Sorry for the brief delay, dermatologists seem to love hacking me up. Enough about me, let’s talk fucking Anguilla (which I know they had to spend hours coaching Trust Fund and the Fundettes how to pronounce this island).
I need to say one thing really quick. Where the hell has Chris Harrison been all season? He’s ducking out so much it’s ridiculous. Like, I am pretty sure something happened on the set of Bachelor Pad between him and the Weatherman, and he’s been starving himself and blowing lines ever since. He’s a total tweaker now. Literally, the only non drug abusing scenario I can come up with is that he just found out Seacrest is taking his job. Harrison, out.
So, what better place to find love than Anguilla? I don’t know, as long as they have helicopters it’s as good a place as any. This week, there were going to be three individual dates and one group date. Two girls were going home, the rest get hometown dates, which for me is when the season gets fun. That’s because we get to get into the psychology of what Trust Fund is signing himself up for. Remember that dude last season who’s father had a basement filled with dead, embalmed animals? Kirk, that was the dude. Gingerpuss. Yeah, his dad was creepy. I can only imagine what the Undertaker’s hometown visit will be like. Embalming humans in Chico. Sounds like the logline for a Robert Rodriguez film that went straight to DVD.
Date one went to Emily, who I now realize has the best game of any woman I have ever come across. She says nothing. She never says anything revealing. Brad acts like a total bitch around her. She says nothing. He’s like, “can I meet your kid” she’s like “I don’t know”. It’s amazing. You get a palpable sense that if she even remotely hints that she doesn’t hate him, he’ll kill a living cat for her in cold blood. She could ask him to scrape his ridiculous tattoo off his back with a piece of coral and he’d say “please, anything you want” (and what better place to scrape a ridiculous tattoo off your back than here in Anguilla).
Brad told Emily she was getting a hometown visit, a rose and a lifetime of servitude despite that being against the “rules” of the show, although with Chris Harrison doing opium with a few locals playing a game of Russian roulette, who was to stop him. All she had to do was make out with him. And ok, I’ll just say it. She’s got some serious veneers. It’s cool, I’m into it. I’m just saying. We’re all getting trapped by the slow roll.
Date two was the Undertaker and Brad hitting the street (not plural) of Anguilla and talking to a bunch of people who were totally hammered and playing dominoes. The best part was watching the two love birds carry around wine glasses in the middle of the day on Poverty Blvd. and then asking advice from a cool local lady who had no teeth. Later, they had dinner (I didn’t notice Undertaker eating like a feral child this episode, so someone must have taught her “knife” and “fork”). It rained. They made out. They caught a really weirdly staged reggae show.
Date three was taking the Gymnast on a yacht. This was excruciating. I kept saying “she has a pretty face”, but I just kept hoping she would eat a sandwich or something. She is so crazy thin it was weirding me out. I was so relieved when they went back to the yacht because food was served. I felt bad for her, because she seems like a nice person who likes the simple things in life like living off an apple a day and spray painting pink Krylon on her cheeks, but unfortunately, Trust Fund had no chemistry with her. He booted her before the rose ceremony.
Let me make one thing clear though, what a dick way to boot someone off the show. He made it out like this was better in some way. Explain to me how being kicked off a yacht, taking a dingy to shore with a strange man, climbing in the back door of your hotel room and packing in front of five stoked women is better than being kicked out at a rose ceremony where you have already packed and the sole purpose of the ceremony is to kick people off the show. I mean, fuck Brad. I don’t fault you for not wanting sexy time with a girl that looks underage, but like, let her finish her fucking dinner and give her a lift back to the hotel. That was some cold shit, Trust Fund. Maybe there is hope for you yet.
Finally, the group date was ridiculous because as Brad said, it is every girl’s dream to… “pose for a swimsuit calendar”. Where are these girls? Maybe it’s my lack of attending venues where “bottle service” is required, but most of the women, even the really good looking ones, in my life wouldn’t consider their greatest dream to pose half naked in a sports publication to be the introduction to sexuality for 13 year old boys everywhere. I mean, maybe it’s something they’d consider. But every girl’s dream? Let’s see how that works out for you…
Badly. Scary Underwood let it rip and just got topless and started out having fun. Chantal went for it too, although she was constantly standing awkwardly because she definitely is a bit uncomfortable with her body. Future Sex Tape just decided to dry hump Trust Fund on the playa. By the end of the date, everyone was crying and pissed off and drinking awkwardly enormous green drinks.
So, at the end of the group date, Scary Underwood gets the rose and Chantal trips out, revealing to us that like the Undertaker, she has a ridiculous upper ass area tattoo. I now think this is the big draw for Brad with them, being a connoisseur of back tattoos that never should have happened.
So, Harrison shows up while Brad is viewing photos of the girls. By the way, I hate that they brought these back. It’s like, could looking at a high school yearbook-esque photo of someone help sway your decision? At this point, is it really that hard for Brad to remember his options? Or is this practice for us? If so, why don’t they do it in the beginning when we don’t know who the eff half these people are? Also, are we so dumb we can’t keep these final contestants straight? Oh wait, we watch the Bachelor. Good call, ABC.
Anyway, Harrison put his opium pipe and mirror covered in cocaine away and agrees to Brad to skip the cocktail party and just hand out the roses, because Brad is knows what is what. Again, Brad thinks he’s doing the right thing, but I always prefer bad news drunk. Why deprive this nutbags of booze before rejection? Give them the full experience.
He finally booted Future Sex Tape, who refused to talk to him or hold his hand on their silent walk to the car. Then she was so fucking creepy lying down in the limo. They should call child services for her kid now. She looks ready to kill something. Or just eat painkillers like some sort of surgically enhanced Brett Favre.
On to the hometown dates. We ready. We ready.