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Bachelorette Recap: Week Eight

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever, stick your wet hand in the faulty socket.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then HELICOPTER!  Just kidding, fuck this show.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelorette Recap: Week Five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They left to… GO TO A PUB.  Again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Off to Croatia.

Couple things…

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

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

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



Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette