|That nip is just staring at ya, isn't it?|
There's so much about this show I don't understand -- the V necks, the hand holding, Chris Harrison feeling the need to describe how a 2-on-1 date works before every 2-on-1 date, the candles, so many candles, the use of the word "vulnerable", the lack of chest hair -- but the thing that confuses me the most is how excited these dudes get to introduce the bachelorette to their families.
How is this a good thing?
If I had to walk into my parents' house with Des, I would be a nervous wreck.
"Okay, so Des, that's my father Mort there, asleep on the couch. He'll be sleeping there pretty much all day, and yep, those are his balls. I know he's wearing underwear, and you would think that the underwear would keep his balls from being seen, but no, they're still somehow able to slip out the bottom. It's amazing really. So that's cool, just the one ball hanging out right now. And that's my mom, Ruth, in the kitchen talking to the dishwasher. They seem to get along well. Her and the dishwasher I mean, not her and my father. I don't think she and my dad have actually said a word to each other in the last twelve years. I have no idea who that person is over there. Might be a Chinese immigrant. I'm gonna take my pants off, do you mind? You can take yours off, too. Or you could just leave. Either one. You met my dad's balls, right? You met my dad's balls?"
But these folks seem to love it. And that's nice for them. And it's nice for us. Because it gives me plenty of ammunition to make fun of them. Because that's really why we're all here, isn't it? So let's look back at last night's hometown dates and see who improved their chances of marrying a woman who they just met a few months ago on a national television program, and who didn't.
Despite the mega-teeth-whitening and the guitar-playing and the scrap-booking and the fact that there's NO WAY THIS DUDE IS 31-YEARS-OLD, Zak has always been very likable. Not likable enough to win. Good God, no, not even close to likable enough to win. Des kissed him on the cheek when she first saw him last night, which was a dead giveaway -- DEAD GIVEAWAY -- that he was being sent home. But the whole sno cone schtick and the penguin costume, that was dope, so I'd say he greatly improved his chances to become the next Bach. Of course if the Bach producers had any sense, they'd pick a black guy -- which I wrote about in 2011 -- or Juan Pablo, but they don't, so we'll probably be stuck with this jackass next season. Which I'm okay with.
Unfortunately, Zak's family had no idea how to use silverware. It seemed like every time the camera panned to Zak's mother, she was holding her knife in standard shank position (which would have been perfect if her plate of food was positioned behind her and against the wall, but it wasn't, it was placed in front of her, on the table, because that's where plates go when you're eating dinner).
Later, when Zak said goodbye to his mother, he kissed her on the lips -- a sure sign that he is in fact the weirdest human being on the entire planet. Next Bach season should be great.
My friend Lefty's grandmother, Momoo, used to always kiss me on the lips. In fact, she was the first woman other than my mother to ever actually put her mouth on mine. I remember the first time Momoo planted one on me. I was probably 15, and I hadn't seen her in a little while, so I went in for the standard Grandma hug, but she just grabbed my chin and planted one right on my wet teenage mouth. I was stunned, and just kinda stood there, amazed that a human's lips could feel so much like dried apricots. As the years went on, I got kinda used to it, you could say I even embraced it, especially during my early-20s sexual drought aka THE DARK YEARS. It got to the point where I started to look forward to Thanksgiving at Lefty's house a little too much.
RIP Momoo. I miss you more than you'll ever know.
|Hey guys. Don't mind me. |
Just standing back here between these VERY beige walls.
Would just like to state for the record that Drew is BY FAR the most hated dude at TVMWW HQ. Whenever he comes on screen, my wife and my brother in law's girlfriend make loud, hurling barfing noises and cover their faces with pillows. Personally, I think Chris's poetry makes him a little more barfable, but not by much.
Still, my wife made me promise not to make fun of Drew's mentally and physically handicapped sister, so instead of talking about his family -- WHO HAS SERIOUSLY GONE THROUGH SO MUCH I MEAN HOW DO THEY DO IT GOD BLESS THEM SERIOUSLY GOD BLESS THEM -- let's just make fun of a guy who consistently sits Indian style.
The guy sits Indian style for cryin' out loud! No man -- and I mean NO MAN -- who sits Indian style can be seen as a potential life partner. Plus, he doesn't even wear a seatbelt! You want the father of your children TO FLIRT WITH DEATH every time he operates a motor vehicle? I sure don't. I don't care how perfectly his hair is combed, he is not driving my kids to hockey practice. Also, my kids are not playing hockey. Practice is held way too early! Plus so many white people!
AND OH MY GOD GET OVER YOURSELF, DREW, WITH THAT PART IN YOUR HAIR.
NO ONE LIKES HOCKEY.
I AM MAKING A DECLARATION.
ARE YOU READY?
I AM MAKING A DECLARATION RIGHT NOW ON THIS BLORG.
IF DREW IS CHOSEN AS THE NEXT BACH, I WILL NOT WATCH.
I WILL NOT WATCH I TELL YA!
THAT'S MY DECLARATION.
ALSO I RESERVE THE RIGHT TO CHANGE MY MIND!
That nasal cleansing was so weird / amazing. I mean, if my dad was a chiropractor and offered to clean out my nostrils, of course I'd take him up on it, but that was so strange and his sister's haircut was so terrible and those poems, good God those poems, please God make it stop, don't let him write another poem for next week I can't handle it, I just can't handle it, how could a guy who's such a good athlete, living in a world where being a good athlete guarantees you getting hot chicks, be reduced to writing poems on national television to a woman whose breasts aren't even that big, and why did his dad feel it was necessary to put on his chiropractor shirt before working on Des, good God make it stop please make it stop.
Brooks's family loves each other a littttttttttttttle too much. C'mon people, who are you fooling, life is not that enjoyable, but then again those mountains in Salt Lake City are friggin beautiful why would anyone live in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and what's up with all these run-on sentences Evster I mean who could possibly follow this?
Brooks' mom though, she gets the MVP from last night after saying that whomever he decided to bring into the family would be welcomed and loved and that they trusted his judgement. THAT'S JUST GOOD PARENTING. Enough of this, "Ohhh, we didn't like her. Ohhhh, do you think she'll fit in?" Shutttt upppppp and have some faith in your goddamn children to make decisions, whether they're the correct ones or not. They'll figure it out. I seriously cannot believe how beautiful those mountains in Utah are.
All right, so obviously Brooks is not that into Des. And in two weeks he's gonna break her heart and she'll be left to choose between Walt Whitman Jr and Captain Ding Dong, and that nickname clearly doesn't make sense, but I gotta wrap this up soon. I'm so hungry. Then again, this show is really good at throwing out those high hanging curveballs that drop right outta nowhere and leave you sobbing on your couch. So who knows what's gonna happs?!?!
Maybe she'll bring back Juan Pablo?
And does anyone watch the Killing? 'Cuz that show friggin' LOVES the ole curveball.
And how the hell did I go this entire time without talking about Des's brother???
Ugh, this blog is a total sham.
|Still here guys.|
How 'bout a little Ayo Evster to take us out? This one comes to us from Chevy from Chalfont (whatever that means): "Ayo Evster, if you were to be stranded on a deserted island with any former contestant, who would it be and why?"
No brainer. Chantal. And you know why. Please stop wasting my time.
|PLEASE STOP WASTING MY TIME.|