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Bachelorette Recap: Week Two

I’d say good morning, but it isn’t.  Last night my worst fears were realized.  The Bachelorette, much to my prediction, finally jumped the shark.  It’s hard to jump the shark when your show typically involves dates where you take a helicopter to a place where you actually jump over sharks, but ABC menage a trois’d to do it.  I warned them that Lady Veneers would be boring.  I warned them she’d make them do all kinds of “I’m a good mom” shit and that half the country would be fooled, but what has two thumbs and is going to call it like it is:  THIS GUY.

Fair warning, some nicknames will change as we get to know these idiots.

Let’s just get right into it.  Ryan, the guy who gives steroids to children and has more jawline than a Luke Wilson convention, gets the first one on one date confirming that despite the fact Lady Veneers keeps saying she wants to move on to a better guy, will still just pick the more athletic-obviously frat rock asshole out there.  Look, I love to hang with frat rock asshole, but I’m a guy and I think it’s funny when people like Lady Veneers say “I need to protect my hand” before shoving it into a wood chipper.

Real quick, he gets a new name and that name is “Filibuster”.  That’s because later in the episode when Barry Manilow tries to steal LV away from him to show her how much he looks like the animated mouse star of An American Tail (or Fievel Goes West, your choice), Filibuster makes her read a 7 page note that was so dumb I was sure it was the collection of all his love notes from middle school.

Anyway, so Filibuster gets the first date and if you couldn’t smell that this dude was a huge dick from a mile away, you are sleeping.  Ladies, a man owes it to you to have unique game.  No man goes to the gym that much, played pro sports, and wears really thin v-neck shirts because he wants to raise you kid. He spent his whole life learning how to do just enough so his coaches wouldn’t ride his ass like your high school jeans that don’t fit anymore.  He is going to say whatever the fuck he needs to say to make you think he’s all good and you will hear what you want to hear, ignoring intonation and better judgment.  Ladies, if you are dating a man like this right now, get out, he’s lying.  If you are that guy, don’t worry.  Keep doing what you are doing because she is going to ignore it and my advice, and that will probably make you enjoy it more (even though you told your friends at the bar last week you were bored).

Prior to the date, Lady Veneers had ABC stage that she actually hangs out with old chicks.  There was a beef jerky tanned mom, a strange Indian lady who didn’t talk (convinced they just brought her over from another family hanging at the park) and then someone else I couldn’t remember because I was so confused that ABC wanted us to believe the biggest celebrity in Charlotte hangs out with old chicks because they are moms of Ricki Bobby’s friends.  Also, she was bringing them there to have them take her to soccer?  That was a “big help”?  Yes, ABC.  We totally believe you.  It was way more convenient to set up a shoot at a park with 3 strangers and then have security escort Ricki Bobby to soccer than to just drop the damn kid off.

Look, I get it.  You want to be promiscuous and respected at the same time.  Unless you date Party MC, it can’t happen.  You can’t have your pie and also have sex with it too.  We all have to choose.  You chose to be the Bachelorette after saying how you hated it.  Stop ruining my Magical Helicopter Tour of the Known Sexual Universe, marry a fat guy who is a doctor and let HIM make your Hummer Limo filled with babies.  You are insulting my superior intelligence.

So, on the most painful date since Hey Bear took assholes to random Asian markets nine weeks in a row, Filibuster gets rescued from the standard homoerotic all-male sunbathing revue at the mansion to get in an Aston Martin and go on some magical date.  Only because Emily is hellbent on showing us she’s a good mom (good moms don’t go on the Bachelorette in the YouTube era), she makes him bring in groceries and bake cookies with her.  He used a fucking whisk to stir the batter.  Seriously meat stick?  I don’t care if you don’t cook or bake, does that make any sense?  Just on a basic viscosity vs tool level?  Yes, I know how to bake and cook, but that’s just because I’m perfect.  I mix drinks that kill people in far off lands without me knowing.

So Filibuster could not have looked more unamused this entire time.  Didn’t bother Chompers even a little bit.  She just kept saying what a good sport he was, even when she made him come to soccer practice and sit in the car and he clearly was giving her the “fuck you” face, which if you date girls, you know works when they are insecure.  Don’t be that girl, readers.  Don’t do it.

Look, just because Filibuster literally said the right things didn’t change that he didn’t try to put any conviction behind it.  When I was young and lied to girls, I did it like One Direction did it.  With a stony, what’s he thinking-slash-what’s he staring at on that fictional horizon in the distance sort of panache.  And it works.

Filibuster was relieved to have a normal Bach date in a douchey restaurant in Charlotte called “Osso”, because no one knows upscale Italian like North Carolina…  Now, please tell me you can picture Beef Jerky and Emily’s other 2 friends hanging out with her at a place like Osso.  TRY HARDER ABC.  Harrison’s divorce is affecting my enjoyment of this show.

So the entire date sounded like farts were coming out of Filibuster’s mouth and Emily being like “hooray!”  Then she kept repeating he was hot and that since Brad was hot, it might not work out.  Right.   I am sure you’d have trouble meeting an ugly guy, Emily.

Finally, they went outside and some band called like “Pomegranate” or “Bananas Foster” played some country girl please kiss me butt jam and Emily showed she has less rhythm than a broken windchime.  Also, we learned that phrases like “journey to find love and what better place to find love than Charlotte” are gone, giving way to both “I’m so happy you’re here” and “there’s no place in the entire world I’d rather be”, which were repeated incessantly by everyone the entire episode, including James Van Der Geek who later shit the bed on his date.  We’ll get there.  If I don’t kill myself.

Date two is theatre related and I am just glad I don’t have to watch Hey Bear dance in a midriff again.  They go to a theatre and ABC jumps the shark on a Disney cross promo that somehow ruined both The Muppets (who are awesome) and the Bachelorette (which sucks but in a really good way like all 90s action films, which also have helicopters).   Anything this show does, you only need one Kevin Bacon to get it.  Disney and ABC are the same company and a Muppets sequel is on the way (that part I endorse).  I mean you had to wonder how a couple of years back Barenaked Ladies were on the show.

I did enjoy when Party MC said “no one expects the Muppets”.  Picture like a violent film and then Fozzy comes out and stabs a terrorist and says “No one expects the Muppets”.  It’ll be hard, but I am keeping that line for a rainy day.

The next 40 minutes were an LSD trip far stranger than the one on Mad Men this season because it came from Chris Harrison’s mind.  You had Half Damon afraid to public speak because of brain injury.  They even pulled out the Creepy Bachelor Theme for his talk about brain injuries.  Really, ABC?  It’s not scary, you’re just dicks.

Side note, see how Filibuster was super cool about that situation?  He’s a good teammate.  Emily, that’s how he acts when he gives a shit.  He will leave Ricki at soccer practice and bang one of your friends.  Don’t be a push over.

You had Kalon, who now is being called either The Talented Mr. Lipstick or Drool Intentions (mid season form, ladies) being all excited for theatre, but then all annoyed he has to be on stage when he sings later.  You had Emily and Kermit in some weird fucking cheating fantasy for Kermit.  You had Harrison kicking it with Waldorf or whoever and I was pretty sure my wife had slipped mescaline in my white Russian.  What the hell was going on?  Then there was a dance routine where Emily looked stiffer than a dead guy planking.  Fellas, she might not be fun when the lights go out.  Just saying.

One Direction had to propose to Miss Piggy (who by at this point I wished was the Bachelorette) and he totally nailed it.  He’s rocking the head fuck that Frank from Ali’s season did and that my homeboy Ben Flajnik rocked Ashley’s season.  It’s showing girls you have the ability to give a shit but not specifically giving a shit about them… Yet.  Dot dot dot.

That was confirmed at the cocktail hour later when he didn’t even look at her and simply played it coy and said “no YOU’RE making me nervous” then there was a ton of “I’m glad you’re here” and shit.  You never expect the Muppets.

Then you had Arie totally nail it and become the front runner, only because he’s nice and confident, has a little Zach Braff in him which is key to winning this show, and he drives racecars and that is what Emily should NOT want, so of course, she’ll want it.

Party MC and the Talented Mr. Lipstick went at it a little bit and even though I agreed with Party MC, it’s hard to watch a dumb poor guy fight verbally with a rich smart guy.  It reminds us of middle school or whenever your awkward stage was (mine is right now, I’m a USC Football blogger and bourbon fanatic who covers the Bachelorette, welcome to my awkward years).  It was literally like watching Zoolander try to talk shit to Hansel.  I got a newsflash for you Walter Cronkite.   Yeesh.

Rose went to One Direction.  Told you.

Next day at round two of “Naked Guys Sunbathing”, Dad got into it with Talented Mr. Lipstick when the luxury brand consultant sort of talked shit about leaving Dad’s kid at home to be on the show.  My friend pointed out how weird it was that Dad talked about tucking his kid in and he’s 12.  I didn’t catch that, but I did notice how this week the kid was made to be extra old and how he gave his Dad the “you gotta get out of the house and find love again” speech.  Your kid isn’t a Hilary Duff movie, Dad.  You don’t tuck him in and he doesn’t give you love speeches.  Just stick to lifting weights and having a kid.  That’s your sweet spot.

By the way, when he got pissed, he totally talked shit like a Dad, which is scarier than a gangster.  He was saying like “back up and apologize” with a smile.  Talented Mr. Lipstick shit his pants which sucked for everyone in the hot tub.  Dad got all True Blood vampire puffed out for the occasion.  He may not know how to make up stories about his son, but pretty sure he could pull the face off of a douchebag from Dallas.

Second date is with Dawson’s Geek.  He came out wearing some shirt that defined “shirt you see at store and immediately know you can’t pull it off even in Las Vegas surrounded by people on blow”.  Didn’t stop Dawson.

Unlike Dawson from the show, this guy had nothing to say.  He just smiled, repeated what she said, nodded, derp herr de durr, and then got on a private plane to go to ONE OF EMILY’S FAVORITE PLACES?!?!  Yes…  Maybe somewhere cool?

West Virginia?  Mehhhhhhhhhhhhh.  Isn’t that where they filmed Deliverance?  Fuck.

So they go to this hotel that only someone from West Virginia could think was cool.  It had a creepy indoor pool, weird wallpaper everywhere and astroturf on a balcony.  I get that people sometimes think shit like that is amazing, but it isn’t.  I am sorry.  Call me new fashioned, but give me the fucking Four Seasons, waiters that love being ignored and no “love clock”.  Fuck that love clock.  But really, considering what was coming, fuck Emily putting something in the love clock.  You could have skipped that part if you were really going to drown Dawson in the creek.  I know when Lady Veneers figured out she didn’t love a dbag in a pink plaid shirt she cried because it would hurt his feelings, but let’s keep it real here, if you cared that much you wouldn’t have made him fill out a card for the love clock two seconds before dumping him BEFORE THE FUCKING FIREWORKS SHOW.

Dawson’s Geek was shocked.  It felt out of left field.  But then again, you never expect the Muppets.

I think it is cold shit to make someone check out the love clock and then note let them see the fireworks.  Whatever.

Rose ceremony was highlighted by Harrison’s shirt/tie combo.  Plaid on plaid?  Insanity.  He definitely picked it out when staring in the mirror during his Muppets “trip”.  Harrison, can we just kick it already.  Stop fronting.  We could run this city.

No one interesting got kicked off.  They kept Party MC just to keep Talented Mr. Lipstick on his twinkle toes.

As I predicted, Emily is a boring ass Bachelorette.  She’s super hot (but Ms. Piggy had better teeth and she doesn’t have teeth) and she seems nice enough, but she’s trying to hard.  Be the southern girl who got preggers way too young and chased race car drivers.  Let the Ricky Bobby out and this season has a chance.  And if I don’t get a helicopter that YOU chose in the next two weeks, it will be hell to pay.  Currently “I’m not glad your here” and there “are lots of places in the world I’d rather be”.

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Bachelorette Recap: Week One

Welcome back readers.  I have been on a long journey since we last spoke.  I’ve taken a helicopter tour of the world and rappeled off of every bridge I could find no matter how small, large or Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.  I’ve been to exotic Asian markets and painted shit on lanterns and kites and made people translate for me.  I’ve pretended to eat dinner while drinking bad Chardonnay.  I’ve gone on a journey to find an answer to a burning question (not that burning question, I’m sure it’s just razor burn).

Why do you guys read this?  How have I become the destroyer of contestants, the scourge of showrunners?  What makes these recaps unique.

Then I saw Party MC in his Inland Empire suit calling the guy who arrived in a helicopter “Helicopter Guy” three hundred times and realized that you need me.  You need a man who is not afraid of calling people awful things for the purpose of entertainment.

Tactically, there was a huge concern with this season.  Emily Maynard is pretty much an impenetrable fortress of boring ass hotness.  She’s all southern belle and besides the fact that she stole Jim Carrey’s dentures from The Mask, she’s pretty much an awful person to make fun of.  Every year I miss Ali, the Muppet, who could not stop making whining noises or frying her extensions or dressing like a highlighter.  This year, we get a hot, boring sort-of-widow with a kid who rarely pops off and comes off dumb.

So what do I do?  What do you think I’ll do.  Let’s tear this asshole apart.

I mean, the resemblance is there.  Don’t get me wrong, Emily is hot and I think we’d all be fine with the fact that 75 percent of her face was installed by a dentist.  I’m not perfect either.  But when picking on someone like her, best to stay superficial.  We wouldn’t want to tap into the fact that she gave birth into the richest family in all of NASCAR or calling her a hypocrite for being so “I would never be the Bachelorette or do anything to mess with Ricki Bobby” and then “being the Bachelorette and sticking Ricki Bobby on a swing set wearing a shirt with her name on it before letting her get rid of a bunch of red balloons to further fuck with the already-fragile-from-NASCAR-fumes ozone above North Carolina”.    Heavens no.

If we pick on Emily, the well-mannered orally armed hot boring girl, we’re going to do it for her teeth.  I thought Lady Veneers would do the trick.   I mean, she is a lady after all.

Okay.  Let’s get our Bach on.

First off, as I say every season, I hate the first couple episodes because it’s like, why do I need to get to know these guys so well?  I mean, let’s be honest, the minute I met the one African-American from LA on the show, as much as I wanted to get to know him (mostly because he kept talking about how attractive being a single mother was and I was gonna call him Mom Fetish and everything), I know that this is the Bachelorette and unless your name is Ro-bear-toe, you are not going to win the Hunger Games.  It’s racist.  Let’s just put that out there.

Also, sorry in advance to Portuguese Cinnamon, the Brazillian guy who kept looking at Lady Veneers boobs even when she said “gracias” confusing Brazilians for Spanish speakers.  Sorry also to Pablo Escobar, the nerdy guy from Medellin via San Francisco who thought this was 1998 and just kept speaking Spanish to impress Lady Veneers.  Newsflash.  You don’t live in North Carolina because you like diversity.  I’d be working the other angle Alejandro.  Say your mother named you after the Lady Gaga song and that you just want to learn to love American football and Thanksgiving and killing terrorists.  The Spanish thing worked when “La Vida Loca” was big.  At this point, we’re just looking for non-douches of any race.

Let’s rewind.

Lady Veneers intro was as boring as she was.  She just kept talking about how hard life is and walking around her ridiculously expensive 8 level house and tucking Ricki into a bed nicer than I could afford until about a year ago.  I mean it looks like all she does is spend Hendricks racing money and drive a white Denali to pilates and back.  Seems rough.  And please stop with the “men don’t crowd around me at the super market”.  That’s because they are too busy tripping from rubbernecking at you.  I have to call it like I see it.  She’s single because she wants to be and she is the Bachelorette because she wants attention.  SHE WAS ENGAGED TO ONE OF THE RICHEST RACING FAMILIES IN THE HISTORY OF PUTTING GAS IN AUTOMOBILES.

Harrison showed up stoked about Alejandro getting on the show, his personal dealer from Medellin.  He also was stoked because nothing is trippier on acid than going to a new Bachelor mansion built in Charlotte that looks exactly like the one in LA.  He was triple stoked because by the end of this season, he will be the one making babies to fill up Lady Veneers minivan.  He touched her a lot.

The weirdest part was when he interviewed her (after she stared blankly into like fifty sunsets) and was trying to get her to be emotional about her dead rich fiance.  He really laid it on, not that she cried or showed human emotion.  He was all “so when he died, calling your name on an exploding plane filled with orphans and humanitarian aid and the codes to deactiviate an Iranian nuclear device, were you sad?”  Harrison, you left your wedding ring on, but you don’t have to pretend it’s the one from Lord of the Rings.  You don’t have to be evil.

Anyway, we met a few nerds before the show.

I know all you girls think Arie was super hot and that Emily is shallow enough just to dig another race car driver and guess what.   You are right about the second part.  It didn’t matter that his Jonas Bros hair cut got effed up and he had the worst Cowlick I have ever seen, Emily was a girl and just was like “I know this is bad, so it makes perfect sense, let’s run with it”.  In fairness, the fucker looks like a dangerous banker character from Gossip Girl.  Cowlick has a good chance to win this thing though and if you are from North Carolina, you don’t look for culture in museums, you just go from dating a NASCAR driver to a Formula One driver.  So Euro.  So hot.

There was Jaws, the dude who played pro football, had a lab-bro-doodle and was stunting the growth of children by feeding them steroids and making them do crossfit.  Totally good for them.

There was a personal favorite, the guy with the brain injury.  I really liked this guy, especially when he scared Lady Veneers into touching his titanium face and then scared her again.  I mean, the guy is totally nice and has had a really hard life.  Being on a collapsing balcony is messed up.  That said, I would be lying if the dude wasn’t only half there most of the time.  He stares off into space a lot, almost like there’s a sunset on the horizon that the producers are point at.  Half there…  I dub thee, Half Damon.

Then there is Chris, who looks like Toby Maguire if he got smashed around by the Hulk like Loki in Avengers (ya’ll saw that right?).  It STARTED as Toby Maguire and ended as a weird claymation experiment.  I mean take a peep:

I kept thinking of names.  Broby Maguire.  Cidar House Rules.  I am going with Spidermehhh.  He bores me more than Emily.  If they get married it should be filled for a sleep therapy DVD.

There was also the singer/songwriter guy (who not surprisingly goes immediately into the subway where he performs) who looked like he was reading lyrics to a song that just consisted of him singing “Emily” over and over.  Look, Maroon 4, you suck.  Quit now.  I am hoping the fact you were a first week elimination gives you the kind of rock bottom you need to get a job and stop spending your time figuring out how many layers you can get between your skin and your “I play music” leather jacket.  If I haven’t heard of you, you aren’t a musician.  You are a waiter.  Play by the rules.  Now fade into nowhere and let us forget you existed.

Then there was Doug, the first impression rose winner who I am just calling Dad.  Not much wrong with this guy, but you don’t go on the Bachelorette because you don’t have a big ego.  When Lady Veneers said she wanted a minivan full of babies, she meant ones that came out of her junk.  Don’t let the fact you are a nice guy and have a cute kid you exploited fool you.  You’re Dad.  Now teach me to play catch and get out while you have time.

Let’s talk about Jef (sweet spelling asshole).  I want to pick on this guy, only he makes it hard.  He doesn’t ride a skateboard well enough to make fun of him for it.  He’s somehow pulling off that asshole hair cut.  He owns a freaking water company that functions like Toms Shoes (girl heroin) and he lives in Salt Lake City and must eat Zanax like Pez because every time I expect him to douche out, he kind of plays it mellow.  He also was like “people don’t like me because of my hair and shit” and basically, he spun me on that.  I am like, you are right.  Whatever, I am calling him One Direction and we’re keeping an eye on him.

James Vandergeek?  Dawson’s Geek?  Either way, way too stoked to be there.  Thought he was going to shit his pants.

Let’s talk about Kalon.  I’m sorry.  This dude isn’t into girls.  Women want to believe Ryan Phillipe from Cruel Intentions exists, but he doesn’t.  A man who wants his intro to be with another dude getting a slimfit suit tailored isn’t into girls.  Telling Emily she is a princess.  Honestly, he’s here for Ames and let’s just make that happen for him.  That’s the thing I LIKE about him.  His fashion sense.  The way he strategically holds his cocktail (vodka, what a joke) like a microphone.  He thinks he’s in a movie.  Let’s get to the BAD part (besides the freakish amount of Carmex he puts on his lips).

I mean, the guy pissed me off showing up on a helicopter.  THE BACHELOR/ETTE DECIDES WHO WILL RIDE IN HELICOPTERS ASSHOLE.

Look, what he did was literally like showing up to Thanksgiving and everyone’s already eaten and is farting in their sleep to the glow of the Cowboys game on television.  You can’t jump the gun.  Now I am all confused.  It’s like I have to sneeze but I can’t sneeze.  I hate this guy.  In honor of all the Carmex, I was going to call hip chapstick, but instead for ruining the helicopter thing, he’s just called Crapstick.  Or Douchebag.

I recently got a hold of his memoirs from a trip to LA via an unnamed source (I am not actually kidding about this).  I have to post it at some point.  He’s the biggest douche of all time from his Urth Caffe visit to his adventures with his guy friend “Cary”, it’s too much.  It’s like two guys that dressed up as Vincent Chase for Halloween.  In WeHo.  It’s painful.  Maybe I’ll post it.

Then there’s Barry Manilow.  Super nice dude from Oregon, kid seemed great, but no matter what happens I just keep waiting for him to break into song or leave to perform in Vegas.  Also, the glass slipper thing, on a personal level, made me want to kill myself.

Let’s get into some intangibles because you can write forever about the first episode (and I don’t want to because it’s better when people are gone).

Emily dressed like a figure skater.  The see through back?  I thought she was going to start ice dancing.  It’s hard to make Lady Veneers not look hot.  I don’t know why they insisted on trying.  She should have come out in the damn sweater from her day at the park with Ricki Bobby.  Nails.  I don’t get it.

Also, what was up with her turn around for everyone getting out of the limo.  It was the same angle, same direction everytime.  Zoolanderish almost.  I thought I was having a seizure or a flashback.  Maybe a sunset kept sneaking up on her?

In fairness, this show suffered from Emily doing a great job of diffusing every situation.  She just sort of rolled with everything and never let the drama in.  Sure Crapstick and Party MC were beefing a little bit, but Party MC seems like the kind of guy who drinks a Four Loko or two and just starts staring at people like a creep anyway, so we can’t blame Veneers for it.

From the preview of the season, I am only sure of one thing, which I am sure will be the theme of the whole journey to find a future divorce.  Emily Maynard ruins guys.  She is so hot and boring and nice that men truly believe they won’t find another one of her.  She’s also set for life financially.  She’s heroin to dude.  She just wants to make babies, look hot, not argue and probably make breakfast.  We didn’t meet her folks on her Brad hometown date, so we can’t be sure of her genetics and if it will hold up, but I feel like it will, anchored by her veneers that would survive a nuclear winter.

You can see how many dudes cry in the preview.  Emily is the destroyer of dudes.  Even Brad was inspired to stop beating women for a period of time in the glow of her perfection.  If there are fireworks, it will be more from watching her pull the light from their eyes.  Men will dive out of helicopters.  They will cut their bungie cords mid-fall.  Emily is the alpha bachelorette.  Men will be broken.

Can’t wait.

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Chris Harrison is Single. Hide Yo Kids, Hide Yo Wife.

I was naturally shocked to hear Chris Harrison, the internationally recognized marriage pimp, was getting divorced.  When you see Chris Harrison headlines, you expect them to be about a killer tie that he found that also conceals drugs when you pass through TSA at LAX.  You expect it to be that he’s finally going to rehab for black tar heroin or red rock opium and only to lessen his tolerance so group dates are more fun again.  You know, like in the Trista days.  When it was a game.

I have been saving myself for the upcoming season, but I felt compelled to drop some hot fire on a Friday to you guys.  I have to analyze what this development means for the Bachelor universe.  A lot.  I mean, it’s mind blowing.

Even a man so comfortable with hallucinogens surely must struggle through the human pain of a divorce.  I mean, the guy managed to mentor scores of attractive, insecure women without getting divorced all these years.  I am sure Bachelor Pad didn’t help his relationship.  Imagine him having to tell his wife about that show.  “Honey, this time we’re skipping the parts between forced sexual experiences where they cliff dive and rappel off buildings and doing this show where we just get everyone drunk, have them speed date and throw paint filled water balloons at their naked bodies”.

Click.

More than anywhere, it is in that show that I see the sadness in Chris Harrison’s eyes.  It’s like an old woman smelling pot in a movie theater parking lot and remembering that dangerous guy in a leather vest she said “why not” to back at Altamont or some other show people in Brooklyn and Silver Lake claim to know a lot about.

Damn, that was deep.

So, the real question is how does this affect Harrison?  I know the new season is probably in the can already, but let’s be honest here.  He was dealing with this the whole time.  How much off screen drug use can we assume?  I’ll be sure to test the limits.

What if Harrison falls for a contestant?  Can you picture him going to the Bachelor and being like, “Something came to my attention.  The girl you are dating is hot and I decided to assassinate your character, get her to try E, take her to see Madeon and Avicii spin back to back and then make sweet robotic love to her all night at the Four Seasons Westlake Village to dubstep remixes of Beatles albums”.

What if Harrison hates a contestant?  He’ll be like, “Listen, I know this situation is hard for you because you are dumber than a coat rack and the only thing you will ever succeed at in life is failing.  Or posing as a coffee table for people to put their drinks down on.  You could drive a garbage truck but you don’t seem like you know how to drive.  Or work your iPod.  Which is actually an iPad, you just don’t know the difference.”

Will he push some asshole out of a helicopter?  Will he put arsenic in a rose?  Will he start dating the contestants?  Will he cockblock the Bachelor because now he knows that love is bullshit?  I am just super curious about it because for years now I have told you that inside this man is another man.  This other man loves things like snuff films, gun shows, Scottish caber tossing, snake venom and any drug that is free.  This other man treats the polished Chris Harrison exterior as a marionette.  It’s Jekyll and Hyde in a big time way and I fear the worst.

I can see Maynard being like “we’re all going to glamorous Monaco” and then Harrison just stumbles in with a nose bleed and says, “WRONG BITCH, we’re going to Ensenada, but first we got to stop at this guy’s place in Van Nuys and if anyone fucking talks the next helicopter you take will be to the fucking Bermuda triangle”.

In all seriousness, I feel bad for CH because I always thought the thing that helped his marriage was the fact that he constantly doomed other peoples’ odds at finding love and that fed him like some kind of superhero villain that feeds on bad feelings.  I mean, those fucking ghost things in Harry Potter.  That try to suck your soul out of your face.

Now, Chris knows he’s mortal and that makes him dangerous.  In a big way.

Basically, I’ve never been more excited for the season.  This is going to be my best work.  I think Chris lives in my hometown and if he reads this, I would love to kick it with him, even if it ends up being Fear and Loathing because in the words of Hunter S. Thompson, buy the ticket, take the ride.

I believe him and I could set the town ablaze and I could do more for his image, nay, I have ALREADY done more for his image than ABC ever could.  Harrison is the cult hero of our time.  He’s doing what Seacrest would do if he wasn’t so busy pretending to not have reproductive organs.   Harrison is cursed by having a winning smile and network television polish.  He’s the best at what he does, whether that is punking girls on their journey to find love or if that is killing rats who puke to the cops about his whereabouts.

Chris, let’s party.  I will accept that rose.

If you’d like a much classier and better written article on this subject, check out the great Natasha Burton who was kind enough to mention me in Huffington Post today.

Now, for my female readers (and admit it, my male readers), here’s a little something to send you into the weekend (subsequently, the song I’d play on piano instead of David Gray if I am the Bachelor):

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Bachelor Recap: Final

One year ago I was in Austin, Texas at SXSWi missing I think it was the Zynga party because naturally, it fell on the season finale of the Bachelor.  With the town going wild below me, I had the intestinal fortitude to order a bottle of Tito’s and some soda to my room (it’s hard to drink bourbon when watching this show) and hunker down.  When the female room service person showed up with a turkey sandwich and a bottle of vodka, saw me in my robe post-workout, waiting to watch the Bachelor by myself on the most fun work trip you can go on, I think she almost felt bad.  At least I had the vodka.

Six hours later convinced Brad still didn’t like women and Emily Maynard had stolen prop teeth from a Halloween store, I stumbled into the streets and wound up in a secret Local Natives concert after midnight and later eating barbeque in a place where a man had either passed out or died right on the floor.

I’d have straightened out the images, but that would have taken you further from my mental state at the time.

This year I was in the comfort of my own 20,000 sq. foot palace (I broke into the Bachelor House) and decided to watch with a knife nearby because Chris Harrison promised all of this (as is tradition every year) was the most controversial Bachelor Finale ever.  That’s pretty brutal for Swimsuit Issues because this episode was not controversial other than the fact the America all wanted her to perish in an avalanche off the Matterhorn.

Let me start off by saying that Courtney did as I predicted she would.  Win.  America needs to figure out what it desires.  Do we want a winner or do we want an underdog?  To hate Courtney (for anything other than being a model from Santa Monica or for constantly playing with her hair or for resorting to baby talk even when ordering a sandwich or for regurgitating played out pop culturisms or for just kind of acting bitchy a lot) is un-American.  We like race cars.  We like Michael Jordan.  We like Darth Vader.  We love the damn frontrunner, so check yourself readers.  You might not like the taste (how did that taste coming out of your mouth, Beyan), but the recipe works and you are eating it.

So, for the final time this season, let’s get our Bachelor on.  Let me get you all in the mood while the license is still good:

I will never listen to this song again.  It simply has to be stopped.  I am so afraid of ABC’s cost cutting measures that this morning on Good Morning America (I was checking out War Horse’s 12 second interview where she spray tanned to the point it looked like she spent the last 2 weeks digging tunnels in Chernobyl) I thought they were going to use it for the intro music.  I fear this song like a trip to the proctologist.  It’s inevitable they you will experience it and you will be paying someone to put something up your ass.

That’s what ABC did to David Gray.  I am going to be an old man one day, the kids will be in college and some friends will invite us over to their suburban mansion and I will be drinking wine or some shit like that, maybe getting some brie going on a cracker the wives think is “amazing” that they got at Whole Foods and David Gray is going to come on and I am going to instinctively grab the most annoying person at the party and drag them into the pool to drown them and myself.

2029.  If the world doesn’t end in December, it will end in 2029 when some asshole whose kids know my kids gets nostalgic and plays David Gray and I get set off like the fucking Manchurian Candidate.

So, Ben is in the Alps in the shadows of the giant wiener-shaped Matterhorn and he’s on a mission.  He needs to say the word “incredible” as many times as he can right out of the gate.  Holy shit.  Take it easy with the line-feeding producers.  Ben was so fed up with this at this point he just was repeating verbatim back what they told him to say.  “Ben, talk about these incredible women”.

“Sure Bob.  I am in this incredible city, with this incredible penis shaped mountain deciding between two incredible women that have been on this incredible journey with me and I need to make an incredibly hard decision because I could hypothetically, conceivably spend the rest of my incredible life with one of these incredible women”.

Hey, play some of that incredible David Gray song.

Ben’s mother and super-hot and nice and really talented at life sister (sup Julia!) were on the show this week.  Barb kind of just stayed out of the way, which was a smart play.  Given the success rate of Bachelor relationships, best just to be cordial and hope they forget you were even there.  I only kicked it with Barb once, years ago at a Christmas Party in Arizona (where Ben still doesn’t admit to living, even though Tucson Winemaker doesn’t have the same ring, so I get it).  Barb had some holiday punch that was delicious and strong enough that I wasn’t terrified meeting my wife’s wolfpack of friends very early on in my courtship with her.

Ben was drinking beer in the back, Storm Horsing around.  It was good times.

Julia on the other hand, as many of you know, was a bridesmaid at my wedding, one of my wife’s best friends and someone I cannot talk to during Bachelor season.  I remember driving to a wedding in Sonoma with her and we were grilling her.  I said I wouldn’t cover it if Ben was the main guy out of fear I’d say something that caused a rift in their friend group, which I now know to be impossible as they are like a pack of wild freedom fighters.  Both her and Ben were like, go ahead, talk some shit.  I respected that.

In many ways, this was a season of keeping it real.  Ben picked the hottest girl that he couldn’t say no too.  The most talented contestant won.  Something was just not totally satisfying.  Ali did the same thing picking Ro-Bear-Toe instead of the Landscaper back in the day, but it was more satisfying because Ali was two brain cells short of two brain cells and watching her make weird noises every time she had a decision to make, get her heart kicked in by Frank (who I still apparently look like, ugh), wear neon yellow clothes and have horrible extensions that looked like kelp made it more fun.

This was a pitcher’s duel of a season.  Low scoring, easy to produce the outcome, and based on After the Final rose, something everyone is glad is in the past.

Oh wait, I’m supposed to be making you laugh.

Now, where were we…

Julia took War Horse on the balcony and asked her some tough questions.  Not really, but War Horse was so nervous having only been in one relationship ever that ended in a text dumping that she was tilting her head SUPER far forward, even for her.  Julia seemed a bit unamused and having told many bad jokes in front of her, I feel like I can make that assessment.

In the end, she thought War Horse was fine, which is what Ben thought too.  Like, when you eat a forgettable sandwich fine.  Like, what did we have for lunch?  Or in this case, who did I have sex with in the round wooden hot tub again?  The horse one?  Yeah.   Her.  Her dad made me pull him around in a chariot in Florida and I was rewarded with crap chardonnay in a mason jar.

That night, War Horse had a complicated shirt on that had a zipper on the back of the sleeve.  I couldn’t get over it.  If you undid that zipper it looked like the whole thing would come off and it’d be really hard to zip something behind you or even origami the fucking thing back together.  I have no idea what they said because I was doing shirt math the whole time, except for when I was staring at the awful pimple she got on her chin just in time for Ben to decide if he wanted to stare at her face for the rest of his life.  #timing

She made a big point to say she loved him and Ben “wanted” to say it back and by say it back I mean he wanted to swim naked with Courtney.

The next day, Courtney came up and kicked it with the family who tried to grill her, but as we learned quickly, we can forgive Ben for any time he might have missed Courtney’s ugly side.  Basically, the Flajnik’s kryptonite are models.  Courtney was kind of like “whatever, fuck it, I hate these bitches” and Barb and Julia we like “right on”.  I think it’s chemical.  Flajnik plus model equals acceptance.

Again, that’s American as fuck.

Swimsuit Issues got the memo and remembered to get a gift (pimple and no gift, War Horse, way to fumble at the goal line), although being that she didn’t take any of the pictures, it was probably a model-commandment she made to a cameraman who felt loyal to her because she was naked a lot in front of him and he needed that after watching Hey Bear dance and go to random Asian markets all season.  Naked tribal dancing and skinny dipping?  Of course I’ll make you an album for the final episode.

Ben and War Horse went skiing the next day and as usual, she looked cute in a helmet, which when compared to “willing to get naked anytime”, doesn’t seem like as good of a superpower.  When compared with Courtney’s date of “make snow angels and sled at crystal lake”, it seemed like Ben just wanted to pass the time.  I mean fuck.  Ben cooked for Courtney.  It was symbolic he grill sausage in front of her, because that kind of represented this whole competition.  A man grilling his sausage to impress a model.

Don’t let it get lost in translation though.  Ben was making effort to show her what was up.  I droned out a lot of babytalking and suddenly they were back at the hotel and Courtney compliment fished expertly.  Every time there was a decision she thought was close, she got Ben to reassure her.  She took the Emily move from Brad’s season (minus the therapy sessions, yeesh) and just pulled a win out from him.  Seriously, credit to her.  Best contestant ever.  Fundamentals, no flaws in her game, other than the fact that she made America hate her.

Side note, on After the Final Rose, I felt bad for her for the first time.  To have the whole country dislike you so openly must be a lot to take, especially for a model who is constantly being judged on everything.  I am not saying she should have done the thing she did or that I didn’t want to take an ice pick to my eardrums most of the time she was babytalking, but I can’t say I know what it’s like to be so hated.  That must be hard.

I wouldn’t know.  Everyone loves me.  My shit is the shit.  You should throw your laptop in your toilet right now my shit is so the shit.

We eventually got to the best part of the Hunger Games.  The morning of montage.  They drop a gauze filter over everything and splice memories of the “journey” with images of the girls putting on way too much make up and crazy ass gowns.  War Horse had a cool dress she stole from the wardrobe closet of The Lion King on Broadway.  She had more feathers on her than a honey-covered man in a pillow fight.  What the fuck kind of analogy was that?

Still, War Horse won the dress competition because Courtney dressed like the evil girl from a high school prom movie.  In fact, one reader pointed me to this picture, which pretty much says it all:

She more than made up for it on After the Final Rose where you saw a crowd of women 10 years older and 50 pounds heavier hate her for rocking a skin tight white dress and looking like a million dollars.  No doubt, she was nails in that grab.

Both girls wore capes (hey, it IS the Alps, brah) and Courtney won that battle by a landslide.  I kept thinking War Horse was going to meet up with 2 warriors, an elf, a dwarf and 4 hobbits and try to climb the Matterhorn to drop that Neil Lane diamond ring into the flames from whence it came.  Fellowship of the Ring indeed.

I texted Ben during the show because he got engaged in a suit I own.  That’s a great Hugo Boss ensemble and he got the right tie thickness.  It totally made up for the awkward suspenders he took for a test drive and crashed on Courtney’s date.  He was looking sharp, time to break some hearts.

War Horse came up and I know ZBOW was trying to let her down gently, but in my extensive experience, telling a girl you love her for the first time and then dumping her on top of a mountain on national television doesn’t help things.  Ben asked if he could “walk her out” and I was confused because they were on a mountain accessible only by red helicopter.

War Horse left nobly.  She didn’t cry much.  Her only fail was pretty funny when she told Ben if it didn’t work out to give her a call.  She’ll be in Ocala drinking wine from a tool box on a horse with short ass legs.  Listening to David Gray.  Dreaming of what could have been.

Sorry, Lindz.  I guess Dumpsville is back to population: 1.  They kept your hotel room open.  Time to run for mayor and learn to do your make up better.  Nice girls finish second in this race.  Hunger Games, bitch.

Courtney showed up and it was clear she got a last minute nuclear spray tan because her face matched the helicopter.  Ben proposed in his awesome suit.  They got engaged.  And then, it was over.

Only it wasn’t because After the Final Rose was apeshit.  I was avoiding my phone, but then saw Ben thew me a tweet.

That made me super proud because if nothing else, I have brought true helicopter activism and awareness to the Bachelor community.  As Hey Bear proved, a Bachelor season without rappeling and helicopters isn’t a Bachelor season at all.

I knew ATFR was nuts because my buddy Matt Barkley (USC quarterback for my female readers who aren’t down with football) asked me why I wasn’t tweeting.

I mean, I don’t tweet because I use my tweets to form this post.  Gotta save my kisses for you people out there.  Only so much sugar to go around.

So Ben said he wasn’t making out with the women in those pictures.  Or that they were old pictures.  I was confused, but I am not going to ask him because who the hell cares.  Let these crazy kids figure it out.  When Courtney came out, they both cried and the Hunger Games element came to life.  Truth is, it’s hard to be on this show and it’s probably hard to stay together when you can barely talk to each other and the entire country keeps talking about how much they hate your fiance.  I mean, my wife probably dealt with that because I am a troublemaker, but it wasn’t the whole country, just a whole country club and in my defense, I think after a eucalyptus steam room session the robe is optional for your walk back to your room.  Just saying.

Chris Harrison handed Ben the ring he gave back when they broke up and Courtney took it again.  I’d follow the story, but I’m just going to ride into the sunset, glad I will not have friends and people I know on the show (at least I think).  As I said, Emily Maynard is in the crosshairs.  I am aiming for her teeth so it will be hard to miss.

Hey Bear and the Assassin came out.  They were happy and I admit, good for them.  Hey Bear might have been boring, but she picked the dude that loved her and could deal with the social experiment that Chris Harrison puts them in.  They even asked if he’d get ordained.  Just so you know, I got ordained on the internet in five minutes and married two of my friends (to each other, not like me marrying them both, this isn’t Big Love) and I am rocking another this summer.  I wish Chris Harrison was my officiant.  “Do you accept this rose?”  “I do”.

And yes, for the right price, I will officiate your wedding, anonymous reader.  I need to keep the lead on Harrison.

So.  We’re at the end of our time together for this season.  I made some great friends from the blog.  I made some great USC football fans read about the Bachelor.  I saw a shit ton of helicopters.  I made some friends on the show itself which seems impossible given the nicknames I come up with, but good work to you all.

What’s next?  Not Bachelor Pad.  It’s unwatchable.  It’s all the crap that fell into the storm drain, dried out and stretched across the time it takes to edit the Bachelorette.  I WILL be back covering the Bachelorette.  In the mean time, I will be trying to post here and there about random things going on in the world and my life.  It’s not football season yet, but I encourage my Bachelor readers to root for USC, so you can read recaps all year.  My USC fans have embraced this show for the same reason.

As snarky as I get on here, all the reads, pictures, compliments and furious hate mail are what make writing Lost Angeles so much fun.  Thanks for sticking with me for another content calendar and there will be plenty more to come.  If you really need to take a break, I’ll see you the Tuesday after Emily Maynard takes over.  In case you think she’s too nice to pick on, take a look at this picture and tell me she’s not a total asshole deep down.

Tick tock, Maynard.  Tick tock.

ADIOS MFers!

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Why Tebow Won’t Be The Next Bachelor

The world exploded when Chris Harrison (probably under the influence of huffing fumes from industrial strength adhesives) leaked that he approached Denver Broncos running back quarterback Tim Tebow to be the next Bachelor.  Twitter was a-buzz about the possibilities of having one of the biggest stars of the NFL run the sexual favor gauntlet, but one blogger (thumbs pointed in, this guy) is calling bullshit right away.

The obvious reasons this won’t work out certainly, one would think, have to do with his faith and the fact that if you are on the Bachelor, you are going to hell.  Probably if you watch it.  Not that that is a bad thing or that I am actually citing “religious hell” (this is a non secular blog), but given Tim’s outspoken faith, this show might not be a great fit.

Here’s some thoughts to get you through Hump Day.  Pun intended if you want it to be.

  1. I am pretty sure Tebow claims to be a virgin (huge waste of being a star quarterback at Florida if you have ever looked at the level of naked chaos in the Facebook album of any Florida student).  Being a virgin eliminates the fantasy suites.  Could anything ruin that episode more than getting helicoptered to a private beach, making out in the waves then night-capping it by not drinking and the guy refusing the fantasy suite 3 straight times?
  2. Will anything be more annoying that 25 girls in awkward dresses “Tebowing” when they get out of the limo and meet him?
  3. Regardless of your religious beliefs, talking about God and the Bachelor don’t mix.  I believe to thy own self be true and Tim is going to want to let his faith out, which is hard to take seriously in a hot tub filled with crazy chicks drunk off gallons of Chardonnay.
  4. Could anything in the world make opposing defenses want to tackle Tebow harder than they already do than him going on a reality television show and not having lots of sex?
  5. The dating would be the least extreme we’ve ever seen.  If you think Hey Bear’s frequent “let’s just want around a random market in Asia” dates were bad, think of how bad they will be when the Denver Broncos have to approve it.  An NFL QB is worth his weight in gold.  Every year pro athletes take massive shit for spraining ankles playing basketball or riding motorcycles and crashing them without wearing a helmet (sorry Big Ben Roethlisberger) and possibly sexually assaulting people in bathrooms (sorry again Ben).  What are the odds they are like “sure Tebow, why don’t you rappel off a cliff, dive out of a helicopter and climb up the suspension beams of a bridge.
  6. Tebow is boring.  Yes, I’d be super mean all season, it’s good for me, but all he does is drink muscle milk and throw weak spirals.  Also, who wants to watch a millionaire get a free engagement ring?
  7. Could Tebow even trust someone coming on a television show to date him?  NFL players need to watch out for people trying to get in their piggy banks.  I mean, 25 girls coming on television to date Tebow?  Danger mouse.

Look.  I am not a Tebow fan.  I wasn’t at Florida and I am not during the Broncos.  My vested interest in this is huge.  On the one hand, I would make fun of him so hard for the entire show, and that makes for awesome bloggage.  That said, I just don’t want the show to get ruined.  It’s the perfect trainwreck.

They already are doing so much for Emily May-nerd that I think next season suffers a bit.  Bringing in a celeb will maybe help ratings but hurt the show.  The Bachelor and its contestants must remain every-man gladiators willing to subject themselves to everything that is effed up with America for the benefit of the nation.  It’s the Hunger Games.  Putting Tebow in will be like fixing the outcome.

No thanks.  I like my bachelor neat in a clean glass and then I smash it against the wall and cry myself to sleep.  Let’s keep reality television surreal.

Actually, fuck it.  Bring on Tebow Time.  Regardless, never going to happen.  But this did.  Nice preview of who he’d select…

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Bachelor Recap: Week Eight

Welcome to the Hometown Throwdown.  This is the week where anything can change, except in this case where Ben’s junk as been in a voodoo headlock ever since Courtney stepped out of the limo on the first night.  That said, there’s a lot up for grabs even if the most talented contestant on this show seems to have it locked up.  After all, the winners this week get to go on the FANTASY SUITE DATE in which you ride a helicopter, eat dinner and if you “open up” emotionally, Chris Harrison sends you an envelope filled with a key (not to be confused with the slang for a kilo of cocaine, he sends those too) which opens both the fantasy suite and your legs.

So basically, you are using your family who probably hates that you are on this show to compete for love and are worried that you will get your heart sexually assaulted on national television to try and win the opportunity to film an episode of tier one porn on a three-way vacation that plays more like an episode of Big Love.  By the way, tier one is network porn, tier two is softcore porn (Skinamax if you will) and tier three is what your boyfriend/husband has hidden on your home computer.

Not that winning the Bachelor is a good thing (I mean their divorce or break up rate is almost double that of the mean for the United States, which is something like 50 percent anyway), but the fantasy suite date can definitely change the outcome of the show.  It’s basically like your test drive and some people who always thought they were sportscar people end up liking dump trucks.  A good example was when Jake (Fighter Pilot) was going to pick Tenley but instead picked Vienna (Sausage) because I am pretty sure he was a nerd in high school and never experience a girl who was that desperate in bed.  Like a total noob, he married that girl, which no one I know ever did.

Anyway.  Let’s Bach.

Date one was with Lindzi Cox, who I already know have asshole parents because when your last name is Cox, you DO NOT spell your daughter’s first name all creative.  You go by the book.  Instead, what we get a name that immediately puts men at a strip club next to Destiny and Kandy and Sapphire.  Sigh.

Let’s get to Lindzi’s date, which was in Ocala, Florida, which on a scale of one to ten, no wonder her parents can afford horses.  Let me clarify, you moved to Florida where there are no beaches.  Houses are free there.  And what better place to find love that central Florida in 90% humidity with no ocean or gulf to jump in.  I bet there aren’t any creepy dudes in velour jumpsuits.  That’s not the Florida I know.

War Horse rides in on some weird ass horse with a multicolor mane and legs so short used think a fat dude rode it all day.  Also, it looks like they finally talked her into extensions, which was more obvious considering the horse’s wild hair looked more natural.  I wouldn’t have noticed had she been using makeup that matched her skin tone, but ultimately her neck and face were from different color wheels.

Ben tells her that he doesn’t know much about riding horses, but we all knew that based off the Park City date where a two inch deep stream almost flipped him over the saddle, which of course “was hot”.  ZBOW made that look like he was fording the river in Oregon Trail.

ZBOW has been stuck having to keep people believing there’s a chance he doesn’t go for Swimsuit Issues, but Ben is a man of integrity and true grit, therefore he leaves us subtle clues we can fall back on when he stomps on some hearts (which is why I watch the show).  In this case, he said there are “moments” when he could see himself ending up with Lindzi.  Let’s clarify.  There were moments I thought I could picture myself farting in a crowded room of local business leaders.  There were moments I could picture myself possessing the ability to fly and eat thunderclouds.

There’s a moment for everything.  And there’s the moment you meet Harry Cox.

It all makes sense.  Lindzi was a punishment for his parents raising him to like horses and giving him the name Harold.  I mean, there’s no cowboy named Harold Cox.  That guy fucks up your tax return.  Harry Cox might be a cowboy, but the other cowboys piss in his beer, which is why he bought a ranch in fucking Ocala, Florida, had one daughter and hid her from society so that she bonded with horse more than man.

Ben shows up and Harry has an awesome lisp that made me want to drink with him, until he offered Ben Chardonnay, which is the bastard child of the wine world.  Ben was like shit.  Then it got worse, because he realized he was drinking wine out of kitschy wine glasses made out of mason jars.  For a winemaker, this had to be like getting your prostate examined by a guy you aren’t sure is a doctor.  I mean, you go to a nice restaurant and the waiter literally wraps a fucking napkin around the wine because it’s hard enough to pour it, let alone drinking it from a mason jar like you are running from lawmen in the 1800s.  If I had a helicopter, I’d have come down and saved Ben in a bro kind of way.

Actually, I’d have called him a cab and paid.  I don’t go to Ocala, Florida and frankly I am willing to lose my readers there because I am guessing only 1/3 the town has the internet and I am basing this off the fact they drink wine from mason jars.

Her parents aren’t crazy good looking, but even with his lisp, he seems alright, like he won’t get in your business and the worst you’d have to deal with is occasionally having to race him on horseback and carry him around like Caesar when you lose.  Also, you’d have to deal with her weird make up issues, but maybe they fix that.  The good news is she kind of looked hot in the horse helmet and I picture a weird fantasy suite thing where she’s got that on and has the whip and Ben repeats “there are moments where I can picture being with him”.

Long story short, War Horse has only had one serious boyfriend, he dumped her via text and she’s alright.  In the end, she probably only had one boyfriend because on a scale of one to ten, who the fuck knows how to find Ocala, Florida?

Date two had disaster written all over it.  It was the feeling you get when a “can’t miss” prospect in baseball gets called up to the big leagues and fails.  No.  This was more like that prospect tears his rotator cuff and his ACL in his first appearance and then gets caught doing blow with a stripper that turns out to be a man.  Actually, that’s East Bound and Down.  So yeah.  This date was like East Bound and Down without the comedy.

Beyan invites Ben to a football field and does some baton twiriling, which was cute in Sonoma, but now started freaking me out a little because to War Horse’s credit, I kind of get the horse obsession because at least they are living beings and any time they race you are allowed to wear stupid huge hats and drink bourbon until the stupid huge hats actually look sexy on girls.  I mean, bringing back the baton?  Band camp.

That said, there was a moment where all seemed good because this football field was named after her grandpa and that usually means that the family kicked ass at war or business or football, all cool things to kick ass on.  But then Beyan starts telling stories about love and Ben had that look he gets when he’s not drunk enough to give a shit or when “you aren’t Courtney”.

They dressed Beyan in a blouse thing that looked like her dad’s oversized polo and the theme of this date was that she is a child and super oppressed.  She warns ZBOW that her parents really fucking suck early on, basically saying it’s the Bible belt and her dad is some kind of government anti-fun cop.  Ben seems super excited…

They get to her house and her dad was straight up Chris Cooper in American Beauty, the kind of guy who collects Nazi china and might try to molest you in the garage.  They ate a super uncomfortable dinner that made me feel like there were ants chewing on my eyeballs and that still seemed better than actually being at the dinner.  The worst part was the producers and editors weren’t trying to make it seem that bad.  It just was.  You could cut her dad 20 ways and he’d still be a prick.

Beyan goes to chat aside with her sister and suddenly, you saw the high school girl.  She’s 24, cute and nice, and her conversation with her sister (who was too afraid to comment) was all about how she could do what she wants now that she is an adult and that she is in love and then “I’m Every Woman” started playing on the radio and her sister smashes the boombox because their Dad “might hear”.  I mean, when Kacie said her sister knows her way better than her parents lets you know they have been acting like prohibition rum runners hiding shit from them.  That said, maybe it means she’s dangerous in bed?  I’m sorry hometowns aren’t about families, they are about who is locked into a mandatory sex vacation with Ben the next week.  That’s the name of the game.

It was around this time where the shit hit the fan.  First, both Ben and Beyan’s hair totally got a case of the humidities.    Their kids would be Chia Pets.  Cha-cha-cha-chia.

Ben talks to Kacie’s dad and he is basically like “dump her now” because he doesn’t want her to get hurt unless it is him chaining her to her bed and making her practice baton twirling.    It got mad awkward balls because Ben was doing his “I’m on the fence” thing and he was like “get off the fence and go back to California” kind of thing.  In fact, he later tells Kacie that he doesn’t want her moving to California and if she does she better not move in with him.  I wanted to know if Mom and Dad slept in separate beds.  I just have a feeling they do.

They definitely think when you move to San Francisco you basically start liking people of the same sex, turn into a Democrat and a Vegan and try to “bring down America”.  Really, you just eat a lot of cioppino and sourdough, complain about how cold it is and marvel at the sheer amount of coffee shops that aren’t Starbucks.  It’s a great town.  Nothing to be a afraid of.

please help me

The good news was despite the “mom cut”, which every mother but Courtney’s hot mess matriarch rocked, Beyan’s mother had a pretty face.  It was ruined however by the fact she basically put a mental chastity belt on her daughter and said she “watches the show” and knows that Kacie will have to move to SF, which pisses her off.  Look, I’ve never had a great Tennesse Pinot Noir, so that’s where the grapes are, bitch.  Let ZBOW make wine and sleep with your daughter.  The show was fun and games until your daughter was a contestant, wasn’t it.  It was all good until they called “Primrose Everdeen”.

Guess what, Kacie’s mom?  HUNGER GAMES, BITCH.

Kacie knew it was over when Ben left, which made it even more sad she kept smiling until the end…  She’s a great fixer-upper for a nice dude out there.  You just have to get her the fuck out of Tennessee (like Coach Lane Kiffin, bless his name) and then make her watch 1980’s teen in rebellion films until she gets over it.  I still love you, Beyan.

Next date was in good ole Fort Worth, Texas just down the way from my old home of Dallas (it was only 3 years and the Cowboys were winning at the time, it was like a drug).  Sally Field showed up for her date in some hip accentuating pants and a deconstructed disco ball for a top.  They bought some boots and cowboy shit, which actually happens in Texas (I got to California in 7th grade and have been holding onto a palm tree for dear life ever since, although Austin is pretty badass).

Sally Field easily won the hometown date.  Her Texas was a good Texas.  Her family, even if divorced, seemed really functional and her mother’s face still held up well (the rest not so much).  The best part was that her dad was like Tom Hanks, which was so Kevin Bacon because Sally Field was Tom Hanks’ mother in Forrest Gump.  Well, more a Tom Hanks vibe than look.  The dad was so cool and nice, I was pretty much not going to say anything  bad.  Nikki told Ben she loved him, which she will soon regret, but not as much as the frozen sex in Switzerland.  She looked pretty once she took off the disco ball and Ben clearly had some “moments where marrying Nikki didn’t feel like a life of death”.

Speaking of a life of death…

I’m sorry Beyan.  I love you to death, but loving you would probably result in death.  You called it the Bible Belt.  I agree with Ben that it is the Bourbon Belt, both because they make my favorite libation there and because you need to drink a lot of it to deal with people like Beyan’s dad.

Onto Scottsdale, Arizona where I have tons of new family because my wife is from Tucson.  So is Ben, but despite being in Arizona, it never came up.  I like California too Ben, but repping Zona is a good idea.  There are saguaros there and those are pretty awesome.  Every year they fall and kill people posing for pictures and based on Twitter, seems like most of America hoped Swimsuit Issues would pose for a picture under an unstable Saguaro.

We got to Courtney’s house (desert chic) and she baby-lipped something like her dad calls it the casa of the pearls or some shit that leads to having a daughter decide to be  model.  As a winemaker, this family was the perfect fit I think, as they have been keeping winemakers in business for a long time.  Immediately, I forgave Courtney for all the crazy baby talk and weird mouth things she does, because her mother does all the same shit and when you are trained to do something since birth, it’s really hard to shift gears.  Just ask Kacie B.  That said, holy shit.  Watching the two of them talk about her falling in love made me feel like I was watching Baby Geniuses or an E*Trade commercial where the babies talk like adults.  It was messed up.

Here’s the good news, Courtney got her mom’s nose.  The bad news?  Her sister got her dad’s…

Speaking of her dad, this is the top reason to marry Swimsuit Issues.  I know all of you screaming bloody murder about Courtney won’t like this, just like a lot of you don’t like that I think she is the Michael Jordan of Bachelor contestants, but her dad laid out the VERY LOW BAR for what he expects out of marriage.   He even delivered the message with Ocean’s Eleven always-bet-on-black swagger.  He said something like “marriage is the greatest gamble a man can take and the odds are 50-50 so are you ready to roll the dice, bro”.  That is amazing.

For most father-in-laws, you basically try to hold the little shit marrying your daughter to a higher standard than say, your drinking buddies.  They want you to have good intentions, love your daughter and be ready to stick to it even when she decides working out sucks, sweatpants are the new cocktail dress and sex is a birthday present.  Not Swimsuit Issues’ daddy.  To marry his daughter, you just have to be ready to bet that it has a 1 in 2 chance of succeeding.  And if it doesn’t work, well, that was just as likely.  Wow.  Ben, this is your dream come true and I honestly am so happy for you because now I know you can totally screw this thing up and neither her dad (or America judging by twitter) will blame you.  Risk free scenario.  Loving how you play this game.

For the rest of you out there, yes it’s true 1 in 2 weddings are followed by a divorce, but it isn’t a 50/50 gamble.  If you have the right information going in, you can tip the odds.  Sure, anything can happen, but right meow most of the country feels confident that the bar with Swimsuit Issues is lower.  20/80?  I don’t know.  Basically, Ben will be the nicest guy she is ever with and will take zero blame if it doesn’t work like 97% of Bachelor relationships.  Thanks for the free sex and plane tickets though!  Loving it.

Courtney takes Ben out to a field where she wants to get married, and whodathunkit!, there’s a wedding set up.  This was proof that hotness overrides everything.  Any other girl does this to a guy and you’d think she was bat shit eat mayonnaise from the jar with a spoon crazy.  Courtney?  She’s opening up.  She compliment fishes him into writing some pretty good vows and then her vows she apparently lifted from Sex and the City, which made sense because they seemed beyond her repertoire of “winning” and “kill shot” and shit like that.

Sigh.

Rose ceremony comes and Chris Harrison finally shows up.  I missed him.  I hate the lack of Chris and helicopters in the hometowns.  Ben had a great suit going, I was impressed, but the tie clip was a bad call.  Not in generate, but a big ass one placed too high with a big “B” on it in gold was what J-Lo would have worn.  Ben, since I kind of know you, I have to help you out with this one because unlike other contestants, I am pulling for you in life (Emily Maynard already has a nickname, I no longer feel bad for her for her lost fiance because she volunteered to go back on the Bachelor and the gloves are off).  Here’s a sick look with a tie clip.

And Jake is a huge tool, but with tie clips, less is more.  They exist so you DON’T need to think about your tie.  It’s like, tie’s locked down.  Thin, silver, locked up.  Also, pocket square?  If you do, straight line, like Draper would do.  No poofy thing or triangle.  Straight line.  Bourbon.  Lazers.  Bears.  Just in case they make you wear one in the future.  I wouldn’t steer you wrong.  You wouldn’t steer me wrong with wine either.  Good looking out.  Glad we did this.

The rose ceremony seemed fine.  Even when Ben did the right thing (even though I liked her) and cut Beyan and her oppressive family, Beyan seemed to take it well.  She was sweet.  He was like “oh, I’m super sorry” she’s like “don’t be sorry” and he’s like “oh, I feel all bad” she’s like “I don’t want you to feel bad”, which is how you hope a wife feels.  That said, Ben’s probably hear to have a good time.  The cameras aren’t showing the Storm Horse.  They aren’t showing the fact he is treating this like a Ponzi.  I love it.

What didn’t I love?

Beyan in the limo.  Ben, hope you were drinking bud.  The best part of every break up I’ve been involved with is that I haven’t had to see the other person afterwards.  Doesn’t matter who dumps who.  You get to go leave and hit on other people and convince yourself you are awesome.  You don’t have to see that.  You get older and you don’t think this way, people’s lives and hearts mean more to you.  That said, HUNGER GAMES BITCH.

Beyan just starts crazy crying, asking what was wrong with her, thinking about her messed up parents, then swearing like crazy.  Fuck.  I hated watching it.  Not just because she felt bad, but because I knew Ben was watching it.  The only thing that cheered me up was Swimsuit Issues making the “oopsies” face when Beyan got cut.  It’s in someone’s worst moment that Courtney shines.  KILL SHOT.

Off to Switzerland, which is cool, but I prefer the Tahiti and Bali fantasy suite dates.  I’m just a traditional kind of guy when it comes to my televised orgies.

See you next week.  In Chocolate Land.

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Bachelor Recap: Week Five

I knew something was off the minute Chris Harrison showed up in Vieques, Puerto Rico.  The guy was smiling.  The guy was doing his job with an enthusiasm I had not seen in my 4.5 seasons of admitting to watching this show.  The first and most obvious explanation was that he was on more ecstasy than the crowd at a drum and bass club near the West End of London when you are travelling there during college and someone asks you if you are Irish and you pretend you are so they take you to a party where you alternate between being convinced you are going to murdered for organ farming or be asked to play professional soccer.   Not speaking from personal experience, obviously…

So why was Harrison so damn happy?  He was super casual in a shirt with buttons on the sleeves so you can keep that casual rolled up look in the same high humidity that had Beyan’s hair looking like she showered and blow-dried with a washing machine and laundromat dryer.  Hell, Harrison even went through the longest ever explanation of the one-on-one dates.  Hey Chris, I know we’re not the brightest audience because we keep tuning in, but let’s be honest, it’s not fucking cricket.  It’s not some dragon game nerds play in a basement with a twelve-sided die.  It’s the Bachelor.  Make out with ZBOW, tell him you are taking the journey to find love and what better place to find love than in Vieques and then he’s contractually obligated to at least make out with you and compliment you for opening up (both emotionally and sexually).

THAT’S THE GAME, CHRIS.  WHAT ARE YOU UP TO?

Swimsuit Issues came out with a T-zone brighter than the Puerto Rican sun and a shirt she took from an ex-boyfriend that said “Be Nice”.  The date card came in Spanish, which might as well have been written in Sanskrit because none of these girls, save Contagion, could probably order at Taco Bell without sounding like white trash.  Swimsuit Issues was exempt, because as a model, she has people read for her (and do her makeup clearly).

I mean honestly, look at Paris HilTRON’s face (because she looks like Paris Hilton and a robot procreated) when she was listening to the Spanish date card being read:

She’s totally like “why are the words not making sense in my ears?”  She had plenty of time to think about on the date she was not going on.  Instead, Mrs. Doubtfire (because she looks like Sally Field) gets to go.  Hooray!

Anyone notice the formation the girls were in sun bathing?  Like, what are the odds they were not forced to sit that way.  This shit is turning into The Hunger Games, but the natural way to convert a spray tan to a tan-tan is to lay in the middle of a pack of rabid wolves waiting to chew off your face.

Fresh off a loss at the Australian Open, ZBOW got right to the neon t-shirt wearing and helicopter riding.  Fuck yes.  We’re listening to inexpensive stock Latin guitar music as we fly a helicopter around an old fort that used to shoot cannonballs at pirates.  It was awesome.  Then Ben used the Spanish he learned in Tucson (where he is from) to order some snow cones just in time for it to start pouring everywhere.

Credit to Mrs. Doubtfire.  She’s low maintenance.  She didn’t seem to care.  If Paris HilTRON was on this date, she’d have short circuited.  If Swimsuit Issues was on this date, she’d have been naked already anyway so it wouldn’t have mattered.  If this had happened to Contagion, she’d have blamed it on Courtney.  If that had happened to Chris Harrison, he wouldn’t have noticed because you get really hot when you are on meth.

Ben was awesome in deciding to go all white linen when they decided to shop for clothes.  I’d have done the exact same thing.  Shit, I do that when I get dragged to Santa Monica.  Mrs. Doubtfire, on the other hand, decided to steal a pocket square from a Puerto Rican forest giant and clamp it around her neck.

Enjoyed it when she tried to speak Spanish that was fed to her by the producers.  MOOOEY MOOOEY KAL YEE YENT AYE.  If you light a candle and say that in front of the mirror three times in the dark on a sleepover, Chris Harrison shows up behind you with a bloody nose.

Then they watched a wedding which was entertaining only because the poor bride’s dress was all effed up.  It took five of her fat aunts to get her ass up the stairs without being covered in street grime.

Naturally, this led to conversations with Doubtfire about what happened in her past relationship.  She beat around the bush a lot.  Let me translate.  Homeboy cheated on her.  I am tired of girls not getting it.  She said something like she wished she had lived with him before, which made it sound like she wanted some additional insight into his living patterns.  Not true.  If she lived with him, she’d have noticed prior to marriage that “going to the store” means “having sex with people that aren’t you”.

Either way, Doubtfire is okay with me, even if there’s no way she is going to win.  It’s the Hunger Games, bitch and she is taking an arrow to the face.

Back at the mansion, Candy Striping Hooker and Let’s Get Physical were arguing over who is getting the Juan-on-Juan (come on, we’re in Puerto Rico and what better place to make a stupid Spanish play of words that VIQUES!).  In the end, Let’s Get Physical won it and the chance to show off what being a personal trainer and having a plastic surgeon can do.

The group date was pretty fun.  I am a big baseball fan, like Ben, so I enjoyed seeing a bunch of hot, crazy girls wear three-quarter sleeves and butt shorts and go at some hardball like a sorority philanthropy.

Harrison shows up with a bullhorn (which he had been using to dictate the packing of cocaine into plastic bags at his plant in San Juan) and explains that there’s going to be a death match and only half the girls get to go to a sexy beach party.

Two observations.  I don’t care if girls everywhere hate Beyan’s hair, she’s cute.  Also, how high does Harrison look in this screengrab?

The game was pretty rocking and I was pretty impressed at how well girls from the south can swing.  Blakely was a hell of a fielder given the physical disadvantage of having two giant work out balls grafted to her chest.  Also, she managed to find a way to turn a baseball shirt into a themed outfit from a strip club.  I mean, only she rolled her shirt up.  To quote Swimsuit Issues, “who knew strippers could play baseball?”

It was good to see Beyan get competitive.  I’d have picked her (as Ben later did on the beach).

In the end, team Contagion and Candy Striping Hooker lost and then they all cried their ass off while a HELICOPTER JUST SHOWS UP OUT OF NOWHERE.  ZBOW, you are the man.  Thank you.  You have brought back the helicopter in the biggest way ever.  What better way to stick it to Hey Bear than to bring back helicopters and the integrity of this show (which has no integrity) and demand hot people travel by helicopter in the same way Muppets travel by map.  It’s the way it ought to be.

Swimsuit Issues rubbed it in while the blue team kept crying on a bus and really solidifying the eye black as a “bad decision” because by the time they got back to the W, they looked like a bunch of abused coal miners.

On the beach date, Swimsuit Issues calls out Beyan for being 24 and lacking world experience (which is code for sex practice with lots of dudes, especially photographers that tell you they know agents so you can crossover in film).  Swimsuit Issues steals ZBOW and basically explains that she has a plan.  In true model form, her plan is to get naked, talk in a baby voice, make weird faces and dominate Ben like Djokavic just did in the final of the Australian ocean.

Look, a TON of you readers want to hate on me for admiring Swimsuit Issues.  That’s because I don’t believe this show is a journey to find love.  I think this show is a journey for Chris Harrison to smuggle narcotics with the smokescreen of wine-drunk insecure people further disoriented by extreme dating and helicopters like some sort of perverted R rated Space Camp.  Swimsuit Issues knows this is the Hunger Games and she is picking off chicks from the clocktower with a sniper rifle.

Let’s Get Physical’s date was too damn boring to talk about.  I don’t feel bad she gave up her job because somehow I think she can find another physical trainer gig.  Hell, Swimsuit Issues said she “could use a personal trainer” when things didn’t work out.  Seriously, you don’t appreciate her game?  I get the shiny T zone, I get the weird baby talk and mouth shapes, but she dominates Ben.  He has no choice.  He is totally out of control when he is with her.  He cannot fight back because his mind goes to that place a guy’s mind goes when he doesn’t want to get a boner on national television.  And I commend him for that quest and plan to ask him his secrets next time I’m in SF.

Other than jumping off a yacht, this date failed.  Ben pretty much can’t make a face other than “I hope you choke on the fake food they have in front of us” if he is not feeling it.  Which brings me to the night date.  What’s up with the dress?  It looked normal except for the ghost of her mom’s prom dress crawling up her left arm.  Luckily, Ben found the world’s first “capri tuxedo” to make her feel comfortable.

I hate how these girls don’t watch the show.  She says “I’m sick of being single” and “Do you have any questions you want to ask about me?”.  IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU LET’S GET PHYSICAL.  The show isn’t called “Insecure Girl in a Weird Dress” it’s called the Bachelor.  That means you just ask Ben questions, let him make out with you and blatantly lie that it doesn’t bother you that he is hooking up with literally every human you see all day.  That’s the game.  Wanna play?  Deal with it.  Despite being married, into girls and unwilling to wear neon clothes on camera, I am positive I could win the Bachelor.

Know how to beat Courtney?  Give her agent 5,000 dollars to call her and say she got offered a role in a new Jonah Hill movie as the girl who dances on a table at a party and Seth Rogen says “she is literally dancing on that table”.

Ben kept his reputation as a cold-blooded executioner on this show when he PICKED UP THE ROSE and then didn’t give it to her.  I loved it.  Sorry, but that is your punishment for being on this show.  Your reward however is a really cool ride in a dingy, some ugly crying on camera and the opportunity to say “I don’t know how this could happen?”

It happened because you are on a dating show…

As she cried, Chris Harrison and Ben made me fucking day by playing David Gray again, squeezing every last drop out of the music license ABC bought.  I fully expected them to pan down and show that Ben actually just keeps a boom box ready to play the song whenever he cuts someone and they start ugly crying.

When Let’s Get Physical get cut, the girls tripped out like guys do at the end of Usual Suspects.  This triggered Courtney to go into get naked mode.  She simply stated something about how Ben might like skinny dipping with a model and how LGP leaving was bittersweet, or bitter for her and sweet for Courtney.

I didn’t know it was possible to see a man sexually assaulted on a television show, but Ben was a deer in the headlights.  I mean look at his face:

Game.  Set.  Nudity.

Real quick, what was up with the need to blur out side boob?  What was going on there?  That said, I saw enough of Ben’s ass for one lifetime in the internet trailer, so I was willing to not see Courtney naked to not have to see Ben naked (plus, Courtney will be naked in a movie soon enough).  Sorry haters, this girl is the best contestant on this show in years purely from a competitive standpoint.  She’s the Michael Jordan of reality dating.  If I ever meet her, I’ll give her a high five and she will probably respect my shit talking because I am the Michael Jordan of blogging.  You’re welcome.

Later there was a conversation designed to get Courtney to fess up about the skinny dipping and I learned how much girls like skinny dipping.  Like, damn.  It must REALLY feel good as a girl.  I mean, I am into it, but it was a consensus.  Naked and female in water equals:

Regardless, the girls were way too deep in mojitos and oaky Chardonnay to connect the dots, which depressingly were one inch apart with arrows pointing between them.

Candy Striping Hooker depressed me so damn much.  Ben was definitely cutting her ass, but then she admitted to being 33 and old and alone and that she never thought she deserved a nice, normal guy.  In the process, she completely ruined strip clubs for me and I have 2 bachelor parties this year.  All we all will think about is Blakely wanting to be a girlfriend and not just someone you pay to leave.  Like, when did the documentary about exotic dancers invade the show.  Damnit.  And she’s good at baseball.  Morale of the story, strippers are people to and next time one offers you a lap dance, don’t answer.  Just say “you are a person and you deserve good things”.

Real quick.  Define irony.  Swimsuit Issues keeps calling Blakely a stripper, but is the first girl to voluntarily get naked on the show.  Hmmm.

Contagion tells Ben she’s over dogging Swimsuit Issues, but the immediately dogs Swimsuit Issues.  Ben wanted her to be the first person to find a way to drown due to humidity.

The Rose Ceremony came and he cut Neon Redhead, who seems cool, but got basically waxed because she wasn’t going to win anyway, Blakely earned another week and the producers gave Ben a suitcase of cash probably to keep Contagion one more week to play foil to Courtney.

Then despite Neon Redhead’s good start, she blew it in some of the ugliest crying we’ve seen in years on this show.  And then said she didn’t understand.  Then in trying NOT to cry, she kept like beeping like a microwave.  Ugh.  I need to get hired by ABC to give these incoming contestants pointers on how to win.  The season would go to hyperspace.  I know the producers are out there reading this because I am hot fire with a pen.  Consider it.  I’ll make it rain all kinds of ugly.

Then, they announced they’d be going to the “most glamorous city in Central America” which to me seemed like “the nicest buffet-style restaurant in Barstow”, but I could be wrong.

Finally it clicked.  Chris Harrison was in a good mood because he was going to Panama.  He was going to drug smuggling land.  No wonder he was giddy like a schoolgirl.

I have never been so excited for next week.  Also, wtf happens to Paris HilTRON?  It better not be a death in the family because if they film that shit, I’ll be pretty mortified, and I am a bad person.

We’ll see…

In my new feature, here’s some reader shout outs.  A photo will get you everywhere with me, especially if it has the blog up on your monitor or you make an awesome sign that scores me points with my wife.

So, big love to Abby in Minnesota and her co-workers (notice my blog in the background)!

And of course cheers to Hilary and crew who dressed up as the contestants for their fantasy league!

 

 From left: Bad Dress Personal Trainer, Candy Striping Hooker, Swimsuit Issues, Contagion, The Girl Know One Knows [AKA Jamie, we couldn’t even find a name for her on your blog!], and Forest Gump
And finally Meredith’s crew with a lovely sign that made my day and poses dogging Swimsuit Issues.  Roses for all of you.
At this point, time to click the links below and follow and like me.  I’m handsome and hell with a pen.

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Bachelor Recap: Week Two

Every season of the Bachelor there tends to be a theme.  I mean, yes, it’s always a helicopter-filled journey to find love, but each contestant brings their own flavor to the mix.  Ali (the Muppet) showed us you can dress up for Halloween as a burnt highlighter every day and wear extensions that are only loosely connected to your head.  Brad (Trust Fund) and Jake (Fight Pilot) taught us that you don’t need to be into girls to date 20 of them at one time.  Hey Bear taught us how to dance and explore random Asian markets instead of zipline and ride helicopters.

Last night it became clear what ZBOW (or Tennisless Rafael Nadal) wants you to take from this season.  HE IS FROM SONOMA, KAY BRO?  You might ask about his dog wearing a U of A collar and how he lived in Tucson as much as he lived in Sonoma.  NAH BRO.  BEN’S FROM SONOMA.  Don’t believe me?  Check out my tractor.  It matches my Bronco.  And this shirt the producers gave me.

Being that we established the ground rules (Ben is fucking from Sonoma, so don’t front), we got to take the traveling wonderbra show to wine country (where Ben is FROM, bitch) so he could show these girls what it’s like to be from Sonoma.

And that’s what he did.

First one on one date of the year and Ben takes Kacie, who after two episodes is the person I think is least likely to kill him with a needle in the ear when he is sleeping.  That has to be a plus, especially in Sonoma, which is where Ben is from.

He took her on a date around (wait for it…) Sonoma and told her how important to him Sonoma was.  They went into a candy store where clearly one of Chris Harrison’s slaves-slash-drug-smugglers planted a baton for Kacie to pick up as they were leaving.  She was a baton twirler apparently as a child, so guess what.  I’m calling you Band Camp now.

This baton had like dents and rust on it.  I wanted to believe Ben’s Sonoma was a magical place where all your childhood artifacts just show up, but like I said, this had Harrison’s work all over it.  And in it.  Pretty sure you unscrew the rubber protectors on the top of the baton and you can fit like 8 grams of blow in there.   Harrison needs it.  We’ll get to that later.   In Sonoma.

Next, Ben took Kacie on what might be the biggest double-edged sword of a date of all time.  Look, it was pretty cute (yes, I said cute, don’t worry, I also just cut myself, we’re even) to share childhood movies and it was really (not kidding) touching to see Ben and his family.  Kacie was even a sweetheart to make the wife-worthy observation that it was a different experience for her to see her Dad than it was for Ben to see his.  I admired Ben for this date (especially since it was in Sonoma).

Here’s the thing though.  You can’t just take a really nice southern girl out week two, show her your soft side, make her watch baby photos and then make out with the rest of the cast all season.  This could potentially turn Band Camp into Scary Bradshaw.  If you want to define female psychological terrorism, it’s watching baby photos in a romantic theatre in wine country and then having that man dump you on national television.

That said, I realize that Ben is going to try to kiss every contestant and I am starting to really admire the fact that he may be, in fact, a psychological terrorist.  There’s already been one lesbian encounter, twelve chicken fights, baby photos, Sonoma and like 8 swimming opportunities.  Ben is to the Bachelor what Neo is to the Matrix.  That makes Harrison a coked up Morpheus.

So, warning to Ben, who is already done filming so I am sorry for not being there for you, but Band Camp may murder you now, or sometime in the future.  I’ve probably fucked with some people’s heads in my life, but none of it was on national television (except when I fixed the Broncos game this weekend.  You thought Jesus did that Tebow?  Bitch, please).

The group date was pretty funny.  ZBOW decided to have children put on a community play, which was pretty entertaining, although I enjoyed it more before Ben stripped off his sheep clothing.  Not that he shouldn’t have, I am just an honest person.  It’s not so much the partial nudity that bothered me, it was just that this episode I thought he was contractually obligated to wear no less than 4 layers of summer suit and a really skinny tie.  Nudity isn’t a layer.

I enjoyed the try-outs a lot.  Nicky with the good Texas accent, who now I am calling Hot Sally Field (also ran:  Mrs. Doubtfire and Brothers & Sisters) embraced her roll of playing an ass, and that is good because when you are a contestant on this show, you either make and ass of yourself or are turned into a piece of ass.  We’ll see where that goes.

Blakely (really?), our “VIP cocktail waitress”, showed up in half an outfit and had to run in place, much to the terror of the young girls.  The only kid who loved it was the last kid, who probably went through puberty on the spot and will spend the next 10 years wading through inadequate high school girls until he can go to a strip club legally and find old women that dress like that and smell that much like Parliament Lights.  It will all come back to him in a flash and he’ll realize it was that one fateful day when Blakely (seriously?) jogged in place.

About that name.  Doesn’t it feel like her Dad wanted her to be a football player and when she popped out of the womb a girl, he just turned Blake into an adverb and hoped it made her feminine?

I need to skip ahead a little bit to the after-party, where Blakely got her nickname.  For the first time in the history of this blog, I am letting a contestant name a competitor.  Someone called Blakely (really?) a “Candy Striping Hooker” and frankly, I can’t beat that.

Candy Striping Hooker is doing a bad job hiding the fact she remembers all of the 80s.  Exhibit one?  Her earrings in the pool.  Did she steal those off a dead body from the Copacabana scene in Scarface?  And why did you wear them in the pool.  Also, I haven’t seen a ruffled bathing suit since my family went to Virginia Beach in 1986.  I was fucking four years old.  Conveniently, Candy Striping Hooker was in high school applying to colleges (which is code for VIP waitressing gigs) *which is code for being a stripper.

Did this stop Ben from making out with her?  Of course not.  And that’s what I like about Ben.  That and he’s from SONOMA, BRO.  Don’t get it wrong, KAY BRO?

Ben also made out with the the redhead that got in line for hair dye too many times and miraculously, as if she’d never watched this show before being on it, was shocked Ben made out with HER AND BLAKELY.  For future contestants reading this, let’s be clear on two things.  First, if you go on the show, everyone is kissing everyone all the time on helicopters, on ziplines, in fucking hot springs.  It’s part of the game.  Second, Ben is from Sonoma.  Don’t get that wrong, okay?  The guy lives wine country.  They are renaming Falanghina to be Flajnikghina.  In high school, they called him Beno Noir.  Get it straight, Ben was probably not born by conventional methods.  He was cultivated in the cool air of Napa Valley and harvested at the optimal time and then fermented in a barrel until he was ready to go into internet advertising.

Okay.  Homeboy is from Sonoma except when he was from Tucson.

The rest of the group date was filled with awkward faces from Scary Bradshaw, a steady drip of wine and then a mass-exodus away from Candy Striping Hooker when she came to sit down and air dry her ruffled swimsuit and meteors glued to paperclip necklaces earrings.

Oh yeah, when Candy Striping Hooker was talking to Ben one on one, she was talking about her boobs the whole time.  This is not helping convince me that a VIP waitress isn’t an escort.  Sorry.  Not that she has to.  The best part was when she described herself in that area as being blessed.

Yeah.  With a credit card the plastic surgeon’s office accepted.  Don’t insult our intelligence.  Oh wait, we watch the Bachelor.  Insult away.

The date card was dropped off and Band Camp read it aloud to the group getting shitfaced at home.  Swimsuit Issues (who looks like she rubbed on the face with sandpaper in her testimonials, but looks like a model in every other shot) said some crazy bitchy stuff like “how’d that taste coming out of your mouth” at which point I fully expected half the country to say “that’s what she said” in unison.

Band Camp, who is going to kill herself when Ben goes for Swimsuit Issues, was even polite in her shit talking.  I think she’s the early reasonable choice.

Anyway, bitch-at-home-sweet-on-dates Swimsuit Issues went on her one-on-one with Ben and his cool dog Scotch (in a U of A collar, spotted by @pachoopsab) to a quiet spot in Sonoma, which is Ben’s hometown.

Ben was pretty much paralyzed by her hotness and asked her lots of questions about being a model and she pretty much responded in this quiet-and-I-don’t-finish-sentences sort of way due to what appears to be a massive overbite (which I think is not structural, rather just the effect of being hot and never having a guy tell you that your baby talk flirting makes you look like you need head gear because they are scared that will mean you won’t sleep with him).

Regardless, Ben seems fascinated by this girl, although I have a tip for my homie Ben, who may not be as up on Los Angeles (and Santa Monica) as I am, which is probably because he is from Sonoma.  You can walk into ANY of the 23,000+ wine bars in Santa Monica and find an actress-model-dancer-whatever who will go out with you if you tell them you are a photographer, know a photographer, used to be a photographer or that they look crazy skinny.  They are cheap dates too as they don’t eat and three sips of chardonnay have them black out drunk.

You don’t need to be on the Bachelor to find a Courtney.  You just need to go to Bodega.

The final party before the Rose Ceremony was a total shit show.  The wine took way over.  Scary Bradshaw was making no sense, crying and doing more weird mouth shit.  Blakely got so drunk and tired she hid behind some suitcases in the luggage room (it’s a Sonoma thing).  At a point, I felt so bad for Ben.  It would be like trying to talk 15 jumpers off a ledge at the same time knowing you need to marry one of these people.  God save the ZBOW!

In the end, Ben cut Scary Bradshaw and her weird mouth.  I guess we can look forward to reading her fictitious blog never.  I forget who else he booted off, it doesn’t matter it’s still early.  Just like a cigar, this show improves halfway through when you can really feel the psychology of each of these hot messes.

I will say this…  I figured out why the girls are such a mess and why Harrison has to do so much cocaine.  When Scary Bradshaw was crying in bed after crying in the bathroom, the clock showed it was 2am.  The rose ceremony is at like 3am?!

Have you ever gone out with your wife/girlfriend and her friends until 3am after 30 bottles of wine and then brought up a sensitive subject?  Holy shit, this is sadistic.  And none of them are eating because of what happened to Chantal on Brad’s season (her clothes fit less each week), so this is a bunch of over-tired, starving drunk girls fighting over a winemaker in Sonoma.

Recipe for disaster.  It’s like Guantanaho Bay.

Lastly, Ben had a surprise for the girls.  They are going to San Fran.  Frisco.  The City by the Bay (I just said that because locals hate that and I am still pissed about the World Series 2 years ago).  Ben was really excited because as he said, San Francisco is his “home town”.

What the fuck, Ben.  I just spent an hour telling everyone you are from Sonoma.  So off to San Francisco and what better place to find love and be from Sonoma than San Francisco.

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