, a silicon pioneer and faithful to her man.  She also, subsequently, sings awesome and is a delight in most movies she’s in.  I was happy for everyone.

Ironically, Emily (just as she had done to Brad), basically locked up with Arie and this shit is over for now.  Only One Direction has the kind of game required to deal with what Speed Racer did.  She was super into that shit.  It was even more obvious at the cocktail party.

Cinnamon was amazing when he told Emily it would be a compromise to adopt Ricki.  I thought it was language barrier at first, but then was delighted when he smiled like a moron and said “no language barrier, fuck your baggage”.  She kicked him off and got super upset and Speed Racer took the inside lane to a makeout sesh.  Dude is icing the competition and Filibuster hated it.  He was speaking like this shit was Gladiator.  I can’t wait to see where this goes.  Filibuster is a walking Viagra side-effect and Arie is the opposite.  Should be fun for us.

Don’t care about the egg smashing.  Nothing fun to say.

The Talented Mr. Lipstick proved the producers have a say in who says in the bottom half of the rose ceremony because after his wildly douchetastic “I love the sound of your voice but let me finish talking” Emily was out.  Still, this douche got a rose.  Somewhere, Bentley is stoked because at least that asshole might be fun to golf or have a beer with.  Talented Mr. Lipstick is the biggest asshole ever, and I don’t mean he’s a jerk.  I mean asshole like “who the fuck is this clown shoes MFer” kind of asshole.

Party MC got his record scratched.  He seemed fine.  At least it’s a short flight to Jersey.

You know where to find me (add me on these social links below) and I’ll see you next week when maybe there’s a freaking helicopter or hot tub.



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette