The Bachelor, Week 6: Can I Walk You Out?

After a pretty snoozy previous week I was ready for some epic showdowns. While I wouldn’t say there were showdowns, there were definitely “show you the doors,” which is almost as good.

The episode opened with the girls pondering what could possibly have happened in the bayou on the dreaded two-on-one. Did Nick cast PV off to the nearest walk-in clinic or was Taylor forced to seek comfort with her PhD and giant dictionary? WHO WAS GOING HOME?!

Their sad suitcases sat by the front door until the unamed, unspoken production assistant was sent in to fetch them. The girls held their breath as the PA pretended to not know which bag to take, drawing out the agony of suspense for a good three and a half seconds before finally settling on Taylor’s bag. The remaining girls gasped! How the hell did that slimy, stunted boob slip by for another week?

While Nick and PV enjoyed their alone time, Taylor was on the stomp of shame, heading right to the non-restaurant they were dining at. By golly she was determined to use as many big words as she could to let Nick know she was the victim of lies and manipulation. I mean, if Nick sent her packing because she was boring or condescending or lacking any positive personality traits, then FINE. Been there, done that. But she was not a bully!

Some women take off their earrings. Some take off their bras.
Some women take off their earrings before sparring. Some take off their bras.

When Taylor walked in, Nick and PV did a horrible job pretending to be surprised. PV’s drunkeness looked totally authentic though. 

PV: What the BLEEEEEEEEEEEP is she doing here?”

Taylor (to PV): You lied.

PV: Uh, duh.

Taylor (to Nick): You were lied to.

Nick: No shit.

Taylor: I care about you as a person. When you’re lied to it’s not respectful. She’s making me look bad. It’s MY job to make me look bad, not hers! How dare she take that away from me!

Nick: Honey, you look so bad right now and it’s all you. I promise!

Taylor: Quit trying to seduce me! It’s over! Open your eyeballs! I’M NOT WEARING A BRA!

Nick: I really appreciate you leaving your undergarments in the bayou and taking the time to tell me this. I have nothing but respect for you and everyone knows I can’t possibly date a woman I respect. Please leave. For real, this time.

PV  tried to be a supportive psychopathic trophy wife who pitied her man and those crazy bitches he kept having to fend off, but talking was so icky.

“Let’s make out!” she said, ramming his face into her mouth.”

Later, Nick confessed he still saw potential with PV.

“Oh wait,” he said. “Did I say potential? I meant nipples! Oh ha, sorry! I SEE NIPPLES WITH PV!”

In her confessional, PV slurred something about cats having nine lives, but bitches had two. Was she confusing “lives” with “personalities?” Because if so she’s not giving herself enough credit.

“Don’t ever call me a liar in front my boyfriend!” she screamed.

The girls arrived for the  rose ceremony by way of horse drawn carriage, but their giddiness soon soured when a very solemn Chris Harrison told them there would be no pre-ceremony cocktail party.

“Nick knows exactly what he wants to do,” he said.

You know what I want to do? Make out with this here rose. And get wasted.
Like hell there won’t be a cocktail party! Tell that to my blood alcohol content!

Jasmine burst into tears because without the cocktail party she wouldn’t have time to tell Nick how she really felt. And lemme tell you, she was feeling PISSED! Why hasn’t she had a one-on-one? Why doesn’t he talk to her? Why hasn’t he proposed to her yet? Why does she have to be the alternate African American girl?

But the Universe loves affirmative action and gave Jasmine a reprieve. Instead Nick sent home Jaime, the drag queen, and Alexis whom I will truly miss.

Jaime said she had no regrets. She’s probably only going to date women after this anyway.

No regrets, Jaime? Not even that lipstick?
No regrets, Jaime? Not even that lipstick?

Alexis blamed her ousting on the fact that she wasn’t vulnerable enough. Then she burst out crying.

The remaining girls and Nick toasted the next stop on the Bachelor tour: THE ISLAND OF ST. THOMAS! Nick was super excited because according his calculations, this was the week he would start falling in love.

Kristina the Russian got the first one-on-one date.

As her and Nick took off in a seaplane, the other girls waved and blew kisses. Except Jasmine who was bawling on a street corner.

“It’s hurtful,” she said. “Watching the man you saw your future with take off with someone else.”

Nick was determined to find out everything there was to know about Kristina. He started pestering her, the girl who grew up in an orphanage, about family.

Kristina: I have 9 siblings.

Nick: Wow. So there’s 10 of you?

Kristina: No. Maybe 8.

Nick: So, 9 including you?

Kristina: No. I don’t know. But I have a sister in Russia. Let’s drink!

But Nick really wanted to press on about her life in the orphanage and nail down how many god damn siblings she had and wouldn’t stop until he got Kristina to tell this really heartwarming tale about how one day when she was little she was so hungry she ate lipstick. Then when she was five her mom got mad at her for something and sent Kristina to the orphanage. The end. Or something like that. I was too sad to keep listening. Nick cried big, droopy man tears as he gave her the rose and all the food off his plate, some cash, and a few credit cards. Later a steel drum band played Ave Maria so they could awkwardly sway like white people, under a gazebo.

Back the resort, the conversation was a lot more peppy!

Vanessa: Did you know St. Thomas was once owned by Denmark?

Other girls: No. Wow.

Annnnnnnnnd scene.

Suddenly there was  a knock! Was it a date card? Or Chris Harrison? Or another production assistant to snatch someone’s suitcase? No! It was a maid! PV was ecstatic and immediately began shouting orders at her.

“My dress is wrinkley!

“I’m hungry!”

“Do you have any lobster dip?”

“Fix my towel!”

“DO YOU WANT TO COME TO AMERICA WITH ME?”

Jasmine was pissed off because her name was on the group date card. Whitney and one of the Danielle’s would be going on a two-on-one. They were paralyzed with fear.

Nick thought the group date would be a fun, casual day at the beach. They drank, played corn hole, and then he forced the girls to play beach volleyball for his enjoyment. PV, not a team player, was super bored so she left to try out some other sports.

PV's sport of choice. What? Shooting is totally a sport!
What? Shooting is totally a sport!

For once the other girls agreed with PV. No one liked volleyball. NO ONE! As the welts rose on the inside of their wrists, that stupid white ball made the girls question EVERYTHING. Why was Nick paying so much attention to PV? Why did he think a good date involved competitive beach sports? WHY WERE THEY ON TV TRYING TO MARRY THIS GUY?

Shit started to get real real. Especially Jasmine’s shit.

“If jasmine were a vegetable she’d be a turnip because she’s turned all the way up.” Good one, Raven. But why would you say that?

Oh.

Bitch, down!
Bitch, this ain’t volleyball. It’s a HO DOWN! Now stay there!

Holy shit, Jasmine! Did you just shove PV into the sand? I think I love you!

Rachel and Vanessa were the next ones to hit the proverbial showers. Rachel didn’t feel valued and refused to compete for Nick’s attention. (Rachel? I appreciate the sentiment, but you did sign up for a game show where you compete for some rando’s attention. Just sayin’.) Vanessa thought the whole thing was gross and annoying and too much of a metaphor for her life should she end up with Nick. One by one, the remaining girls went down like the Rum Runners PV had for breakfast. Each girl found her own private swath of sand and cried. Slow clap for Nick’s awesome date?

“I think the idea of having a nice relaxing date might have backfired,” Nick concluded, while peeing in the ocean.

Later, Nick doled out glasses of alcohol and apologized for making everyone play volleyball and cry. During their alone time, each girl told Nick how freakin’ miserable they were and if they didn’t truly believe they had a shot at being the next Bachelorette, they’d have beat feet weeks ago.

Jasmine was a freakin’ ticking time bomb. She was happy to accept glasses of alcohol, but not the fact that Nick didn’t try to spend as much time as possible with her. She wanted to PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE because she liked him so much. She won’t shut up about WHAT SHE NEEDS. Nick needs to DO THINGS FOR HER! All the other girls were like, Ho, shut it. We’re all drunk and desperate too. You ain’t special!

Finally Nick pulled her aside for what he thought was some good old-fashioned getting to ho you. But umm, not really.

Jasmine: Why’d you bring me to St. Thomas? I’ve been to St. Thomas. Don’t you dare overlook me!

Nick: To be fair, I didn’t bring you to St. Thomas. ABC did, but…

Jasmine: I love you so much I want to choke your face off.

Nick: Umm…

Jasmine: I ain’t here for vacation! I’m so confused. Why won’t you talk to me?

Nick: Because you’re a bit of a ding a’ ling to be honest and I’m afraid you’re gonna choke my face off.

Jasmine: I like you a lot. I see a future with you. I really do.

Nick: Is that future in the waiting room of a psychotherapist’s office? Because I see that too.

Jasmine: OOOOOOH I JUST WANT TO CHOKE YOU SO BAD!

Nick: Ha ha hahahahhaha

Jasmine: Oh, not in a sexulal way! Don’t worry. In the murdery way!

Nick: Oh good! Hahahahahaha

Jasmine: I just want to throw your ass down and be like UGH!

Nick: Oh! Right! Ugh!

Jasmine: Like this. I want to put you in the chokey!

Nick: Oh it has a name! Cute!

Jasmine: Want me to? I’ll do it right now! Want me to? Huh? WHY ARE YOU OVERLOOKING ME!?

Nick: It’s been super fun but it’s time to say goodbye. Can I walk you out? Can security walk me, walking you out?

So I grab you by the jugular like this. And then I squeeeeeeeeeeeze until you turn blue and I can hear your little bird bones crust beneath my fingers. That's a "chokey!"
So I grab you by the jugular like this. And then I squeeeeeeeeeeeze until you turn blue and I can hear your little bird bones crust beneath my fingers. That’s a “chokey!”

Jasmine, having returned to her body from the murderous astral-plane she was visiting moments ago, appeared confused. Wait. Why was he letting her go? Chokey just a jokey!

“He didn’t give me a chance,” she reasoned. “I came here to fall in love with someone. Anyone. Mr. producer, are you single? IS ANYONE SINGLE!”

Nick felt like perhaps he was going in the wrong direction with these women and was beginning to lose confidence in the process. Oh, Nick, now you loose confidence? Not the first time you were dumped at the alter? Or the second? Or when the guy you were dumped for the first time took another girl from you in Paradise? You’re losing confidence now? One might say…oh, what’s the word…FINALLY!

But Nick somehow mustered enough energy to go on his two-on-one date. Like any good two-on-one, this date involved a remote location, a helicopter, and rented patio furniture.

We have this furniture for 6 hours so if you want to hang out after Nick dumps you, go right ahead.
We have this furniture for six hours so if you want to hang out here after Nick dumps you, feel free!

Nick spent two minutes talking to Whitney and three minutes talking to Danielle before deciding he needed to send Whitney home. Or rather, leave Whitney on the deserted beach while he and Danielle flew off in the chopper.

Whitney was perplexed. Instead of using words to find the reasoning, she used her eyes.

So what part of "I'm a pilates instructor" do you not like, numb nuts?
So what part of “I’m a pilates instructor” do you not like, numb nuts?

The date continued for Danielle and Nick who dined in a fort that was formerly a prison. Moved by all the mason jar votives in this fort-prison, Danielle admitted she could totally see herself falling in love with Nick. Nick pulled a Whitney and used a penetrating stare to communicate, “What the actual F are you talking about, girl?” Not awkward at all. Nope.

Nick: Yeah, so I’m not really into falling in love with anyone tonight. If I was going to do that I’d have chosen Whitney. Did you know she’s a pilates instructor. I mean… HELLO!

Really Nick felt bad because this was the second dumbass to say they were falling for him and he wasn’t feeling the same. WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON? Old Nick would have been dumped three times by now!

Nick was struck with a powerful realization that perhaps he’s the problem. Maybe he can’t reciprocate the same kind of love. Maybe he needs to be the dummy who is too available. Maybe, like Ben Higgins, he was unlovable! MY GOD. WAS HE BROKEN? 

Nah, he’s fine. Danielle was the problem so he sent her packing. Wait until Whitney sees her at the airport!

As Danielle pondered what the hell just happened, she thought, maybe he’s not perfect. But no. That would be weird. I guess she’ll never know.

When another producer came to fetch Danielle’s suitcase, the girls who remembered to take their laxatives, crapped a chardonnay brick. What the F was going on up in this virginal island? You expect this kind of wonky witchery in NOLA, but here?

No sooner had the wine sloshed out of their goblets and onto their cutoffs, did Nick barge in and start crying.

Ah, go home, Nick, you’re drunk!

He started blubbering about being honest and how he used to be so optimistic and now he’s afraid he’ll mess up every single one of these fake relationships.

“I want it to be real, I want it to be right, I just don’t know if I can keep doing this,” he said.

Seriously, dude, I’m kind of with you. If a superficial douche-bagel like you can’t fake it with a hot pilates instructor, you should probably hang up your Varvatos ties now. But that’s just me.

After Nick made that not-at-all cryptic speech he bolted, leaving the girls in tears and confusion, or for many of them, just another Tuesday night at home.

“HE’S GONE!” Raven shouted.

“OH NO!” The rest of the girls screamed.

TO BE CONTINUED! I yelled.

] Will Nick come back? Will he come to his senses? Does he have senses? Will he toss the remaining 6 girls and get 6 new ones? Is that allowed? And most importantly, will PV don her trusty Carmen Slutdiego trench coat and stilettos and finally consummate her non-relationship with Nick? And then will she bite his head off? I hope so!

Tune in next week!

 

The Bachelor, Week 5: Later, Gator Haters!

Week five of The Bachelor was so uninspiring I thought about not doing a recap. But then what the hell would I do with these 8 pages of notes?

It started off promising. Chris Harrison said we were about to witness, “The most anticipated showdown of the season!” YES! Bring it!

Err…really, Chris? I love ya, buddy, but come on. We’ve both witnessed our fair share of showdowns.  You decide.

The Scene: Two women in their early 20’s, basking in the glow of a roaring chimnea, arguing about the definition of emotional intelligence.

Taylor: Lots of girls are questioning your maturity, PV.

PV: Oh, okay, well that makes sense. But maturity is totally different than emotional intelligence.

Taylor: No, it’s not.

PV: I’m marrying a guy I met on TV. How’s that for intelligence! Also, you’re gross.

Taylor: Actually maturity and emotional intelligence go hand in hand.

PV: Unlike you and Nick! He’ll never hold your hand the way he HELD MY BOOBS! Because you’re gross!

Taylor: I can’t argue with you. You’re way too stupid. This is the lamest showdown ever.

PV: No, I’m not! Stop talking like you’re some kind of mental health counselor!

Taylor: I am a mental health counselor.

PV: Yeah, a gross one! I want to know what yerrrrrrrrrr…perspective on emotional intelligence is.

Taylor: That’s what I’ve been telling you.

PV: Ugh! I can’t believe people pay you for advice!

Taylor: That’s not what I do actually.

PV: BECAUSE YOU’RE THE GROSSEST!!! And you don’t say hi to people! When you see someone in the kitchen and then in the bathroom, you should say hi again!

Taylor: That’s just dumb!

PV: So you do admit you genuinely ignore people! I knew it! I’m gonna school you!

PV didn’t so much as school Taylor as ran to Nick telling him what a big, gross bully Taylor was.

“I’m not going to be fake or a liar right now,” she said. (Always a good opening.) Then pretended to be hurt because Taylor “isn’t nice” and “ignores people.” Also PV was really worried about Nick.

“She’s rude, Nick. About…things. And she feels very…oh what’s that word they keep using to describe me…umm…oh! Entitled! She’s totally not here for the right reasons.”

Nick appreciated her candidness and encouraged her to continue showing that maturity. And by maturity he meant, boobs. Duh.

The only thing better than Rachel's cheesy noodles is throwing a bitch under the bus.
Mmmm….victory. Tastes just like Raquel’s cheesy noodles.

Nick thanked the girls for standing outside, in winter, in the midwest, in sequined thongs and having “honest conversations.” He left them with a swath of blanket to fight over while he ran off to deliberate who would still be in the running to be the third woman he proposed to on national TV.

PV was confident the Taylor ship had been cast from Nick’s manscaped shores.

“Hashtag winning!” she gloated.

Hashtag shut the hell up, PV!

Kristina, the Russian hygienist was not impressed with petty squabbling.

“Both those bitches should go home,” she said. “Or return to the barn and fight to the death like we do in my country.”

As the roses were doled out, we saw girls await their names with increasing discomfort. Was it the fear Nick would send them home or how painful it is to have cold sequins pressed into your lady parts. With only two roses and four girls left, including Taylor and PV, THE STAKES WERE NEVER HIGHER. My goodness, who will get those last two roses? I’ll tell you. PV got the second to last rose because Nick will not be satisfied until he has all the STDs. And of course Taylor was apathetically offered the last rose. NO WAY!

Astrid and Sarah were sent packing. Astrid was like, “Later, dude!” but Sarah was super disappointed. Love was the only thing she wanted in her life and the only thing she couldn’t get. “HOW DO I GET LOVE?????” she sobbed.

Umm, like that, Sarah. Just like that. You cry your guts out to a production crew who gets cash bonuses for making girls like you cry, while wearing a T.J. Maxx evening gown with the tags still attached, in front of a rented California mansion about a “relationship” that wouldn’t last longer than a peeled banana on a kitchen counter. You look totally desirable right now! HASHTAG WINNING!

Post-ceremony Nick announced the whirlwind adventure would continuing in New Orleans, which scared the holy shit out of Raven.

“What if someone buys a voodoo doll or something?!”

As the girls settled into their new penthouse digs, Chris Harrison arrived to lay out the week’s date plan.

One one-on-one date!

One group date!

and…

The dreaded two-on-one date!

Oh! Maybe that would be the most anticipated showdown?

Rachel and Nick’s one-on-one kicked off at an outdoor market where vendors schlepped petrified gator heads and amethyst pendants– the perfect backdrop for the heavy making-out that took place there. But things didn’t heat up fast enough for Nick who is used to girls just handing him their bare boobs first six seconds into a date so he shoved an oyster down poor Rachel’s face. Next they sampled hot sauce and had another make-out session. Something worked because  Nick declared they had the most “explosive chemistry.” I’m pretty sure he was talking about diarrhea.

Later they cooled things off by rubbing beignets all over their bodies. Never having had one before Nick thought the proper way to eat it was to fill his man pores with powder sugar and try to suck it back out with his tongue.

 

Actually, Rachel, this is not fun. It's actually kind of gross, k?
“Like this?”

Then they jumped in a Second Line– a traditional New Orleans parade–for a little booty shaking and pavement twerking.

“This is so fun!” Rachel gushed. “I haven’t danced in a second line since I was here for a funeral two months ago!”

The other girls could see the explosive chemistry from their penthouse window and it made Jasmine sad. It’s clear Nick only needs to keep one African American girl to not look like a total racist and clearly it wasn’t going to be her. At least she’d be able to take some high quality toiletries with her when she inevitably goes.

After a bit more white boy dancing and day drinking, Rachel revealed a sideboob and the fact she was on the best date of her life. And then Nick escorted her to an abandoned Mardi Gras float warehouse for dinner. Totally not creepy AT ALL!

No, YOU just shit a brick!
No, YOU just shit a brick!

Rachel talked about her dad who happened to be a federal judge.

“So he’s, like, intimidating?” Nick asked.

“He can be.”

“Ew. Do I have to call him sir?”

Back at the penthouse, the girls anxiously awaited the group date card because if your name ain’t on it, to the Thunderdome you go! I bet you have NO IDEA WHO THE TWO IDIOTS GOING ON THE TWO-ON-ONE DATE COULD BE, DO YOU?! 

But first we must suffer through an incredibly boring group date at a haunted plantation house. Here’s another dramatic reenactment:

Boo (the caretaker): Our house is haunted by Mae, an 8 year-old girl who died of scarlet fever. Please don’t touch her stuff. Especially not her doll. Okay, thanks!

Raven: Oh hell no! Little Ghost Girl, I rebuke you in the same of Jesus! GET BEHIND ME, SATAN!

Jasmine: I have no time for greedy spirits. Bitch, no one wants your damn doll! But if you have any of those beignets I tasted in Nick’s beard, it’s game on!

Girl 1: Oh look, a ouija board!

Girl 2: Yay! Let’s ask it questions!

Girl 3: Will Nick get engaged soon?

Girl 4: Who is having a herpes outbreak RIGHT NOW?

Girl 5: Is Mae with us?

LIGHTS OUT!

All the girls: EEEEEEEEEEEEE!

And then a whole bunch of fake, scary things happened including Nick spiriting each girl away and making out with them on the lawn. He made it a point to spend a little extra time ramming his tongue down one of the Danielle’s faces because he was pretty sure he liked her a few weeks ago, but couldn’t remember a damn thing about her.

I couldn’t either.

And then a darling little scene happened between Raven and Nick:

Raven: I just knew I was in love with you when you sang that song from The Little Mermaid!

Nick: Uh…uh…did I? That’s…interesting.

Oh, Raven.

The questionable Danielle got the date rose. No one cared.

Back at hotel PV was getting into the “right mindset” for her cagematch.

The platinum! IT BURNS!
The platinum! IT BURNS!

“She thinks she’s smarter than me,” PV snarled, while shoving $600 worth of room service into her face. “She’s so stupid.”

If she were really so smart she’d be eating all this food and charging it to one of the Danielle bitches.
If she were really so smart she’d be eating all this food and charging it to one of those Danielle bitches.

Rachel entertained herself by pretending to care what happened to either girl.

Rachel: Just be confident. Or whatever. I really don’t care. Bitches be bitches.

PV: I just hope Nick sees my golden heart.

Rachel: And your platinum vagine?

PV: Oh, girl, he’s seen that. You wanna?

And then for no reason other than she really wants me to track her down and give her a good, old throat punch, PV shouted, “MAKE AMERICA CORINE AGAIN!”

The dreaded two-on-one date took place at an alligator-infested bayou where one girl would become gator feed and the other would leave with Nick. You decide who the real loser is.

Taylor’s game plan was to treat the date like a one-on-one with a small side of PV.

“If he actually picks her, umm, ew,” she said. “He’s obviously thinking with his BLEEEEEEEEP.”

I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ARE A MENTAL HEALTH COUNSELOR AND YOU JUST REALIZED THIS! Jeesh. Maybe PV was right.

They departed on a tiny, tippable boat helmed by the by-product of a Duck Dynasty and Alaskan Bush People reality show love child.

On shore they nearly stepped on a spine (yes, a spine) before jumping into a voodoo ceremony straight out of American Horror Story. Here they met a real life voodoo priestess who took one look at Nick and decided there wasn’t enough chicken blood and sage in the world to cleanse that under-aura.

“Get ready to be revealed,” the priestess said.

PV shouted, “READY!” and took off her shirt.

The priestess escorted them to a psychic set up at a tiny IKEA bistro table perched upon some animal carcuses and poison ivy. The producers went all out for this one.

Taylor had the first reading.

“There is someone around you who is very nasty, lots of toxic energy, kind of a ho?” said the reader said. “You know anyone like that?”

No disrespect to the psychic arts, but can I get a big NO SHIT, SVENGALI! Do you watch the show or did you get a whiff of the ol’ penicillin villain over there?

Meanwhile Nick was pulling bugs out of PV’s hair extensions while she whined about the “situation” in the house.

PV: She emotionally attacked me. She said I was immature! She called me stupid!

Nick: But honey, you are all of those things.”

PV: Oh, I know, but I also have a nanny who makes me cheesy pasta and can cut my cucumbers like tiny matchsticks. I mean, how freakin’ cool is that? You want my cucumber matchsticks, Nick. You want them real bad.

When it was PV’s turn with the psychic she tried real hard to feign interest, but readings–psychic or otherwise–aren’t  really her jam.

Psychic: Girl, something reeks like dirty alligator swampiness and lemme tell you, it ain’t the dirty alligator swamp.

PV: Probably that gross bitch, Taylor.

Psychic: OMG, you’re dumb as a petrified alligator turd. Back away from my cheapass bistro table before I snap one of these legs and beat you with it. Any questions?”

PV: Yes. Do you have a voodoo doll I could have? One that looks a lot like Taylor?

Psychic: I do! Enjoy!

Taylor rejoined PV at the bistro table while Nick presumably deliberated.

Taylor: I can’t believe you used your time with Nick to rat me out.

PV: Do you by chance have a sharp pain anywhere near your heart right now?

Taylor: You can’t have a relationship based on whipped cream and lies.

PV: How are you possibly a mental health counselor?

Taylor: How can you possibly run a multi-million dollar company?

PV: Once again, I have a nanny, ya dumbass! I don’t do shit! 

Nick sat down and lamented about what a hard choice this was having to choose between an intelligent, educated (albeit annoying) woman with a PhD and a girl-woman bimbo whose boobs have had more screentime than a toddler on a cross-country flight.

Of course Nick handed the rose to PV. I mean, OF COURSE! Jesus, Nick. I just can’t even…

Taylor was so grossed out she didn’t even notice Nick, PV, PV’s voodoo doll and the scary boat skipper took off down the bayou without her. A-ho, Matey!

Several hours later, the psychic came back to pack up her table and tell Taylor to get the hell out of here. It was nighttime but thankfully voodoo cleansing rituals require a lot of fire because the priestesses were super easy to spot in the dead of night. Taylor threw herself into the middle of their circle and received a complimentary soul cleansing complete with a smokey sage bath and tambourines clanging in her face. Her confidence rose like a phoenix from the ashes. She was a water sign, dammit! She was emotionally intelligent! She won’t go home without speaking her piece!

So was this going to be the most anticipated showdown of the season? I’m so confused.

Back on the mainland, PV and Nick enjoyed a candlelit dinner in a location definitely not a restaurant. PV was so happy the negative energy was gone and apparently didn’t need a bunch of voodoo priestesses to banish it.

PV: I’m so glad we’re alone! I’m so glad you trust me. I’m glad I showed my boobs on TV. And I’m glad we’re alone!

Nick: Boobs are great!

PV: I’m so glad we’re alone! Why do the producers keep making me say that?

Cut to a freshly minted, but still furious Taylor stomping along the sidewalk. Hell hath no fury like a woman abandoned in a bayou. Her chakras are clean and mean and done with peen (yes, I had to. #sorrynotsorry.) Nick was about to get an over-articulated, multisyllabic dressing down from Thesaurus Rex.

THIS must be the most anticipated showdown of the season! But wait– to be continued! YOU RAT BASTARDS!

Good thing you only have to wait a few hours for the next episode. See? I did you solid by being 6 days late with this recap.

Will Week 6 be the end of PV? Will Taylor say anything Nick actually understands? Will anyone wear a cardboard Nicolas Cage mask? Oh come on! Like that would happen!

Face off! Seriously! TAKE YOUR FACE OFF!!!!
Face Off. Seriously! TAKE YOUR FACE OFF!!!!

The Bachelor, Week 4: A Treat for the Teats

Oh man, it’s going to be so sad when the producers finally let Nick send PV home. But until then…

Episode 4 opened with the girls talking smack about PV. She’s immature, she travels with her own portable bouncy house. She’s not ready to be a wife. She doesn’t even know how to make toast.

But where was she?

I love vodka, yes I do, I love rum and tequila too.
I love vodka, yes I do, I love rum and tequila too.

Oh right. 

Then there was Vanessa begging Nick for validation. Does he like her or does he like PV? Because clearly he can’t like them both. I mean, do you like syphilis and stupidity or…not?

“Imma gonna shove this rose up your ass if you’re wasting my time,” Vanessa declared.

“Or you could just keep it to smack me with when I’m being all dumb and shit,” Nick offered.

Vanessa walked away confident that Nick was buying the anti-PV propaganda she was selling.

Oh girl, have you never watched this damn show? The villain doesn’t leave before Week 5! Smack him!

Frustrated by the lack of dry heaving and bare breasts in the house, two of the girls went to wake up PV and drag her ass downstairs.

“Huh, what?” PV asked all rumpled and confused. “Is it a school day? I don’t wanna go, Raquel!”

“You’re entitled! You’re privileged! You’re selfish! Now come downstairs and hang out with us!”

PV didn’t know if those were good adjectives or bad adjectives, but erred on the side of people seemed to really despise her.

“I ain’t entitled, bitches! I’m goddamn shitfaced! Can’t you tell the difference between an overindulged brat princess and a drunk chick? Girls are such haters!”

Just before roses were handed out, Nick thanked the girls for being so patient and open with him.

“I appreciate each and every one of you telling me what a crusty, immature, incompentent, spoiled baby ho-bag PV is, but she’s totally getting a rose this week!  Good night, bitches!”

For whatever reason everyone except ALL OF AMERICA was shocked.

“She’s just a physical connection,” one of them blathered.

“What the hell does he want in a partner?” another questioned.

Ladies, lemme explain those things for you:

She’s just a physical connection: Duh.

What the hell does he want in a partner? See above.

Eliminated Crying Girl in Red Dress #1 bawled in the driveway. She was so ready to fall in love, dammit! Now what????????????

Eliminated Crying Girl in Red Dress #2 had been single for so long and now she was convinced she’ll never find love. I mean, if you can’t find it here, you can’t find it anywhere. And to think she used to make fun of girls who cried on this dumb show!

As the remaining girls and Nick brought it in for a big, sleazy group hug, PV took the opportunity to make an awkward toast.

“Hiiiiiiiiiii! I’m just so happy to be there! Amazing opportunity to find love and we all deserve it! Cheers, bitches!”

Really she was just excited to have another week of makeout sessions with Nick.

“Come and get it, Nick!” she screamed. And then she bit the head off her rose. No joke. I shit you not. Bit. The. Head. Off. A. Rose.

You like dried, crusty, week old Redi Wip, baby? Have I got a treat for you!
You like dried, crusty, week old Redi Wip, baby? Have I got a treat for you!

The girls couldn’t figure out how PV skated through another week and speculated it must be because Nick’s only keeping girls with whom he has potential. Hmm…interesting hypothesis, ladies. Next you’ll spend your days building a robotic laboratory and launching it into space.

The next day Chris Harrison arrived with exciting news. They were about to embark on a journey around the globe!

“Pack your booty shorts and Vagisil! You’re going to Milwaukee!”

What? Milwaukee’s on a globe.

It also happened to be Nick’s hometown (give or take 75 miles) so the girls were beside themselves at the thought of being the third TV-found girlfriend he brought home to his parents.

And speaking of parents, Nick met those sweet, normal, beaten down people at a local coffee shop where his mom burst out crying at the sight of him and his dad made Nick promise this will be the last goddamn time he tries to find a wife on a stupid ass TV show.

“Aren’t there any chat rooms you could hang out in? Or a nice Coyote Ugly waitress with low self-esteem? We really don’t want to see you on this show again.”

“It’s totally different this time, Dad!” Nick explained. “Some of these girls come with their own nanny! And I’ve already touched like 17 ½ bare breasts!”

And then Nick cried because they were making him so sad.

Danielle L. got the first one-on-one date and wow, what a treat! Nick dragged her around his hometown showing her sites like the library where he made-out with girls and the hill where he had a lot of “firsts.”

Their wholesome adventure continued at a bakery where they decorated cookies in their image and used their tongues to smear frosting all over each other’s faces.

As luck would have it they ran into one of Nick’s ex-girlfriends. NO WAY! And because things weren’t scripted and contrived enough, Nick was all like, “Let’s totally hang out with her!”

Amber, the ex, gave Danielle advice. “He’s like…heart driven…you know? That’s what everyone is missing.”

Right. Totes. Heart driven. What everyone’s missing. So weird that it didn’t work out between you two. Later, Amber!

Nick thought Danielle L. was super nice, but just knew there was more to see. Fortunately, at dinner she forgot to wear a shirt so Nick could see exactly what it was.

Coco Chanel said you should take off one accessory before leaving the house. I'm totally keeping the earrings and ditching the shirt.
Coco Chanel said you should take off one accessory before leaving the house. I’ll keep the earrings but ditch the shirt.

She credited her parent’s messy divorce with why she won’t rush into relationships– unless it’s on TV. Then it’s game on! They ended the night in what looked like a school auditorium watching some guy sing while people cheered at them. Much making-out ensued.

Meanwhile…

The group date card arrived. It read: Say Cheese

Hmm, this was a stumper! Why cheese? What does that have to do with Wisconsin? Everyone’s name but Raven’s was on the card meaning God’s Favorite Goth Girl would be going on a one-on-one.

The teats were out in full force as the girls donned their finest heels and infinity scarves to meet Nick at a dairy farm. Oh!!! Cheese!!! I get it!!! There they shoveled poop, fed cows, marveled at how smelly a farm is, and watched Nick bottle feed a baby cow.

“It’s so wonderful to see!” They gushed as they fantasized about Nick being an absentee father they spend a decade arguing with in family court.

PV begged to differ. This was not her scene. There were flies everywhere and no nanny to swat them away. She didn’t want to do chores! Especially farm chores! She wouldn’t even make Raquel do farm chores!

Nick attempted to milk a cow, but got schooled in the whole, “this is how you touch a teat” business by the one-time lesbian, Jaime.

PV could not escape the poop. It was everywhere!

“Poop poop here. A poop poop there! There a poop, here a poop, everywhere a poop poop! Wah! I need sushi!”

Her fingers hurt from holding a device commonly used for manual labor so she had to go find a nice, comfy rock and take a sit down. Look, she respected the other girls for shoveling shit, but that ain’t her jam. And she had a serious hand situation going on. She couldn’t move her finger!

Girls called (cow?)bullshit and later PV overheard them talking about how sick of talking about her they were.

Inspired by her trip to the farm, PV ran off and compared herself to an ear of corn.

“Peel back that silky husk and see my little golden pellets of…information. Juicy, buttery information. You want to get to that corn. NICK NEEDS THAT CORN!”

Buoyed by the juicy, buttery information popping up inside of her, PV decided it was time to get wasted, take a power nap, and put an end to this bitter back talk.

“They think I’m just a bubbly little dumbo,” she said. “But I’m not! I know what’s going on! Bartender!”

She gathered the girls together and admitted she might not be everyone’s favorite, but if she did something to offend them then by all means tell her.

Okay, then! It was clucking cacophony as the hens rushed to tell PV how offensive she was.

“You’re not genuinely ready to marry a 36 year-old man!”

“Did you really lug that bouncy castle all the way here? Because those things are heavy!”

“You rubbed your bare boobs all over Nick’s chest! You probably gave him some disgusting STD like hives or eczema or an ingrown chest hair!”

“You can NOT nap through a rose ceremony! It’s the law!”

Taylor, the mental health counselor who is clearly infiltrating these women as part of some interactive PhD thesis, called her immature to which PV countered: Do you call these immature!” 

I'll show you immature! And I'll totally show you my boobs! You want me to? Because I want to!
I’ll show you immature! And I’ll totally show you my boobs! You want me to? Because I want to!

PV was appalled at the stupidity and ignorance and pettiness of her fellow wives-to-be. These bitches were pissed off over a little shut-eye and minor sexual assault in a bouncy castle? Please.

“I didn’t mean to offend anyone by taking a nap,” PV said. “MICHAEL JORDAN TOOK A NAP! ABRAHAM LINCOLN TOOK A NAP!”

Besides, it apparently was a very stressful week around Bachelor Mansion so she needed her bouncy castle to decompress. She was having a panic attack, okay?

Nope. Not okay. The hens started shrieking again, which somehow comforted PV and made her believe everything was okay. Even though she loved everyone again, she still wanted to tell Nick how mean and dumb and poopie they were being to her. Nick listened, nodded along, but for inexplicable reasons other than she had a visible cold sore, didn’t kiss her.

“That’s okay,” PV claimed. “We had more of an adult conversation tonight. No time for kissing.”

Kristina, the Russian hygienist, got the date rose.

Raven got the stupidest one-on-one date in Bachelor history, but she was too dumb to notice.

“If I could choose to have a one-on-one anywhere in the world it would here!”

Really, Raven? A Milwaukee suburb is your dream date locale?

They pop by Nick’s little sister’s soccer game where– surprise!– they run into Nick’s sad parents. They took one look at Raven and were forced to imagine stuffing Christmas stockings with black eyeliner and ichthys-adorned socks and started crying again. Whatever happened to that sweet Amber girl?

The date continued its downward spiral at a roller rink where they shot the duck and flew the camel with a bunch of twelve year-olds.

At dinner, Raven talked about her last serious relationship, which ended when she discovered her boyfriend in bed with another woman.

“You walked in while they were…doing it?” Nick asked.

“Like I know what her vagina looks like,” Raven said.

“Oh man, sorry. Isn’t there a Super 8 in your hometown? That dumbass should have been more careful.”

“…and then I bashed his head in with that whore’s stilleto. The end. Pass the bread basket please!”

Nick found Raven “interesting” and “sassy,” both common adjectives used when describing a psychopath. Noting the height and pointiness of her shoes and the softness of his skull, Nick handed Raven the date rose and spent the rest of the date rocking back and forth in the arms of a PA.

The rose ceremony was held in a freezing barn outfitted with only one 17 inch swatch of blanket. Danielle L., that whore, and her rose immediately squirreled Nick away, causing the other girls to question her integrity, loyalty, motives, natural hair color, mother’s maiden name, and tolerance to gluten. Hoes before roses, bitch!

Taylor, with no shits left to give, sparred with PV before running off to interrupt Danielle L. and Nick.

PV and a drag queen– wait, nope, that was Josephine– talked about how disgusting Taylor was what with all those degrees and covered up body parts. Clearly Taylor wasn’t here for the right reasons. If she were, she’d be taking advantage of all this free food.

Screw, Nick! Let's marry these dumplings!
Screw, Nick! Let’s marry these dumplings!

After shoving 34 chicken nuggets and a bowl of spinach artichoke dip into her tyrannosaurus-esque maw, Josephine channeled PV’s nanny and gently reminded her to chew her food.

Full up on deep fried courage, PV took Taylor outside to yell at her.

I'm gonna choke on my tongue and THEN tell Taylor how much I hate her!
First I’m gonna choke on my tongue and THEN tell Taylor how much I hate her!

And now, a drama in one-act:

PV: They way you’re treating me is disgusting and really mean.

Taylor: You have Velveeta on your lip.

PV: I hate you.

Taylor: Well, your feelings will get hurt if you keep asking people to tell you why they think you suck.

PV: Why do you think I suck?

Taylor: You’re too young and immature. And you have a nanny. Oh, and you’re dumb. And lack emotional intelligence

PV: Ha! Emotions aren’t intelligent! Who lacks intelligence now, ya dummy?

Taylor: It’s a thing.

PV: Well, you’re playing Miss Proper. So there.

Taylor: I’m not. I’m just way smarter than you.

PV: I WANT TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE! Like LITERALLY punch you in your FACE!

Aw, crap, that’s where it ended! Well sort of. You’ve got to keep watching past the previews to get these fabulous outtakes of Nick and Alexis. In this episode, Alexis confessed the two things she’s most afraid of: Nicolas Cage and aliens.

“Do you think any of the girls here might be aliens?” Nick asked.

Alexis pondered this thoughtfully before nodding. “Raven.”

Well, duh.

Shit’s getting real at Bachelor Mansion! The gloves are off. And if you’re PV or Danielle L., probably your shirt is too.

Until next week!

 

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!

 

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: Lifetime.com)
“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: Lifetime.com)

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: Lifetime.com)

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

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?

I said, PROCEEDED TO SHIT HIMSELF.

SHIT HIMSELF!

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

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.

Sigh…

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.

Smooches!

 

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!