Tuesday, January 6, 2015

The Bachelor: America is Officially on Suicide Watch


Are we really gonna do this again? Are we really going to spend the next 12 weeks screaming at our television sets because a lady named her son Kale? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re right to yell at her. Horrible name. Even worse than Bruce! And her kid is like, what, 1? What kind of woman leaves her one-year-old to go on a game show? A WOMAN WHO WANTS TO GET FUCKED ON TELEVISION, THAT’S WHO. Ugh. Why am I surprised? Nothing on this show should be surprising at this point. One of the ladies is a real estate agent. A REAL ESTATE AGENT. How am I not supposed to watch this?! You think I'm not curious to see what happs when an Iowa farm boy meets a cold-blooded REAL ESTATE AGENT? There’s no sense in resisting. Blogging about this show is why I was put on this earth. Besides, making fun of these women on the internet is the only way I can feel good about the fact that I jacked my D into a public toilet earlier this week.

For those of you unfamiliar with the format of the show, a quick review: Essentially, ABC locks 30 women in a cage while a man dangles his bare testicles above them. The first woman to successfully shave her feet and massage the man's balls (WITH HER WORDS) wins a free pass to all future Bachelor red carpet events. I mean c'mon ABC, a full hour of red carps?! Do it on your own time, Harrison! PS MY WIFE IS OBVIOUSLY GOING TO BUY ONE OF THESE ELECTRONIC FOOT SHAVERS.

Honestly that lady's got really soft #feet and that's a really nice #bathroom. 

The biggest nutjob of the night was Britt – the lady who ended up winning the first impression rose. Ugh, just saying the words “first impression rose” is embarrassing. What the fuck was up with that hug?! HE’S A STRANGER, BRITT. And yet she was embracing him like he just got back from Afghanny. He wasn't in Afghanny, Britt! He was in Iowas! And you had never met him before! Granted, okay, he's a pseudo-celeb, but that doesn't mean you can just grip him up. That's like meeting Monica Malpass at Wawa and immediately trying to give her acupunctsh.

(It's literally nothing like that.)

Frankly, I don’t know how Farmer Chris can handle Britt's sweet and honest and genuine nature. It’s disgusssstinnnngggggggg. When Britt was telling him how she wanted to be there for him, and be the person who he could feel safe talking to, I fully expected him to just send her home right then.

BRITT: I want to be the one you come to when you’re sad, happy, whenever!

FARMER CHRIS: Yeah, yeah, definitely. Definitely. But I'm gonna have to ask you to lea...

BRITT: I just want you to know that YOU’RE the reason I’m here, Chris.

FARMER CHRIS: Totally totally totally, yeah, I know. I know. The door is seriously right over there. Like, right there. And it leads right to the driveway, and there should be a limo out front, and the limo driver is pretty cool, his name is…

BRITT: I lovvvvvve hugs.

FARMER CHRIS: Me too, me too, me too. Yeah, the limo will take you right to the airport. Like, right to it. It’s a pretty straight shot. Chucky?! (**Calls to Production Assistant, Carl, whose name is Carl, but Chris has no idea, he calls him Chucky.**) Chucky! How far is it to LAX? Thirty mins? Thirty-five tops? (**back to Britt**) It’s like thirty-five minutes tops. Right up the 405. I’ll see you later. Or, never. Probably never. I never want to see you again. There shouldn't be any traffic.

Is that a #hamper in the back? Nice #hamper!

Now don’t get me wrong, there were other terrible people on last night’s show. The news producer/horsewoman. Chris Harrison. Actually, those were like the only people I couldn’t stand. Most of the chicks were all right. I mean, not “all right,” but all right as far as this show is concerned. I liked the pomegranate lady. I mean, not enough to ever actually date her or talk to her in line at an abortion clinic, but I appreciated her love of pomegranates.

Then there was the lady whose husband’s heart exploded, and sure, there’s no reason she should be on this show, NONE AT ALL, but she seemed sweet and down-to-earth and fully capable of having a full-throttle meltdown at some point in the near fyooch. Then there was Bo (aka Bo Baby BAY-bay), the plus-sized model (who I obviously loved, but fuck you Farmer Chris you don’t know total hotness when you see it!) and the WWE Diva (in training), how do you not keep her? And then Kaitlyn the Canadian. She's got JOKES. I loved it when she told the farmer that he “could plow her field any day” which means that she would either let him fuck her in the pussy or shave her bush. (Both cool!)

Speaking of jokes, it’s time for...


**clown whistle, slide flute, mooooooooo** (that was a cow)

Grasshopper walks into a bar. Bartender says, “Hey, we got a drink named after you.” Grasshopper says, “Really? You got a drink named Merv?!”

The worst part about these premieres are the gimmicks that people pull when they first get out of the limo. When are these ladies going to learn that gimmicks never work? Just shake the guy’s hand, introduce yourself and then tell him (in the most intense voice possible) that you’ll let him smell your armpits when he gets inside. But these ladies don’t wanna listen, do they? They DO. NOT. want. to. LIS-TEN.

When I first got out of college, I asked some lady out after a party and tried some stupid gimmick and it totally sucked and I’m embarrassed at what I did and will obviously now share the story with you here on the world wide internet.

So it was like the first time I ever asked anyone out on a date. I was like, 23. (Oh shutttt upppppppp. I didn’t say it was the first lady I ever butt blasted. I just said it was the first woman I ever TRULY asked out.) And bear with me on the details, it was like 14 years ago and occurred around the same time that I strangled that bitch in a Best Buy parking lot, so I don’t remember everything about it, but I got her number at some party – although now that I think about it, I think I got her number AFTER the party, like I called the host of the party and asked for her number, or for her last name, and then, wait, I think I actually had to look up her number on the INTERNET, yeah, I did, on Yahoo’s white pages, and omg this is SO much more embarrassing than I thought it was going to be – and when I called her (she was a 3rd grade teacher), I said something like, “Hey, this is Evan. I met you at a party” blah blah blah, and then went into this whole thing where I pretended to work at a bubble gum factory? or a peanut factory? and asked her if she wanted to bring her students in for a field trip (and omg this just keeps getting worse) and then I realized the whole thing was going up in flames and was like, “No, I’m just joking. I don’t really work at a pean…” and she was like, “Oh, really?” and then I asked her out for real and we obviously never went out although now that I think about it how amazing would it have been if I took her to a peanut factory?!?!?

The bottom line is that first impression gimmicks never work, and last night’s gimmicks sucked, although the flight attendant’s seat belt move coulddddddd’ve worked if she handled it a bit differently. Instead of doing that whole, “Buckle up! It’s gonna be the ride of a lifetime!” bullshit, she should’ve just smashed Chris in the face with the buckle and then spit on his chest and said, “Get ready for some turbulence, Farm Boy,” which would’ve TOTALLY guaranteed her a spot in a fantasy suite (am I right fellas out there with at least a 7-inch peener?!).
Fly as fuhhhhhh.

But the worst worst WORST part of this show continues to be Chris Harrison. He should be ASHAMED of himself for that pre-show interview with Nikki, pressing her to talk shit on the good doctor Juan Pabs. Harrison was just badgering and badgering and badgering Nikki to talk smack when eerybody knows Juan Pabs was the realest mofo in Bach history. Interview was like:

HARRISON: So Nikki, were you upset that Juan Pabs didn't make you a priority?

NIKKI: Well Chris Harrison, it wasn’t really like that. We're just different people with different lives.

HARRISON: So what I'm hearing is that he didn't treat you the way you should have been treated. 

NIKKI: Ummmm, no. Not saying that at all. He totally cared for me. Nice guy. We just didn't quite mesh, that's all.

HARRISON: When you would say it was that Juan Pabs started the holocaust? November?

NIKKI: Ummmm…

HARRISON: Late November?

NIKKI: He’s honestly a nice...

HARRISON: How much AIDS did he give you? Like how much AIDS do you have in your vagina right now

Whatever. This show is fucking bullshit. Three stinkin' hours last night and they didn't show us one stinkin' #horse. We're all gonna die one day anyway. Might as well jack our Ds into as many public toilets as we can.

See ya next week!

(I have AIDS.)

For those of you out there like, "OMG YOU DIDN'T TALK ABOUT THE DRUNK CHICK." Shut up. She got drunk. She had a tattoo. She woulda been so much cooler if she kept dem Daisy Dukes on. Besides, if you want more more more #BachTalk, head over to my buddy Zoo With Roy's website where me, Zoo and good ole Sara Circs wrote up a little Bachcap®. Orrrrrrrrrr, check out this ENORMO #horse.


  1. I bet you think you're proud of yourself with this post.

  2. So let's say (hypothetically) your spouse's heart explodes. What would be an appropriate amount of time to wait before running out and auditioning for the bach?

  3. The real question is not "why didn't you talk about the drunk girl" but rather "why the hell is nobody making a HUGE fuss about the psychopathic, bug-eyed onion girl who is clearly a stalker/murderer that the producers clearly made Chris keep around for entertainment purposes?"!

  4. No recap for this weeks train wreck yet? Slacking.

  5. I bet you think you're proud of yourself with this post.


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