Sorry this took so long. To be honest, everything about this final episode was tedious, from the circumstances that I had to watch it under to the realization that in May I will be spending Monday nights with Scary Underwood, which scares me on a level that may have rendered me sterile.
I was at SXSW last week and in between rock concerts, interactive panels, eating BBQ from all kinds of animals (literally any animal I could get in my crosshairs) and swimming in the boozy weirdness of Austin, I realized I needed to watch the finale. Central time is a hot mess so it was on at 7pm and of course, went to 9pm (I committed to myself I would not miss a night out to watch both the episode AND After The Final Bullshit).
Anyway, I ordered room service. I said, “Hello, sir. I would like a burger and four Maker’s on the rocks”. I expected him to say, “Watching the Bachelor, huh?” but instead he just brought it to me.
So, it’s hard to recall the episode as a lot has happening in my life since then, mostly trying to forget the Bachelor. That said, the first thing worth mentioning was Brad’s family.
There was his twin brother who seemed to be way, way less douchey than Trust Fund. When Chantal was meeting with him, I knew for sure her desperate side was thinking if Brad picks the boring blonde girl, I am definitely trading in for the other model. It was pretty funny and called into question the difficulty of being an identical twin. Your girlfriend always wants to have sex with your brother. I mean, like, it’s complicated because you know she does, he looks just like you. Even worse, you’d be upset if she didn’t, because then you’d know she didn’t think you were good looking.
Can you imagine the conversation? “What do you mean you don’t want to sleep with my brother? Where do you get off? I think we need a break and by the way, yes you did look fat in that dress. I lied”.
Okay, I embellished. Sort of like Brad’s chubby brother does at the dinner table. After being in Austin, I get it though. This guy looks like the secret member of Rascal Flatts who they make play from just off stage because he won’t say no to BBQ (not that I blame him). I feel for the guy. The two brothers look like they stepped out of the 300 and he looks like he stepped out of the port-o-potty at a Toby Keith concert.
Anyway, Emily’s sad story won the family over hardcore and basically they confirmed the fact that Brad had decided maybe weeks ago he was going for Emily.
Anyway, he picked her. It was fine. I went out kind of bored that night and just drank until someone texted me that Local Natives were playing, so I ran there and checked that out, trying to forget the pain of X amount of episodes with Brad. So glad it was over.
Then I flew home (after seeing Paul Giamatti smoking at the airport and wanting to yell WE ARE NOT DRINKING FUCKING MERLOT to him) and watched After the Final Rose.
Chris Harrison’s role as a pimp and drug dealer was so obvious. Basically, the whole episode was about how awful the experience is. Harrison just sat there being all “yes, tell me the hell I put you through”. It was gangster.
I appreciated Emily’s honesty though about how hard it was to watch the show and know that Brad sympathy slept with Chantal in the jungle. It was also pretty hard for Chantal’s new boyfriend to watch her cry over Brad. If it were me, she’d come home to find her clothes packed up on the front porch. She did look in shape though, so that was good. A+ Chantal. Stop fucking crying though.
I loved how they brought out the past couples to give advice. Out of the 20+ seasons of this damn show, the best they could give us was one married couple, one married couple that didn’t even get engaged on the show (aka, the journey was a shitstorm) and an engaged couple.
This is like sending Mickey Rourke and Charlie Sheen to counsel a guy who just got off coke. Thanks a ton, Chris Harrison. We’re all just puppets in your marionette show aren’t we?
Well, into the brief offseason. One more before football begins. At least for now, I can look to the simple joys of dog ownership and baseball season to heal my wounds from this boring season. A quick plea to Scary Underwood. Be crazy. Be batshit crazy. I cannot endure another Trust Fund and I know neither can any of you out there…
Thanks for sticking it out with me and with me.