The Bachelor, Week 5: I Can’t Even

If you’re coming here for your Bachelor recaps, you’re in the wrong place.

I know.

Shocking.

No, it’s me. Really. And I’m fine, promise. I want to watch The Bachelor and recap it in all its sad, desperate, tropey, predictable glory, but come on! I need a little help here! Could this season be more boring? Could Arie be more hateable, arrogant, boring, and whiny? Are any of us surprised? Sigh…not really.

Anyway, this whole season has been boring. I don’t even get around to watching the episodes until days after they air. I now fully believe that Krystal is a paid actor. ABC must have known they were in for a dud of a season so they hired someone with the worst voice ever to create unrealistic drama, steal the villain crown right off of Chelsea’s head, and grate on the nerves of EVERYONE IN THE WORLD TO INFINITY.

Just…please…have you considered community theater?

Krystal, I appreciate the effort, I really do, but even I’m not buying it and I am willing to suspend my disbelief for even the New Jersey Housewives.

I watched half of last night’s episode and was seriously not compelled to write a damn thing except, “Wow, I should try bowling sometime” and “Bekkah does a pretty good imitation of Krystal.” Even Krystal’s big, dumb tantrum didn’t move me.

So I leave you with this image because it really sums up how dumb this season is. Also, watching it with captions on is opening a whole new portal into hell. Especially when the captions say things, IN A HIGH PITCHED VOICE or IN A NORMAL VOICE. 

This here is Tia. She’s besties with Raven, the runner-up from Nick’s season. You might remember Raven as the gothy southern girl who almost took  her boyfriend out with her stiletto. So, yeah, they breed ’em real special in Arkansas. Weiner, Arkansas to be exact.

Anyway, this here is moments after she she professed her almost love for Arie. So romantic, right?

“I’ve been waiting for you to push me off something. Anything. Like this balcony would do. Please. A broken pelvis would be more fun than you, Arie.”

I mean, I just can’t.

But I will.

Sigh…

 

The Bachelor: I Can’t Even Come Up with a Title for This Drivel

When I was about 6, I followed my brother into a House of Mirrors at an amusement park. He ditched me about 1.3 seconds later citing some bullshit like, “Oh, I didn’t see you behind me.” Really, dear brother?  You couldn’t see me in a HOUSE OF MIRRORS?

I have a terrible sense of direction. If I tell you, “Oh that really good pizza place we liked is right over there!” it’s not. It’s probably not in the same town. Also, if you try giving me directions and say something stupid like “It’s just north of the freeway” I’m going to punch you in the neck. North is  up, jackass. Give me some good old-fashioned rights and lefts, okay?

So imagine young Shelly (who often gets lost on an airplane trying to find her seat after a visit to the lavatory) alone in a carnival torture house designed to confuse young children and separate them from their families. Now imagine having to see your horrified little face reflected back 1000x into infinity.

I had an awkward phase, okay?

But I’m no dummy. Continued movement would have been futile. It didn’t have 2,945 back issues of Tiger Beat or a Mickey Mouse telephone, but that house of mirrors was my new home. So I plopped down right there and accepted my fate. God, I missed Pepsi and elephant ears.

Four days minutes later, the teenaged ticket-taker told me to get up and walked me seven feet to the exit.

Admittedly, I probably don’t look in a mirror as often as I should, which results in showing up to places with toothpaste dribbled down the front of my shirt or mascara only on one eye. Shit happens. But I’m pretty sure that’s because I’m too lazy to look straight ahead and not permanently scarred from a childhood carnival experience.

Poor Annaliese (“Which one is that?” you ask. “THE BLONDE ONE!” I tell you.) clearly doesn’t have the fortitude to move on from hers.*

Arie, as you know, is our Bachelor (yawn) who happens to be a race car driver (yeah, yeah, Arie, we are soooooooooooooo impressed) and isn’t this guy:

STILL NOT OVER IT. 

He enjoys showing off his race car driver moves any chance he gets. (Yawn again.) Have you ever wondered how the show comes up with all those clever group dates? Of course you have. Here’s what happens: The producers look over the questionnaires filled out by contestants and look for responses to the WHAT ARE YOU MOST TRAUMATIZED BY? (FEEL FREE TO USE AN ADDITIONAL SHEET OF PAPER) question.

Woe is Annaliese, because this group date had the girls participating in a demolition derby which unearthed her very painful past. You see, when Annaliese was a child some asshat (probably a loving adult!) took her to a carnival (PROBABLY TO HAVE FUN!) and let her ride the bumper cars. GET THIS– OTHER CARS HIT HER CAR! What the what? Who does that??? Watching all those derby cars get all creamed and stuff was just too much for Annaliese to bear. So she had to stand on the sidelines, shaking and sobbing and accepting fake, mannequin-armed hugs from the other girls while her sweaty tears plowed through all that expensive BB cream. And if THAT scene weren’t dramatic enough, the producers reached deep into their bag of “cheap ploys to make it clear we are totally giving up this season” satchel to give us a very special reenactment.

“We’ve got nothing left this season, kids! Unless someone is afraid of bees or thunder? Can I get some gluten intolerance up in here? CAN SOMEONE PLEASE RECREATE A BAD ALLERGIC REACTION?

You guys, that is not just a reenactment, but it came with creepy carnival music!

You guys, that is not just a reenactment, THAT IS A SEPIA-TONED REENACTMENT.

It’s like our blurry, pixelated faces were there too!

I AM FEELING HER PAIN! It is DEEP IN MY GUT! Oh no wait, that is just laughter.

Arie tried to be empathetic, telling her she could sit this one out if she really needed to, but if she did decide to participate he’d totally protect her. Maybe later he’d even rub his dumb pillow lips all over her sad, wet face.

“So wait, you’re afraid of bumper cars. Did I ever tell you I’m a race car driver? Like a real one? Cuz I am! Also my lips are like two, big airbags. You’re totally safe with me…uh…Lauren?”

And now I’m traumatized because I can’t tell if The Bachelor was seriously trying to get us past the dyed roots and into this woman’s head or if they’re all saying, “F.U. Arie! Your season blows! Let’s just trash the place and burn it down!”

Please God let it be the latter! (EDITOR’S NOTE: It’s totally the latter. I’ve seen the latest episode.)

But, wait.

Are they making fun of themselves? 

You’re better than this, Bachelor! And by “better” I mean, worse! So much worse! Don’t let me down!

Even the other girls thought this whole trauma thing was ridiculous. I mean being afraid of swimming pigs, sobriety, or yeast infections is totes normal but bumper cars? Come on, girl!  Jenna thought she could knock some sense into Annaliese by repeatedly ramming into her when Ol’ Pillow Lips wasn’t looking, which kind of worked. Annaliese seemed rather aggressive for someone who couldn’t handle a little light jostling in a heavily padded carnival toy car, but whatevs. I’m no shrink.

What else happened? Let’s see:

Krystal–my god– is cray cray and super annoying. For someone who claims to make a living  making others, “feel their best feels”, she sure likes making other woman feel angry. It’s pretty much guaranteed that whatever words spoken in her drunk, husky baby voice are going to suck. Even though she already had a rose, she stole Arie away TWICE during the cocktail party. One of those times was right out of Bibiana’s vice grip, seconds before she would have choked Arie out. Dammit, Krystal!

No, bitch, you need to check yourself before I rip those wicked biceps right off your stupidly toned body!

Bibiana cracked, threatened to leave, gave up, sat back down, yelled at Krystal, got up to leave, didn’t talk to Arie, finally talked to Arie, took a Valium, drank a bunch of vodka, bit the head off a bat, drank more vodka, and calmly accepted rose #18 out of 18 from Arie.

Angry Anonymous Blonde #4, #12, and #16 were sent home. Angry Anonymous Blonde #4 didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Arie, which made Arie sad. No one gets out of here without a stiff hug and an extra heaping of televised humiliation.

“Hey, sorry about dumping you. I honestly can’t tell all these blonde girls named Lauren apart and it’s hurting my head.”

“I’m not sad about you dumping me. I’m sad that I have to leave all this free alcohol behind.”

I hear that, Angry Anonymous Blonde #4. Surely the girls are pouring one out in your name.

*You can’t make this shit up. It can and will get worse, I promise.

 

The Bachelor: Lost Limbs…and Shit

I watched 45 minutes of The Bachelor while on the treadmill and really I should loose 84 pounds by the time this train wreck of a season is over. It’s…so…hard…to…look…away. But I did. But only because I was so excited TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED IN THE FIRST 3 MINUTES!

First, yes, something AMAZING happens later in the show that I haven’t “officially” gotten to yet, but I totally YouTubed because I heard how good it was. (When your male co-workers seek you out to talk about something that happened on The Bachelor, that is some good TV right there.) And it was. But in the worst possible way. It’s almost like The Bachelor is making fun of itself. Like they’re all, “Well. We’ve pretty much sunk to as low as we can go. Our bachelor is super boring and a solid NYC/LA 5 (Scottsdale 7.5), and no one is going to forgive us for not casting that other guy. Might as well bust out the sepia-toned reenactments to illustrate just how wicked dumb our cast is.”

Who me?

Yes, Peter, you. It should have been you. WE GET IT!

Whatevs.

BUT WE ARE NOT THERE YET.

We are here.

A lovely sunny morning. The girls are half drunk on champagne and rosé all day when Chris Harrison arrived. He gave them this ominous message:

One of you will be Arie’s wife.

There was an audible gasp like they just heard, “4 out of 6 of you will become Restylane-intolerant.” It was almost like a threat, like Chris knew they’d rather grow hermit crab claws and pull out their own eyelash extensions than have to accept Arie’s thoughtfully chosen Neil Lane sparkler. They’re not here for him! They’re here to audition for the next season of The Bachelorette! But Chris reminded them how real this is. If he had to suffer through this season, so did they. Remember your purpose, ladies! You are nothing more than Jabba’s palace dancers in ankle booties and slouchy sweaters. NOW DANCE!

Oh, fine.

Chris left them with a date card. The girls went ballistic, side-eyeing the shit out of each other and smacking the fresh mimosa off their lips like storm-addled waves hitting the shores of Desperation Island. The first one-on-one date of the season went to Becca K who was whisked off on a motorcycle.

A motorcycle! Egads!

Motorcycles are great because they spark conversational gold like this awesome exchange between Chelsea (villain) and two other girls who are probably named Lauren.

CHELSEA: I’m jealous.

MAYBE LAUREN 1: Yeah.

CHELSEA: I really like the feeling of being behind something that is bigger than me. Like…holding on and stuff.

MAYBE LAUREN 1: Yeah.

MAYBE LAUREN 2: I’m like, totally scared of motorcycles. My dad had a really bad motorcycle accident and I know people who have like lost limbs and things like that.

Like, LIMBS, you guys. This is some serious shit.

MAYBE LAUREN 1: Huh.

MAYBE LAUREN 2: If I was on that date, I would have to like, had to tell him…

MAYBE LAUREN 1: It’s good…it’s good that you weren’t.

CHELSEA leans close to MAYBE LAUREN 2 and bit her head off.

End Scene

Ladies and gentlemen, this is what true empathy looks like. Also what six bottles of rosé before 9AM looks like.

Meanwhile… Arie and Becca K ride off to a mysterious mansion where they meet Scooby Doo and some meddling kids. Not really. But they did run into an awful lot of shellfish. Like an ungodly amount.

What in the name of Long John Silver is going on here?

It was dangling from pedestals three feet in the air. It was clinging to the Carrara marble countertop. It was a bizzaro Hansel and Gretel under the sea. I mean, what kind of budget are working with here, ABC?

Seriously a LOT of shellfish! Was it someone’s birthday or something? Did Uber Eats totally screw up the order? Is craft services super high?

It was festooned across Arie’s chin and eventually his lap because no way was he letting that shit go to waste. He’s the God damn Bachelor, America! Not that God damn Peter guy! He may not get the girl, but he’s eating the shit out of some shellfish.

If you think the location of the date was rather random– a really nice house overlooking the water– the actual date activities will really jumble your brain. All 26 pounds of Rachel Zoe popped out from behind a clothing rack (we know she ain’t here for the shellfish)

“Surprise!” Arie said. “That’s Rachel Zoe. She’s going to style you!”

Becca made like she was going in for a hug, but really she was blinking out distress signals.

I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE HERE WITH HIM. STOP. HE HAS CRABS. LOTS AND LOTS OF CRABS. STOP.

But alas, she stuck around and tried on 136 evening gowns and surprise again! She got to keep them all thanks to Arie. (But really ABC. And Rachel. But okay, Arie, small victory for you.)

 

I realized this was ABC’s weak attempt to make us like Arie. Like he’s such a gentleman! A true Prince Charming! He’s not here because he’s a D-list fame whore from Scottsdale. He really cares about these girls! He wants to make them feel special! It’s all about the girls. Instead of feel sad because I wonder how tough times have gotten for Rachel Zoe. I used to really like her show.

But I digress.

And then when they were enjoying some champs by the sea some random dude in sunglasses and a suite waddles up to them. NOT WEIRD AT ALL.

“Neil Lane sends his regards,” he said, handing Arie a briefcase.

Oh good! ABC is cutting this season short! It’s the final rose ceremony! Oh, it’s not? Sigh…Not a ring. Just everything else: Earrings, bracelets, a necklace to go with the free outfit she’ll don later that night. Arie kept telling her she deserved it. He really wanted to spoil her. He’s really grossing me out. But man, Becca K is pretty much guaranteed to walk off this show with something of value. FINALLY!

Becca almost got bludgeoned with empty chardonnay bottles when she returned to the lady house. Bitch, do not walk through these doors in your inappropriate sparkling shoes (Louboutins! Also a freebie!) with your shopping bags full of Rachel Zoe promotional consideration. DO NOT. Bibiana (who–how did I miss this before–is clearly this season’s mujer loca), got super emotional looking at those shoes because where she comes from that is clearly a sign of impending marriage. Why don’t they all just go home now?

The date continued in the evening with a fake dinner where Becca talked about her late father (sad) and Arie talked about race cars (of course.) Then Arie mashed his “pillow lips” up against her face while they mumbled about how much they liked kissing each other while they were kissing each other.

BUT THAT WASN’T THE REALLY GOOD PART!

There was another one-on-one date with Krystal where Arie took her back to his hometown of Scottsdale because he forgot to feed his cats and might have left his curling iron on. They watched home videos, looked through his color-coded closet, drove past the Pizza Hut where he worked before getting the call from ABC to be the next bachelor. Oh, and they dropped by to meet his sad, Dutch family.

After meeting Arie’s brother and sister-in-law, Arie’s mom and Krystal had this fun exchange:

MOM: They just got married.

KRYSTAL: Oh, that’s nice!

MOM: They are nice normal people who met in a nice, normal way.

KRYSTAL: So great!

MOM: Not on TV.

KRYSTAL: I get it, nice Dutch lady.

MOM: They got married in the Netherlands. Not on a TV show.

KRYSTAL: Look bitch, I don’t like your son anyway. None of us do so there’s not going to be a freakin’ wedding– televised or otherwise. Bye now!

That is also where I had to say buh bye because my legs were getting all liquidy and someone had to pick the child up from pre-school. I can’t wait to tell you about the REALLY GOOD* thing that happened!

*That, ladies and gentlemen, is a cliffhanger made all the more intense by the fact I’m writing this THREE days after the episode aired. Don’t you dare Google it! Wait for me! I’ll be back!

So I Watched The Bachelor. A Little.

Okay, fine, I started watching the new season of The Bachelor but only because it was my first day back on the treadmill in 729 days and I needed a good distraction.

Here’s what I know so far:

  • Ari likes blondes
  • Oops, I mean, “Arie”
  • There are so many race car puns
  • I still don’t like him
  • I don’t think Chris Harrison likes him (“Wow, you haven’t managed to have a relationship in five years, huh? Wow, wow, wow. So here we are.”)
  • Even the girls were struggling to think of good things to say about him (“He…um…has such a full head of hair!”)

As for the cast, well you’ve got your spray tans and baby voices and nervous chardonnay drinkers. And clearly casting couldn’t find enough delusional fame whores to date Ari (sorry, ARIE) so they cast the same girl three times.

Head tilt left, head tilt left, head tilt right. There! Now they’ll never know it’s the same girl! 

And of course the usual tropes are immediately obvious:

The “I’m not here to make friends” award goes to:

“Hair down, boobs out, bitches.”

Interesting facts about Chelsea: she also fills the “single mom” trope. (Let’s pour one out for that poor kid) and she bears an uncanny resemblance to one of the best villains of all time: Olivia!

Girl, let me tell you exactly how this shit ends: Alone, on an island, sweating in your mom jeans.

The only thing Chelsea likes about women is talking shit about them. Chelsea is going to love living in a house with 28 other women–especially when they all get on the same cycle.

The “Lovable Weirdo” award goes to:

Dead things, dead things, yay for dead things!

She has a tiny guitar she used to serenade a dead seal. That’s right– Kendall likes dead things. As in taxidermy. She collects it, what? Relationships end (for her a year was her longest) but dead things last forever! Can’t argue with that! Kendall is my top pick!

The “Overcompensating Entrance” award goes to:

Wow, these girls were really leaning into the whole race card driver thing. One girl even made a god awful “pit stop” joke after making Ari (GOD DAMMIT ARIE) smell her B.O. BEKAH, the nanny from Fresno, rode in on a cherry red Mustang, only to be bested by Maquel (that’s right, bitches, MA-QUEL) who showed up in an actual race car. I mean, come on BEKAH! Why you gotta be half-assing it on day 1?! Also spell your name right! Also girls with short hair never go far on this show. YOU KNOW THAT! Does a nanny not pull in enough coin to spring for some damn hair extensions???

Does this helmet make my daddy issues look big? Because lemme tell you– they’re HUGE!

The “Have you never seen this show?” award goes to:

Hey, Valerie? So this is a reality show called, The Bachelor where we pick a bunch of spray tanned, bouncy haired girls with little self-esteem, but lots of cut out dresses to all compete for one man’s affections. There are a lot of girls– really pretty girls– here because THAT’S THE WHOLE FREAKIN’ PREMISE OF THE SHOW, YOU DUMMY!

So many girls! This must be where Wonder Woman lives!

The “Why can’t I find love” award goes to:

Okay, so they could all pretty much get this coveted award, but I’m going with Maquel because she flat out whinnied, “Why can’t I find love?” (Or some strain of that B.S.) during her intro montage.

Maquel photographs newlyweds so she can steal their stupid, selfish souls and keep them in bell jars in her closet.

She’s a photographer who loves to shoot (like literally shoot!) engaged couples so she can make them feel bad for finding each other while she’s still single. SO RUDE! Hey Maquel, do you know why you can’t find love? Because you’re TWENTY-THREE! Cool your freakin’ jets. No love until you can legally rent a car, okay? Speaking of which, Alamo should not have let you drive that race car off the lot!!! Hope you had a co-signer!

The “Lauren” award goes to:

How many Laurens can you stuff in a limo? There’s always at least 2 per season, but there was a bumper crop this year because we got 4.

So I’ll be Double, you be Double and you guys can be Toil and Trouble. Yay! Image credit: PAUL HEBERT VIA GETTY IMAGES

The non-Laurens could hardly believe it. What was this, some kind of nomenclature sorcery?

And that’s what I know 43 minutes into the show. Will I keep watching? Am I already hooked? Can I quit this stupid show?

Oh fine. More later.