This week was about a lot of things, but really, who the hell am I kidding. This week was about Kasey. Kasey who I initially thought might be a reasonable dude, but now I am pretty sure has killed and eaten a human being at one point. Kasey continually tells Ali that he wants to protect and guard her heart. I think the Christian Bale-like intensity he brought out on their first date at the museum more likely had her wanting someone to protect and guard her vital organs because like I said, Kacey has definitely killed and eaten a live human being.
That said, I got my wish. I heard him sing. Now I have a new wish. I wish he never sings again. The first time he sang I wanted to die. The second time he sang was a more complicated feeling for me. I was initially excited because it was surprising, but then I was surprised a second time (double negative surprise) because this time I wanted to die even more than I did the first time. He sounded like the sixth member of N’Sync, the one who got smacked in the face with a boat oar like Jude Law did in Talented Mr. Ripley (SPOILER ALERT!). I am not sure if it would have been more or less awkward if he had written a poem on his junk and read it do her right there under the tyrannosaurus bones. Really not sure at all.
I am going to ignore most, if not all of the Lion King stuff because ABC is shameless in it’s cross promotion for Disney. I hear Roberto talking about how one of these guys is a Tony Award winning whateverthefuck and I hear some d-bag producer trying to get Ty’s dumb ass to get enthused. How much cocaine are they blowing into these dudes? I saw Lion King in London and the only good thing about it was that when you have been drinking pints in a pub for eight hours, stumbling into a room of people dressed as animals is just totally hilarious. Can you feel the love tonight? No, I feel like I need to watch the animated film to get this entire experience out of my mind. Then I am watching Ratatouille because I love it when the rat makes the soup and then kid gets wasted off wine with the evil chef. That shit was on point.
I mean, let’s go to Broadway, I get it. But drop the cross promo. Let’s put these meatheads in a scene from Starlight Express and make them rollerskate with lazers everywhere. Right? Or make these bruisers do a scene from Cats. I mean if you are going to go there, let’s freaking go there.
So the Muppet was sick this week, so we got a lot of dudes taking care of her, bringing over soup and things like that. I picture some poor P.A. having to go wait in line in the cold at the Carnegie Deli to obtain some chicken noodle soup for a Muppet thinking “there’s no way I can tell my mother this is my job”. Even worse, when he hits up Death & Co. that evening he definitely tells some ten-pounds-overweight NYC fake-tanned Gossip Girl fan in a black dress that he is a producer and when the Muppet had a case of the flu he lead the crew during it’s darkest hour by convincing them that the show must go on. Then he does some skip, throws up in a strange and tiny flat in the Meatpacking District and has to explain that the Blackberry he dropped in the toilet was actually taken in a violent mugging outside a bagel shop on the Lower East Side.
Where the hell did I just take you?
Anyway, Serial Kasey decided that telling the Muppet at least 300 times that he would “protect and guard her heart” was not getting the point home, so he did what any future mass murderer would do: Get a tattoo of, well, a shield protecting a heart. Even better, the shield had eleven diamonds on it, one for each of the guys still on the show, including the ones that clearly aren’t diamonds. Like the Weatherdouche. The Pocket Weatherman.
After the tattoo incident, I enjoyed the Wrestler calling out Serial Kasey. It made me like the guy a little more. You can tell exactly the kind of asshole that guy is. Kasey is going to be the star of a really scary movie one day and that movie will be a documentary. A documentary called the Bachelorette. Oh wait…
Luckily, Kasey didn’t get to show the Muppet his wrist tattoo or “stalker badge”. That goodness is being saved for next week and Iceland. Instead, Jesse was kicked off despite being totally normal and easily the best singer in the group. I guess the Aly’s favorite was Muppets Take Manhattan, because she definitely couldn’t handle the idea of Jesse liking “acreage” and “cows”. Shocker.
The other death by rose this week was the Weatherman. And I am sad to see him go because we are running out of total douchebags on the show. This pint-sized delusional boy suffered from a case of mother telling him he was special too much. There’s just a fine line between confidence and living in a dream state. His face during his singing audition was hilarious. It made me want to look away, but I simply couldn’t. Anyway, adios brah. Adi-freaking-os.
Let’s also analyze a really frightening trend that has been sweeping my Facebook wall for those of you readers who choose to “friend” me on that platform (and by all means join in). Last week an old co-worker sent me a picture where she photoshopped glasses onto my face for the purpose of claiming that I look like Frank (Chicago Late Bloomer). Naturally, it is hard for me to separate his appearance from his personality. I have woken up in the shower crying and scrubbing myself until I bleed several mornings since this was brought to my attention. I have now had coworkers and ex-girlfriends echo the same concept. My own mother has now joined in, although my mother’s loyalty to anything from Chicago calls her opinion into question (just kidding, I love you Mom).
After this was posted on my wall, there was a lovely conversation that followed. The best and possibly most depressing reaction was that of my future wife Emily who simply posted:
Cold-blooded. In fact, most of my friends girlfriends have jumped in on this and FRANK-ly (pun intended) I am just going to embrace it, even though I am pretty sure I could talk a man like Chicago Late Bloomer into eating peyote and jumping off the Sears Tower. The man is weak sauce and I think that’s the part I have trouble with. I side more with Billy Zane. Every man makes his own destiny. The sad part is my destiny might be to look like Chicago Late Bloomer. God, we even kind of dress alike. FML. Oh God, I just said FML. OMGWTFBBQ.
Truth is, if I look like anyone, it is a grizzly bear holding a bottle of 12 Year Old Yamazaki on the banks of a river. See?
Now, let’s be honest. That’s right on the money.
As for the episode’s highlight, it was the date between the Landscaper and the Muppet. He seems like a really good dude. He took care of his sick mother and made the last years of her life the best he could. The Muppet seemed kind to him and when she eventually just admits this is an elaborate plot to prolong sex with Roberto, I hope she let’s this dude down gently. He’s probably not good looking enough to get to be the Bachelor next season, but I call upon you civilian girls in Massachusetts to jump on it when he returns.
There, that was my good deed for the day.
Next week the show heads to Iceland where contestants will hang out at a volcano, swim in a hot spring and do their best to avoid being stabbed by Serial Kasey. I will see all of you next week and thanks to all my new readers that are here for this coverage. It’s a fun departure from whiskey and bears for me (please ignore the part of this post about whiskey and bears).