Wednesday, August 19, 2009

I Miss Chris Harrison

Well, here we are: Episode number 4 of More to Love and we have to begin wondering if Fox is going to put this show out of its misery like it did The Littlest Groom or that show where that hot girl had to date a bunch of ambiguous guys and then guess if they were gay or straight in lieu of a rose ceremony. They later moved that piece of shit to the Reality Network and it even failed there. I never learned if Luciano was gay or straight. That’s too bad. I would have enjoyed the closure.

I’d never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss Chris Harrison. I want to give him a big hug. I miss him so much. I want to freeze him in the winter, skate on him, and then thaw him out in the summer and play baseball with him. I want to buy him an ice cream cone and playfully wipe chocolate off of his nose as we laugh hysterically while walking through the park together. I want to run knowingly through the sand just before a Pacific Ocean sunset and fall clumsily into his outstretched arms. Instead, I’m stuck with the first plus-sized super model (and also the first washed up plus-sized super model), Emme, and her Bachelor Meets the Buffet adventure, More to Love.

This week Luke has thin the herd from 8 to 6 women and there’s more tension in the air than on the ladies bra straps. Lauren, the bitchiest most vulgar girl in the house before “I love being on the water” fame Danielle was summarily booted last week, is on a tear for Luke’s attention. She’s more aggressive than a hungry wolverine and has no problem going after the other women. Seriously, Godzilla was less of a problem when he landed in Tokyo.

Incidentally, remember how Godzilla used to fly by propelling himself backward with his super fire breath? Even as a kid that seemed odd to me. Is that really a plausible evolutionary progression into flight? I could see flapping wings or webbed hands or something, but propelling himself backward with his own breath? Even putting aside the fact that he was foam rubber, his joints didn’t bend, and the buildings he destroyed were about as convincingly real as Michael Jackson’s face, it just doesn’t seem right. I’ll have to dust off my Origin of Species and see what Chuck Darwin has to say about it.


We begin this week with the “Good Wife Bad Wife” competition. It’s pretty simple, really. Each girl is presented with a dual sided sign. One side reads “Good Wife” and the other “Bad Wife”. The girls take turns standing in front of the others and the others vote on whether that girl will make a good wife or a bad wife for our Fatchelor, Luke. Notwithstanding the fact that this is a competition between 8 women who have never been asked on a ‘real date’ and have no concept of any male/female relationship the women quickly become marriage experts. Everyone seems to play fair except Lauren.

Let’s see . . . how do I describe Lauren? Well, she’s sort of like the runt of the litter if you replaced the “R” in “runt’ with a “C”. She proceeds to brutalize 6 of the 7 other women to the point of making them cry. Kristian is actually the funniest. “She’s too emotional to be married.” Marriage is a “big deal” and I’m not sure she’s “emotionally stable” enough to be a wife. What? Kristian responds by . . . well, becoming emotionally unstable and, of course, crying uncontrollably. More of the same ensues until we get to Heather—my front runner. To be fair, I thought the “Cabaret Entertainer” (read, “stripper”) would win at first, but Heather was up there on my short list. Thanks to the fact that the stripper was ratted out in week two by Angry Lauren for being as barren as the ratings on this show, I am now a fan of Heather. Thanks, Lauren. I’m the only man you’ve ever made happy. Perhaps we could introduce Lauren to Angry Dave from the Bachelorette. He seemed open-minded and tolerant. They could live Angrily Ever After together.

During the “challenge,” for some reason Lauren—who referred to Heather as her “biggest competition” (I’m certain she meant that literally and figuratively), votes Heather a “Good Wife” thereby pushing her over the fence to victory. Look, it’s been apparent since after the puking in the river incident that Heather is a nice person and—dare I say it—attractive too. Like the other women she’s insecure because of her weight but she’s not certifiably crazy like the rest of them. All she has to do is hold onto the ball until she crosses the goal line. Her “competition” has a way of imploding. She was actually voted a “Good Wife”--we learn from the other girls--because she is “nice,” “sweet,” and “fun.” Lauren, however, thinks there are more important qualities that a wife should have; namely, cooking and “taking care” of her man. As a man I can unequivocally say that I’d rather have someone that is nice, sweet, and fun around me all the time than a cranky fat woman who can cook. Shut your pie hole, Lauren.

Mel B., possibly the biggest (there I go again) crier in the house, cries and cries and cries her way to last place in the challenge. She is unanimously voted a “Bad Wife”. Here’s the twist. She and our front runner Heather both win a one-on-one date with Luke while the remaining girls win the dreaded group date. After Emme swoops in to give everyone the news, she quietly disappears; presumably to go eat. Lauren is not happy. In a four-letter laced tirade that would make Andrew Dice Clay blush she asserts her overall attractiveness and superiority over Heather and Mel B. The power of denial is truly amazing. I know if I was going to go on eHarmony or or iSlut or whatever to find my dream girl the first three characteristics I would list are Fat, Aggressive, and Angry. At this point, it’s clear Lauren’s f*cking time is f*cking limited. F*cking thank God.

Luke’s first date is with Mel B. After crying and then getting dressed she meets Luke for a short limo ride to a Moroccan restaurant. I will say this about our Fatchelor. He’s an open book. Unlike the skinny bachelors with the skinny crazy girls, Luke doesn’t mess around. It’s clear that he wasn’t into Danielle or any of the other women he’s been on one-on-one dates with except Heather. It must be torture for him to sit there and listen to Mel B. and the others recount stories of how miserable they are because of their weight. “Awww, you’re beautiful,” is his canned response. It’s about as convincing as a Clinton apology. During the most awkward moment between them the producers send in two hot, in shape, belly dancers to dance with Luke and Mel B. Are you kidding me? Of course, Luke decides to get up and dance. Frankly, I’m so tired of watching this guy dance. It’s not entertaining. Nonetheless, Luke shakes what his mama (and a few hundred pizzas) gave him while a voice over of Mel B’s trembling voice reminds us, once again, that she’s fat and insecure. Eventually, the half naked size 2 belly dancers make her feel un-insecure enough to stand up and pretend to have fun. At the end of the date, there’s a cordial kiss and Luke retreats to his lair to wash off the Mel B. and void his bowels of the coriander, pickled lemons, and saffron from the Moroccan food before picking Heather up for their date. Mel B. returns to the house and recounts tales of exotic foods and Luke’s belly dancing skills. “He looked amazing,” she offers. Really? Apparently, it was a Moroccan hookah bar too.

Next, the lovely Heather emerges in an evening gown. Mel B. is immediately crushed because it is clear that Luke is taking her on a better date. The only thing I’ll say about Luke and Heather’s date is that it was lovely. Clearly, they like each other. We should just send the other cows out to pasture (that’s a metaphor) and be done with this show.

Now, the group date. I always love the group dates. Ah yes, the alcohol and insecurity flow liberally throughout the evening. Luke decides to pamper the girls at a local spa. They emerge to find Luke looking like the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man in a giant white terrycloth robe that, if dropped in the pool, would soak up all of the water. We immediately cut to a shot of Fat Angry Lauren complaining about not getting any f*cking one-on-one time with Luke followed by a montage of her insults to the other girls and a revelation that she’s concerned that Malissa is using her “physical attributes” to get to Luke. Translation: Malissa is a tramp. I love it.

Malissa then moves in. Yes, her name is spelled with an “a” instead of an “e”. Apparently, it’s from the Latin words “Mal” meaning “bad” and “issa” meaning “genes.” She quickly spirits Luke away to a conveniently full bubble bath and disrobes to reveal the biggest set of boobs displayed on television since Ed, Reid, and Kiptyn were in the final rose ceremony. I mean these things are huge. It looked like she was stealing ham. Seriously. I haven’t seen anything that big since I was in Boulder, Colorado last weekend. Her boobs were so big that Luke went from Woo to Whoa. I’ve seen camels with smaller humps. Despite the massive water displacement, Luke and Malissa hit the tub for a make out session while the other girls stew in the anger and desperation we’ve all come to love.

When he’s done bowling, Luke actually has the balls to go back to the party and start hitting on the other women. The normal ones are appalled but the desperate ones are glad to have him back. Lauren sees her opportunity to be vulgar and negative in a private setting and gets Luke alone on the balcony. Oh, but wait. The other girls find a conveniently full bathtub and what looks like a bowl of guacamole nearby and investigate. Presumably, it was all meant for Luke and Lauren but they all jump in and begin smearing themselves with the guacamole. Luke quickly joins the celebration. Frankly, I was frightened. Lauren seals her f*cking fate by swearing some more and Mel B. seals hers by crying and pouting. Luke gives them the boot and we end with a jiggly group hug.

Lord, please let the Bachelor begin soon.

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