Bachelor Ben Episode 11: Finally, the Freaking Finale!

Hello, Loyal Readers. I cannot thank all of you enough for sticking by me like a spurned model to her poorly coiffed, wine-making, pseudo-fiancee after a tumultuous “journey” to find ever-illusive love. It’s been a difficult season for many reasons but we made it through another round and I, for one, am thankful to be done. Sure, Ben turned out to be a giant putz and Courtney appears to have a small conscience beneath her shallow exterior, but this season left me very little desire to continue recapping this mess. Perhaps Emily (and her white shorts) can convince me to carry on. We shall see.

We begin again with promises of the most (insert provocative adjective here) season/finale ever amidst the unbelievably gorgeous vistas of the mountains in and around Zermatt, Switzerland. “Finally, a location where everyone won’t sweat like a bunch of diabetics,” I said to myself as I settled with a Lone Star in one hand and the remote in the other.

I’m sure Roberto felt a twinge of jealousy as he sat at home with a box fan blowing in his face in San Diego on top of the milk crates filled with what is left of his life after Ali packed all of her yellow curtains, yellow throw pillows, and yellow Daddy issues and hit the Yellow Brick Road in search of a desperately desired extension of her already egregiously extended 15 minutes of fame.

Harrison’s voice over reminds us that Ben faces his biggest decision ever; although I’m not sure I agreed considering the fact that the entire thing is essentially a free romp around the world with a dozen desperate Donna’s entailing nothing other than public relations commitments and paid appearances after the show airs. Whatever.

Ben tells us that he “just cant separate his feelings of love” for these two women. Again, I called bulls*it on that one. It was clear a couple of weeks ago who was going to get to temporarily enjoy the weight of Neil Lane’s latest design on her finger and her name is Courtney.

Incidentally, I once had to quit my job at the glue factory I worked at during college. It was awful. As hard as I tried I just became too attached to my work. I couldn’t seem to separate myself from my co-workers. There was a lot of horsing around and we often found ourselves in sticky situations. Sure, we enjoyed a permanent bond that couldn’t be broken, but it really put a hold on the rest of my life. I became stuck in place and just couldn’t seem to break free.

Glue jokes. You’re welcome. Back to Ben.

After more phallic symbolism we see Ben in a the Womack-esque vest looking like an extra from some Dickens’ book wandering the streets of Zermatt in search of a stack of newspapers to distribute to passers-by for a couple of bits and a tussle of the hair. Lindzi roams around in her gray jacket a la Michael Hutchence in the Never Tear Us Apart video circa 1987 and Courtney pets stray cats in doorways like homeless people circa now.

Ben tells us that his mother and sister are on the way as he simultaneously makes “incredible” the new “amazing” before crying a few tears when they arrive to judge the remaining two women. I found it interesting to note that when they sat on the couch it was clear that Ben’s hair is the perfect mix between his sister Julia’s Michael Hutchence circa 1987 hair and his mother’s playful, yet somehow age appropriate blond bob.

As if we needed more filler for this bloated mess, Ben again recaps the women to mom and sis and I couldn’t help but notice that his sister—as nice as she seemed—looked like Ben in a wig. The two of them reminded me of Adam Sandler’s latest attempt at a giant paycheck with zero substance, Jack and Jill. They should rename it Ben and Julia. In the comment of the show Female Ben observes that Ben should be “weary” of Courtney considering the number of red flags he’s seen. I believe she meant “leery;” however, I think her choice of word suffices too. I think we were all a bit “weary” at this point.

LINDZI

Mindful of Ben’s self-imposed color blindness and wearing less bronzer than usual, Lindzi arrives in brown and gray for the meet and judge with a box of chocolates for mom and some oats in a bucket for Female Ben. With the preponderance of brown, black, and gray dominating the screen, I actually felt like I was watching the first 15 minutes of The Wizard of Oz. Top that off with the off capes that Lindzi and Courtney wore to the rose ceremony in addition to the inordinately large quantity of Lone Star I threw down attempting to cope and I spent a lot time anticipating the arrival of of the Munchkins. Ben began to look like disheveled Judy Garland after awhile. Annnyyyhooo…

After a polite greeting and some fake conversation Female Ben drops "You're willing to get down and dirty a little bit," on a clearly nervous Lindzi. Touche, Female Ben. Touche. Lindzi has a similarly canned one-on-one with Older, Blonder, Female Ben who wonders through the ghost of her husband “what is the ingredient” that holds people together. It’s not often I get two opportunities for glue jokes, but I think I’ll pass this one up in favor of what I actually said to the television: “Cheese, Barbara. It’s cheese that holds these two together.” I’m surprised Lindzi didn’t answer, “a firm foundation and lot of concealer, ma’am.” Female Ben drops clues that she hates Courtney before asking for Lindzi to provide some dirt on her. Lindzi uses “different” and “I’m more of a people person,” and Female Ben is bright enough to get the gist. Christmas might be a bit awkward after that little bonding session airs.

Lindzi leaves and Ben debriefs with Female Ben and Older, Blonder Ben before getting the thumbs up from both of them and letting them know that they’re about to meet GASP! a model.

COURTNEY

Sporting what I hoped would be the last of the LeQueer por Houmo collection of feminized sweaters that he obviously collects with fervor, Ben stresses on his patio below the Matterhorn about Courtney. Female Ben dons her Mary Tyler Moore cap and makes clear she doesn't like Courtney as she tries to subtly recruit Older, Blonder Ben onto her model-hating team.

After a fake greeting, Courtney launches into her preemptive “I tried but I’m just too beautiful” talk and is met with blank stares from the Bens—all three of them. F that, Courtney, Female Ben has a "long list" of questions. After trying to appear harsh, Female Ben succumbs to the same manipulation that roped her brother into ignoring the red flags all season. Come to think of it, in light of his penchant to brown and gray, perhaps Ben really IS color blind, thereby precluding him from actually identifying Red Flags. That might explain things.

Look, Courtney has been here before and we get a shot of the lion toying with the mouse. She cleverly falls on the sword enough to placate Female Ben but not enough to pierce her well toned bikini body. Female Ben decides to "trust her word." She bites her lip like Courtney. At least they have that in common.

She sits down with mom to play with an older, blonder mouse in her deceptively innocent yellow high waisted get up. "Special, smart, and funny," is how she thinks of Ben. "My cheeks hurt when I come home.” At first I was appalled that she’d share Fantasy Night information with mom, but then realized she was referring to the cheeks on her face. You know, the ones on either side of her fake upper lip.

Courtney drops a "Barb" on us letting us know that Neil Lane better take time out of the annual poker sweepstakes in Harrison’s room to size that big ring. Ben cuddles on the couch with the other Bens and they gush with compliments with both women before Female Ben takes Ben’s hints and gives Courtney a forced endorsement. Ben attempts to derail the inevitable bad PR and we all know for sure that Lindzi is headed home to the comfort of Harry Cox.

FINAL DATES

I’m not going to go over these in any detail. I believe it suffices to say that the mountains and scenery were the best part of both of these. Ben was as dull as the back side of the Matterhorn and I felt myself feeling sorry for Lindzi. She’s hot, yes, but she’s also a nice person who was nothing but consistently positive and stable the entire season. We all know that’s not easy to do on this show. Hell, just ask Courtney who ABC has been unsuccessfully trying to rehabilitate for the past 4 weeks when it became apparent that Ben was not only color blind but generally blind.

Lindzi and Ben ski while Courtney and Ben sled. Same date, different woman. They chat accordingly and each leaves hoping to walk away with a ring on her finger in less than 24 hours.

Ben gives a "thank you," to Lindzi. Translation: I'm not picking you.

John Tesh music resonates. Translation: I’m not picking her.

After sledding and picnicking with Courtney it becomes apparent which direction Ben is headed. I regretted that he didn’t drop, “what could make this evening better? How about the band Train?” on her like the ever-awkward Womack, but I suppose it was too cold out there for an impromptu concert.

Courtney violates a cardinal rule of the final 5 by making Ben a “special gift.” Normally, “special gifts” lead to “special limo rides home” but goes for it anyway. Hell, she’s broken enough rules this season. She might as well tempt fate by bowling over this one. Based upon Ben’s, “It's heavy,” when he picked up the gift I guessed it was her man-hating baggage. I was wrong. It was a scrapbook full of cliches.

Commence the wandering ‘round town in search of final closure or whatever. Lindzi "has this glow about her," Ben tells us. “THAT’s what I’VE been saying all season,” I said.

Lindzi wakes up in boxers and a tshirt and hits the balcony for reminiscing. Courtney wakes up in her teddy. I believe that sums up the difference between the two. Ben needs to keep in mind that the teddy will wear out with time but the boxers will always look good. How's that for a stupid metaphor?

Neil Lane arrives at 12:13 a.m. with his magic briefcase. He looks like Paul Anka. Ben picks out the ring Courtney told Neil Lane she wanted and Ben puts on his Transporter suit.

Everyone worries.

Both women looked stunning at the engagement party once they dropped those ridiculous Evil Witch from Snow White cape things off with Harrison. Man, that’s an expensive butler. Clearly aware of how much he’s getting paid to stand and await helicopters, Harrison gladly accepts the menial task of Coat Check B*tch and escorts both girls to the foot of the Matterhorn in hopes of getting the hardware.

Lindzi gets summarily dumped. She blames herself and drops an "If things don't work out, call me." I began to worry that she was going to slide downhill (no pun intended) into “What the F*ck Happened-ville,” but she manages to keep it together enough to appear upset but more than enough to lose with more dignity than any runner up in recent memory.

In retrospect, that's the best thing she could have said to Ben. It clearly made him think and don’t think for one second that little gem won’t be ringing around the inside of his head when he’s dealing with the mess he’s created by picking Courtney.

Lindzi will be over it by the time his relationship with Courtney implodes and Ben will be left with a look of bewilderment and a hole in the pit of his stomach as he watches the season when it airs. I think that was apparent in the After the Final Rose discussion.

Ben gets down on one knee and proposes to Ashley . . . I mean Courtney. She accepts and he slaps the Neil Lane ring on the finger. Courtney and her Catwoman gloves get the ring. Congratulations, Courtney. You “won.” What now?

Here is the part where I normally say something positive about love, honesty, feelings, and commitment in general. It’s the part of the blog where I subtly hint at the modicum of envy I felt as I watch two people—no matter how odd the circumstances—clearly in full belief that each is completely in love with the other. I comment seriously and sentimentally and wish the new couple luck despite taking cheap (and some deserved) shots at them over the past 10 weeks. I’m afraid that’s not going to happen here.

I assume that most of you agree when I say that I just don’t see this one panning out. I don’t “hate” Courtney or even think she’s a horrible person. Shallow and self involved, yes, but not bad. I like Ben a lot less than I did at the beginning of this season, but he’s not guilty of anything other than being miserable with regret while filming the entire season. He got in over his head and, as we’d soon learn in the ATFR, he couldn’t handle the pressure.

Still, there’s a side of me that wants them to work it out. After all that, they both deserve a shot at a normal relationship regardless of what they signed up to do. With the Amazing Count at 76 and the Journey Count at 40 we conclude another season of the show we can’t explain why we watch. I won’t be recapping the ATFR portion of the show as two hours was sufficient for me tonight. I’ll continue to post at least once a week in the off season and I’m more than open to suggestions for posts. Funny stories and my random thoughts will have to take the place of Ben and his hair for a while. Word on the street is that Emily’s season will start in late May. Take care of yourselves. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll free on Monday nights. DP 

YO, ADRIAN!  I DID IT! 

DP Tells All Part 4

Hello, Readers.  Welcome to the first Off Season post of 2012.  It’s hard to believe it’s March already.  After celebrating Texas Independence Day (March 2) last week and traveling (again) for work this month is already flying quickly away.  Thanks to all of you for sticking with me through the late posts and somewhat shoddy craftsmanship of my analysis this season.  With the transition to the new job and schedule, it’s been difficult to keep up my usual Tuesday timing.  I really appreciate the emails and messages supporting me.  It’s difficult to strike a balance in my life lately and your positive reinforcement helps. 

Speaking of reinforcement, an idea donned on me for a new post in the off season. I’ve been meandering through my emails and comments searching for the comparatively few but incredibly vitriolic hate mails that I get from time to time.  I’m going to gather the best of the worst and respond to them for all to see.  That should be fun. 

In the interim, it’s time for DP Tells All again.  Thank you for your questions this week.  As always, I’ve taken all of the similarly themed questions and boiled them down into the questions below with careful attention to trying to answer all of what I was asked.  If you don’t see your specific question, please keep reading as I probably lumped it in with one of the ones below.  Also, if you don’t get your question answered, feel free to email me and I’ll send you a personalized answer so you can print it and put it on your refrigerator in the name of daily inspiration---or simply delete it.  That’s up to you.  Let’s get to it.    

Disclaimer:  It’s always my contention that DP Tells All is the least funny post of the season.  If you’re reading this blog for the first time and don’t “get me” yet, you might want to peruse some of the other off season stuff.  I’m simply answering reader questions here.  If I happen to entertain, that’s great.  Now, let’s really get to it. 

I’m from the Chicago and I really want to buy a pair of cowboy boots.  What should I look for when buying a pair and how much should I spend? 

A Midwesterner in “cowboy boots;” I love it.  I’ll answer as best I can.  “Cowboy boots” are referred to simply as “boots” here in Austin and they are a treasured part of any person’s wardrobe in Texas.  I have six pairs ranging from a work type boot to a roper to handmade custom boots and I wear a pair every day.  

For purposes of this question, I’ll assume that since this is your first pair of boots you’re looking for something you can generally wear with jeans that is practical, comfortable, and affordable.  I’ll assume you’re not going to saddle up and drive the herd to Montana.  Finally, I’ll assume you’ll want something Midwest appropriate.  In other words, you don’t want something too flashy and decorative that might work here in Texas but would literally make you look like a clown in a Rush Street tavern. 

Like running shoes, boots were initially designed to serve a specific function: namely, cowboy-type work.  Most of the design features on boots actually are functional elements that have remained with the boots over time.  For instance, the distinctive stitching on the upper part, or shaft, of the boot is decorative; however, it also serves to keep the leather from sagging like a used up bachelorette after Fantasy Week. 

Generally, the more fancy and multicolored the stitching is the higher quality the boot.  That’s not always true, but for the most part, it is.  The shaft of the boot is usually covered by jeans but is often the most decorative part of the boot even though it’s not seen.  However, it’s not uncommon these days to see women sport a miniskirt or shorts with a pair of boots here in town (I love that look, by the way) and the shaft of the boot is what makes them unique.  Because of this there are many options available in all price ranges and styles.    

The hard “cup” on the front of the boot extends to flex point in the boot and reinforces the shape and curve of the front of the boot.  There are pointy boots, rounded boots, and just about every variation in between.  Finding what looks best and what makes you most comfortable is a very subjective thing.  I prefer a capped toe, for instance, but have pointed and square toed boots too.    

Many of the other elements of the boot remain from when their owners spent a good deal of time riding a horse. For example, the pointed toe common on a lot of boots was designed so the cowboy could easily insert (and remove) his toe into the stirrups.  Likewise, the high heel keeps the foot from slipping all the way through the stirrup and allows the boot to grip the stirrup when the heel is pushed downward while riding.

For your purposes, you’ll want a simple, monochromatic leather boot with a traditional toe and heel.  There’s no need to overdo it.  A “roper” boot is also an option, but that type of boot is more common outside of the “Western” confines of Chicago.  That’s a boot with a much shorter shaft, a more rounded toe, and a shorter, wider heel.  These were initially designed and worn for cowboys who roped more often (thus, the name) and needed to jump of their horses and run to whatever animal happened to be at the end of the rope.  It’s tough to run in a higher heel.  The boot survived and is often the model for work oriented boots as opposed to the fashion statement you want to make. 

Look for quality leather.  I’d suggest cowhide or an equally tough leather as opposed to something softer and easily worn.  Exotic boots can be expensive and are not meant to be worn and beat up daily.  If you stick to boots in the $250-$350 price range, that should take care of itself.  It’s easier to find and kill a cow than it is an elephant or a ostrich and the price will reflect that.     

Do not buy cheap boots with vinyl or composite soles.  Get a pair with leather soles.  Plastic soles and heels are a sure sign of cheap boots.  They’ll be uncomfortable and will not last long.  Even if you’re only going to wear them a few times a year, stay away from the low end stuff.   Justin and Nocona are good generic brands and they’re made to fit generic feet.  Ariat boots are literally as comfortable as a pair of slippers but are more work boot oriented.  They’re made in China too.  Work oriented boots like these have rubber soles and are lined more like a sneaker than a boot.  They’re good if you wear boots every day or if you plan on being on your feet all day when you do wear them.  Again, there’s a difference between these rubber soles and the plastic type rubber on a cheap pair of boots.    

Next, keep in mind that boots are sized by both foot size and width so don’t assume your shoe size is also your boot size.  Start there and be prepared to try on a half size in either direction once you get a width that feels good.  Also, your size in one style of boots is almost never your size in another style.  Try them on with thick socks and walk around in them.  However, remember to scuff the sole a tad before trying to walk.  Like any leather bottom shoe, they’ll slip a bit at first, especially on carpet.   

Off the shelf, generic boots are machine made and will need to be broken in a bit.  They should fit snugly, but not tightly, across the top of your foot and you should be able to spread your toes out while standing.  Your heel should be gently cupped in place but it shouldn’t be tightly held.  Once the leather stretches your boots will literally conform to your own foot and will feel like a sock.  This process takes much longer with the generic boots than it does with handmade or custom boots.  Buy what’s known as a “boot jack” for taking them off.  You’ll be glad you did.    

Higher end boots can be tricky because they are hand made.  Find the right size and they are instantly comfortable.  Find the wrong one and they’ll never be right.  Lucchese (Loo-kay-see) is a good high end brand and their 1883 line is a good boot at a low price point of the beginning of the high end.  They run about $400 and can go up in the thousands of dollars depending on the type of leather and craftsmanship.  My most expensive pair ran about $1,800 and is made of Cayman crocodile back leather, but I’ve had them for over 15 years and they’re not everyday boots.  Again, for your purposes, I’d start simple.  If you get hooked, buy your way up the ladder but don’t go nuts.   

A fancy higher end handmade boot that is popular here in Austin is made by Old Gringo.  They have a penchant for ornate, well weathered boots and putting a pair on for the first time is like putting them on after they’ve been broken in for years.  I’d recommend a pair down the road if you enjoy your first pair enough to invest in something a bit more ornate, but Old Gringos are fun to browse if you’ve never seen the selection.  

Next,---and this is EXTREMELY important if you want to be taken seriously in your new boots—you also need to buy jeans that look good with the boots.  Cinch is a good brand but they probably don’t have that in Chicago.  Levis are fine too.  Just make sure the type you buy are boot cut and buy them with an inseam at least two and as much as four inches longer than your normal inseam.  This will feel and look funny to you as a new boot wearer but trust me.  Any Texan can spot a tourist a mile away if his jeans don’t lie on his boots the right way. We call that “the stack” or “the break” on the boots down here. A good measure of that stack is to put your foot up on a short stool or step (think Captain Morgan) while standing.  If they are long enough, the front of the jean will stay on top of the boot with the break in place and the rear of the jean should rise only slightly, if at all. 

Finally, get a simple belt that matches the boot leather and has a western stitch on it.  Giant belt buckles are for bull riders who’ve earned them and for people from Dallas.  Stick to something simple.  One of my prize possessions is a handmade Texas Ranger belt buckle.  It was given to me by my former boss for Christmas one year.  Stick to small and simple and don’t pair your boots with a braided or canvas belt that Carlton from Fresh Prince of Bel Air would have worn.  That’s for German tourists.   

I hope that helps.  Incidentally, since you’re in Chicago, try Alcala’s on Chicago Avenue for boots.  Some of the clothes in there are over the top but their boot selection is the best you’re going to find in town and the staff there is knowledgeable enough to direct you to a pair that’s right for you.  Good luck.  Let me know how you turn out. 

CAN YOU GIVE ME A GUY’S TAKE ON LIVING TOGETHER BEFORE MARRIAGE?  IS THAT A DEAL BREAKER FOR MEN WHEN A WOMAN SUGGESTS MOVING IN TOGETHER?

My suspicion is that the person who sent this question is either contemplating the big move in or recently proposed it and got a bad result.  Here’s my take on this issue. 

First, I don’t think this is a “male perspective” issue.  We all have our own opinions about living together before marriage or just living together in general.  As we say in my business, the answer to the “Should I live with my significant other” question is fact determinative.  Here’s where I think problems arise in the male vs. female interpretation of the facts. 

I think (actually, I know) I speak for most men when I say that I never cease to be absolutely dumbfounded when I answer a question from a woman as clearly, simply, and honestly as I can answer it and she hears something completely different. 

If you’ll recall my “Worst Date Ever” post, you can find a good example of this.  I specifically and unequivocally told that female that I was not attracted to her, was attracted to her friend, and wanted to simply stay friends.  Her response was, “I think you’re misunderstanding your feelings.”  You get the point.  I’m certain all of you have a version of this anecdote. 

I think that when a woman gets a “yes” to the move in question she is apt to see that as the natural and logical progression of the relationship toward marriage, which is often the ultimate goal for a woman.  Moving in together is a big sign of commitment.  It also gives a woman the opportunity to discard the coffee table her man built in wood shop in high school and the liquor mirrors he stole in college.  The Dogs Playing Poker paintings shall be relegated to one wall in the back office/junk room, which is her definition of compromise.  To be fair, absent the specific type of communication referenced above, I think that it is a valid assumption by the woman that moving in equals progression to a larger, permanent commitment.

Men, on the other hand, are likely to see the move in as a step toward DELAYING marriage.  In other words, as a substitute for marriage.  Men see it as a solution to making the ultimate commitment rather than as a step toward it.  Allowing a woman to nest and giving up personal living space are things men see as signs of serious commitments.  These are in no way related to a man’s desire to marry his partner. 

If both parties do not have this discussion prior to the move in, it is likely to take months—even years—before this little issue creeps into the room.  At that point, couches have been jointly purchased, contracts have been jointly signed, pets have been jointly walked, families have been over for Thanksgiving dinner, etc.  In short, big problems arise. 

My advice?  Never ever move in with a person unless there is a wedding date or there are specific plans to get engaged and a finite time for BOTH events to occur.  Never ever assume that moving in will solve any existing relationship issue and never ever move in together without having a discussion about each person’s expectations and future plans.  Never ever move in together to “try it out.”  And, most importantly, never ever ever purchase anything together (furniture, house, condo, pets, plants, knick knacks, or a garden hose) without being legally married. 

Ignore that advice at your own risk.  My objection to living together prior to at least being engaged is not moral, it’s practical. 

What is one of your quirkiest pet peeves? 

I love this question.  Thanks to the person who had the insight to send it.     

My quirkiest pet peeve?  Absolutely under no circumstances will I set foot in a restaurant shaped like a boat.  I’m not talking about a restaurant that’s an actual boat that’s parked on a body of water and secured to a dock.  I’m not talking about the floating river boat casinos docked on the shores of the Mississippi River.  I’m not even referring to nautically themed restaurants, although I avoid those too.  I’m referring to a building on dry land shaped like a boat complete with a mast, round windows, cargo nets, barrels, and any other accoutrement intended to mimic a high seas dining experience.

  

I can’t think of anything in the restaurant world that would be a bigger F.U. to a customer than pretending that anyone dining there will actually feel like he’s in a boat.  It’s the stupidest thing I can think of.  I would rather take flying lessons from Jake Pavelka or go horseback riding with Ben Flanjik than enter a boat shaped restaurant.  Top that off with the fact that they’re all named “Cap’n Something’s Seafood House” or “Admiral So and So’s Whatever” and the entire thing makes me feel like I’ve eaten tainted oysters. 

Real Admirals and Cap’ns are in charge of aircraft carriers and cruise ships, they don’t wipe down laminated menus with dirty cloths and comp baskets of deep fried shrimp when a foreign object falls into the batter and ends up in someone’s “Fisherman’s Feast.”    

Who are they fooling?  You’re on dry land in the middle of an urban area.  I can see parked cars in the lot from the “portholes” in the “hull.”  Give me a freaking break.  You want to serve me fish?  Fine, just accept the fact that your restaurant is miles from an open body of water and do it in a normal building.  If I want a rib eye does that mean I have to jump in a zodiac and take a short ride offshore to a floating steakhouse?  Exactly.  Restaurants shaped like boats are a bad idea.  My reaction to their existence goes far beyond mild annoyance and could easily be classified as open hostility.  I suppose that narrows my options for meet and greet locations, but I’m alright with that. 

By the way, a second pet peeve of mine is Brunch, or as I like to refer to it, Breakfast for A**holes.  It’s beyond me why throwing a fried egg on top of an English muffin, sprinkling it with paprika, and serving it to me after 10 a.m. should triple the price of the aforementioned egg and muffin.  You’ll never find me brunching on a Sunday in a restaurant shaped like a boat.  Fisherman’s Feast, my ass.  Thanks for the question.     

What's the dirtiest thing in your house?

Depending on who comes home with me, the kitchen sponge. 

Thanks to the person who teed that one up for me.  You can apologize to my Special Lady Friend right after I’m done groveling. 

Assuming that being a litigator was not your first choice as a profession, how did you come to be one?  What would you choose to do professionally, supposing that there are no impediments to your doing it?

Wow.  This question brings up all kinds of thoughts.  I suppose the short answer to this question is that one of my greatest regrets in life is not having a “plan” in my early adult life.  Like most people, I had the weight of expectation placed firmly between my shoulder blades when I was in my early teens.  My parents were adamant that an education was the most valuable thing they could give me in order to secure my future.  A trust fund wasn’t an option.    

The problem is that I had a lot of dreams but I had no idea how to begin making them come true.  I never struck out and took a real chance.  I never chased my dream unapologetically.  I never had the courage to do that and the conservative background that I grew up in fostered my lack of risk taking.  That’s not all bad but it did leave a stockpile of untaken chances in my possession.  It’s a stockpile that I carry with me to this day; albeit, a bit smaller stockpile.    

The truth is that my failure to do those things and either succeed or fail at them eventually manifested itself in a horrible way when I was past my 20’s and I paid a very high price for it.  That’s a matter for another post, but the question above assumes that I “chose” to be something.  I didn’t.  Much of what happened to me in my early adult hood just “happened” to me.  I was like Forrest Gump except not as lucky and certainly not as stupid.  Tack on the massive ego and the ignorantly blind confidence that accompany youth along with the naïve and misguided idea that my great destiny would somehow find me and you get a good idea of why my true potential never blossomed. 

My parents’ collars were a lot more blue than they were white.  My dad climbed telephone poles and my mother worked retail and served as the Athletic Coordinator at the local health club.  My picture of lawyers was limited to what I saw on television or imagined the law would be like.  I knew lawyers got to write (but had no idea that legal writing is the exact opposite of creative writing), got to argue, and made decent money.  I liked school and was a good student.  I’m embarrassed to say that it was these things alone that served as the impetus for me to go to law school.  I wish there was a better story, but there isn’t.

To answer the question, I suppose I “decided” that law school was an option when I was a junior in college and my great-grandmother passed away.  Although she wasn’t wealthy she was an immigrant who managed to save enough to purchase a small apartment building and rent it out over the years.  It was worth a bit of money when she passed and she had a decent amount of cash in the bank.  As is the case when people pass away, there’s always at least one family member who feels entitled to it all.  That was the case with my mother’s uncle and aunt. 

For years I had witnessed my great grandmother begging my mother to allow her to transfer the building and all of the assets to her while she was still alive.  My mother always refused saying she didn’t feel right about accepting it.  When she died, her aunt and uncle contested the will and my mother accepted a small cash payout in lieu of fighting about it.  During that entire process, the only person who could explain any of it was the lawyer my parents hired to handle the dispute.  I remember feeling frustrated and powerless and I remember seeing my parents feel the same way.  That’s when I decided I would go to law school. 

As for my true calling?  The honest truth—and I mean this—is that if money had nothing to do with it and I could literally do anything I wanted to do for a living, I’d be a lounge singer.  I’d have a lounge act and I’d tour the country playing small venues with my band.  I’d wear flashy jackets and revel in making dozens of women swoon at the wink of my eye or a glance in their direction.  I’d refuse to play any lounge located in a boat-shaped restaurant.    

Why do men constantly have to touch themselves? It's attached and not going anywhere. Is there really a need for adjusting oneself regularly?

Unless this person hangs out with a professional baseball team all day, I’m not certain where this question comes from.  Like any normal person, my body parts are sometimes in need of an adjustment from time to time.  I suppose the female equivalent is the automatic taking off of the bra the second she arrives home.  If your man is in constant need of adjustment, perhaps he has chronic jock itch or perhaps you’re washing his underwear in hot water.  I’m certain he realizes that his equipment is attached.  I know that because all men spend the better part of their teenage years frantically trying to pull it off.  That lesson is learned early and reinforced often during that time of life.  Trust me, if there was a way to make it pop off, like Columbus, all men would stumble upon that great discovery during their childhood.    

To answer the second part of that question, I suppose that depends on the circumstances.  During an Austin summer, for instance, regular adjustments are, in fact, necessary in light of the heat and humidity.  That’s simply an issue of comfort rather than an issue of the aforementioned adolescent equipment fascination.  The only other alternative is that your man is feeling a bit “anxious” around you.  Rather than scoffing at it, be flattered and realize that you’re attractive to him.  You might want to offer to take over the adjustment duties from time to time as well.  Just remind him to shoot me a “thank you” email after you do. 

Well, there it is.  DP Tells All Part 4.  Enjoy your weekend and be prepared for the big finale on Monday.  I’ll post as early as I can next week.  Finally, I’m now committed to posting some pictures on the blog.  Attached is this week’s fan picture.  This guy caught up with me at my favorite local honky tonk and bought me a Lone Star Light.  If you happen to run into me, say hello.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be adjusting myself while having brunch at a boat shaped restaurant.  DP 

Bachelor Ben Episode 10: I Just Can't Do It

Hello, Readers.  Far be it from me to disappoint; HOWEVER, I just can't do it this week.  I tried no less than 5 times to make it through the Women Tell All (Read: Bitch about everything) Episode and just couldn't do it. 

I cannot accurately put into words the level of frustration I felt during the first 20:57 seconds of the show listening to the women argue, insult each other, talk over everyone, and generally complain.  There was nothing interesting or entertaining about any of it, especially the part about the wash up contestants groping each other in various clubs across the country. 

The "Stop" button finally got pushed (hard) when Miss Pacific Palisades and her crooked eyes and silver eye shadow began chattering like a magpie about whatever it was she felt the need to chatter about. 

I'm sad to say that I will not be recapping this episode.  I'm certain you're disappointed, and for that I'm sorry.  However, I'm also certain that beneath the disappointment is a tiny part of all of you that understands. 

On a positive note, I'll have the latest DP Tells All (Part IV) up before the Bachelor Final Episode.  Thank you all for your questions.  Please enjoy this picture of me contemplating the answers to your questions while gazing admiringly at my beloved Austin, Texas.  This little spot is about a half mile from my home and I usually head up there a few times a year to remind myself why I'm lucky to live in Austin. 

Have a wonderful day.  In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be complaining loudly in order to make meaningless points.  DP

Bachelor Ben Episode 9: Ben is Matter-Horny

Hello, Readers. Welcome back to the tail end of an unequivocally mundane season of the Bachelor. Like NFL quarterback Brad Johnson, President Herbert Hoover, and the fat Middle Eastern guy at the 7-11 across the street from my office, Ben hasn’t done anything great or exceptional this season but he hasn’t done anything to really screw it up either. I suppose that beats repeated bouts of hysterical crying on balconies across the globe; then again, I’d cry a lot too if I dated Melissa Rycroft.

Speaking of “tail end,” it’s Fantasy Week in Interlaken, Switzerland and the only real curiosity is who would draw the third straw in the sleep with Ben contest. Like a giant piece of Swiss cheese, there were a lot of holes for Ben to explore this week and it was only a Matter of time before he’d be Interlocking his Horn with Lindzi, Nikki, and Courtney in search of the final piece of the “I might possibly be getting tentatively engaged next week in order to maybe go forward with a hypothetical wedding and theoretically spend the better part of the near future with one of three women I sort of know” puzzle.

Some Guy had a good weekend and I’d like to give a shout out to Ron Yates at Spicewood Vineyards (www.spicewoodvineyards.com) just 34 miles outside of Austin, Texas. Ron is the owner of the winery and a friend of the Special Lady Friend. We attended the annual “Pair it with the Claret Chili Cookoff” this weekend at the winery. Chili, live music, and good wine ruled the day and we were blessed with wonderful Hill Country weather. After traveling to Waco, Texas for the past couple of days it was truly an exercise in contrasts. With that out of the way, let’s bang out the Fantasy Week episode.

We begin back in Los Angeles with a myriad of filler footage of Ben packing his bags in his home away from home brooding about how “difficult” his “journey” has been to date. He eventually broods his way to the limo, broods his way to the check in counter, and makes it his coach seat on his Swiss Air flight to Switzerland. Of course, he’s still brooding.

Yodel Odel Lay Hee BOO. Man, was I bored.

“Let’s get to the awkward, forced promiscuity,” I said as I popped the cap on a fresh, frosty Lone Star and settled in on the couch. “This is bullsh*t.” I was, however, excited to see that ABC renewed its firm belief in the ignorance of its audience by reviving the giant fake plane graphic in order illustrate Ben’s flight pattern and the overall location of Switzerland. Apparently, there is a domestic travel ban on that graphic, but it’s important we’re all told where the gang bang will occur this week.

Afraid I was missing something, I did a bit of research on Switzerland in order to firm up my knowledge. Life, after all, presents us with countless opportunities to improve ourselves and I figured if I was going to debase myself by spending the next two hours watching this show, I might as well learn a thing or two in the process. It’s all about balance, isn’t it?

At any rate, I discovered that Switzerland is comprised of mostly German, French, and Italian people, which makes sense considering its geography. Politically, its traditional neutrality also makes a lot of sense. After all, with a mix of German, French, and Italian bundled into one people, the Swiss are the only civilization genetically equipped to talk themselves into surrendering to themselves. I still haven’t figured out why their army has its own knife, though. Annyyyhoooo…

Ben recaps the ladies and uses the word “magical” and various derivatives of it to describe Switzerland. “Magical” is apparently a Swiss word meaning “amazing.” After being reminded via narrative and edited snippets why these women will eventually be asked to forgo their individual rooms (and dignity) by lining up like orphans in the bread line for an on-air one night stand, we’re treated to shots of a contemplative Ben in his mood-evidencing black attire roaming around the streets of Interlaken presumably searching for a pack of condoms and a tube of anti-bacterial hand soap.

NIKKI

Nicki arrives in her purple coat, seasonally appropriate boots, and ubiquitous 30 foot scarf. Of course, Switzerland is the "perfect place" to be in love. As she’d soon see, it’s also the “perfect place” to get violated in an expensive hotel room only to be sent packing the a few days later. Getting the first of the three Fantasy Dates is wonderful if you’re a germaphobe; however, it’s equivalent to being the best violin player in the Titanic Lounge Band. We all knew this wasn’t going to end well for Nikki this week. Putting her at the front end of the big dates was a courtesy rather than an advantage.

Anxious to see Ben, Nikki takes a break from her pre-Fantasy Suite kegels to perform the run and greet. In predictable fashion, the Bachelor-copter arrives to take Ben and Nikki yodeling through a large, deep canyon prior to eating dinner and yodeling through another large deep canyon. “If that thing crashes, I wonder if they'll eat each other,” I said laughing. Come to think of it, that’s likely to occur whether the thing crashes or not.

Ben and Nikki sit atop a mountain peak and picture what life won’t ever be like after she gives it up in the Fantasy Suite. My guess is that even if they did get married their life wouldn’t include regular helicopter rides and hot toddies atop the Swiss Alps. They eventually retire to a Swiss barn for dinner atop short stumps—which I can only assume was a statement of events to follow—and a chat about all of the children Nikki will never have with Ben after giving it up in the Fantasy Suite. Sigh….

The card gets dropped. They both FORE-go in favor of FORE-play. Nikki, who presumably knows she’s got a lot of work to do if she wants to secure the nomination, campaigns like a double-digit underdog in a battleground state and ends just shy of throwing herself at Ben in front of the camera. She uses the word “cocky” in the Fantasy Bedroom before jumping in the bathtub with Ben and working on his caucus.

Poor political humor aside, I’ll give Nikki credit for knowing where she stood and for swinging for the fence at a pitch that clearly wasn’t hittable. She tried hard and proved herself to be a decent, albeit a tad bit annoying person over the course of the season. I liked her and I’m happy she’s from Texas. I’ll have more about her crushing defeat later.

Hey Nikki, Yodel Odel LAY HE you.

LINDZI

Fresh off his free romp with this week’s loser, Ben dons a ridiculous grey coat and his own version of the ubiquitous 30 foot scarf and heads meet Lindzi in order to do some rappelling into a deep gorge before having dinner, hitting the Fantasy Suite, and rappelling into a deep gorge. She looked great in royal blue; however, wearing that much bronzer in Switzerland made her stand out like a stray sober intern at a Chris Harrison post-season party. She was so excited about Fantasy Night that she didn’t even bother with a winter jacket and scarf. Taking that off, after all, takes time and who wants to waste that when victory is within reach? Her last name it Cox and she showed up determined to show Ben why.

After a series of not so coincidental sexual innuendos about trying anything and coming together in the deep gorge, Ben and Lindzi opt for a picnic amongst a sheep feces laden field before heading to the hot tub where Lindzi continues to make herself “vulnerable” prior to dinner.

Ben listens to Lindzi all the while hoping the hotel staff remembered to change the sheets and search his bedroom for Nikki's lost pony tail holders and stray hairs so as not to provide a tangible reminder of what we already know.

My initial plan was to skip over dinner and head to the foregoing of the individual rooms in favor of the aforementioned trip into the gorge. However, I would like to point out that Lindzi—in my opinion anyway—looked phenomenal in that purple little number she broke out for the dinner date. Unfortunately Ben decided to “complement” it with a bow tie.

Bow tie? Is he Orville Redenbacher? He’s 28, not 88, and he’s not a law professor at Ole Miss. A bow tie? Who convinced him that was a good idea? Frankly, I’d rather see the queer yellow sweater and gray jeans. Lindzi breaks out a stunning contemporary purple thing and he counters with the bow tie? If she bent over in that dress you could see what she had for breakfast for crying out loud. As far as I’m concerned, that took a solid second place to the jeans and boots. He pulls out a bow tie? He looked like a Dutch architect. I was too appalled to notice if he had matching wooden shoes. Consider the haircut and he might actually be Dutch.

Moving on…

Ben drops the Fantasy Suite invite and Lindzi responds with a classic "Normally I don't" but "I would love to." Right on. I immediately pictured that purple dress crumpled up on the Fantasy Suite floor with the bow tie resting gently atop its delicate fabric. I’ll give credit where credit is due. Nice work, Ben. It looks like you and Harry Cox will remain close.

Welcome to Bangsville. Population: Lindzi.

Yodel Odel LAY HE TWO.

Next!

COURTNEY

Ben spends the morning hours scrubbing the bronzer from various parts of his anatomy before arriving in a camel hair coat and a new scarf to complete the hat trick. Despite ABC’s clear attempts to rehabilitate her, Courtney flounders around on camera and in front of Ben amidst the ruse of shopping for picnic items and riding a long train across the lush countryside and into a tunnel before chatting about her shortcomings with Ben, eating dinner and retiring to the Fantasy Suite to ride a long train across the lush countryside and into a tunnel.

I won’t even bore you with the details of the date. Rather, I’d like an opportunity to mount my soap box and hammer a few points home before using the words “mount” and “hammer” in the context of the end of the date.

Courtney clearly realizes that the fun she had being the bad guy this season is coming back in a big way. Although she attempted to own what happened—and I’ll give her a bit of credit for at least trying to admit it—it appears she’s about to learn a couple of life’s toughest lessons. Unfortunately for most of us these lessons are not often learned without a steep price.

By the way, the “steep price” I’m referring to here doesn’t include ruining a chance to sort of marry Ben after a loose engagement period and a lot of public exposure. She’ll win that battle but whether she’ll win the one after her 15 minutes are long gone is still up for debate.

Courtney begins to understand that certain mistakes have permanent consequences. Put another way: some doors can’t be reopened once they’re closed no matter how much we apologize. Second chances are a gift, not a foregone conclusion and getting one should never be assumed. Short sightedness is a raging red flag of immaturity. For her sake, let’s hope her apology was sincere and let’s hope that whether she gets the big heave ho or not next week that she’s learned her lesson. I, for one, am not holding my breath. Back to Ben.

Ben vents a bit and they sort out the big disagreement in favor of the imminent romp in the Fantasy Suite hay. “I have lots of women friends”, he tells Courtney. Translation: I don't want to marry a b*tch. Valid concern, Ben. We all know the guy with the wife that everyone can’t stand and that makes it miserable for everyone. Incidentally, if you don’t know that wife, she’s probably you. There’s nothing worse than a fun hater or a know-it-all and Ben would do well to chop that concern off at the knees rather than ignoring it and having it surface around a fatherless Sonoma Christmas table.

Love is blind, but mothers and sisters aren’t and he’ll be dealing with “winning” for a long time to come if he’s not careful. Besides, Lindzi is hotter and cooler (did I mention that purple dress?) than Courtney and her old man is loaded. If he marries her, he’ll have a hell of a glue factory when Mr. and Mrs. Harry Cox kick the bucket and those horses start to age. That’s a heck of a new place to plant grapes too. I’m just sayin'.

Now let's get down to the Harrison card. It’s dropped and she turns it around and makes him decide. He wants "uninterrupted everything." Odd are pretty good he's going to get it.

Yodel Odel Lay She Too.

EMILY PREVIEW.

She’s smoking hot. Ali and Ashley annoy me. I paused the DVR on Emily and fast forwarded the rest.

KACIE RETURNS

In the most irrelevant free trip around the world since Bentley went to Bangkok or wherever, Kacie returns post "what the f*ck happened?" This is such a tired theme. It’s even more annoying to me because we all have Jake to thank for it. She even had her own version of the hotel balcony cryfest invented by that diminutive little putz in his “pilot” uniform.

Props to Kacie for garnering free passage on the first available FedEx cargo plane out of Tennessee, and props to ABC for building up what turned out to be a big fat serving of a bunch of nothing.

Still, Ben’s "Hoooolllly Sh*t," was classic as was Kacie’s penchant for overdramaticizing the situation. I haven't seen anyone sweat that much since Roberto was forced to put on a suit and walk up a mile worth of stairs to meet Ali. Ben lets her down (again) in a very respectful matter and she counters with an I Hate Courtney grenade that just might prove effective in the long run. She hinted at breaking away from mom and dad, but again, that’s their business, not mine. She’ll eventually become an adult and she’ll look back on this entire situation and feel ashamed.

Somewhere in Tennessee there's an Administrator in need of an Assistant. She needs to move on. . . as do I.

Yodel Odle Kay Cee’s Through.

HARRISON TETE A TETE

I can sum this one up in two sentences. "Too much that's happened this week, Chris" to have Kacie in the rose ceremony. Translation: I've banged all three broads.

As an aside, I just couldn’t figure out why Ben is so stressed about this entire scenario. We all know this isn't permanent. Look at Mesnick and Womack. Mesnick proposed on national television in front of his kid before jumping in the hotel pool with his clothes on before dumping Melissa (again on national television) and calling up Molly and still got his wedding paid for by the network. Womack? We all know that story. Speaking of that, I saw that bullet he dodged, Deanna Pappas, on television the other day. Having his ex-girlfriend paraded around with a bunch of dudes next season is going to sting, but he has to thank his lucky bottles of Axe Body Spray that he’s not married to that pain in the ass.

ROSE CEREMONY

Ben’s conflicted but sure what he wants to do. I think we were all sure too. Lindzi looked incredible, albeit bronze. Nikki looked somewhat dumpy in her choice dress but knew the guillotine blade had her name on it. Courtney looked good but it was clear her confidence wasn’t what it was when she had Emily to pick on a few weeks ago. It went down as predicted.

Roses:

1. Lindzi

2. Courtney

Gone.

1. Nikki

Nikki has clearly had time to prepare for this moment and she’s mature enough not to melt down like certain administrative assistants with overbearing fathers when she’s given the boot. She cried, but not too much and it was clear that Ben didn’t like to hurt her feelings. I liked Nikki and I think the rest of you did too. My guess is that she’s still a bit scarred at the Women Tell All, but she’ll be fine.

Well, there it is. With the Amazing count at 67 and the Journey count at 29 we’re down to the final two. My guess is that Lindzi is the big winner. After Fantasy Week, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to discount the presence of Harry Cox.

Please don’t forget to submit your questions for DP Tells All Number Four. Right now, I need to go Yodel Odel Layhee Sue someone.  In the meantime, I’ll be wearing a bow tie while rappelling into a deep canyon. DP

Bachelor Ben Episode 8: Ben Loves Harry Cox

Bachelor Ben Episode 8: Ben Loves Harry Cox

Hello, Readers. Welcome back to this week's break down of Episode 8 in what has turned out to be—for me anyway—a horribly uninspiring season. I hate to admit it, but I had a hell of a lot more fun when we had the likes of vertically challenged, ego driven “pilot” Jake, the generally challenged Wes, and the motor neuron challenged Gia running around rooftop bars a few seasons ago. Despite ABC’s attempts to breath life into this “cast” I think the gunpowder has soaked up way too much moisture to provide an explosion. Who knows, however? We could be in for the most dramatic ending in Bachelor history, but I doubt it.


Regardless of the blank canvas I was given this week, I’m now going to do my best to make sense of it all for you. It’s Hometown Week, after all, and it’s nice to make sweeping, unsubstantiated judgments about other people’s families rather than wallowing in the reality of the well-formed ones we make about our own families on a daily basis. Escape is not necessarily always a bad thing. With that predicate adequately laid, let’s get to it.


It seems like just yesterday our newly crowned Bachelor Ben was standing clumsily in front of the fountain on the neon-lit, freshly washed driveway of the Bachelor mansion awaiting the arrival of the 25 young women (and 1 septuagenarian) vying for his undeserved attention and a shot at marrying him and making him change his ridiculous haircut.


Alas, time flies like the wind but fruit flies like bananas. It’s time to separate the wheat from the really hot wheat and, in order to do that it’s time to drag unwilling family members in front of the camera in order to feign support for this ridiculous scenario and pray that their deepest family scars escape the watchful eye of the ABC cameramen invading their homesteads. Fat chance.


LINDZI’S HOMETOWN


We head first to Lindzi’s hometown of Ocala, Florida. I’m pretty sure that’s East of Los Angeles; however, without the crutch of that giant fake plane graphic I’ve grown accustomed to seeing each week it’s difficult to be sure. Despite listing her “home” as Seattle all season, we end up just about as far as we can get from there if we remain within the confines of the contiguous 48. Details. We’d later discover that Lindzi—GASP—moved from her parents’ giant horse farm to cohabitate with a member of the opposite sex—a scenario much frowned upon for the adult children of Clarksville, Tennessee natives. I’m getting ahead of myself. I also found myself wondering if Lindzi and her parents ever ventured off their property to visit the Ocala Hooters where they’d have an opportunity to enjoy some beer and wings and tip Vienna. Annyyyyhooo….


We see Ben and his straight leg Levis arrive to find Lindzi riding a horse on her parents' blue blood horse farm wearing jeans, a western belt buckle, and some boots. It’s common knowledge that this combination “does it” for Some Guy and I have to admit that it was easy for me to look past the bronzer here. Anyone can throw on a fancy dress and tuck themselves into a few layers of Spanx in order to pass for attractive, but not everyone can throw on a pair of Levis and a pair of old boots and look great. Simple things often reveal the most complex things about a woman. She looked great.


Realizing that it’s difficult when your “girlfriend” is more of a man than you are, Lindzi lets Ben off the hook by offering to forego the traditional horse riding in favor of a carriage ride. After walking him through the complexities of the harness buckles, she drops “Let me take the whip” before climbing on the back of the carriage and letting Ben “drive.” Usually, a bachelor has to wait until Fantasy Suite night to hear that sort of thing.


While watching this unfold, I was reminded of the days when as a little boy I’d sit on my father’s lap in the driver’s seat of his truck in the back of my neighborhood and he’d let me “drive” back to the driveway. Props to Lindzi for making him feel at home.


After the cursory “what can’t I say in front of your parents” picnic and some really “imporT-Tan-T” vulnerability talk from Lindzi, wherein she revealed the aforementioned sinful cohabitation, Lindzi suggests they mount up and head for the stable before meeting the parents. Again, such talk is usually reserved for Fantasy Week, but Ben seemed to take it all in stride.


Incidentally, my version of this little chat with a lady friend (including the current and most respected Special Lady Friend) includes questions such as, “do you have any gay people in your family,” “are your parents sensitive to French and German jokes,” “how well are anatomy jokes received in your family,” and “where do they stand on the Pope?” I like to cover all of my bases when making a first impression and there’s no need to start out on the wrong foot. Back to Ben.

As they pull up on their chariot Lindzi ironically drops “this is my boyfriend, Ben.” And this is where it gets good.


Ben meets Lindzi’s parents who have the common courtesy to step away from their copies of the New Yorker and Horse Breeding Quarterly and put down their mint juleps in order to play along with the game. Ben meets Margie and Harry and they all bond about Jack Russell terriers and spontaneous City Hall marriages in San Francisco. “We got married at City Hall where you had your first date,” says Harry. “What are the odds?” naively responds Ben. Actually, pretty good considering the fact that Lindzi was probably asked that in her pre-production interview. And this is where it gets REALLY good.


Harry then challenges Ben to a chariot race in his front yard. Apparently, this is the sort of thing that rich people do for fun. Prior to putting on racing helmets and going at it like Charlton Heston in Ben Hur Lindzi’s father refers to his homestead as “The Cox Household.” Needless to say, Some Guy’s ears perked up like Courtney’s upper lip after a Botox injection.


Harry Cox? Did he just say his name was Harry Cox? No wonder Lindzi wants to get married. Why do they make it so easy? I wondered. I’ve learned a few lessons in my lifetime. One of them is not to question things when life throws you a giant, slow moving, ready-to-be-smacked-out-of-the-park softball like that. So be it, I said grinning from ear to ear into my Lone Star. So be it. My only regret is that I didn’t know that little tidbit earlier in the season. For the record, I will operate under the assumption that it’s Cox with an “x” and not a “cks.” I’m certain Mrs. Cox will appreciate that. I’d hate for things to get Harry.


Here we go. Ahem.


Ben races Harry Cox around the yard and after pushing hard from behind Harry Cox finishes in front of Ben. Harry Cox insists on rubbing it in. Thankful that he’s impressed Harry Cox, Ben agrees to share a glass of cold chardonnay with Harry Cox, who’s itching to get to know Ben, before watching Lindzi and her mom walk off to have a mom/daughter pow wow about Ben, leaving him alone with Harry Cox. Ben doesn’t seem to mind. It’s been quite awhile since he’s had any alone time with Harry Cox and he’s been looking forward to it for some time. Seemingly in tune with Ben's desires, it appeared that Harry Cox shaved for the occasion.


Ben does get some alone time with Lindzi’s mom and they discuss Lindzi’s dating history. As engaged as he attempted to be, we all know that Ben couldn’t stop thinking about Harry Cox. Regardless, he reassures mom that his intentions are good and that under no circumstances would he prevent Lindzi from seeing Harry Cox; in fact, he'd insist upon a regular visit to Harry Cox. After all, Harry Cox appears to make her happy and, frankly, after the loss of his father, Ben would appreciate a big dose of Harry Cox a few times a year.


At the end of the visit it was clear that Harry Cox liked Ben, which I think we all were relieved to see. After all, it's been apparent to me from way back in Ashley’s season when Ben showed up for his date in that effeminate yellow sweater that Ben would love Harry Cox. Come to think of it, I’ll bet Jake Pavelka would love Harry Cox too.


You’re welcome, folks. I’ll be here all week writing about Harry Cox. It’s not often I get to step into the gutter that easily.


All kidding aside, (well, most of it) Lindzi and her parents seem like great people. They’re clearly a close family and are successful at what they’ve chosen to do. Unfortunate name aside, it must be difficult to have your only child—a daughter nonetheless—bring home the man she could possibly marry. It was obvious that Ben was touched by her openness and her family’s acceptance. The giant horse farm and abject wealth probably didn’t hurt his analysis either. I think we'd all admit that it’s better to have a Harry Cox than a Harry Flanjik.


KACIE’S HOMETOWN


We head next to Clarksville, Tennessee to some football field at Stratford High School to meet Kacie B. and her baton after seeing her walk around town in some weird shirts and Mary Poppins shawls for a few minutes.


I know that Lincee Ray of www.ihategreenbeans.com will undoubtedly love her entrance, so I won’t belabor the point. I was embarrassed for her and it didn’t get any better when she executed her own version of the run, jump, wrap, and squeal greeting once perfected by Jillian a few seasons back. To be fair, her execution was flawless and Jillian was likely proud. Harry Cox would have probably approved as well but that’s not important right now.


Kacie and Ben relive all of our high school experiences by smuggling booze into the football stadium for a few pops before going to meet her controlling, Federal Probation Officer father and her subservient Southern mother making us realize that this entire exercise is an overt rebellion from her father’s controlling tendencies and unwavering judgment.


A terrified Ben and an anxious Kacie arrive at Mom and Dad's to meet Martha and Denny along with Kacie's equally repressed, albeit less rebellious sister Allison. They drink iced tea and enjoy a the giant fake centerpiece that Kacie's mom crafted after the pattern on her shirt with plastic flowers from the local Garden Ridge Pottery where they had a three for one sale on plastic mums after church on Sunday. After all, nothing completes a Sunday like cold iced tea and floral arrangements after a good snake handlin', talkin' in tounges session under the shade of the giant tent on the outskirts of town.


As they continued to enjoy the entire meal from the same side of the table I wondered if they hadn't commissioned Leonardo Davinci to paint what, ironically, would become Kacie's Last Supper. It was clear that Dad was a control freak, mom was the passive obey my husband type, and the daughters did a bunch of sneaking around after mom and dad went to sleep in the separate twin beds on either side of the nightstand in the marital bedroom.


As if we needed any further affirmation of that situation, Kacie meets with her sister and passively agressively lashes out against her father by referring to him as "people" and "everyone" before making it abundantly clear that her sister is the only one in that house who is aware that Kacie's no longer a virgin.


To be fair to mom and dad, that's probably the way things work there in Clarksville and, frankly, Kacie probably has a good head on her shoulders because of it. They undoubtedly view shows like the Bachelor like they view the Moonies: Our angel Kacie left home a perfectly good Christian girl and came home with a long haired hippie hell bent on polluting the population with the evils of alcohol and taking her away to the capital of all evil--San Francisco--to indulge himself in unforgiveable sins of cohabitation and fornication.


Whether we agree with them or not, that's likely the way they see things and I'll give them credit for even humoring ABC by letting them into their home much less letting them mess with Grandad's legacy. Those are big deals south of the Mason-Dixon and even more so in the good ole Bible Belt. They're probably solid people, if not just a bit out of touch with their twenty-something daughter.


She's at the age (24) where she's going to disown everything she learned in the name of finding herself anyway. She'll make her life mistakes and eventually realize that the core of those values--no matter how flawed the way in which they were hammered home--is what will serve as the foundation upon which she'll construct the rest of her life.


I'd like to give Ben enough credit to say that he realized this, but I think the old man just scared the hell out of him. Unfortunately, her father's rigid adherence to life's rights and wrongs and his focus on the wages of sin contributed greatly to Ben's choice this week. That sucks for her and she'll have to wait a bit after truly leaving home in order to face her father as a true adult.


Dad has a forced one-on-one with Ben and both looked about as comfortable as an intern who forgot the extra sugar in Harrison's morning coffee. Ben looked more comfortable atop that horse in Utah for God's sake. Her father eventually drops a tactful, yet clear message. "If Kacie is not the one, I'd hope that would be communicated to her to maybe keep her from getting hurt more." Translation: Dump her before you bang her. Point taken, Dad.


Mom, who looked like Kacie with a Bieber cut, meets with Ben and tells him that her adult daughter and he are going to need to seek their permission to move out of state. Guess what, mom? That's not your decision anymore. It's tough to let go of your child, but good ole Kacie is an adult who can make her own choices. Ben realizes that. It's too bad Kacie hasn't yet. It was at this point I belive her goose was cooked.


Dad and Kacie have a chat that turns into a lecture. She reverts to being the little girl that Courtney accused her of being. I'm certain and we witnessed a scenario that's likely gone on in that household hundreds of times. Dad meant well and was understandably skeptical but come on. Guidance is one thing. Absolute control is another. Fair or not, Ben was correct to factor that situation into his choice. Kacie is clearly not out from under the thumb of her family and that's guaranteed to serve as a huge roadblock to any form of relationship. She's not ready to spread her baton throwing wings. Until she is, I'm afraid I have to side with Ben on this one.


NICKI'S HOMETOWN


We head next to a place near and dear to Some Guy's heart: Fort Worth, Texas. I love Texas and Ben pretends he loves Texas as Nicki trounces about in her ill fitting black stretch pants and off the shoulder striped sweater in the tourist trap to end all tourist traps: The Fort Worth Stockyards. Aside from the presence of the people like Ben who visit Leddy's and the White Elephant in search of a bit of Texas flavor, I love it out there. Granted, it's a tad overdone, but it you're visiting Ft. Worth, it's worth the trip. Back to Ben


Nicki takes Ben to Leddy's to try on some custom boots, buy a pearl snap shirt, and a black felt cowboy hat. Ironically, Some Guy actually owns the Larry Mahan square button pearl snap he ended up buying. For the record, it looks much better on me. All in all, they seem to have a bit of fun down there and I'll have to give the thumbs up to her choice of venue. It's a good place to introduce a non-Texan to Texas. I just wish he could have done something with the hair before he threw on the hat. Oh, and straight leg jeans--especially gray Levis--don't mix with cowboy boots. He might as well have worn a sign that said "Sore Thumb" on the front of that shirt. I'll give him credit for trying, however.


I won't "beat a dead horse" as Nicki put it. I wasn't sure if that was a an unfortunate cliche in lieu of a creative way to express herself or an underhanded jab at Lindzi. Regardless, Nicki's parents seemed like genuinely nice folks. I respect the fact that they were able to raise an apparently well adjusted daughter and a son amidst a divorce and have enough adult in them to set aside their differences to sit together in the same house in support of their child--no matter how ridiculous the situation.


As was the case with Kacie's parents I got the feeling that we were witnessing a scenario that's likely taken place countless times over the years on that house. After enjoying some brisket and beans, Ben enjoys conversations with each parent and they respond by offering their support realizing some that Kacie's parents could (or would) not: their daughter is an adult who doesn't need their permission to act. This scenario is going to run its course regardless of their opinion. Supporting their daughter in the face of expressing their concerns and remaining available in the event that those concerns come to fruition rather than threatening her with disownership is a constructive way to approach a child whose made up her mind. That should come in handy when she gets booted after the Fantasy Suites next week.


My only regret is that we didn't get any camera time for the teenage brother. Perhaps him pulling Ben aside and hitting him up for that sweet, sticky California weed instead of the impotent, stem-filled mess he's been buying from Mexicans just West of town wasn't as compelling as Ben's talks with the parents. Far be it from me to speculate. I'm just saying I would have liked to see the kid speak.


COURTNEY'S HOMETOWN


I suppose the choice of order falls under the "Best for Last" rationale, but I have to confess that it was just as uneventful and boring as the other three Hometown visits save the fact that we saw a different side of Courtney in addition to ABC's subtle yet definite attempts to rehabilitate her image in light of the fact that she's a final two choice.


Aside from Lindzi in those jeans and boots (I'll admit, I'm partial) Courtney looked the best of the girls in her white summer dress. It was very Natalie Wood in Splendor in the Grass although Ben's purple plaid shirt was hardly Warren Beatty's overalls. The entire lead in featured Ben apologizing for Courtney and Hometown Courtney distancing herself from Mansion Courtney. Fair enough, but there's still a C a U an N and a T in Courtney. I'm just saying. I had visions of Emily at home on her sofa in Charlotte biting holes through her throw pillows as she watched.


We meet Rick and his argyle sweater, Sherrie and her reconstructed face, and her very normal sister, whose name I missed. There's a lot of allusion to man hating from both Courtney and from mom but we're never really let in on the secret. My guess is that "Dad" isn't really "Dad" and that Courtney's mom is likely an ex-model who probably slept with Warren Beatty back in her day only to find that he'd been far from honest with her. Still, she seemed to care about her daughters and depsite the pretention that filled the air, they seemed nice enough.


I will say that Courtney--like all of the girls but more than the rest, I think--seemed a lot more relaxed and open at home. There is something about visiting "home"--wherever that may be--with a person that always puts them in a different light. The heretofore rigid Courtney is no exception to that rule.




Rick basks in the majesty of his multicolored argyle sweater as he gives Ben the "Marriage is life's greatest gamble" speech he's been rehearsing since Courtney was old enough to say "I'm a model." He instantly softens and confesses to wanting grandkids to bounce on his knee provided they don't spit up on his argyle sweater. Ben pictures Harry Cox in an argyle sweater. (I'm not even sure what that means, but it's funny).


Everyone talks to everyone else and everyone likes Ben. Courtney's mom tries to smile but her face is pulled too tightly. She compensates by attempting to move her lips and tell us that she too likes Ben. After that they visit the spot of her first photo shoot--pah-leez--and have a fake wedding. I will again give Courtney credit. She mustered the courage to tell Ben she loves him (sort of) by reading it off a piece of paper but first made him profess his feelings for her by doing the same thing. Dustin Hoffman was apparently mulling around the set becasue he was recruited to be the mock preacher. Odd. She did well dropping "your happiness is the key to mine." Alas, it might not be enough to get around Ben's affection for Harry Cox. We shall see, shant we?


FIRESIDE HARRISON CHAT


FINALLY, we're treated to Harrison's pinnacle forum--the fireside chat. He's like a better looking FDR without polio. Harrison does his best to ferret out Ben's New Deal and I found that ironic considering the fact that, like FDR's administration and every one since, the success of Ben's choices would likely be determined in the first 100 days. Now THAT'S depressing.


Alright, the FDR schtick is not so inventive. It's better than beating on Harry Cox again.


ROSE CEREMONY


The roses appear and are awarded as follows:


Roses.

1. Courtney

2. Lindzi

3. Nicki

Gone.

1. Kacie (Dad will hear about it.)


Ben walks Kacie to the cryin' bench before she's fed a few glasses of wine and put in the limo and reminded off camera of all of the sad stuff she's put in her application to be on the show in addition to being forced to watch a montage of the most poignant scenes in The Notebook before starting her exit interview. He says he's sorry. She cries. I preferred Blakeley's "what else to do I need to know?" What will be worse than this is facing her father and being reminded that she was wrong for the rest of her life.


I'll give her credit for trying. Regardless of the format and the obvious pressure from home, she still had the balls to get out there and try. She's 24. If she can get away from Claksville and figure out that "I'm going to be myself and not what my dad wants" stuff, she'll be fine.


I was a bit discouraged to her her belt out, "This is why I don't love, and "What the f*ck happened?" Bitterness is unbecoming. Let's hope she has it in perspective by the time the Women Tell All rolls around. Her dad will love that last line.


Well, there it is. With the Amazing Count at 61 and the Journey Count at 24 we head into Fantasy Week in Switzerland. I think you all know I'll have a lot of Swiss jokes lined up by then.


Speaking of lost love, I wanted to acknowledge that the world lost a talented person last week. We all know that Whitney Houston died. Like most of you, I'm familiar with her through her songs and--unfortunately--through the trouble she lived with in her life. It's easy to dismiss her death as her own fault or as something that could have been prevented in light of her fame and resources. I suppose there's a bit of truth to both of those things, although I tend to thing that the latter of those two things makes things worse before it makes them any better. For those of us who have either battled addiction on our own or who have lived with someone who has (or does), we know that addiction is a terrible disease that often ends the way Whitney Houston's ended.


Below is an interesting tribute from an unlikely source that was sent to me by a friend. I suppose it's more of a testament to Dolly Parton, who wrote it, than it is to the person who made it the most famous. The fact that the same arrangement and survives essentially three diametrically opposed genres with three incredibly different voices says a lot about the song's simplicity and beauty. Still, Whitney put her stamp on that song and it is inseparable from her as a performer. Rest in Peace, Whitney Houston.
Until next week, take care of yourselves. In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be looking for Harry Cox . . . Really hard. DP


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgFAq9Q8l8U&feature=youtube_gdata_player