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: 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. 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!


Fall in Love with Your TV Again

Ah, the magic of fall…

Time for nesting and nestling in with friends old and new. But especially new because let’s face it–some of the old ones are getting a bit played out.

It’s when I don my best leisurewear and kick back on the sofa with my new friends and demand entertainment.

Tell me your vapid tales of one-night stands and surprise pregnancies!

Spin me a yarn about how hard it is to make friends when you’re famous and a millionaire in the second largest U.S. city!

Plan me the most complicated DIY dinner party and invite lots of celebrity potheads! Yes! BRING ME THE GREEN FIENDS!

Dance, TV, Dance!
Dance, TV, Dance!

Fall television is no joke, people. I mean Entertainment Weekly dedicates a whole issue to it.  Everyone’s got an opinion on who the growers and soon-to-be no showers will be. Who’s going to make it? Who will be dumped before your DVR even learns their names? Which shows is Kris Jenner executive producing and therefore dooming civilization to eternal syndication long after the shark has been jumped?

I can’t get enough of this. This must be how fantasy sports players feel right before the draft.

Not sure where to look for a DVR download? Sure, you could go to E! News if you want a comprehensive round-up of the new shows. (And maybe answer a poll about which new cast member has the dumbest hair.) Or visit my virtual soulmate, The Ashley if you only care about the important stuff like reality TV. If you’re suffering from childhood abandonment issues which have resulted in an inability to develop long-term meaningful relationships and don’t want to waste time getting attached to a show that’ll get cut quicker than Taylor dumped rehab-bound Selena, you should go with the experts and see which shows have the best odds of being renewed.  And yes, real-live experts are spending time thinking about this stuff, which delights me to no end. I guess you could say Fall TV is like betting on the Super Bowl for lazy, judgey couch potatoes. Or maybe more like putting a wager on how long it will take to sing the national anthem during the Super Bowl. Whatevs. It’s cool.

Of course if you’re really serious about your TV watching and want to narrow it down to the best of the best, you could go with your most trusted source– me!

I ask you: have I ever let you down? Have IHave I?

Ladies and gentlemen, get your sweats and start your DVRs and tell your real friends you’ll see them in the Spring. You’re going to be very busy.

What's in those brownies, Martha? (Credit: VH1)
What’s in those brownies, Martha? (Credit: VH1)

Martha and Snoop’s Potluck Dinner Party: Not a joke, people. Executive produced by bunny kisses and unicorn dreams, this is exactly why we have televisions. The Mother of DIY Living and the Doggfather of ganga and random political endorsements are joining forces to bring us the most anticipated show of the season. In this glorious new series, the unlikely duo hosts dinner parties for celebrity friends. Who knew you could roll a joint with hospital corners? Oh yes, definitely a good thing.

Hollywood & Football: Is this how the NFL is trying to reach more women? Fine. You had me at Hollywood & Football. Here we’ll follow six LA Rams and their significant others as they make the incredibly hard transition from life in the middle of America to life on the West-coast of America. How will they speak the language? Will they understand currency conversions? Will they have to eat kale?! This terrifying unscripted docu-series (READ: Not a reality show!) takes us behind the scenes of rich, pretty people trying to find their way off the 405 and into the nearest Ralph’s Grocery.

"So I'm thinking, I know a thing or two about being a bear. I could teach you all about this hibernation thing. And how to get yer face unstuck out of a pot of hunny." (Credit: Discovery Press)
“So I’m thinking, I know a thing or two about being a bear. I could teach you all about this hibernation thing. And how to get yer face unstuck out of a pot of hunny.” (Credit: Discovery Press)

Project Grizzly: Aw man, this is gonna be tearjerker. After bear trainer Jeff Watson realizes it’s not cool to keep bears as pets, he decides to set them free. Only problem, his big ass bears have been living like parakeets and don’t really know the first thing about being bears in the wild. So teach them he must. Yes, that’s right. A man teaches bears how to be bears. Who doesn’t love a make-over show?

Leave it to Lifetime TELEVISION FOR WOMEN to come out with not one, but TWO quality new shows I will surely be binge-watching with my mommy. Thank you, Lifetime TELEVISION FOR WOMEN! I can always count on you for some good old-fashioned female bonding.

Lifetime describes these two new shows as, “documenting the action-packed journey of what happens when a woman becomes unexpectedly pregnant.”

Why yes, Lifetime TELEVISION FOR WOMEN. Spot on! I would also describe pregnancy–unexpected or otherwise–as “action-packed.” I remember my own action-packed pregnancy having to remember to take all those extra vitamins and get out of bed to pee in the middle of the night– in the dark! Bart was all like, “Slow your roll, Mario. That bathroom ain’t going nowhere!” Lifetime TELEVISION FOR WOMEN really gets women.

But I digress.

First we have 30-Something Grandma and yep, that title is really letting it all hang out there. Need I say more? Nope, but I will. 30-Something Grandma is a docu-series (READ AGAIN: Not a reality show!) following three moms and their teenage daughters who are about to become first-time mommies themselves. Spoiler alert! One grandma has to postpone a trip to Mexico. Save the drama for teenaged mamas’ mamas!

"If I wanted to have a gosh darn grand baby, I'd just have it myself!" (Credit:
“Ma! Stop crying! I’m gonna get my license in five months and you can totally stop having to come to these stupid appointments with me!” (Credit:

Knocked Up is all class, baby. This series follows the journey of three once carefree, single ladies who were having a grand ol’ time being unattached and irresponsible until “one night of fun” finds them up the duff.  Spoiler Alert! They all have to make lifestyle changes!

And speaking of "lifestyle changes," can we discuss your bra choices?"
“So we’re going to create a mold of your giant pregnant belly and create your new bra cups with it. Because, girl, “lifestyle changes,” means “be gone with those slutty A-cup underwires.” (Credit:

Window Warriors: I love Carson Kressley so if he’s going to sign up to judge a two-bit, over-done, no-one-cares reality show, it’s my job to watch it. Especially when it’s none of those things! Excuse me while I continue counting down the seconds. This competition show pits the, “country’s most talented window merchandising designers” against one another to create elaborate window displays. Yep, window displays. Expect lots of product placement and manufactured drama.

Scandal Made Me Famous: Nope, sorry, this is not the unauthorized Kerry Washington biography. She was totally famous before that Scandal. This is real scandal. Like murdering-your-children or cutting-off-your-husband’s-private-parts scandal. You know, heart-warming stuff like that. Relive the tales that turned the likes of Lorena Bobbitt and Amy Fisher into pithy New York Post headlines. This is the stuff sick days were made of. Start practicing your fake cough now.

Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath: For fear David Miscaviage will pop a cap into my Direct TV satellite dish, all I will say about this show is, “YES, Leah, Yes!”

Totally hired for our skillz, dude.
Totally hired for our skillz, dude and not because we all wear the same size pants. (Credit: Bravo)

Timber Creek Lodge: Thank you, Bravo. In the vein of Ladies of London and Southern Charm, this is another notch in the “Please God don’t let anyone know I’m watching this” belt. Beautiful settings, slutty, gorgeous staffers, and spoiled, over-the-top clients make this basically Below Deck in a ski chalet. And yes, we do need more Below Deck.

Ghosts in the Hood: These real-life ghostbusters investigate paranormal activity in LA neighborhoods other ghost hunting teams won’t touch. Why? I dunno know. Because ghosts aren’t real? Pa’shaw! This squad of ghosties includes a “verified medium,” a technician, and a comedian so you know they’re LA legit. Woooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhh!

The BachelorDoesn’t matter the time of year, it’s always Bachelor season as far as I’m concerned. Yes, ladies and gentleman, it’s true. The only man who has appeared on The Bachelor franchise more than Chris Harrison himself gets another shot at love. Can I get bro hug and a spray tan for Nick Viall?

"I can't possibly button my fly until I've had at least 3 cups of coffee." (Credit: The
“I can’t possibly button my fly until I’ve had at least 3 cups of coffee.” (Credit: The

They made us love him on BiP as he worked hard to shirk his loser in love reputation and became a charming, endearing, almost rational romantic sage. He was kind to the dumb twins, stood up to that enormous asshat, Josh who bested him yet again for a female’s attention, and tried really hard to pretend he didn’t know he was going to the be the next Bachelor and fake some chemistry with that Jenn girl. This season promises lots of tears and emotional breakdowns–from Nick himself. I’m already glued to my TV.

Two Tickets (and a metric ton of rash cream) to Paradise

Five minutes, I said. I’ll just watch for five minutes. 

What’s the harm? The Bachelorette ended and I was missing Chris Harrison. I was curious, I admit. I never watched this show. FIVE MINUTES, I said.

Look, I never promised you quality television recaps, but even I may have sunk to the lowest of the stinkiest, most manuer-ish of compost piles. Last night I fell victim to some fabulous ABC PR person’s wily ways and watched maybe the dumbest, grossest, saddest show on all of television. And yes, I mean that in the most flattering way.

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I please direct your DVRs to this piece of broadcasting gold:

Where the swim suits are always damp and the hot tub is constantly disinfected. Ahh...paradise.
Where the swim suits are always damp and the hot tub is constantly disinfected. Ahh…paradise.

That’s right. The Bachelor goes to paradise and there ain’t enough Airbus A380’s in the world to store the baggage these romanic rejects are packing.

First, a small digression. WTF is up with single parents who gush over their small children and tout how being a parent is the most important thing they’ve ever done, blah blah blah only to ditch their little obligations for months at a time to be some soulless producer’s bonus-generating puppet. We’ve got two single parents on BiP, friends. And mind you this is both of their second times at the shitshow. (Shitshow = not-so-subtle foreshadowing, btw.) Is flaunting your cameltoe and posturing with a belligerent, steroid-dropping, raw potato eating, angry gorilla man really your best parenting game? I mean, I will run, RUN, to Target anytime Bart says “I got this” but I’m usually back in a couple of hours. Or at least that same day.  And Single Mom Amanda has a daughter who is only two. TWO! And Mommy’s been on reality TV looking for love TWICE in her lifetime! COME ON. Ever hear of Tinder?

Also, Single Mom Amanda clearly shares a wardrobe with her four year-old. Put on some damn pants and cover those ass cheeks, MOM.

But I digress. Sort of. Actually not really because ass cheeks and steroids is kind of the lifeline of this show. In a nutshell, you take fifteen Bachelor/Bachelorette cast-offs, throw them into some resort on a tropical beach, supply them with an always open open bar (and adorable bartender who sees the exchange of more contanimated bodily fluids than the lab technican at a college campus health center) and you promise them a second chance at finding love.

Here’s the dumb-ass fame whores you’ll meet:

Amanda– Aforementioned single mom who still has her baby voice and love of levitating, shoulder less blouses.

Evan– Aforementioned single dad, erectile dysfunction specialist, wimpy-wimpy-whiner-pants who is still bitching about the red t-shirt that gorilla man Chad tore in a fit of steroid-induced rage.

Chad– Aforementioned gorilla man, roid-rager, and clearly THE STAR OF THE WHOLE DAMN FRANCHISE!

Lace– The Female Chad minus the roids. Crazy like a fox. A drunk fox. A constantly drunk fox.

Nick– Two-time runner up on previous Bachelorette seasons. Did you read that correctly? TWO TIME RUNNER UP. Give it up, man! GIVE IT UP! 

The Twins: Bumpy and Bimminy? Itsy and Bitsy? Twin 1 and Twin 2? Whatevs. They’re back and possibly even dumber than before.

Grant: Guy who says he feels bad for anyone who gets stuck with the crazy girl and immediately starts flirting with the crazy girl.

Jubilee: War vet who realized she had a bad case of Resting Bitch Face after watching herself on The Bachelor. Tries hard to smile now, which may the most positive outcome this show has ever had.

Jared: Guy all the girls seem to like. I don’t get it. Not at all. What is with the forward-combed hairstyle? What is he hiding in the temple region of his forehead? Am I only one who sees this uncanny resemblance?

Are you freakin' kidding me? Bald Joe cuts your hair too?
“Are you freakin’ kidding me? Bald Joe cuts your hair too? This is crazy!”

Daniel: Possibly more offensive than Chad and the worst Canadian import since Carly Rae Jepsen. Compares himself to herpes and refers to women as “sweet fruit.”

Carly: Not Carly the bad Canadian mentioned above. Weird layers in her hair. Reeks of instability. Probably fun to drink with.

Vinnie: Bland and unattractive on The Bachelorette and, well, points for consistency, I guess.

Sarah: Most normal cast mate and I really wish she would just go home.

Izzy: Might have been seen locking lips with Bland Vinnie. I don’t know. I don’t care.

I’m still not actually sure how this show works, but no matter. I’m not watching it because for the sportsmanship. I’m watching it for this:

How'd that crab get out of my pants?
“How’d that crab get out of my pants?”

That’s gorilla man Chad getting all Lindsay Lohan-y in the sand. And that’s a crab by his head that crawled out of his pants and is trying to get as far from paradise as possible. There are a lot of crabs in paradise as Chad pointed out upon exiting (Oh. Did I spoil something?) before telling them all to “F*ck off.” They’re crabs, Chad. And the producers brought them here as a giant metaphor for this whole entire season.

So I guess there is supposed to be some kind of format to this show. People go on dates. They get jealous. They fight. They give out roses. They think they’re falling in love. Dates appear to involve a shit ton of party supplies and horrific, mood-killing clowns who mimic sexual intercourse with gyrating hips and a well-placed horn.

Now I shall play " sexual intercourse" on my horn.
“Now wait. Y’all think I’M bat shit crazy for being on this show? Umm…”

Jubilee got the magical date card and asked Heckle to join her at a tiny bistro table and pretend to eat a meal surrounded by drippy, glittery, low-hung pinatas. Because why? Because nothing says, “Let’s romance” like a roomful of paper mache chili peppers filled with Sweet Tarts and Frooties.

You know what this place needs? A clown!
You know what this place needs? A clown!

Shit was just weird. Let’s talk about Chad.

So, all the ladies were encouraged by producers to pontificate about the “real Chad” and make wild hypotheses like, “I bet we will like him” and “But he’s really hot. How bad can he be?” There is no way anyone with enough brain matter to find their way out of an airport would find anything about this guy attractive. Unless of course you’re Lace whom as we already know from MOTHER ROSE BEST was seventy-three shades of crazy. Oh wait! She’s not crazy anymore according to Dr. Lace. After seeing herself on The Bachelor she realized she had some issues:

  • Drinks too much
  • Jealous as f*ck
  • Mean girl
  • Delusional
  • Angry drunk
  • Sloppy drunk
  • Emotional drunk
  • Secure as an ice cube facade twelve inches from the equator

She claimed to have worked out all the crazy which was evident by the at-home footage of her cradling a stemless wine glass and professing her love for its contents. Also agreeing to be on this show really points to totally lucid, sane, upstanding citizen.

Naturally Chad and Lace were drawn to each other like a dying geranium to a beam of sunlight. Within seconds these two idiots were making out in the hot tub, which lead to lots of splashing, more drinking, and slurred profanities as each one tried to drown the other and eat their head. Eventually Chad was gross enough even for Lace who declared him to be the reincarnation of the “Old Lace.” (Thirty minutes prior she called him “a king” and wanted to treat him as such so what does she know?) 

Chad no likey rejection.

Frustrated, he stomped away, ate thirty-five pounds of deli meat, and eventually passed out in the crab infested sand and proceeded to shit himself.

A minute for that to sink in.

What’s that? You didn’t read that right?



A grown up!

My toddler doesn’t even do that anymore!

The next morning host, Chris Harrison called out the litany of bad things Chad did in his schammered state like:

  • Called Lace a bitch and threatened to leave her duct-tied under a bus
  • Threatened to kill all of the castmates and their families
  • Made fun of Sarah who was born with half of an arm missing
  • Tried to throw a few punches at his former buddy, Daniel
  • Told the resort workers to “suck a dick”
  • Shit himself


Chad denied it all and couldn’t understand why everyone was so upset? Chris Harrison can tolerate–even encourage– a lot of crap, but not when it’s spilling out of the pockets of your cargo shorts. Chad was asked to pack his knives and go. (Wait. Wrong show but it actually works here. Sorry, Padma.)

Naturally this enraged Chad because WTF does Chris Harrison know. He didn’t know what went down the previous night because he was too busy hanging out in his hotel robe drinking mimosas. Chris was all like, “Ew, Chad! No one drinks mimosas at night! Now get the f*ck off my island!”

But this is reality television, my friends, and producers do not let this kind of gold go easily. Yes, no one truly in their right mind is going to look for love on a reality show, but people like Chad come around as often as Comet Hale-Bopp (and incites as much insanity.) Like his exit on The Bachelorette, this is going to be long, drawn out, creepy, dramatic, and prone to evil whistling. You have to tune in next week to see what happens. You have to. Don’t make me do this alone.

Pack your bags, anti-itching cream, penicillin, and Chad-Away spray because we’re going in. Paradise, here I come.

"Last one to get hepatitis C is a rotten egg!"
“Last one to get hepatitis C is a rotten egg!”






All Good Things

…must come to an end.


I’m going to miss writing these Bachelor recaps.

But, but, I love them both! Can't I have two rings, Mr. Lane?
But, but, I love them both! Can’t I have two rings, Mr. Lane?

You’ve got to check out the final installment of Mother Rose Best, Fools of Engagement, if for no other reason than to see the awesome Chris Harrison GIF the editors unearthed. It’s pretty fabulous.

Many thanks to the ladies of In the Powder Room for allowing me to crash the stalls once a week. What pure joy they are to work with.

Cheers to another match made in Reality TV heaven, where the booze flows and annulments are doled out like shots of penicillin. I’m sure it took me longer to write this post than for Bachelor Ben to realize he should have picked Bachelorette #2. Oh well. There’s always next season.

How many seasons is too many season? Asking for a friend.
How many seasons is too many season? Asking for a friend.


Mother Rose Best, Week 9

Remember this girl?

Sit and spin, bitches!
Sit and spin, bitches!

Spoiler alert! She’s still in the running to be America’s Next– oops! Wrong show. But yeah, she’s still in the running to be Bachelor Ben Higgins’ ex-fiance. Which is great because she’s helping today’s children become better citizens of tomorrow. How, you ask? Clearly you have not been reading Mother Rose Best. You best giddy-on-up over to In the Powder Room and check out the latest, Jamaican of a Marriage, right now. Why? Because I’m the mother, that’s why! And clean your room while you’re at it.


Be Offended

Facebook offers some really fun insights on pages you manage. For instance, after I posted the link for the latest Mother Rose Best, “Putting the Ho in Hometown“, 4 people either hid that post, hid ALL posts, reported me as Spam or unlike my page. Damn! Four?

What? Don’t hide me, my friends. Why do I offend? You’ll have to read it and and report back.



New Mother Rose Best

Burning questions, people!

  • Did Ben the Bachelor moved beyond tight-lip, closed-mouth kissing?
  • Did the token virgin give it up in Ben’s childhood bedroom?
  • Did a future NFL cheerleader’s understudy’s intern make Ben’s mother cry?

And more importantly, why is this blonde woman choking out another blonde woman?

He's my fake husband, Blondie! MINE!
He’s my fake husband, Blondie! MINE!

Find out the answers to these questions and more in the latest Mother Rose Best!

Mother Rose Best- Save the Drama for Bahamas

Oh man, The Bachelor sure doesn’t lack for writing fodder. It’s like a two-year old that way. Also in other ways like the fearful, petchulant, moody behavior of the contestants. Also the gullibility and belief in fairy tales. Also… wow. Maybe that’s a whole separate column.

As if I didn’t love In the Powder Room already, I love them even more every Monday when I write the latest Mother Rose Best and every middle of the night Tuesday when I turn it in (because I’m slow. And a bad editor. And easily distracted by shiny things on the internet.) Please read the latest installment, Save the Drama for Bahamas now. Take your time. I’ll just be shopping for plant stands on the internet.

Are you back? Okay. So much more to discuss about this season and I’ve been remiss on posting my larger recaps. I KNOW you’re dying to find out what happened. So here’s some of the highlight from where we left off.

  • Olivia was mean to the girls
“Talking crazy shit is my jam, bitches. I mean, bros.”
  • She called Amanda “Teen Mom” and greatly offended EVERYONE
  • Olivia still thought she had a psychic connection with Ben and that he sent her positive affirmations through his body language and secret hand signals
  • Ben’s virginal tongue still hasn’t kissed anyone
  • Twin Emily can NOT get over Olivia calling Amanda Teen Mom and claimed it was the most offensive thing she ever heard.
    • Twin Emily is grossly sheltered. Clearly.
    • As a 40-something mom with a toddler, I welcome any and all comparisons to Teen Mom. Bring on the offensive comments, Olivia!
  • Caila is still super annoying and acts like a ten year-old girl who still plays with Barbie. And she’s scared to death of a relationship. Ben apparently likes that in a girl-woman.
  • Jubliee melted down and got the inevitable boot. “Inevitable” because she is African-American, not because of her meltdown. I liked her. This made me sad.
  • Leah went bat shit cray cray. She lost it big time and tried to take Ben’s favorite, Lauren B. down with her.
  • Emily told Ben that Olivia was a meanie. Ben pretended to be surprised and saddened to hear this.
  • Ben pulled Olivia aside to ask her why she was such a bully
    • Because the girls are jealous of her
    • Because she has a target on her back after getting the first impression rose
    • Because she has ugly toes
    • Because she’s a victim
    • Because the girls are dumb and she is smart and wants to “talk smart things.” Like, right?
Like, fat toes and cankles, you dig?
  • Ben thought Las Vegas was a great place to fall in love
  • Ben thought Mexico was a great place to fall in love
  • Ben thought the Bahamas were a great place to fall in love
  • After the girls on the Bahamas group date bitched out and ignored him, Ben started questioning the reality of finding his wife on reality TV
  • Ben pondered throwing himself off a cliff in the middle of a hurricane
“Maybe face-planting on these rocks would be less painful than listening to women I have no desire to tongue kiss sob all day. Hmm…”
  • Pigs swim in the Bahamas (real pigs, not a metaphor) and nearly drowned the girls over some chicken hotdogs. It was fabulous.
“It’s chicken, I swear!”
  • Olivia was dumped on the worst private island ever and apparently left there to die.
“I wore my best Mom jeans for this?”
  • Some other girls went home crying in black SUVs. Later!

And that’s basically what you missed. Are you asking yourself why you’re not watching this gold? Put down that book and get cultured for goodness sake!


¿Dónde Está My Weave?

Have I told you lately how much I love writing this Mother Rose Best column for In the Powder Room? Even more so, I love having a “reason” to watch The Bachelor. It’s not because I want to and would totally be watching it anyway. It’s because I have to. I’m writing a column about it. Ahem…

The latest installment  ¿Dónde Está My Weave?, is just itching like a bad rash for you read and share.

Enjoy! And umm, maybe get some ointment for that itch?

Meow, Sex Panther!

Come on. How can you not read something called, Sex Panther? You know you want to.

Head on over to In the Powder Room for my latest Mother Rose Best column. Have I told you how much fun I’m having with this? I am! To think I used to watch this purely for the drama, cat fights, and ego-inflating meltdowns. There’s pure parenting gold in them hills!

Mother Rose Best graphic