I was totally surprised this week because when we sat down to eat and watch the show (nothing celebrates America for Independence Day more than eating in front of the television watching people perform sex acts for “love”) we noticed our food tasted really bad. Then I realized that The Bachelorette this season is such a garbage sandwich that all the food you eat tastes like, well, a garbage sandwich?
Have you ever eaten a garbage sandwich? Sure you did. You watched the show last night. On a scale of one to ten, this season has been a colonoscopy that you are awake for.
The producers sat down and thought about how they could spice things up and start the show in a unique way. Then the crackshot film production major from like, Chapman University, says, “let’s have her talk about how much she missed Ricki” and people were all like “yesssss”.
So after getting our daily, mandatory shot of “Lady Veneers and the Perfect Mother Routine”, she promises Ricki she can sleep in her bed with her, which seems like chemical torture given the amount of spray tan she has on of late. Poor little girl probably felt like she was trapped in the pool at Marquee in Vegas. This is what Joker felt like when he fell in the vat of chemicals.
Also, I feel like she said you can sleep in bed with me and then didn’t let her? It’s hard to tell in her mansion where every room has a monster bed as if she was a Victorian queen, but I feel like she lied to Ricki and covered her in spray tan juice. But yeah, best mom ever. I got an idea. Why don’t you go meet four guys families and make out with them on national television. How’d that work out last time you went looking for a husband.
Whatever, stick your wet hand in the faulty socket.
Date one is to Chicago where Spidermehhh is still living under the delusion that his begging to be killed after Landon Datavan last week means he no longer is in the bottom 2. This is just like being excited that if you are in line to buy an Apple product on opening day and you are fifth in line and the nerd comes out and says “we got 3 left”, getting excited when the guy in front of you leaves and you are now fourth in line.
Let me be clear. Someone in front of you will need to die for you to get that iPad. And that’s this. Strawberry Blonde will need to die in a freak Sunday church stampede for you to survive. I don’t care if your dad is Abe Froman, the sausage king of Chicago and you dress in the finest clothes. Someone needs to die for you to get that iPad bro.
In proving Spidermehhh reads this blog (like all good people do), in explaining how Polish he was, he said on a scale of one to Polish, he’s Polish. I’d say on a scale of one to Polish, your face looks like it’s a race for your eyes and mouth to see who can touch your nose first. That doesn’t have much to do with being Polish, but I just wanted you know know just like you wanted her to know how Polish you were, which totally means a lot to Chompers who moved to North Carolina to avoid all people of all races, religions and ethnicities.
Spidermehhh’s parents are that supercollider combination. They are both average looking people (except for Dad’s mandatory eastern European wide collar and huge religious necklace combo you recognize from every Russian crime film ever) but when they combine their sauce, they create hot people. I’m sorry, his sisters were nails, all things considered. I mean, Chicago is cold and the Polish diet is not known for things like kale and almond butter. Who cares, these are the two hottest chicks in Chicago.
Proving Spidermehhh is kind of a tool in civilian life, his hot sister basically tells Veneers that she better let Chris down gently if (and she sounded like when) she figured out he was not going to win over a racecar driver, a fashionista with a charitable water company and a guy who blows lines of steroids just to wake up in the morning.
Then I feel like Spidermehhh’s dad lied to his kid about Emily being in love with him, although I may have missed what she said while trying to lock myself in our washing machine and drown myself. Didn’t work. Just like Emily being chosen as the Bachelorette.
One final surprise was a Polish traditional band coming over and beyond learning what that was, this was just a waste of Chompers time that she could have spent spray tanning some more.
Off to Jef’s Big Love Polygamist compound deep in the heart of Utah. Just kidding. It’s just a ranch. His parents that are doing “charitable work” are back east methinks are converting non-believers and this gave Jef the perfect chance to have Emily see where he’s from without having to make her convert. I’m not picking on any religion, just GUESSING that the more men you make out with in hot tubs en route to finding your blessed union, the less Mormon friendly it is.
That said, that ranch was crazy nice. No wonder he can afford to be an entrepreneur with a water company we’ve never heard of. It’s because land in Utah costs less than bottled water in NYC and Jef’s parents clearly would be rich for even London or Tokyo. Combine them and they bought a county-sized ranch.
One Direction took Chompers shooting and neither of them missed anything on camera. I said to my wife that Emily is from North Carolina and there is NO WAY she doesn’t know how to shoot a firearm. You don’t move to a racist, all-white state to NOT own a firearm. That’d be like going to a state fair and not eating a deep fried twinkie. Move back to Russia, commie!
We got the obligatory “you’re hot holding a gun” comments we see on this show. No matter what they do, they are hot. Hey Veneers, if you are such a great mom, get Jef to say you look hot while stopping Ricki from having a tantrum and throwing food all over the kitchen. “You look so hot when your kid goes batshit six year old and you have snot in your hair”. Never happens.
Also, this was a big time gun endorsement. You look hot with a gun? Do I look hot with the gun pressed against my head because this show is making me want to kill myself? Oh, I do? Nice.
Jef brings her to meet the non missionaries in the family and there’s like a billion people and a girl named Kensington which means that despite being cute, she will end up an asshole. Who was the last person named Kensington you met that wasn’t dreaming of draining small businesses of their resources?
Jef’s brother who got all the seriousness, but none of the hairline seemed like a good guy but I suspect there was a ton of stuff edited out. I got the sense that every time he was going to bring up faith, they cut. Still, he seemed like a good enough guy and he probably is constantly pissed he has 2oo kids while his brother rides skateboards, experiments with hairstyles and sells water with the same “he’s so hot” message as TOMS.
Chompers talks to his 34 sisters (or sister wives, sorry had to) at the compound and they avoided the hardball questions. I just couldn’t get around the one sister who had to be adopted. In a sea of blondes, she was the missing extra from The Godfather.
Then One Direction read a crazy sappy letter. Any guy who expresses himself this way will have no trouble spinning a yarn about how he fell out of love with you. Just a heads up. They are starting to make me want to throw up.
Then HELICOPTER! Just kidding, fuck this show.
Off to Scottsdale to kick it with Speed Racer and his European family. His mother had the typical Arizona beef jerky skin going which was a total shame because 31 years ago when Arie’s racecar dad picked her up, she was probably nails. He had two creepy acne twin brothers and a sister I kind of blocked out because none of them talked. They seemed fine.
Then everyone started speaking (pronounced SHPEEKING) Dutch, which was this awkward:
Emily maakt me soms wilt doden mij, want ze is erg saai en deze show is bergafwaarts gegaan met haar als de ster. Soms HEB IK lang voor Chris Harrison te doen drugs maaltje van kliffen en vliegende helikopters en drugshandel verdovende middelen, maar wij worden getrakteerd op deze ongelooflijk saai seizoen dat maakt me vraag mijn zal wonen.
Shee my point people? I will say that “doen drugs” is funnier than taking drugs and I am using that from now on. You know. Chris Harrison. Hanging out. Doen drugs.
There was an awkward mother conversation but who fucking cares. I was counting the minutes until this ended by this point.
Next up was Strawberry Blonde who was so fucking red-faced and so fucking neon-shirted that he had to squint the entire time. Immediately, Emily could picture herself living in Dallas because everyone is white, the climate sucks and blonde is the official state color.
They went to Strawberry Blonde’s mansion and met his seemingly normal family, except for the fact that the little kid’s backyard dollhouse was bigger than my first four apartments.
They tried to play a joke like Sean still lived at home and loved stuffed animals, but it barely lasted 30 seconds and then the joke was over and we went right into nice dad saying the perfect things combined with Sean saying he’s a muscle head who never gives in to girls. We saw this with Brad already, so we know Emily digs it.
All I could think about was how fucking gross watching Strawberry Blonde kiss is. Dude looks like a fucking frog eating an ice cream cone. Like I get ill thinking about it. Watch a fucking movie sometime that isn’t a porn, dude.
I’m cutting this short. They found a way to ruin the hometowns.
We get back to the Peninsula in BH and Emily is dressed for the ice dancing portion of the Winter Olympics. She goes up and ends the career of Spidermehhh.
They go outside and he’s about to rage. I will never understand this. Love is a preference thing. Freaking out because she didn’t prefer you makes no sense. Especially when you barely just met. I get it if you get dumped after years and years and you want an explanation, but at some point you just say “fuck that asshole” and go find someone better (and hopefully hotter and into weirder shit). You are on the Bachelorette, Chris. She cuts a guy a week and the previous week you were crying IN THE ROSE CEREMONY after you couldn’t shoot an arrow like a human being after a movie about a little girl who can shoot arrows. You begged to stay an extra week and were sure that meant you were safe and getting married. You had this coming. The key to a happy love life is to never, ever assume you have won. The day I got married was the day I STARTED courting my wife. Even low maintenance girls require maintenance. They aren’t Honda Civics, bro.
Look, you may think in the limo that you are more of a man than these other guys, but none of them cried at a rose ceremony. Go home, ask your hot sisters how to win.
Next week is the Caribbean dates. Fantasy Suites. If this show sucks next week, I may boycott the finale. No I won’t, but I will welcome the offseason and the timeout the production staff hopefully takes before planning next season. Admit it. You all miss Ben now. I know I do. [stares whimsically at a window pane with rain falling on it]
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