Tag Archives: sean lowe

What’s Gaby Cooking and Lost Angeles Bachelor Meal.

It’s not every day that you get the opportunity to pair with a renowned food blogger, celebrity chef and cookbook author to plan a meal.  Well, for you maybe, but for someone as handsome and good at life as I am, I can do this every day.  That’s because my wife is friends with Gaby Dalkin of What’s Gaby Cooking.  You can check out her amazing food blog or pre-order her amazing cookbook, or you can get to know her through this.

Her husband is a sports fanatic and bourbon loving ad man like I am, but today I am partnering up with his better half on a little idea we had.

We wanted to make a dinner for you to cook that would be inspired by America’s worst shit show:  The Bachelor.  For Gaby, this was probably easy.  I will link you to her carb-heavy, slut and glut comfort food recipe at the end of this post.  Going in, I knew her plan was to go carb heavy, possibly sausage heavy (we’re not being subtle) and basically create a culinary guilty pleasure to liken to The Bachelor.  I’ll let her wax poetic about the symbolism, just know we had fun discussing it.  She’s worth reading every time she posts.  She’s one of us.

I decided to bring my better-than-you’d expect mixology to the table and create a drink to pair with her meal.  Not totally sure how well the actual pairing will go, but individually I know these stand up.  I crafted a new beverage called The Rose Ceremony and it is a riff on the St. Germain Cocktail which I have enjoyed at many a poolside in Los Angeles on a hot summer day.  Sure, it’s raining here in Portland, but it’s sunny on the Bachelor so that’s what counts.

To craft the Rose Ceremony and keep it true to its namesake event, I had a few guidelines:

  • Have it taste good
  • Make it sour enough to remind us of the ugly criers that get sent home roseless
  • Use roses in the drink
  • Use Chardonnay in the drink (not that easy)
  • Use at least three kinds of alcohol so that you know what the girls feel like at 4am when they are eliminated
  • Impress you that I can craft cocktails like a demon and make you even more attracted to me


To start, here’s what you will need:

  • A glass that makes you feel like an asshole when you hold it
  • The juice of 1 lemon (around 2 oz please)
  • 1 oz of Tito’s Vodka (it’s from Texas like Sean)
  • 2 oz of unoaked chardonnay (Sauvignon Blanc or Champagne would work better but that isn’t the deal.  Please don’t use the oaky shit I make fun of)
  • 1.5 oz St. Germain elderflower liqueur
  • 1 tbsp Rose Water
  • Club Soda to taste
  • A big ass ice cube if possible (to represent the Neil Lane ring the winner gets to keep for 3 weeks until they call it off)

In a glass, combine the lemon juice, vodka, chardonnay, St. Germain and rose water.  Stir.  Add the ice cube and pour club soda to fill your glass.  Add a little lemon peel if you feel fancy.  I did.


Now, drink.  You’ve just made The Rose Ceremony, the first cocktail from Lost Angeles and the only you will find with Chardonnay in it because, well, it sucks.

Next, CLICK HERE to see Gaby’s recipe.  Take pictures of you enjoying our offerings and they will get posted for the BachCaps.  We think Monday night is a great time to try it.  Will you accept that rose?

If you do, use the hashtag #GZbachmeal on instagram to show us what you got!





Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelor Recap: Week Three

Before we get into it, I have a couple big announcements that as the most handsome blogger in North America who understands how to make every pre and post prohibition cocktail known to man, I demand you pay some attention before I start making some reality game show contestants want to drink Drain-O to make it all end quickly.

The first, is that I am finally doing a little co-partnership with my good friend Gaby Dalkin of What’s Gaby Cooking, a killer chef, food blogger and soon to be published cookbook author.  Besides having been a personal chef to Jessica Simpson, amongst others, she has also put up with me for many years and introduced me to her husband, with whom I have covered up many crimes, especially in Las Vegas.

What Gaby and I have planned is to release two recipes this Thursday.  Gaby, will take the dinner course and I will be showing you how to make a cocktail.  Together, you will cook her recipe and build my cocktail and sit and enjoy week four of the Bachelor.  It’s going to taste great and my drink will at least ensure you are drunk before the show starts.  It’s like a valium before surgery.

So, look out for that if for no other reason than to try some of Gaby’s food.

The second bit is a request.  Full disclosure, I work for an advertising agency and we’ve worked on a project where people can basically Kickstarter a vehicle.  Well, a fraternity at USC is going to crowdfund a Dodge Dart to donate to Meals on Wheels.  I want you all to do me a favor and donate them a couple bucks.  I am proud of the project, but I’d be most proud if it was used for good, hopefully to offset the damage my promotion of the Bachelor does to this and future generations.  Please CLICK THIS LINK and give a dollar, ten dollars, hell, a C-note if you appreciate me.

And now, let’s BachCap.

Holy shit!  Strawberry Lemonade was working out this week to intro the show.  If this was Foursquare, he’d get a fucking badge and some copy like “Three weeks in a row looking homoerotic on a treadmill?  Your self dignity says no, but your biceps say yes!”

Then I ignored everything he said, because, well, he’s Strawberry Lemonade and the only thing I pay attention to with him is the fact that every time his kisses a girl he puts his hand on her leg like she’s a manual transmission car.  Sean doesn’t make out with girls, he drives stick.

First one on one date was Pretty Little Liar who has all the game of an 8th grader in a hot tub.  They get in a limo and head to the place that every producer on a Hollywood show takes reality show contestants:  Hollywood Boulevard.  Let’s list my memories of Hollywood Blvd.  I puked on it once back when my band had a rehearsal space off Vine in a tenement house (but Adam Brody’s band rehearsed there too, get turned on again women!).  My high school reunion was at the W so I let a valet take my car there.  I ate at Mel’s there a few times when the Sunset location felt too far away.  I won’t even go to a strip club there.


Every other Hollywood Blvd experience?  Trying not to get raped by homeless street performers dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow and Chewbacca.  Literally, you can be sober on a Tuesday at 2pm and it’s like 4am at Burning Man with a head full of acid and someone trying to cut your arm off with a tree branch while asking you for money.

But hey, let’s go to the Guinness World Records place that I have driven by 1000 times and never gone in because I am not an asshole tourist from Osaka with a shitty travel agent.  In fact, this date was awesome because I got to see inside a building I have never been in and after 18 years in LA, there aren’t many of those.  Side note, when you are up in Portland, sometimes the Bachelor can make you homesick.  Cured.  You showed me Hollywood Blvd and Guinness.  Bring on the rain, Pac Northwest.

While walking around the museum and listening to Pretty Little Liar in her too short dress try and talk about what’s interesting about these “exhibits”, we find out Strawberry Lemonade’s dad (and family) are the kind of people who set GBOR records.  97 straight hours in a car?  Don’t marry into this family.  This isn’t like, let’s go do the hot wings challenge at the local sports bar.  This is like “let’s talk about God and ammo for 48 straights never stopping”.  Fuck.  That.  Noise.

They go outside and there’s a stage, a man in a ridiculous dinner jacket (I know you know Downton watchers) who has the depressing job of taking something like a GBOR record seriously and a crowd of homeless people, tourists and drug peddlers.  The drug peddlers explain why Chris Harrison decided to pop out at just that moment, in a Michael Scott “pretend I am the ring leader at a circus” vest.  Harrison wears a suit better than anyone on earth.  I hate when he goes casual or worse, circus casual.

Pretty Little Liar and Strawberry Lemonade have to make out for 3 minutes and 16 seconds and set a record for longest on screen kiss, which to fulfill, meant we had to watch all 3:16 seconds of it.  The situation did not stop Sean for grabbing her ass a few times.  Hard to stop a trained behavior, wait til he starts beating her without knowing why.

I thought the point of this was to force Strawberry Blonde to get some muscle memory on how to kiss.  Normally, he sticks his tongue out like he’s trying to eat Gogurt.  As later kisses this episode show, he learned nothing.  I have to close my eyes when he makes out with girls because it’s worse than watching surgery on television.  Frankly, it’s more invasive.

Later they go upstairs and Pretty Little Liar talks about how Sean is perfect, which she will regret in about a month.  Publicly.  On television.  With tears.

Then she does that awkward game that kills sperm count where you talk about kissing and shit before you kiss.  It’s like watching two 8th graders fall in love.  Then Strawberry Blonde said he was making her blush, which was the purple-faced lemonade head calling the kettle… purple?

Magic, lazers, fairy dust, thank god, a commercial.

Group date, bitches.  We’re going to Zuma beach ten minutes from the mansion where my entire high school used to go to see each other in less clothes each summer and where every fucking commercial about rollerskating at the beach is filmed.

My wife knew a physical challenge was coming because she pointed out that suddenly, all these girls were wearing sports bikinis designed to make sure Guybrow’s boobs didn’t carry her out to see.  I wasn’t worried.  If her eyebrow raises don’t carry her to space, she’s fine.

Much like during Ben’s season, the girls were going to play a sport and the winning team gets MORE TIME WITH STRAWBERRY LEMONADE.  Unlike Ben’s season, instead of playing baseball in a creepy Puerto Rican Estadio, this was low budget let’s play volleyball on a public beast.  Way to spoil us, ABC.  Guinness and now this?  You’re too good to us.  Fuck you.

These girls were so bad at volleyball they couldn’t even pretend to cut together a montage that showed any back and forth.  Why was the score tied the whole time?  No one ever got it over the fucking net.  This looked like the fucking Puppy Bowl before the Super Bowl where it’s just a bunch of puppies chasing chew toys around a kennel and they call it football.

Someone, blue team “wins”.  Anyone Can Model takes this way too fucking hard and I kept hoping a seagull took a shit in her hair, but no such luck.

The night date was back at Strawberry’s house.  Again, way to spend ABC.  Did you pick up Baja Fresh for them on the way home too?  Sean probably was like “I’ll take my Burrito Mexicano enchilado style” and the producers were like “fuck that, what do you think this is, Dancing With The Stars?  You get some chips.  Now work out on camera or you don’t get the salsa”.

Harrison must have spent the budget on some really, really good shit.  This episode started off CHEAP.


The only thing of note besides the fact that Neon Knight can show all her fucking teeth at once (even works, she’s one of like five girls still on the show that do this) is that Beyan supposedly went nuts and tried to say that Neon Knight and Joey Potter were in a fight and somehow this made her in the middle of it.

We all know Beyan is just there to focus test her.  Will she be the next Bachelorette?  So, they need to get her off the show.  I just wanted them to try harder than to have a girl who we’ve seen be normal just make duck faces and make up some weird ass story about being in the middle of an argument that didn’t exist.  The thing about bad writing is that it stands out even on a bad show.  There’s a reason you all gave up on Gossip Girl for a few minutes there.  There’s a reason you gave up on 90210 (the new shit).  There’s a reason Sex and the City 2 made most of us want to eat dynamite and matches.  Even good things can be poorly written.

But yeah, Kacie B. “career Bachelor contestant” isn’t auditioning for the Bachelorette…

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Whatever, the wedding dress girl who talks like Shoshana from Girls (in one long sentence) gets the rose and some disgusting tongue first kissing.  Good on you, GIRLS.

The date card shows up and Guybrow pretends it’s a two-on-one and everyone is like “WHAT A BITCH” and for the first time ever, I was on Guybrow’s side.  Take a joke.  And that was the last joke of the show.

The second one on one date was going to be AshLee, who due to a sad story about having ten foster homes has two capitals in her first name, presumably because she was named by a handful of different people and just took bits and pieces of that melange of names.  You bet I used the word melange.  Don’t be so turned on.  I got it off a jar of peppercorns.  I can cook.  Be turned on again.

Besides another bit of bad writing where Guybrow falls down the stairs conveniently when Sean is over and he waits 20 minutes and says “she may have a concussion”, we were almost ready for one of the show’s finer moments.  But first, we were made to believe paramedics were going to let a woman they put in a neck brace walk away then sit slacker style on a couch.  Just stop.  Either go Hunger Games, or don’t.  She didn’t fall down the stairs.  I just hope no one actually died because there was a team of EMTs pretending to secure the head of a moron.  Worse, could we have skipped the TEN teasers pretending like this scene was interesting.  Cheers to Guybrow for wearing see-thru clothes tho.

Little Orphan Hottie, who is nails, gets the charity date.  They go to Six Flags, it’s empty and two nice young girls with serious diseases come and ride in the park.  I don’t have much to say, this was a great thing for them and Little Orphan Hottie looked hot the whole time and clearly is a nice person.

She told her story to Sean and he cried and that was maybe the first genuine moment I’ve seen on this show.  What a perfect Texas wife she’d make.  She’s hot, she’s glad to have a home and when you go play golf, she actually enjoys putting all your shit away in perfect working order.  Sign us all up.  I mean, literally, compared to being abused and shuffled through the fucking foster home system, Sean working on basal cell carcinoma on the golf course and being home organizing his workout board shorts seems like a walk in the part.

She’s a contender and if she isn’t, I got some friends that are interested.

Rose ceremony, blah…  Anyone Can Model was kicked off.  I forgot the other.  Oh yeah, Beyan.  Who wasn’t ever really there and was wearing a wetsuit, presumably because she was filming an underwater breach scene for a Bond film.

NOW DONATE AND LEMME KNOW YOU DID:  http://dodgedartregistry.com/campaign/detail/102





Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelor Recap: Week Two

Sorry for the brief delay.  Contrary to popular belief, I write this blog only to be famous amongst attractive people.  During the day, I am an evil computer wizard playing mind games.  This took me to Detroit for the Auto Show where I sat inside lots of different cars Chris Harrison probably knows how to dismantle and stash drugs in.

Speaking of Chris Harrison, my phone and later Instagram blew up with attractive USC girls taking candid pics with Chris, who spoke at a class there and took everyone out afterwards for Chick-Fil-A.  Because sober people take a horde of hot sorority girls to eat a physical ton of fried chicken.  Your honor, the prosecution rests.  And the prosecution loves Chris Harrison.

Okay, let’s BachCap.

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Strawberry Lemonade is from Dallas.  Someone tell me why his backdrop is in Middle Earth.  I know they drill the line that it’s a “journey” to find love into our brains, but was it “An Unexpected Journey”?  Can we expect the hometown dates to include dwarfs?  Are they going to have sex in a hot tub in Rivendell.  Explain yourself.

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I am so tired of watching Strawberry Lemonade lift weights and make porn faces and it’s only week two.  I would have taken a better screencap, but I was trying not to look and the idea of scrubbing the video back and watching it again to get a clip without the video controls seemed worse than an optional catheter.

Side note, do you guys feel like there are more catheter infomercials on late at night or is that just Portland?  Is there some shit going on I am not aware of?  Should I be rocking a catheter for fun?  I had a kidney stone once and when I woke up from surgery I apparently had one in and when they took it out I literally made the face Keanu made when they unplug him from the Matrix in that pod of pink goo.

What the fuck was I saying?  You can feel sorry for my wife.  That detour I just took happens at dinner.  With waiters.

Harrison let’s the women know Strawberry Lemonade is the most sincere bachelor of all time, which I know meant a lot to a group of girls who voluntarily are competing for a dude that has agreed to pick a wife on a game show.  Sincere as hell, people.

Soon enough, the date card arrives and the most untouchable contestant ever gets the date.  You guessed it, the attractive girl with one arm who also works at an agency I have friends at.  She is incredibly hard to nickname.  I am just hoping she says something I can work with soon.  In the meantime, I have to take a reader suggestion and go with Soul Surfer.  I feel dishonored.  I should have had that.

The good news is, Soul Surfer helped me create a nickname for the political whatever-the-fuck from DC who made an awful face the moment the date went to Soul Surfer.

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That’s the face of “charity date’ and in that moment I realized ABC was using her as a screen test for an upcoming guest role on an ABC Family show.  She totally looks like the bad guy in a young teen high school drama.  She seems down to earth, but you go sleep at her house and she’s not a virgin and you are prude for thinking pot is a big deal.  I give you Pretty Little Liar.

Strawberry Lemonade may be a meat stick, but he’s running with Lost Angeles super friend Ben Flajnik for “Bachelor Who Gets It”.  The ladies here a noise outside and guess what?


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Give me a rose, Sean.  For real, bro.  You get it.  You will let them do whatever to you.  Have Arie on?  Sure.  Homoerotic work out montages to open every show?  Fuck yeah.  Title screen based on Lord of the Rings?  Why not.  Strawberry Lemonade, there’s hope for you yet.  Not with kissing though.  You’re fucked with that.

Soul Surfer said something about how having one arm doesn’t mean she has less love to give.  No shit.  That’s why when people are in love they say shit like “my heart belongs to you”.  They don’t say “my left arm skips a beat when I see you”.  I’m torn, I totally can see how it’s courageous for her to compete in this hellish arena, but let’s keep it real.  She’s hot.  She works at an office of hot people.  I think it’s fair to say you’d get with her, America.  When the Elephant Man is on Bachelorette, we’ll talk.  She’s a contender.

Strawberry Lemonade proved he reads this blog by going big with his first date.  It will never be lost on me that he took a woman with one arm and asked her to jump off a fucking building.  I know there was probably some ABC tomfoolery because of Soul Surfer recanting the tale of her not being allowed to zipline and this being a way of making it right, but when it’s a show designed to ruin your life, what is the point.  We’re organizing deck chairs on the Titanic again, Chris Harrison.  And I love you for it.

About the ziplining thing.  Her father told her when she was a young girl “that’s why she needs to find a man to take care of her”?  He should have made the zipline attendant apologize and admit what his salary was and show a photo of his crunchy, granola girlfriend who didn’t grow up half as hot as Soul Surfer.  Thanks Dad.

Also, hey harness guy.  When you woke up, you knew you’d be on TV, right?  Maybe next time don’t wear a Jurassic Park shirt and force some poor bastard at ABC to spend his weekend rotoscoping your t-shirt you got as a PA in 1991.  I get that they give people t-shirts when they work on movies.  What I don’t get is why people wear them.  You heard me guy at Dodger game wearing a 500 dollar leather “According to Jim” jacket.  You are an asshole.

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The freefall went well, the after date went well, Soul Surfer nabbed the first tongue-forward kiss of the season and I was ready for a the group date.

Whackflip reads the date card, it’s the usual BS from everyone.

They go to a manor, which is a great word, to do a photo shoot for the cover of a romance novel series.  It’s an excuse for everyone to dress slutty and for Strawberry Lemonade to take her shirt off.  Clearly there was no Bowflex handy.  The “model” was super stoked.

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Is there anything more annoying than someone repeatedly reminding you they are a “model” or “actor”.  I am guessing Morgan Freeman doesn’t have to remind people at dinner he is an actor.  Guessing Kate Moss doesn’t giggle when a camera comes out and say “this is so my thing!”  Here’s my point.  Remember in Ratatouille when Gusteau says “anyone can cook”.  Here’s proof “anyone can model”.   I give you Anyone Can Model.

Credit to Anyone Can Model, she at least kept her eyes on the prize.  Tierra Nevada (not her nickname) was talking shit to Whackflip about her extensions and then Whackflip called her a tacky ass ho or something.  Girls are awesome.  They talk shit sometimes in the way cell phones work.  They don’t connect directly.  They bounce their shit off a satellite.

The women are onto Tierra.  They get that she’s the B in Apartment 23 when not with Sean, but she then becomes Flirt McGirt when he’s around.  In fact, her right eyebrow explodes north up her face the moment Sean enters the room.  It’s a man-activated eyebrow. I give you Guybrow.

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You will never not notice this the rest of her time on this show.  Guys, you will probably be looking at her boobs.

There were vampires, hooker cowgirls and weird period pieces.  Pretty Little Liar was working it pretty hard and proving my nickname, but Anyone Can Model stepped in and basically gave him a lapdance and in doing so, won the day.  I felt bad for Whackflip because I feel like the race card was at play here.  Maybe I don’t spend enough time in airport bookstores, but I haven’t seen too many interracial trashy romance novel covers.  Not surprised after this date she said something to Sean about if he likes all kinds of girls.  Not to jump ahead, but as smooth as his answer was, I felt like when he was rattling off the different races he dated he worked hard not to say “I’ve dated sushi, hummus, uh, do Italians count?”

Whatever, I kinda dig Whackflip.  I have a feeling she’s going to make women insecure when the swimsuit competition starts.  For realz.

Later, Pretty Little Liar choked on trying to get a kiss, but then came back and took one by force.  Anna Nicole Schlitz didn’t like it.

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beyan got the rose which probably lead to Pretty Little Liar plotting with the rest of her cheer squad how they could embarrass her before the big dance.

I can’t remember when, but one girl made a comment about being vegan and still liking beef, meaning Strawberry Lemonade’s muscles.  I am pretty sure Harrison was stoned and bet a producer an eighth he could get her to say that line.  Game, set, match Harrison.

Final date went to Joey Potter, the bridal store woman who gave up on Dawson and is bringing her weird Katie Holmes mouth movements and just Alba-enough looks into the dark horse role.  SL is way into her.  So much so, that he let a still blazed Chris Harrison talk him into playing a prank on her.

A 1.5 million dollar sculpture falls over when she’s alone in a room and the worst actor in the world accuses her while Harrison and Sean eat Hot Cheetoes and Skittles with Big Gulps in the next room.  Seemed like Joey Potter knew this was a prank, but she’d have been sure if she knew what Chernobyl was, the place the glass from the sculpture was reclaimed from.  For those of you at home, it’s radioactive.  It was absurd.  It was over her head.

She brought her rocking body to the hot tub party and got some gross ass Strawberry Lemonade kisses.  She’s in good shape.

The cocktail party was dominated by three key events.  There was Bad Hair Year kicking herself off the show and doing everything but saying “namaste” on her way out.

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Guybrow was the first person I ever saw eat on this show, which gives me hope she could have some awesome weight gain a la Chantal (my old fav) if she stays around long enough and doesn’t die in whatever the paramedic scene from next week ends up being.

Lastly, that crazy girl who smiles with all her teeth came out in a neon yellow dress with, like, should armor in the shape of roses.  I thought she was going to jump on a horse and do battle with Jim Carrey at Medieval Times.  Neon Knight was born and like Guybrow, turned it on just enough on camera with Strawberry Lemonade.

In the end, Isla Shitter (we barely knew you) and that girl who never got to talk peaced out.  Maybe someone else.  It’s still too early.  And right now, it’s too late.

We’ll get back at this next week.  XOXO, Gossip Zack.





Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette

Bachelor Recap: Week Juan

See what I did with that title?  It’s Latin and sexy.  I bet you are in the mood now.  The mood for a piece of plantain-wrapped salmon thrown in a pit of spider monkeys.  Or like, the Bachelor.

For those not keeping up with my jetsetting lifestyle, I have been preparing for this season in my new home in Portland, Oregon.  You have no idea the spread of locally-sourced charcuterie and Willamette Valley pinot that I drank as we watched Strawberry Lemonade’s journey for love begin.


I mean, I literally made a bourbon/earl grey/chanterelle mushroom ragout with ingredients found within eight blocks of my house on a guided “herb tour”, which are super hot in PDX right now.  If you haven’t been here, don’t.  You wouldn’t understand.  Here’s something you might understand. I look fucking amazing in flannel and rain gear.  You’d give me the rose.  You are reading this.  That’s giving me a rose.

Think about it.  I moved to the Rose City because you guys give me so many roses.  Still not convinced?  Every morning I go to Multnomah Falls and bath myself in front of German tourists.  Check their Yelp reviews.  They like what they see.


Football has ended and shamelessly, the Bearfighter begins his hibernation ritual.  It’s that awkwardest of awkward periods:  between football and baseball where my only competitive sport is giving desperate women and men nicknames and casting stones upon them from my happy marriage and legion of super attractive readers of all sexes, races and religions.

So, without further adieu, let’s ruin Strawberry Lemonade’s life, just like he ruins womens’ lives by kissing them with more tongue than a deli meat counter.


QUICK TIME OUT.  I was shocked to find out One Direction and Lady Veneers didn’t make it.  Then I went outside and was shocked it was raining in Portland.  Then some magicians entertained me in my living room with a wild light and sound show only for me to find out it was just “the television”.

I mean, no wonder Neil Lane is down to give out rings.  He just gets them back in 6-12 weeks.  I digress…

First off, HOLY SHIT OPENING MONTAGE.  Not since Brad Wifebeater were we treated (or mistreated by) such a gratuitous amount of man knockers.  Credit to Strawberry Lemonade for what must be a hellish routine of playing golf and lifting bibles, because homeboy is jacked up.  That said, Chris Harrison had to be on so many mushrooms when he planned out Strawberry Lemonade’s work out routine.  It was:

  • Light 10 yard jog across awkwardly small backyard
  • Turn purple under the sun and set a solid foundation for skin cancer (10 reps)
  • Check out your arms while you use a Precor all-in-one weight lifting machine like the one in your parents garage (you heard me Mom).

Then the producers acknowledged my years of unlikely service to this shit show of a shitty show by having Strawberry Lemonade cut strawberries.  And he cut them like a dude who sucks in bed.  Who cuts them in the air like that?  If you can’t figure out to put it on a cutting board, you probably can’t figure a lot of other shit out too.


Case and point, when Arie showed up dressed like a highlighter and taught him how to kiss.  They drank light beer together and discussed how to make out with girls, which was tough.  On the one hand Strawberry Lemonade needs help.  I physically wanted to puke every time he made out with Emily last season.  At the same time, Speed Racer was the second grossest kisser on earth.  It was like going to rehab at Chris Harrison’s house.


Fair warning, I don’t give out nicknames all in the beginning.  Nicknames are subject to change as these ass clowns screw up.  That said, let’s talk about the hot girl who had six foster homes.  We’ll call her Little Orphan Hottie and I suspect we’ll be seeing her around.  If she starts putting out too much, she could end up Personal Whoreganizer, but I doubt it.  Nothing like the Bachelor to make you deal with a woman who had a tough life and has supplemented that by becoming a personal organizer.  Like, she couldn’t control who her parents were, but she can control the order of her blouses in her closet.  I thought that was going to be the story intended to make us sad.

Chris Harrison wouldn’t leave it at that.  Not after drinking a bottle of Robotussin.

Then we met a really nice graphic designer who only has one arm.  I am just cringing at where this is going to go.  I also cringed at her client call where she was like “this campaign is all about getting noticed… in culture” and on her monitor was like a poorly photoshopped glass of something clear.  I’m glad Lemonade handled it well, she’s cute enough and far more normal than the vast majority of these failed strippers.  Plus she works at a good agency in LA.

Strawberry Lemonade got dressed and made a critical “how to suit” mistake.  When you are built like the Incredible Hulk about midway through your transition to a giant green muscle, DON’T WEAR A SKINNY TIE.  Regular ties looks like skinny ties on big dudes.  Ladies, you watch Mad Men.  Do you really want a guy who can’t figure out how to look like he gets business done?


Somewhere in here, they cut to the limo arrival scene where I saw that they put a pound of silly puddy colored makeup on Strawberry Lemonade to he looks less, well, like a glass of strawberry lemonade.  In no particular order because I hate the first couple weeks:

  • Whackflip, who seems cool but earned the first “Bachelor Creepy Theme” by failing her second backflip in a full gown as she headed for Sean.  Despite her Wide Hair Part, she was cute enough.
  • The was Booze Ship Entertainer, the, uh, cruise ship singer who made the cardinal sin of singing on the Bachelor.  She also made the cardinal sin of dressing like a character from a XXX rated Ice Capades.  You know, Disney on ice except instead of the princess getting saved, the princess just gets down.
  • There was the 50 Shades of Gray girl who, had she not drank her way off the show, I would have called her 50 Pills of E.  You all miss out.  Except some dude in Michigan who is going to get a whole lot of crazy.  Maybe in a good way?  Not sure.
  • There was the one girl who looked like the mom of Modern Family (or the love interest from Happy Gilmore if you are old school) who just cried in a corner and let her boobs hang out.  I’ll call her Double Dunphy.  For now.
  • There was Isla Hooter, but I don’t remember much about her except she looked like a not-as-cute Isla Fisher with, well.  You get it.

There are some girls on the show that I have high hopes for.  I think there is real nickname potential.  The political consultant (keep it real, she makes copies for a living and if she didn’t, she will now that she was on the Bachelor, which sort of kills any career in politics).  Seriously, you are better off doing cocaine on an airforce base than being on this show.  Ask George W.

Then there was the return of Beyan, one of my personal favorites.  That said, she has had the uppercase B in her nickname demoted to a lowercase one until she starts eating again.  I feel like her and I are friends on Facebook.  beyan, I really like you.  You are cute, you have the good southern accent (not like Princess Jasmine who I had no idea what the fuck she was saying even when she was kicked off) and you deserve to find love.  But you also deserve to find a sandwich.

You need to be healthy for when predictably you find a reason to leave the show and sign on as the Bachelorette.  The only thing about that I really love is that it must mean you killed your parents, got them to chill the eff out or destroyed their television.  In fairness, she’d make a great Bachelorette.  She’s pretty funny.  Like when she told The Wasted Veil she needed some water.  That was the drunk woman in the fucking wedding dress.

Poor Strawberry Lemonade.  We’ve all been there, fellas.  Dancing with a hammered girl and doing anything to not line your face up with her because you fear she may vomit in your mouth.  In my experience, only your wife, a stage five clinger and a girl so drunk she may projectile vomit Chardonnay into your mouth try that hard to kiss you and make you dance.  Harrison paid Lemonade in heroin balloons to keep her on the show.

Divorce is a good look for Chris, who again owned in his gray suit.  He even updated the show to fix the first episode.  Giving out roses the whole time was huge because you didn’t suffer through that first rose ceremony where you are like “who the fuck are these people”.   When he came in all classy clinking a fork he was using to cut up cocaine against his champagne flute, I was jacked up and ready for week two.

The montage showed me this season might be pretty good.  Lemonade is so derped out that he won’t get in the way of the tenants of this show.  I saw beach sluttiness.  I saw shit tons of helicopters.  There were mountain helicopters.  Fucking ocean ones.  There was rock climbing and people jumping off shit.  That one girl pretends to break her neck.  Wedding Planner (not sold on it) has her ex/current boyfriend show up and he fronts like he is going to hit Strawberry Lemonade.  I don’t think Sean knows his way around a naked woman, but I am confident he could knock out a dude weighing in at 165.

I have high hopes for new nicknames, adventures and a lot of hungover Tuesdays at work rationalizing how on earth I keep doing this.  Oh yeah, it’s for all of my attractive readers who have come out of hiding for the New Year.

As always, send me your pictures of how you celebrate the show and the blog and I will post them.  Creativity counts.  Just ask Whackflip.  Don’t ask Booze Ship Entertainer.

Happy Bachelor.  We’re just getting started.

Lastly, got a late submission from some fans in Salt Lake City.  Linnea and Co, thanks for reading!

bachelor night





Filed under Bachelor/Bachelorette