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