Every season of the Bachelor there tends to be a theme. I mean, yes, it’s always a helicopter-filled journey to find love, but each contestant brings their own flavor to the mix. Ali (the Muppet) showed us you can dress up for Halloween as a burnt highlighter every day and wear extensions that are only loosely connected to your head. Brad (Trust Fund) and Jake (Fight Pilot) taught us that you don’t need to be into girls to date 20 of them at one time. Hey Bear taught us how to dance and explore random Asian markets instead of zipline and ride helicopters.
Last night it became clear what ZBOW (or Tennisless Rafael Nadal) wants you to take from this season. HE IS FROM SONOMA, KAY BRO? You might ask about his dog wearing a U of A collar and how he lived in Tucson as much as he lived in Sonoma. NAH BRO. BEN’S FROM SONOMA. Don’t believe me? Check out my tractor. It matches my Bronco. And this shirt the producers gave me.
Being that we established the ground rules (Ben is fucking from Sonoma, so don’t front), we got to take the traveling wonderbra show to wine country (where Ben is FROM, bitch) so he could show these girls what it’s like to be from Sonoma.
And that’s what he did.
First one on one date of the year and Ben takes Kacie, who after two episodes is the person I think is least likely to kill him with a needle in the ear when he is sleeping. That has to be a plus, especially in Sonoma, which is where Ben is from.
He took her on a date around (wait for it…) Sonoma and told her how important to him Sonoma was. They went into a candy store where clearly one of Chris Harrison’s slaves-slash-drug-smugglers planted a baton for Kacie to pick up as they were leaving. She was a baton twirler apparently as a child, so guess what. I’m calling you Band Camp now.
This baton had like dents and rust on it. I wanted to believe Ben’s Sonoma was a magical place where all your childhood artifacts just show up, but like I said, this had Harrison’s work all over it. And in it. Pretty sure you unscrew the rubber protectors on the top of the baton and you can fit like 8 grams of blow in there. Harrison needs it. We’ll get to that later. In Sonoma.
Next, Ben took Kacie on what might be the biggest double-edged sword of a date of all time. Look, it was pretty cute (yes, I said cute, don’t worry, I also just cut myself, we’re even) to share childhood movies and it was really (not kidding) touching to see Ben and his family. Kacie was even a sweetheart to make the wife-worthy observation that it was a different experience for her to see her Dad than it was for Ben to see his. I admired Ben for this date (especially since it was in Sonoma).
Here’s the thing though. You can’t just take a really nice southern girl out week two, show her your soft side, make her watch baby photos and then make out with the rest of the cast all season. This could potentially turn Band Camp into Scary Bradshaw. If you want to define female psychological terrorism, it’s watching baby photos in a romantic theatre in wine country and then having that man dump you on national television.
That said, I realize that Ben is going to try to kiss every contestant and I am starting to really admire the fact that he may be, in fact, a psychological terrorist. There’s already been one lesbian encounter, twelve chicken fights, baby photos, Sonoma and like 8 swimming opportunities. Ben is to the Bachelor what Neo is to the Matrix. That makes Harrison a coked up Morpheus.
So, warning to Ben, who is already done filming so I am sorry for not being there for you, but Band Camp may murder you now, or sometime in the future. I’ve probably fucked with some people’s heads in my life, but none of it was on national television (except when I fixed the Broncos game this weekend. You thought Jesus did that Tebow? Bitch, please).
The group date was pretty funny. ZBOW decided to have children put on a community play, which was pretty entertaining, although I enjoyed it more before Ben stripped off his sheep clothing. Not that he shouldn’t have, I am just an honest person. It’s not so much the partial nudity that bothered me, it was just that this episode I thought he was contractually obligated to wear no less than 4 layers of summer suit and a really skinny tie. Nudity isn’t a layer.
I enjoyed the try-outs a lot. Nicky with the good Texas accent, who now I am calling Hot Sally Field (also ran: Mrs. Doubtfire and Brothers & Sisters) embraced her roll of playing an ass, and that is good because when you are a contestant on this show, you either make and ass of yourself or are turned into a piece of ass. We’ll see where that goes.
Blakely (really?), our “VIP cocktail waitress”, showed up in half an outfit and had to run in place, much to the terror of the young girls. The only kid who loved it was the last kid, who probably went through puberty on the spot and will spend the next 10 years wading through inadequate high school girls until he can go to a strip club legally and find old women that dress like that and smell that much like Parliament Lights. It will all come back to him in a flash and he’ll realize it was that one fateful day when Blakely (seriously?) jogged in place.
About that name. Doesn’t it feel like her Dad wanted her to be a football player and when she popped out of the womb a girl, he just turned Blake into an adverb and hoped it made her feminine?
I need to skip ahead a little bit to the after-party, where Blakely got her nickname. For the first time in the history of this blog, I am letting a contestant name a competitor. Someone called Blakely (really?) a “Candy Striping Hooker” and frankly, I can’t beat that.
Candy Striping Hooker is doing a bad job hiding the fact she remembers all of the 80s. Exhibit one? Her earrings in the pool. Did she steal those off a dead body from the Copacabana scene in Scarface? And why did you wear them in the pool. Also, I haven’t seen a ruffled bathing suit since my family went to Virginia Beach in 1986. I was fucking four years old. Conveniently, Candy Striping Hooker was in high school applying to colleges (which is code for VIP waitressing gigs) *which is code for being a stripper.
Did this stop Ben from making out with her? Of course not. And that’s what I like about Ben. That and he’s from SONOMA, BRO. Don’t get it wrong, KAY BRO?
Ben also made out with the the redhead that got in line for hair dye too many times and miraculously, as if she’d never watched this show before being on it, was shocked Ben made out with HER AND BLAKELY. For future contestants reading this, let’s be clear on two things. First, if you go on the show, everyone is kissing everyone all the time on helicopters, on ziplines, in fucking hot springs. It’s part of the game. Second, Ben is from Sonoma. Don’t get that wrong, okay? The guy lives wine country. They are renaming Falanghina to be Flajnikghina. In high school, they called him Beno Noir. Get it straight, Ben was probably not born by conventional methods. He was cultivated in the cool air of Napa Valley and harvested at the optimal time and then fermented in a barrel until he was ready to go into internet advertising.
Okay. Homeboy is from Sonoma except when he was from Tucson.
The rest of the group date was filled with awkward faces from Scary Bradshaw, a steady drip of wine and then a mass-exodus away from Candy Striping Hooker when she came to sit down and air dry her ruffled swimsuit and meteors glued to paperclip necklaces earrings.
Oh yeah, when Candy Striping Hooker was talking to Ben one on one, she was talking about her boobs the whole time. This is not helping convince me that a VIP waitress isn’t an escort. Sorry. Not that she has to. The best part was when she described herself in that area as being blessed.
Yeah. With a credit card the plastic surgeon’s office accepted. Don’t insult our intelligence. Oh wait, we watch the Bachelor. Insult away.
The date card was dropped off and Band Camp read it aloud to the group getting shitfaced at home. Swimsuit Issues (who looks like she rubbed on the face with sandpaper in her testimonials, but looks like a model in every other shot) said some crazy bitchy stuff like “how’d that taste coming out of your mouth” at which point I fully expected half the country to say “that’s what she said” in unison.
Band Camp, who is going to kill herself when Ben goes for Swimsuit Issues, was even polite in her shit talking. I think she’s the early reasonable choice.
Anyway, bitch-at-home-sweet-on-dates Swimsuit Issues went on her one-on-one with Ben and his cool dog Scotch (in a U of A collar, spotted by @pachoopsab) to a quiet spot in Sonoma, which is Ben’s hometown.
Ben was pretty much paralyzed by her hotness and asked her lots of questions about being a model and she pretty much responded in this quiet-and-I-don’t-finish-sentences sort of way due to what appears to be a massive overbite (which I think is not structural, rather just the effect of being hot and never having a guy tell you that your baby talk flirting makes you look like you need head gear because they are scared that will mean you won’t sleep with him).
Regardless, Ben seems fascinated by this girl, although I have a tip for my homie Ben, who may not be as up on Los Angeles (and Santa Monica) as I am, which is probably because he is from Sonoma. You can walk into ANY of the 23,000+ wine bars in Santa Monica and find an actress-model-dancer-whatever who will go out with you if you tell them you are a photographer, know a photographer, used to be a photographer or that they look crazy skinny. They are cheap dates too as they don’t eat and three sips of chardonnay have them black out drunk.
You don’t need to be on the Bachelor to find a Courtney. You just need to go to Bodega.
The final party before the Rose Ceremony was a total shit show. The wine took way over. Scary Bradshaw was making no sense, crying and doing more weird mouth shit. Blakely got so drunk and tired she hid behind some suitcases in the luggage room (it’s a Sonoma thing). At a point, I felt so bad for Ben. It would be like trying to talk 15 jumpers off a ledge at the same time knowing you need to marry one of these people. God save the ZBOW!
In the end, Ben cut Scary Bradshaw and her weird mouth. I guess we can look forward to reading her fictitious blog never. I forget who else he booted off, it doesn’t matter it’s still early. Just like a cigar, this show improves halfway through when you can really feel the psychology of each of these hot messes.
I will say this… I figured out why the girls are such a mess and why Harrison has to do so much cocaine. When Scary Bradshaw was crying in bed after crying in the bathroom, the clock showed it was 2am. The rose ceremony is at like 3am?!
Have you ever gone out with your wife/girlfriend and her friends until 3am after 30 bottles of wine and then brought up a sensitive subject? Holy shit, this is sadistic. And none of them are eating because of what happened to Chantal on Brad’s season (her clothes fit less each week), so this is a bunch of over-tired, starving drunk girls fighting over a winemaker in Sonoma.
Recipe for disaster. It’s like Guantanaho Bay.
Lastly, Ben had a surprise for the girls. They are going to San Fran. Frisco. The City by the Bay (I just said that because locals hate that and I am still pissed about the World Series 2 years ago). Ben was really excited because as he said, San Francisco is his “home town”.
What the fuck, Ben. I just spent an hour telling everyone you are from Sonoma. So off to San Francisco and what better place to find love and be from Sonoma than San Francisco.