The Bachelor, Week 3: Rapenicillin’s Tower of Terror

Episode 3 starts with all the hens cackling about Nick’s sudden dismissal of Liz the doula and their illicit tryst at Jade and Tanner’s wedding. The rumors swirled. The un-botoxed brows furled. Knotted stomachs hurled. Now, I ask you: What’s more shocking? That two people hooked up at a wedding or two people who met on The Bachelor got married? Is this really going to be a big deal? I mean, the guy had sex ON TV THREE TIMES (at least) and yakked about it in every gossip outlet afterwards.

But alas, Nick took a page from PV’s shirts and went with full transparency figuring some of the girls might actually watch the show when it airs.

“Uhhh, so we were at Jade and Tanner’s wedding,” he started. “And stuff happened. And then we had sex. The end.”

The girls looked appropriately grossed out, but found it in their hearts to forgive knowing Nick would do so many scummier things this season. Even gothy bible girl Raven was totes cool. It practically happened in a church so it’s fine!

PV had no issue with Liz going home because Liz “had intercourse with Nick” before she did! But she’s not dissuaded and knows she has qualities men find attractive. Qualities like a platinum vagine and boobs with an adverse reaction to clothing. We totally bought what she was selling because twelve minutes in, PV got stamped with another network decency mandated black box covering her knockers.

“I want us to explore each other sexually,” she said in voiceover as she drunkenly made her way down a spiral staircase dressed like the love child of Carmen Sandiego and the Central Park Flasher.

A girl's best accessory is a black bar over her boobs.
A girl’s best accessory is a black bar over her boobs.

And then shit got real. Real…icky.

Here’s how it started:

Where...is...my...peppersp-- oh! Here it is!
Where…is…my…peppersp– oh! Here it is!

Oh, Reddi Wip, I’m so sorry you were dragged into this!

And here’s how it continued:

You want cream with your mouth herpes?
You want cream with your mouth herpes? Coming right up!

PV and Nick sat on a lovely outdoor bench where she proceeded to shove a can of whipped cream down Nick’s throat, filled him with frothy goodness, and then sucked the cream back into her mouth. Even though she could barely keep her head up and eyes open she somehow conjured enough dexterity to douse her cleavage with cream.

If I had to see it, you do too.

What? Breastfeeding is the most natural thing in the word!
What? Breastfeeding is the most natural thing in the word!

“She’s good at creating chemistry between us,” Nick noted in his confessional.

Enough with the amateur theatrics, PV was ready to get the party started. She tossed Nick off the bench and onto two giant throw pillows someone had the foresight to place on the lawn. She straddled him, mashing whipped cream between their bosoms like a big, sun damaged whoopie pie. Nick struggled because (obvious) parts of him wanted to do the lust and thrust right there on those mysterious red pillows, but his other parts realized getting it on with a contestant in front of 56 people– some of whom he was allegedly dating– might make him look like a giant bag of dicks. He really didn’t want anyone to be uncomfortable.

PV was sad. How on Earth did her trusty “aerosol dairy asphyxiation” routine not go as planned? IT ALWAYS WORKS!  She sobbed into the arms of another blonde girl who kindly reassured her there’d be plenty more chances to seduce Nick with dairy products and slutty trench coats. Consoled, PV passed out in a bunk bed with her date rose and missed the rose ceremony. Hailey was one of three girls sent packing and the only one who didn’t seem to think a bullet had been dodged. She sobbed on the lawn where giant red pillows of promise were once strew and lamented about how love is a journey. A shitty one, but a journey none-the-less. Whatever went wrong with Nick was clearly HER FAULT. Also she probably shouldn’t have put her dress on backwards.

Errmm...is my tag showing? Is anything else showing?
Errmm…is my tag showing? Is anything else showing?

The next day Chris Harrison showed up promising to “blow their minds” with this season’s group dates. Before the girls had a chance to make ridiculous, ignorant and overly-speculative assumptions about what that meant, The Backstreet Boyz in all their manscaped soul-patch and jazz hands goodness showed up. The girls swooned over the opportunity to dance on stage with the Boyz and possibly win a private serenade with Nick in front of 500 people.

“I can’t dance,” PV said. “Like at all. Can someone hand me the whipped cream and unhook my bra?”

As it turned out, PV really couldn’t dance and it was awesome. But a lack of coordination hurt her feelings. She didn’t feel confident, pretty, cute, bubbly or fun anymore. This was so unfair!

After she had a good ugly cry in the bathroom, she got downright murderous learning that Danielle won the contest and got to awkwardly sway with Nick in front of 496 incredibly bored thirty-something moms and four gay dudes. Nick and Danielle threw all decorum to the wind and started in on a butt-grabbing make-out session, totally forgetting Nick’s seven other girlfriends were watching.

PV was convinced THIS WAS THE WORST DAY OF HER LIFE and took a different approach post-concert. She kept her boobs covered and let the platinum vagine do the heavy lifting. (And speaking of heavy, how heavy would a platinum vagine be? How does this girl make it up the stairs?) It worked! Nick totally forgave her attempted rape on the front lawn, threw her some compliments, and loudly lapped at her face. And then…and then…OMG, no she didn’t. She did. PV made a Trump reference saying, “I made Corrine great again!” And then she passed out.

Once she regained consciousness, PV rejoined the ladies still on the date and admitted to wanting a boob job.

“Just a tiny one.”

The other girls agreed, wistful for their own tiny boob jobs, but worried about how that would impact having kids. (Umm, it doesn’t?)

“Oh, kids,” PV said. “I can’t handle my own life, how can I handle kids. Better get Raquel on that.”

The girls were confused. Who the eff is Raquel? Does her platinum vagine have a name?

“My nanny, ya dumb bitches!”

“Sorry, you’re what now?”

PV was incredulous having to explain what a nanny is. What the hell was this? 2009? Of course she has a nanny!

“She keeps my life together. Fixes my bed, makes me lemon salad, cuts my veggies. I can’t make cheese pasta, ladies! Who can do that?! And it makes her happy! Why would I stop a woman’s happiness?

???

Jasmine was so upset by this (read: drunk) she literally fell down. Just dropped to her knees right there. As she repeatedly banged her forehead on the cold, Spanish tiles she swore she’d slap Nick with the rose if he dared give this immature, nipple-flashing, nanny-having bitch one.

Vanessa, (the nice, normal girl who is going to regret this for the rest of her life) was invited on the one-on-one date. Her and Nick flew on a Zero G plane which was all fun and weightless games until she puked in a tiny white bag. All that time Nick has spent around drunk-ass women gave him a surprisingly amount of compassion. He still made out with her.

Later, still  turned on by gross bodily functions, Nick told Vanessa she made him “very excited” and then he burst out crying. Okay, then.

On the next group date, former Olympians Carl Lewis, Allyson Felix, and Michelle Carter coached the girls through a series of ridiculous trials with the end goal of scoring some private time with Nick. Astrid obviously didn’t think they’d really be doing anything athletic and immediately regretted the gossamer and washi tape she tried to pass off as a sports bra. (Her boobs now hold the record for the high jump.)

The aforementioned private time was soaking in a hot tub romantically situated along the side of the track. (Placed by the person who left the mysterious red sex pillows? Hmm…)

Astrid didn’t win but her boobs were so sore the girls let her have it.

And then more stuff happened:

  • Dominique started to unhinge
  • Alexis and Nick made out on a giant banner of him topless
  • Jaime apologized for coming across as the “weird lesbian,” which wasn’t true until she said that
  • Dominique continued her descent into Craycrayville
  • Nick remembered how cool Rachel was
  • Dominique saw Nick and Rachel kissing and lost her shit
  • At her wit’s end, Dominique told Nick he wasn’t fair. He didn’t try to get to know her. He didn’t try to pull her out of her head. HE DIDN’T NOTICE SHE WAS A SOCIOPATH WITH LOW SELF-ESTEEM AND TRY TO FIX HER, DAMMIT!
  • Nick was all, “Oh, I noticed! Just like you should notice that black SUV parked outside with your suitcase in it! Bugger off now!
  • Rachel felt bad until Nick handed her the coveted date rose
  • The pre-rose ceremony cocktail party was canceled (GASP) so they could have a pool party instead! (Yay!) Girls don’t spend hundreds of dollars lifting their ass cheeks in a spray tan booth for nothing!
  • Raven rubbed sunscreen on Nick’s torso the way Jesus intended

And then…

PV thought the other girls were desperate for trying so hard. Unlike her who spent hours applying makeup and pondering which bikini top had the highest probability of falling down. She had a big treat in store for Nick– A castle bounce house! Raquel must have sent a care package! Thank goodness PV doesn’t have to try so hard.

She dragged Nick into her inflatable pleasure palace where she hopped around so much her entire body needed pixilation. She pounced on Nick and stuck to him like a suckerfish on an aquarium wall.

Ugh! That better be whipped cream! Image from The Ashley's Reality Round- Up.
Ugh! That better be whipped cream! Image from The Ashley’s Reality Round- Up.

The other girls were horrified. Raven was so over this shit. Once Nick was freed from Rapenicillin’s Tower of Terror, she pulled him aside and told him he was making a big mistake courting PV.

“She’s 24 and has a nanny!”

Nick was appropriately flabbergasted. “A NANNY?”

“Yes, you godless gnat! She can’t even slice her own vegetables or use a clock radio!”

“But is the nanny hot? Like maybe from Brazil? WHY DIDN’T SHE BRING HER???”

The rest of the night Nick spent reconciling his desire to find a wife and plunder the depths of PV’s platinum shores.

“Do you want a wife or someone to f*ck around with?” Vanessa asked. “Because when a girl pukes in your mouth, it should mean something.”

Yeah! It should.

Next week PV is in the hot seat. Is it a UTI or girl clique gone rabid? Burn, baby burn!

 

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