Ali Bachelorette Episode 6: The Turkey Leaves Turkey

Hello again. Here we are mid-season with the drama heating up. Before I get to the big show, I have a couple of housekeeping items. Obviously, the big breakup of The D-Bag from Denton and the Lazy-Eyed Lassie from North of Tallahassee has been the focus of the free world this week. Oil spill, shmoil spill. Not surprisingly, I have some thoughts on that tragedy (the breakup, not the oil spill); however, in light of the “special” interview next week where they both fulfill their contractual obligations to “confront” each other while Harrison moderates with a smug look in his face, I’ll save those until it airs. Second, I’d like to give a Some Guy from Austin shout out to my favorite lingerie shop in Arlington, Virginia. Thanks for hosting the blog reading party and thank you for the nice emails. I’m sure you’re all a bunch of lovely broads and I appreciate you thinking of me while you soak yourselves in chardonnay amongst rows of lacy unmentionables while reading my blog aloud. Now, let’s get to it.

We begin this week with a reminder that Ali and the boys are traveling from Iceland to Istanbul, Turkey via a layover in Paris. Iceland and Istanbul? What’s next, Israel, India, Iran, Iraq, Italy, Ireland, Indonesia, Iowa, and Indiana? Feel free to insert your own “I” destination if I missed it.

As is her custom upon arriving in any foreign country, Ali wanders aimlessly through the streets and feeds us facts about the location provided to her by location scouts. Wearing her gray short short coat and a long gray cover-her-rear-end sweater, Ali and her knee boots tell us that she’s thrilled to be searching for love in Istanbul. She uses colorful, multi-syllabic adjectives to describe the city and actually avoids the word “so” for the entirety of her description. Perhaps the editors read my blog.

We cut to a shot of the men exiting the bus in front of this week’s hotel sponsor, the Istanbul Hyatt, as we picture Kasey sitting at home in Clovis, California in front of the TV with a dinner tray in front of him watching the show as he prepares to eat his neighbor’s liver with a side of fava beans and a nice Chianti. All of the boys looked travel weary. Well, except for Roberto who looked muy fantastico. Harrison stands waiting at the doorstep and we realize that something is amiss. Harrison is in no mood to F around with date cards and rules this week. His gray courdoroy blazer, red v-neck sweater, and white undershirt scream business and we know that Harrison is about to earn his paycheck. Craig R. and his child-sized hat begin the first of many whines. Uninterested, Harrison splits for the hotel bar for a couple pops before heading up to Ali’s room to drop the hammer.

We cut to Ali primping in the mirror as the men wooo hooo the Man Suite and she tells us that she’s going to separate the friends from the husbands this week. “I don’t think anything could go wrong at this point,” she naively muses as she dabs a tad of Eau de the Sh*t’s About to Hit the Fan on her wrists. We simultaneously hear the unmistakable “I have news that’s bad for you but good for the ratings” knock of Chris Harrison. Ali answers the door and Harrison dispenses with the pleasantries. He’s all business this week, damnit. After his pee or get off the toilet conversation with Ali last week, Harrison is in no mood for small talk. He tells Ali that former Jake reject, Jessie, has some information for her. Harrison dials the phone and we hear it ring 5 times as Ali sweats it out waiting for the news. We assume that Jessie was telling all of her girlfriends to be quiet before she picked up the phone and put Harrison on speaker. She picks up and is greeted with the words that every woman wants to hear, “Hey, it’s Chris Harrison.” Miraculously, Jessie has a camera crew in her hoose in Toronto. Harrison hands Ali the phone and then does his best Abe Lincoln Memorial pose while he sits patiently waiting for the ratings to go up.

Jessie drops some “right reasons” talk and rats out Justin for having a girlfriend before handing the phone to Justin’s girlfriend and setting her oven timer for 15 minutes in order to keep track of her fame. We get a shot of Jessica who looked a lot like a poor man’s Marissa Tomei and she confesses to letting Justin go on the show for his career so he could find success in the fake wrestling ring before marrying her. “I didn’t want to do this,” Jessica sobs—yea, well you just did. Apparently, Justin cheated with some other bimbo and was sneaking around to make calls to Jessica in violation of the loosely-enforced Bachelorette rules forcing the formerly complicit but now scorned Jessica to track down last season’s tattle tale in an effort to fix things and enter herself as the dark horse contestant for next season’s Bachelorette.

I’m sooo soorreeee, she says, which means “I’m sufficiently regretful” in American. An emotionless Ali listens patiently as Harrison prepares to be sensitive. Ali hangs up with Jessica and we envision Jessica and Jessie retiring to the living room to split a bottle of sauvignon blanc and put together a mix tape of Patty Griffin and Nora Jones songs that they believe apply to this situation.

Harrison drops a “sorry” and sits back to listen to Ali rehash the “giving everything up to be here” theme of the season. I found it ironic that she was wearing cheetah print shoes considering the fact that she’d just found out that Justin was, in fact, a cheetah. Get it? I’ll be here all week, folks. Tip your waitstaff.

As she was talking to Harrison like he was Oprah, I couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t care. I was waiting for the “this is EXACTLY what my dad did to my mom” line to pop out confirming her daddy issues. I suppose that was edited out. With a little prodding from Harrison and presumably from the producers, Ali decides to confront Justin in the Man Suite. Harrison throws turpentine on the fire while simultaneously earning product placement revenue from Apple by busting out an iPhone picture of Justin and Jessie piggy backing at the beach. Ali heads out to lay the smackdown on Justin’s candy ass.

They march down the hall as Harrison tells her, “be strong and let him have it.” “Let’s do this,” he says as Ali attempts to recreate the “I have news that’s bad for you but good for the ratings” knock patented by Harrison. Craig R. and his Dumb and Dumber haircut answer the door in his mint green, super feminine v-neck and we realize that he’s the perfect person for the job. Justin appears to know that something is rotten in Istanbul as Roberto chooses the perfect spot next to Ali in anticipation of a comfort opportunity.

Ali calls Justin on his Istanbulls*it and begins to bust Justin’s balls as we get a peek into the window of what the poor bastard who ends up with Ali will have to endure every time he forgets milk on the way home from work. Sick of hearing it and realizing that he’s about to be Wes Haydened, Justin grabs his wallet and passport and in a moment of Bachelorette gold drops a “F*ck You. Straight Up,” on Harrison as he leaves. Impervious, Harrison sits back to watch events unfold. Mission accomplished. It’s time to film the fallout.

Craig R. changes into a more serious, but equally feminine black hoodie and takes comfort that his BS detector still works. Ali disrupts the serenity of the Istanbul Hilton by following a fleeing Justin around and loudly questioning his manhood as the men watch from the Man Suite. Justin inexplicably tramples through flower beds in an attempt to avoid the camera and Chris L. quickly grabs a pen and a cocktail napkin in order to prepare a re-mulching estimate.

Ali and Harrison reflect by the fountain as the Producers track Justin down and remind him of his contractual obligations. “Uh, line two of paragraph four says you owe us five million bucks if you don’t go back.” Harrison splits as Justin returns in an effort to talk aboot it and straighten it oot. Ali talks over him, rubs his face in it, rehashes the gave up everything theme, actually gives him the Kasey was better than you speech, and questions his manhood again. Sick of the berating and realizing that she’s been instructed to humiliate him, Justin leaves in order to wander various hotel lobbies and the streets of Istanbul like Kane from Kung Fu as we hear the loving voice mails he left Jessica in violation of the Bachelorette rules. It’s nice to see that the Producers learned from the Wes Hayden and Roz Papa situations. Pictures, voice mails, and a camera on the girlfriend pretty much destroyed any deniability Justin had. Case closed.

Back in the room, Kirk is “shocked”, Craig R. gloats then whines, Ty and his bootie socks say something, and Roberto sits there being sensitive. The date card arrives and Ty is invited to get steamy with Ali. Craig R. whines some more and Frank twitches nervously. Ali changes earrings and loses the tiny coat in favor of a tiny vest and heads out for a contemplative walk. She pretends that “supposobly” is a word.

Proving that combs and hair gel are not allowed in Turkey, Ty shows up with a choker bigger than the giant one he’s been wearing all season. Ali and Ty go sight seeing and bazaar shopping and we see that Ty’s giant choker also came with matching wristbands. Ty and Ali meander through the streets until coming up to a building that “is like 300 years old.” Ty and Ali put on table cloths and wooden shoes and we see that Ali’s cheetah shoes gave her blisters because she forgot to remove the band-aids on her heels. They enter some weird planetarium looking bathhouse and Ali tells us that she feels “empowered by people bathing here for like 300 years,” and that she’s excited because women are not typically allowed into bathhouses.

Uh Ali, do you know why women are not allowed in bathhouses? Because they are not needed in bathhouses. Also, bathing is typically not the first thing that men go to a bathhouse to do. Hell, I half expected to see Elton John and Anderson Cooper in there. Also, a 300 year old bathhouse? I can only imagine what 300 years of anonymous gay sex smells like. Nice date. Oblivious, Ali and Ty carry on. Ty thanks her 50 times and they rub what we hope is mayonnaise on each other as they sit in the same spot for hours. We picture the fat camera guy sweating profusely while trying to keep his lens clear.

Back at the house, Clark Kent Frank and his Bermuda shorts and yellow oxford talk to Chris L. and his Charlie Brown Yellow t-shirt. Frank looked like he just got done playing shuffleboard on a cruise ship. Roberto sits there being sensitive. Craig R. whines about wanting a 1 on 1 date in every piece of clothing in his suitcase. Can you imagine how much whining he did in order for the edit to contain a snippet of him whining in 4 different outfits? Brutal. “Love Conquers Olive” the less-than-creative date card reads and we learn that Chris L., Roberto, Kirk, and Craig R. get the group date. Craig R. whines some more.

Back at the bathhouse Ali and Ty continue to rub each and eventually kiss to porno music and background noises and every Turkish homosexual wonders why the bathhouse is closed. Ty thanks Ali again and they share a disgusting, sweaty hug. You know I used to have a cranky old Jewish woman named Mrs. Sperber who lived down the street from me when I was a kid. She used to put mayonnaise in her hair to make it silky smooth. I found that odd. Annnyyyyhoooo.

Ali and Ty clean up and go to dinner. Ty over does it with an awful toast and we could almost hear the “are you kidding me” ring around in Ali’s head as she humored him, ready to pounce on him with tell me about your divorce questions. Ty kisses her big ass for a bit and eventually fishes for reciprocity. Ali giggles her way through the awkwardness and we wonder if Ty will reveal that he once suffered from mold sickness.

Ali proves she knows nothing about marriage by asking, “was there like a incident that happened one day or was it like building?” Ty does his best to put a positive spin on his divorce but clumsily reveals that he got divorced because his old lady wanted to work and he preferred that she watch the cave while he hunted for food. Ali was clearly unimpressed and pretends that she works for a living. Tie backpedals saying that he respects the fact that Ali is a career woman. Dude, she’s UNEMPLOYED. Ty is certain that Ali will be “suh-cess-ful” in whatever she does.

“Concerned” by the fact that Ty is actually—albeit cheesy--a nice respectful person who wants to provide for his wife and family, she gives him a rose anyway as we get another piece of the Why Ali’s Not Married puzzle snapped into place. Ali and Ty meet some Turkish guys on the square and dance horribly as the men play weird instruments. When are they going to get a guy who can actually lead a woman around the dance floor on this show? Knowing how to dance is like having a puppy or a trust fund. Women love it. I suppose Roberto has his salsa. Perhaps he’ll get an opportunity to set the flamenco afire in Portugal next week. We’ll see.

We head unmercifully into the group date as the guys do the Laverne and Shirley walk through town again in search of Ali. Kirk, apparently returning from a Cricket match, sports his argyle sweater under a jacket that the Weatherman left behind. Chris L. demonstrates his goofy gait and his white Plasticman sunglasses, Craig R. has another whining shirt on, and Roberto effortlessly makes his unironed, short sleeve shirt look better than Kirk’s sweater. The men eventually “find” Ali atop some giant tower and the predictable Rapunzel comments flow like free booze at a pre-rose ceremony cocktail party. Ali alerts us that the tower is part of a 15th century fortress built by the Ottoman empire, which she finds fascinating because she can’t believe that there was an entire empire dedicated to building footrests. The men are ready to “embrace Turkish tradition and culture” and proceed to guzzle giant beers and chain smoke unfiltered cigarettes at 10 AM.

Here’s where it gets weird.

Out of nowhere appear 4 Turkish mariachis, 4 oily shirtless guys, and 1 guy in a suit with a whistle. We lament Justin’s departure as we discover that olive oil wrestling is a favorite Turkish pastime. Bathhouses, spice bazaars, and oil wrestling? When did this show turn into a gay parade?

I found it interesting to know that the time honored tradition of Jell-O wresting we have here in various “gentlemen’s” establishments has its roots in Turkey. I wondered if—like American Jell-O wrestlers--the 4 Turkish guys were also named after spices, fruits, or cities in Nevada. I didn’t see any sparkly powder on them, but I’m certain it was obscured by the olive oil. The guys undress as Chris L. provides sufficient straight guy talk in an effort to fend off the gayness of the whole situation. Roberto oils up his dimples as he proves that didn’t receive the shave your entire body memo that the other guys clearly got.

All of the guys lose horribly to the angry Turks except Roberto who clearly threw his match so as not to embarrass the others. The Turks take a cigarette break as Chris R. whines at the fact that he’s “a lawyer not an athlete.” I suppose Bobby Jones might take exception to that characterization, but he whines about fighting with words as Ali and her pouty lower lip prepare to be fought over for alone time. Craig R. beats Chris L., Roberto beats Kirk, and then the Harrison talks Roberto into throwing his match with Craig R. because he’s sick of hearing him whine. Craig R. “earns” the 1 on 1 time with Ali and characterizes it as “better than winning a big case” and anyone who knows anything about the practice of law in a big East Coast defense firm rolled his eyes knowing that 27 year old lawyers won’t touch a real case for years. Idiot. Incidentally, I would have loved to see either Frank or Kasey involved in the oil wrestling. Enough said. I would include the Weatherman, but when it comes to bathhouses and oil wrestling, we know he’s done both.

As Craig R. slips further into denial about, well, everything, Kirk worries that Craig R. could get an advantage over him because of the coveted alone time. Dude, look at your abs and then look at the gooey mess that constitutes Craig R.’s mid-section. You’re fine. Craig and Ali go on an uneventful boat ride and eat dessert atop some other really old tower while Craig R. makes sh*tty jokes and Ali pretends as hard as she can to be interested. They act like it’s the first time either one of them has seen a firework and we realize that Craig R. is FINALLY set to be sent to Turkish prison.

Back at the Man Suite the date card comes and we learn the Super Frank (without his Clark Kent glasses), gets the 1 on 1. The “road to love is bazaar” the card reads. Roberto pretends to be threatened by Craig R. and Frank. Ali awaits Frank’s arrival in her knee boots and strategically long hide-her-rear-end coat like a hooker on an Istanbul street corner and let’s us know that this is a make or break date for Frank. We don’t care.

Frank arrives in his Clark Kent glasses; however, he strategically balances them with his lucky green jacket and trusty Seven jeans. Why do guys wear those things? Embroidered pockets? Really?

Frank and Ali do that weird high hand holding move that Jake used last season and we assume that Frank and Jake shared the same Bachelor instructor as we worry about Ali’s rotator cuff being injured in the event that Frank slips. They skip to the spice bazaar for some shopping. Ahh, the spice bazaar. What man doesn’t like to take a nice romantic stroll through an overly crowded market filled with aggressive Turkish merchants? Those places are about as safe as a Mexican 18 wheeler. Regardless, Frank floats on air as he and Ali get bilked into buying some Spanish Fly (I suppose it was Turkish Fly) from a vendor who shares Kirk’s affinity for argyle. It’s too bad Jake and Vienna didn’t get to go to Turkey and buy aphrodisiacs. Apparently, they could have used them. Frank dons a fake sultan hat and Ali dresses like a belly dancer as they giggle the afternoon away. I got up and got a beer.

Basking in his new found masculinity, Craig R. sports a Kenny Chesney black muscle shirt and talks about Frank going home. He then dresses as a pot and calls a kettle black as Roberto—fresh off a stroll in the park and adding one plus one—listens intently. Chris L. and Ty bond as well and we assume Kirk was somewhere completing his P90X workout.

Frank displays his Yassir Arafat PLO scarf as he and Ali continue to shop. They get screwed by the Turkish mafia into buying a rug before heading to the Basilica of Something to dine in the middle of a sewage tunnel while we see Ali and her mood necklace worry about Frank’s lack of confidence. Ali is impressed with the magical nature of the sewage tunnel and is happy about its history, although she has no idea what that history is. Frank tries not to squeeze the bunny to death like Lenny in Of Mice and Men and manages to keep it together long enough for Ali to finally admit that she has control issues. Frank and Ali have an insecurity contest in the middle of the sewer and Frank eventually earns a rose in order to continue the “hard, difficult emotional journey” he’s embarked on with Ali. Way to hold it together, Frank.

We cut back to the Man Suite with the men suited up and jonesing for a drink. Roberto shows Craig R. how to make French blue look good and still doesn’t tighten his tie because he doesn’t have to. Frank adds a touch of color to his Mad Men suit and Chris L. looks like a kid at a wedding in his disheveled shirt and coat and Sketchers. Dude, you’re not five. Buy some dress shoes. Ty sports a pink “Ty” and Kirk and his double Windsor knot wait nervously on the couch.

Ali sits in the Lair of Seclusion in her black evening dress with her sloppy extensions and smoky eyes awaiting the arrival of Harrison for an important chat. Harrison arrives in his red power tie ready to listen. In an effort to cut the show short because of the Justin situation, Ali “decides” to eliminate the cocktail party—they had to find 30 minutes somewhere—and move straight to the dumping. Harrison reiterates Ali’s desire to ditch the party before leaving the Lair of Seclusion. Ali tells us that it’s not fair to send a guy home after the cocktail party. What? At least let the guy get liquored up before you send him packing. Geez.

Harrison arrives downstairs to the pack of nervous guys with his sport coat buttoned. The ubiquitous champagne glass and fork clearly have no place in this meeting and Harrison lets us know again that he’s not F’ing around this week as we hear the production crew in the background moving the contents of the bar meant for the now defunct cocktail party into Harrison’s suite. Harrison reiterates what he reiterated before and sends the guys upstairs to stand on Frank’s new rug in anticipation of Ali’s arrival.

“Pack up the bar snacks too and get me 4 female olive oil wrestlers in leather pants, I’ll be there in 20,” Harrison says as he unbuttons his coat and heads upstairs to restate the rules of the rose ceremony.

Frank and Ty revel in their safeness and Ali hands out the remaining roses.

1. Roberto (proving that second place in an olive wrestling contest is all he needs to stay alive)

2. Chris L. (again, uses too much ammunition by dropping a “you look beautiful” on Ali as she pins the rose on his wrinkled sport coat)

3. Kirk (see, I told you the abs were enough to beat Craig R.)

Craig R. becomes the first guy to ruin a cocktail party and get booted. He enters the van of humiliation and sniffles his way to the airport. He was a pain in the neck all season but it was hard not to feel sorry for the guy. Go back to Philly and work on your career and your game, Craig R. You’re young enough to start over.

There it is. After the most homoerotic episode of the Bachelorette, with the Amazing count at 103 we head to Lisbon, Portugal where the drama continues to build. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be spice shopping at the local bazaar. DP

Ali Bachelorette Episode 5: Stone Cold Crazy

Hello and welcome back. It’s been one week since the last recap and boy has a lot happened. We begin with our usual recap of the recap and just in case we all missed it, we get a montage of last week’s episode when Krasey was pushed ever closer to the edge of sanity. This week promises international travel, geysers, volcanoes, natural hot springs, and brushes with confused foreign white people.

But first, in other Bachelor news, I’d like to thank my reader Mallory for being the first of many to send me the not-so-shocking news that the D-Bag from Denton, Jake Pavelka, and that tramp he picked over the virginal Tenley have broken up. I’m crushed. It will be refreshing to hear them pretend to wish each other well after their contrived, phony relationship ended. Vienna will finally have a reason to show us her long face. I know it’s wishful thinking but I wish Jake would just go back to building gazebos in the backyard of his starter home in Denton. Fat chance. For tonight anyway, in some lonely studio sits Tenley crafting an interpretive dance in an attempt to make sense of it all. I’ll give Vienna credit for at least waiting until Jake collected his last Dancing with the Stars check to dump his ass. I’m sure she’ll attempt to secure a host position on some B-list cable network but will ultimately end up back in the swamps of Florida working in her parents’ meth lab. Such is the folly of love. Whatever.

In the meantime, let’s get to it.

Upon hearing that they are headed to Iceland, half of the men wonder if that’s a country or a theme park. Their questions are answered when they leave New York and we begin with the men aboard the Icelandair jetliner mugging for the camera in coach awaiting their arrival while Harrison undoubtedly downs his fifth scotch and water in up in First Class. This week’s soon-to-be Nashville star, Ty from Tennessee, tells us that he gets chills (I know, although it escaped Ty, the irony killed me too) at the prospect of going to Iceland. He’s pretty sure that no one ever dreamt of one day going to Iceland in search of love. Well, Ty, apparently the entire staff at ABC dreamt of it about 8 months ago. Details.

After sneaking his chloroform and his favorite snuffin’ rags through customs, Krasey continues teetering on the edge of sanity by showing off his tattoo to the Unabomber—that might have been Chris L. in his ridiculous hoodie—saying that he will break out the tattoo to Ali at the “right place and right time.” Whatever you say, Van der Sloot. Whatever you say. By the way, someone might want to check Krasey’s travel schedule to see if he was in Aruba around the time Van der Sloot got picked up for the Holloway disappearance. As the Five-O would say, “I like him for it.”

Moving on, Roberto gets some dimple time and we see panoramic views of a bunch of freaking ice before we cut to Ali meandering the streets of Reykjavik extolling Iceland’s virtues in her red jacket, scarf, black stretchy pants, and Elmer Fudd hat. In an effort to dumb it down for everyone without access to a globe, we are unnecessarily reminded that Iceland is a European island country located in the North Atlantic Ocean on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Thanks, ABC.

Ali busts out the black turtleneck that Jake wore on his Coit Tower date with Tenely for her close up and uses the word “magical” to describe Iceland. I was pleased to know that we finally found a place where black turtlenecks and 30 foot scarves are appropriate. Ali actually looked rested and pretty and I was pleased to know that the make-up crew made the trip.

Proving that he wasn’t about to simply phone it in, Harrison makes his first appearance in his fleece pullover, untucked blue picnic table shirt, jeans, and suede Converse sneakers. He’s young and playful, but he’s clearly here on business. Harrison doesn’t leave the confines of the LA mansion for nothing. The men show up in jeans, jackets, and their own Elmer Fudd hats. Harrison probably had access to one of those but he sure as hell wasn’t about to wear it.

Harrison tells us that there are 3 dates this week: one group date, the dreaded Beyond Thunderdome two men enter one man leaves two-on-one date, and the coveted one-on-one date. Simple, right? No way. Hold you’re Elmer Fudd hat. This week’s one-on-one will be determined when Ali selects her date based on the quality of a personalized love poem. Slide in some Icelandic words is the suggestion and the men stress over having just one hour to write it. One hour to write a stupid poem is stressful? I write this thing in about 3 hours in the middle of the night. I should have applied for a consultant job on that show. Even Krasey spontaneously rhymed “pretty” with “city” last week.

Love pads and love pencils are conveniently provided and Harrison splits with a few of the crew members in order to kill a couple of pitchers at the Reykjavik Hooters before returning to move things forward.

Kirk proves he took his Dramamine on the plane and downed some Red Bulls in the morning in the by being Tony Robbins motivated. Roberto wonders if any Icelandic words rhyme with “dimples” and Krasey smiles when he realizes that “volcano” goes well with “insane-o.” In what will prove to be a good week for Frank, he gets creative by attempting to meet the locals and gather a few Icelandic terms before realizing that no Icelandic words rhyme with anything. Justin, Kirk, Chris L., and Roberto try the same thing by accosting the locals and we are reminded of why everyone hates America.

In an effort to ease international tensions, Harrison finishes getting his new Women of Iceland Hooters calendar signed and arrives back at the square just in time to quell the harassment. Frank confidently tells us that he’s written a few love poems in his time and we wonder if he quit his job and left the states for a few weeks to do it. Chris N. and his odd hat choice tell us that “he’s got no experience writing poems.” What? He has little experience talking. It’s obvious that he’s on the chopping block this week. They should have just made an ice sculpture of him with that stupid hat on and saved the airfare. The effect would have been identical. Clearly, this week is shaping up to be the Justin vs. Krasey week. More about that later.

In anticipation of the poetry contest Ali tips her “I have Daddy issues” hand and opines that it’s “difficult for guys to express their feelings, especially in poetry.” I think maybe Shakespeare, Bacon, Joyce, Wordsworth, Longfellow, and Whitman might disagree. Hell, even I can express my feelings in poetry. By way of example, the following Haiku expresses my feelings about this season’s Bachelorette.

Stupid dating show
Fools fighting for average chick
Roberto wins big

See, it’s not THAT difficult.

Back to the Poetry Slam. Clearly the most unattractive of the remaining guys, Craig R. whines some more about never having a one-on-one date and we presume that in high school he was voted Most Likely to Masturbate. Harrison rounds up the budding wordsmiths and we see Ali and her stretch pants run into the picture. Was it me or did she run weird? She looked like she either had to pee or was playing that stupid baby shower game where you put a quarter between your knees and waddle across the room to try and drop it in a glass.

In an effort to cover up her awkward gait, we cut to Ty who makes the amorphous and innocuous statement that Ali “could pretty much rock anything she wears.” Frankly, I really didn’t care what came out of Ty’s mouth this week. I was just glad that I didn’t have to look at that giant turtle choker.

The poetry reading commences and Craig R. whines in Icelandic but actually makes Ali laugh. The guy did well this week because he finally relaxed a little. Krasey drops more of his “guard and protect” nonsense and I was reminded of a saying we have here in Texas. It’s called Deja Moo. That’s the feeling that you’ve heard this bulls*it before. His poem sucked and Ali could barely stomach it. Ty did alright and Justin was terrible. Chris L. got a laugh and Chris N. proved that he should have remained silent. Proving that they learn by watching, Kirk and Frank attempt to out Roberto Roberto by stealing his patented Look Directly at Ali and Approach Her While Reading move. Speaking of Roberto, his poem was not very good. I choose to believe that he purposely threw the competition in an effort to make things appear interesting. So he can’t rhyme in Icelandic; he already speaks all of the really cool languages.

In a rare occurrence, Harrison sticks around through the contest before going back to the Reykjavik Hooters to view the quality of the new girls after the afternoon shift change and get some more autographs on his calendar. Citing the aforementioned Roberto move, Ali selects Kirk for the one-on-one. He wins with class as Krasey continues his slide down the slippery slope and Frank—who looks a lot like Ryan Seacrest when he’s not wearing his Coke bottle glasses--wallows in crippling jealousy. Frank takes in the beauty of Iceland and wonders if he should quit his job as a retail manager and move there for six weeks in order write screenplays before returning home to live with his parents.

It’s first date time and Ali freezes to death on a statue before Kirk and his orange hunting jacket show up to greet her. It’s a shame he didn’t pair his Elmer Fudd hat with that jacket. It would have really tied the entire ensemble together. Ali and last week’s gray silky dress and that weird hair thing that didn’t hold her hair back comment on Kirk. We assume everyone else is preoccupied wooking for wabbits.

Kirk and Ali invade a local sweater shop and poke fun at the local culture by mocking the inventory. They eventually settle on matching sweaters and Kirk tells us that he “feels like a bit of a cheeseball.” Ironic, considering he’s from Wisconsin. He didn’t look like a bit of a cheeseball. He looked like a really big cheeseball. Matching sweaters? Really? Kirk and Ali leave the shop looking like an Aryan version of Donnie and Marie and go to feed the disgusting flock of geese nearby. Nothing screams romance like a flock of disease carrying, angrily tempered, filthy birds.

After fending off the avian flu, Kirk and Ali retire to a local coffee shop and we learn that Ali suspects that Kirk has *gasp* a history. Kirk blocks her attempts to pry with his Livestrong bracelet and we learn that Ali will soon get to the bottom of the issue. Speaking of the bottom of the issue, we get a shot of Ali’s trailer as she and Kirk walk arm in arm away from the coffee shop. She looked as good as she’s looked all season this week, but it’s impossible to hide that thing, even with a fancy sweater.

Back at the Reykjavik Hilton in the guy chamber we learn that Roberto, Chris L., Chris N., Craig R., Ty, and Frank get the group date and the Justin vs. Krasey showdown is confirmed. Frank states the obvious by saying that Justin and Krasey don’t like each other and Justin proves that he’s under the delusion that fake wrestling is like real wrestling by spouting off some ridiculous wresting metaphors and telling us that he’s aboot to take Krasey oot.

Kirk and Ali arrive at some lobster place and Ali says her lines, giving Kirk the set up for his big secret. After an endless lead in, Kirk FINALLY gets to the big punch line. Ali fights through her obvious boredom and learns that Kirk was afflicted with—I’m not kidding here---“mold sickness.” Good God. Look, I went through a health scare once and it was awful, but come on. We waited five weeks for mold sickness? Kirk, I’m glad you’re alright, but dude, lose that story in the future or at least throw in an experimental gay tryst or something. Mold sickness. Tenley had “I was a virgin until my cheating ex-husband married me.” Chris L. had “I left my life in New York to return home and care for my sick mother.” Roberto had “I speak all of the romantic languages, play baseball, and travel the world with my dimples.” Kirk? Mold sickness.

Glad that the story has come to an end and obviously certain that mold sickness is not contagious, Ali sucks face with Kirk and he shares more of his feelings. We learn that Ali is inspired by mold sickness and we also learn that when it comes to wooing a nubile bachelorette, Mold Sickness stories are equivalent to “I play baseball and travel the world” and “my mother passed away” stories. Kirk gets the rose he earned.

We cut to Frank and Krasey in their dimly lit hotel room where Frank opines that Krasey is “near the edge.” I’m pretty certain Krasey hasn’t seen the edge since he leaped over it a long time ago, but it was nice of Frank to pretend that Krasey had a modicum of sanity left. Frank—used to dealing with whackos since he worked with Paula Abdul on Idol—listens to Krasey who says, “if I’m not here for love, I don’t know why I’m here.” The answer is, of course, for the ratings, Krasey. Frank sees an opportunity and encourages Krasey to debut the tattoo. “It’s your time to shine,” he tells Krasey.

“I’m Kasey Kale. I’m a dreamer and a believer. It’s what I do.” Krasey tells us. Yea, well I’m pretty sure Charles Manson believed in his dreams too. Tap the brakes, Krasey. Tap the brakes.

Memo to Krasey—“I am physically ill” works. “I’m mentally ill” does not.

Group date. We see Ali standing in the cold holding 8 Shetland ponies waiting for the guys to arrive. I was going to say she froze her ass off, but upon further inspection, that clearly didn’t happen. The men arrive and Ty takes over. He’s been around horses before and, like Frank with Krasey, sees an opportunity to get ahead. Frank and Roberto give him credit and the men don matching jumpsuits looking like a stupid version of The Right Stuff.

In an effort to examine the healthcare system of Iceland, Justin “spontaneously” decides to have his cast removed believing it will give him an advantage over Krasey. Actually, his sanity was sufficient, but why gamble, right?

Back in the tundra, Ty continues to master the group date and prove that guys from the South are cooler than guys who live in big cities and eat lobster all day. He helps Ali with her horse and Frank, Chris L., and Craig R. sit there like pawns on a chess board watching the King work. They get to a cave and Ty assists Ali in getting her strap on. Wait a minute…oh, nevermind. Chris L., sensing that Ty is closing in on the rose, steps up and goes into the cave first. Nice move. Ali is next and Chris L. coughs up his gloves for some valuable alone time. Ali notices Frank’s lack of Alpha Maleness and proving that she is, in fact, ready for marriage she makes a mental note nag him about it later. All of them explore the ice cave with headlamps, except Roberto who simply smiled and used his dimples to light his way.

After some much needed hot chocolate at the base of the freaking Arctic Circle, the group travels via bus to the magical Blue Lagoon hot spring. Ali drops the snowsuit and busts out the bikini revealing her own version of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. I’ll give her credit, she looked great. Not surprisingly, Roberto is the first to lose los pantalones and he and the other men join Ali in the springs for some booze and banter. Ali gets some alone time with Frank to bust his balls about not stepping up and Frank proves his husband worthiness by sincerely saying the three words that every married woman longs to hear: “You’re absolutely right.” Ali gives the frosty rose to Ty. Like Kirk before him, he earned it. Nice job, Ty. Davy Crockett would be proud (he’s from Tenessee too).

In a prepared scene, Kirk and his Affliction shirt (also ironic considering his mold ‘affliction’) talk to Krasey about Justin as Justin overhears and pretends he’s still in the fake wrestling ring. The date card comes and Kirk reads it. “Let’s Explore the Fire and Ice.” Justin makes the most of the spongy mess that once was Krasey’s brain by getting in his head with some macho banter and we wait patiently knowing that Krasey will soon be eliminated.

We cut to the Reykjavik Hilton where Krasey gets some pre-date advice from Frank who encourages him to show Ali that ridiculous tattoo. Justin throws his sh*t in a suitcase and off they go. Ali and her new Barbarella extensions restate the Two Men Enter, One Man Leaves rules of the Two-on-One date and Krasey begins to boil over like a Reykjavik volcano.

Incidentally, the band Duran Duran (undoubtedly one of the Weatherman’s favorites) was named after a character in the movie Barbarella. I love it when things come together like that. Annnnyyyyhoooo. . .

Ali awaits the guys in front of another helicopter proving that her “fear” of flying was always a bunch of horses*it. Justin gets points for losing the cast and Krasey hates it. He tells us that he’s got a tattoo proving that he’s willing to endure any physical pain in order to win Ali. Look, I’ve broken my ankle twice and I’ve got a bunch of tattoos. A broken ankle trumps a tattoo every time. What a nutjob.

The helicoper lands atop a Mt. Three’s a Crowd and the three of them get out to view it. Krasey contemplates the sacrifice of a virgin but then realizes there hasn’t been one available since the Weatherman got kicked off last week. Justin makes some more ridiculous wrestling metaphors and lets us know again that he’s aboot to take Krasey oot. He actually compares Ali to a fake wrestling championship belt and we realize that his victory will be short lived. He’s clearly the one with the alleged girlfriend. Jerk.

In the most meaningless statement since everything that Gia said last season, Krasey tells us that he’s nervous because he could be sitting next to his “potential future wife.” What? That’s like working at Wal-Mart and being named the Assistant to the Assistant Vice President. The three enter an ice cave with ice furniture and Krasey goes ootside while Justin talks to Ali aboot their future. Justin phones it in knowing that Krasey is aboot to seal his fate.

Ali tells us that the “only thing Krasey has to do today is be normal.” That’s like saying that the only thing that giant, lava spewing volcano has to do is stop erupting or telling Grace Kelly to control her automobile. After some more of that “guard and protect” nonsense, Krasey reveals the tattoo and Ali does an incredibly poor job of not laughing in his Krazy face before the horror of the situation sinks in. She walks Justin and Krasey out into the middle of the tundra like French soldiers at Waterloo, buries her head in her scarf like some weird Icelandic snow turtle, and finally puts Krasey out of his misery. She “really greats” him and tells him that he’s SO wonderful and SO ready for a woman and she knows he can give SO much.

SO long.

Justin and Ali leave him floundering around the ice field like a wounded baby seal and Krasey tells us that he doesn’t “know where it went wrong.” Reeeealllly? Watch the tape, dude. You’re a mess. We hope that he made it back to the cave for some serious counseling on the ice couch before being repopulated back in Clovis, California. Good luck, Kasey. Please get the help you need.

Back at the Ice Dome, the men sit around and pretend to care that Krasey’s gone and Ali enters in her black, off-the-shoulder evening gown with a giant rhinestone broach. She looked lovely. Frank—again showing he’s a fast learner—steps up for some alone time. I like Frank. I think we all do. Frank and Ali get some alone time and she actually seems to really open up to him. Frank earns the background piano music and a kiss. He’s validated and renewed again and should hang on for a while longer.

Craig R. is ugly and nervous again but gets points for drawing his own version of the guard and protect tattoo. Chris N. claims he’s funny and lets us know he loves Mexican food before dropping a “good talk” on Ali as Chris L. in his brand spanking new v-neck undershirt saves her from the agony of a forced conversation with him. Chris L. puts an extra cherry atop his rose sundae by letting Ali know that his dad is his hero. Good stuff, Chris L. Just don’t waste all of your ammo if you don’t need it.

Roberto still doesn’t tighten his tie because he doesn’t need to as he makes Ali giggle and squirm like a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber meet and greet. He pretends to not know he’s hot. Ali digs him.

Harrison shows up without the ubiquitous champagne glass and fork proving that I need to get another adjective to describe the glass and fork. Is “semi-ubiquitous” a word? Harrison sports a black jacket, white oxford, and a black plaid tie debuting his first double windsor knot of the season. Proving that he’s no empty suit (see Chris N.), Harrison whisks Ali away to the Lair of Seclusion in an attempt to get to the bottom of her daddy issues. Incidentally, if you look at my blog from last season when Ali brought Jake back to her hometown, you’ll see that I called the daddy issues from 1,500 miles away. Guys like Harrison and me can sense these sorts of things. It’s a gift.

Harrison is as swarmy as ever. He’s like a male Barbara Walters asking the tough questions and calling Ali out on her reticence. I can hear the pre-Iceland production meeting now.

Producer: Is this broad going to fall in love or what? We’ve got 4 shows left.

Harrison: Pack my black and white plaid tie and put me on the plane. Consider it taken care of. No, don’t worry about the champagne glass and fork.

Ali and Harrison play a game of psychoanalytic poker and Harrison forces Ali to tip her hand. She’s afraid of not being loved back. She’s holding the Ace of Daddy Didn’t Love Me Enough and the Seven of Daddy Broke My Heart. Harrison gets the job done as he gives Ali a Don’t F with Chris Harrison hug before leaving Ali to ponder the head shots of the remaining men in the Lair of Seclusion.

In the most predictable rose ceremony of all time, Ali boots the mute and Chris N. stoically meets his contractual obligation to say something in the limo before hopping on a plane back to Orlando and disappearing into obscurity. I doubt Dancing with the Stars will be calling him any time soon.

Kirk, Ty, and Justin enjoy their date roses and a relieved Frank gets a rose as do Chris L., Roberto, and Craig R., proving that the whiney wheel gets the rose. After the Justin girlfriend meltdown next week, my prediction is that Craig R. will be sent packing. . .finally.

There you have it. With the Amazing Count at an amazing 93, we pack our bags and head to Turkey next week where it appears to get very interesting. Let me know your thoughts by commenting below. Feel free to express them in Haiku form for everyone to enjoy. Until next week, if you need me, I’ll be expressing my feelings. DP

Ali Bachelorette Episode 4: Krazy Time

Week 4 and the tension is high. There’s nothing quite like a little competition over a super hot woman to get men going. Since there was no super hot woman available, the guys set their sights on Ali. This week promised a departure from the stuffy confines of the giant MAN-sion and some genuinely whacko behavior by some of the less than well-adjusted macho men at the house. Let’s get to it.

The show begins with a softly lit picture of the most beautiful thing in Los Angeles: Roberto’s dimples. While the other men sit there in their faded v-neck t-shirts nervously belting cups of coffee and basking in the anticipation of Harrison’s arrival, Roberto sits basking in his wonderfulness. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and dog tags. Upon further examination it was apparent that the dog tags read “Mr. Right.” Seriously, the guy is like the ’85 Bears or the next thing Oprah loves. He’s guaranteed a spot in the final two. And by the way, does anyone buy this guy as an insurance salesman in South Carolina? Roberto looks more like the guy who shows up on your birthday at your door dressed like a police officer with tear away pants than he does an insurance salesman.

Harrison shows up in his solid black untucked oxford and jeans for his standard two minute set up the week stint. He lets us know that there are two one-on-one dates and one group date this week. “How far would you travel for love” is the theme and we learn that the guys are packing their sh*t and headed to The Big Apple. A shirtless Weatherman jumps up and down like a little girl at the possibility of living in even tighter quarters with the remaining men. Frank and his anchor shirt act excited and we see Chris L. in his Rocky Balboa hooded sweatshirt as we imagine him returning from a spirited jog through the streets of LA after punching a side of meat at the local butcher’s freezer before standing triumphantly on the capital steps ready to face Apollo Creed. Seriously, what was up with the hood?

Harrison puts a mirror under Chris N.’s nose in order to confirm that his airway is unobstructed before dropping the date card and heading out to make love to a stripper on a pile of cash. See you in NYC, chumps.

We next get shots of Ali walking meaningfully in her yellow knitted Mary Tyler Moore hat and knee high boots searching for love in the streets of Manhattan. She’s searching for love in New York City and she has the espresso from Starbucks to prove it. We then cut to a close up of her looking like she just played a spirited game of Flip Cup with Chris L. I can’t speak for all of the men but the camera certainly isn’t in love with her. She looked as disheveled as an Uptown hooker.

The men load up their cologne, Affliction t-shirts, and Hugo Boss jeans, and don giant sunglasses as they kiss the MAN-sion goodbye. We get a giant graphic picture of a fake plane traveling from LA to New York and wonder if it wasn’t put there for the benefit of the people in Appalachia huddled around a 14 inch black and white television behind the counter of the local bait shop with a coat hanger duct taped to the back of it drinking fire water from a mason jar and rooting for Ty. (Alright, people in Tennessee, just relax. The guy from Kansas was sent home early so I have to pick on someone). For the record, I love it there. I’ll make it up to you next week.

We cut to a shot of Ali headed to this week’s hotel sponsor, the Andaz hotel, for a much needed makeover. Ali meets Hal Rubenstein (whoever he is). He shares Ali’s desire to look fantastic. Ali uncomfortably looks through some outfits with her new Jewish homosexual friend and eventually picks one that hides her rear end and frankly made her look a little dumpy.

She’d be more comfortable in jeans, sneakers, and a loose top she tells us. Hal Rubenstein was having none of it. We see Ali getting sand blasted, Bondoed, and polished and wonder what has more space between them; the buildings in New York or Ali’s teeth. Seriously, if those things were a fence around Jesse’s property, his dogs would have escaped a long time ago.

Kirk, sporting his version of the white Weatherman sunglasses, speaks for everyone as he voices his excitement about boarding the plane. Ty and his giant choker echo the sentiment. When they arrive in NYC in their baggy jeans and hoodies they oooh and ahhh over the sweet suite that 11 of them will be living in like a Puerto Rican family in Harlem over the next week. Speaking of Harlem, has anyone ever wondered why in West Side Story when Tony is running through Spanish Harlem in the middle of the night screaming “Maria” that only Natalie Wood comes to the window? Who are they kidding? Looking for one “Maria” in Spanish Harlem is like looking for one excited gay guy at a Cher concert. Annnnyhooo…

In the next egregious product placement of the week, Hal Rubenstein (whoever he is) lets Ali know that she’s going to be in InStyle Magazine with Cameron Diaz on the cover. Of course, Cameron Diaz is unaware of it and Ali doesn’t actually get to meet her, but nonetheless, Hal Rubenstein is thrilled. Ali is “SO” everything about everything.

Back at the illegally over-occupied hotel suite the men and their carefully tussled hair anxiously await the date card in their hoodies. Chris L. assumes this week’s Date Card Reader duties and we learn that Kasey has been awarded the first one-on-one date. In a related story, the S.S. Absolutely Nuts left Clovis, California headed directly for New York Harbor. “Let’s Do What Comes Natural” the card reads and, as Kasey celebrates, Kirk and the Weatherman unnecessarily worry about his date.

We see Ali walking confidently down the streets of Manhattan in her tuxedo jacket and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up looking like she just got done dealing blackjack at an upstate Indian casino. I think she was wearing skinny jeans but I couldn’t tell because she didn’t look skinny. She talks about Kasey as if he was sane and says, “I can’t wait to show it to him for the very first time.” We assume she meant the City. The Weatherman suffers through his neurosis and Kirk sits there with his tussled hair looking like Wilson the volleyball from Castaway.

Kasey refers to Ali as “imaginary” for some reason and we get a shot of silent Chris N. wondering if his son Justin Bieber is safe on tour. Has this guy said a word all season? Seriously, he’s a hoodie filler. He’s like that crappy furniture they sell at Ikea. Sure, he’s got a nice veneer, but inside he’s just particle board. Helen Keller was more talkative.

Chris L. provides unneeded foreshadowing when he opines that Kasey sees unicorns when it comes to Ali. Chris L., demonstrating Roberto-esque levelheadedness, says he’s not buying it. This guy should make the final two. More about him later.

Kasey and Ali arrive at some aircraft carrier where they are picked up by yet another helicopter. So much for Ali’s “fear” of flying. In an ironic moment, Kasey repeats three times, “this is crazy.” No, Kasey, it’s not, but you sure as hell are. Although Kasey feels that Ali is “trapped in this foundation of trying to look for love,” she seems thoroughly unimpressed by Kasey. Perhaps she was just trapped in that foundation thing. He begins to demonstrate what we all knew going into this week. Kasey is indeed Krazey.

Over the next 15 minutes Krasey’s behavior goes from awkward to embarrassing to just plain frightening. He renews his Lancelot-like pledge to “guard and protect her heart,” attempts to sing some free verse “song” about helicopters and cleverly rhymes the word “city” with “pretty”. Frankly, the entire thing was “pretty” disturbing. The producers and editors don’t do Krasey any favors either. I suppose trying to cover up that kind of nuts is like putting tights on a fat guy: it’s just too much trouble. Ali does her absolute best not to look horrified. Jamie Lee Curtis looked more at ease during the last half hour of Halloween. She’s glad that there’s a camera crew around and prays that one of them has a stun gun.

After that disaster, Ali and Krasey break into the American Museum of Natural History where they look at dinosaurs with flashlights. Ali points out the Nuts-o-saurus and the Soon-to-be-committed-for-life-a-ras Rex. Ali fights back the horror in her one-on-one telling us that—just like her skinny jeans—the date roses hold a lot of weight. She “good guys” Krasey as he tries not to come unglued and lets him know that he’s not getting a rose but he can stick around anyway. What? Aren’t there any rules on this damn show? No rose, no joy. That’s what Harrison said and that’s the way it should be. I suppose Ali’s desire not to be dismembered and pickled in some freezer in Clovis, California might have had a little something to do with the rule change. Plus, he’s good for ratings. We realize that the only things that Krasey will be guarding and protecting are his crayons and plastic spoon in whatever padded room he’ll soon end up calling home.

Back at the Alcatraz Hotel, we learn that Roberto, Jesse, Craig R., Kirk, Weatherman, Frank, and Ty get the group date. “Let’s Play” the card reads and some high-fiving ensues. “I love your hoodie, man.” “No, I love YOUR hoodie, bro.” Whatever.

Justin laments his lack of selection and Frank takes a break from his nervous twitching to comment on Justin’s lamentation of his lack of selection. In a misinterpretation of the cryptic date card message, the boys trade driving loafers and flip flops for athletic shoes and hit the pavement in search of Ali. Despite having his x-ray glasses on, Frank remains confused. Roberto takes a break from selling ice to Eskimos and sand to the beach in an attempt to figure out the clue. After some help from the producers with getting their thumbs out of their rear ends, the men “figure out” that Ali awaits them in the Broadway theater where the Lion King is playing. We all breathed a sigh of relief that the men were not lost and every one of us hummed a few bars from “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” as we hit pause and got up to fill our wine glasses. In the interest of full disclosure, I had a 16 oz. can of Lone Star Beer in hand, but for our purposes, that’s my “wine.” Overjoyed at the possibility of hearing show tunes, the Weatherman bounds up the theater stairs a la Errol Flynn in that pirate movie. Man, is he gay.

Ali and her weird plastic hair thing that doesn’t hold her hair back gives us some canned facts about the Lion King and she tells us that she’s “under the weather.” We wonder if her close proximity to Roberto’s pheromones caused her to become impregnated.

Legitimate Broadway performers sing a song from the Lion King and everyone cheapens it by whooo hoooing and fist pumping. Roberto is adequately but not overly excited at the possibility of seeing the Lion King and confirms his straightness by comparing Broadway to Major League Baseball.

Proving that nothing is too demeaning for reality television, the men are forced to put on colored v-neck t-shirts and biking shorts with their cute little white sneakers and dance in order to “try out” for the Lion King. Everyone but the Weatherman secretly wishes he’d broken his foot in a fake wrestling match. The Weatherman hops around like Richard Simmons and Frank gives it the old college try.

In a further attempt to remove the dignity of everyone involved, the men sing a song. In a move proving that he has brains to match his dimples, Roberto demonstrates his smoothness by choosing to sing directly to Ali as Frank and the Weatherman wallow in their respective neuroses, crushed by Roberto’s awesomeness. It’s always the simplest ideas that work the best, isn’t it ladies? Roberto excuses himself to attend a cake walk.

After winning the cake walk, Roberto returns to collect his “prize” for winning the singing contest. He and Ali emerge in Lion King costumes. Roberto sports some sort of colored diaper thing looking like a Puerto Rican Kunta Kinte and Ali—oh Ali—looked less than flattering in her costume. It’s a good thing the play was on Broadway and not in Spanish Harlem. Had she walked down the street in that get up dozens of Hispanic children would have beaten her with sticks in anticipation of cracking her open and getting the candy inside of her.

Ali and Roberto “rehearse” their flying scene and we wonder if they are shooting the XXX version of the play as Roberto buries his face in Ali’s piñata costume. We learn that Ali and Roberto will actually make a cameo appearance in the sold out matinee performance and any legitimate performer who ever auditioned for anything on Broadway and got cut picked up the nearest throw pillow and launched it at the television set.

At the post play party Kirk and his silver tie and black shirt along with Frank and his stand by green jacket worry about Ali’s under the weather status as the Weatherman attempts to look masculine by donning his version of the Chris Harrison epaulets shirt. (Thank you Michigan fans Kelly and Renee for the email letting me know the proper name for those things on the shoulders of Harrison’s shirt where LA strippers put their phone numbers).

Sympathetic to her cold, Frank steals two umbrellas from the Traveler’s Insurance suite and takes Ali out in the rain in order to prevent a meltdown. Validated and reassured Frank returns to the Alcatraz hotel a renewed man setting himself up for a final four finish if he can keep it together.

Back at the guy suite, Justin, Krasey, Chris L. and the mute guy get the date card and we learn that Chris L. gets the final one-on-one date because it’s his birthday.

Craig R. gets some time in the corner with Ali as the Weatherman and his epaulets (I like that word now) stare at them. Craig R. tries to water down his whiney tattle tale persona by letting Ali know that he’s “all about having fun.” Exactly, right behind keeping tabs on everyone and complaining about everything. Ali pretends to be interested as Craig R. revokes the Weatherman’s attempt to steal her. Kirk stops the nonsense and asks Ali if he can put her and her cold to bed. Nice move, Kirk. It works and Ali uses her Demi Moore voice to let everyone know that no rose will be awarded. As Kirk walks Ali to her room the Weatherman self-loathes.

Back at the room, Chris L. puts on his best Garanimals shirt and packs his Spiderman lunch box in anticipation of his date with Ali. Seriously dude, lose the striped knit shirt. You’re dressed like a 5 year old. Krasey continues his descent into insanity and we picture him guarding and protecting his rectum in some prison shower. Poor guy. He goes AWOL—even though a camera crew follows him to the tattoo parlor where the producers made an appointment for him to get the tattoo that they had an artist draw up.

Ali appears for a one-on-one in a pink hoodie she borrowed from the Weatherman and lets us know that she’s too sick for her date. She sends a note to Chris L. and he handles it well by getting her some flowers, coloring books, and soup. Soup? Well, she is homeless.

All of the guys except Chris N. who doesn’t speak ponder Krasey’s mental status as we see Krasey get his wrist tattooed with a shield protecting a heart. Congrats to the production crew for enabling his nutty behavior. The guy is about as unstable as Frank’s glasses are thick.

Chris L. scores some more points with his deceased mother stories and we see that he is to normal and realistic as Krasey is to twisted and insane. Ali miraculously feels better and takes Chris L. to some bar for seafood. Ali is “SO” everything again. She appreciates his sanity and lifts the reality show cell phone lock down and allows Chris L. to call his dad on his birthday. Dad proves he gets it by assumptively telling Ali that he looks forward to meeting her on the hometown dates. Nicely played, Dad. It never hurts to call in an airstrike when you can. They end the date as Ali and her Michael Jackson blue sequined jacket take Chris L. to a rooftop for a private concert by some poor man’s James Taylor named Joshua Radin. Frankly, Chris L. is too cool for Ali. Chris L. should marry Roberto.

Krasey returns from his “unplanned” excursion and lies about getting burned. “What kind of degree burn is it?” Justin asks demonstrating that he should stick to fake wrestling.

Chris N. says nothing.

Back at the hotel, Krasey and his orange shirt and tie stew in insanity, Craig R. drops an unsolicited insult on Justin, and Frank stresses in his Mad Men suit. Ali shows up in an awful black pant suit and does some poontangin’ around the hotel with Kirk before the Weatherman shows up and seals his fate by breaking out a guitar as the men sit back and watch him implode. The poor Weatherman. If he was cast on Jersey Shore, his nickname would be “The Awkward Situation”.

Chris N. still has nothing to say.

Justin turns the tables on last week’s male beating by confronting Krasey about his alleged burn. Krasey finally shows the tattoo and Frank drops a priceless line saying, “Getting a tattoo. That doesn’t prove anything except that the fact that you’re nuts.” I think that about sums it up. Krasey attempts to show Ali the tattoo but Frank and his Mad Men suit block his attempt as Harrison walks from the production trailer after laughing hysterically at Krasey’s tattoo with the rest of the crew and shows up with the ubiquitous champagne glass and fork to announce the rose ceremony with a big “this one is so good for the ratings” smirk on his face. It’s rare for Harrison to break form, but he just couldn’t resist this week. Watch the tape.

Ali puts the cherry on the sundae by saying, “what a crazy week.” Indeed. She hands out the roses.

1. Chris L. (solid performance this week. He should be in the top 2)

2. Kirk (also a solid week. He should make the top 3)

3. Frank (still unsteady, but better than last week. Keep it together, Frank.)

4. Craig R. (WTF? I can’t stand this guy. I’d rather watch Chris N. say nothing)

5. Chris N. (Nice run, you mute)

6. Roberto (El es Numero Uno. El esta en fuego)

7. Justin (genuinely surprised. Nice recovery this week. Keep it going)

8. Ty (it was nice to see him trade in that stupid choker for a “neck-Ty”)

9. Krasey (he’s too nuts to let go. Producer’s pick. He won’t last another week)

Jesse and his jeans get eliminated and he actually looked relieved. He lost with class and ensured himself his pick of the herd when he hightails it back to the country. The Weatherman refuses to emerge from denial as he fights back a rainstorm of tears. He’s lower than a well digger’s shoes as he sobs into the camera about Ali’s mistake. We hope that Harrison had the decency to hook him up with some Les Miserables tickets.

There it is. With the Amazing count at a blistering 74, we head into next week in anticipation of a trip to Iceland. Let me know your thoughts and predictions. Until next week, if you need me, I’ll be guarding and protecting myself. DP

Ali Bachelorette Episode 3: The Train Wreck Begins

Here we are. Episode three. Before I start, I wanted to thank those of you who commented last week either on the site or via email. I write this blog in the middle of the night and it’s not uncommon for me to wonder if anyone actually reads it. I appreciate the feedback. Keep it coming. For those of you who may be new to the Bachelorette, this is about the time in the season where the front runners begin to emerge and the suit fillers are sent packing. This week’s lead in promised some tightrope walking, music video shooting, and sensitive wrestler bashing. Let’s get to it.

The show opens as it always does, with an aerial view of the testosterone-filled mansion at sunrise. Harrison makes an early appearance, presumably on his way home from a night out in LA, dressed in jeans, driving loafers and an untucked striped blue oxford shirt with some fancy pseudo-military shoulder things on it. I assumed that they were there in order to give LA strippers a place to put their phone numbers.

The men enter the living room and we see that board shorts have taken the place of Seven jeans and mimosas have yielded to water bottles. Weathered t-shirts complete this week’s morning uniform as we envision Marketing Reps from the aforementioned water bottle, board short, and weathered t-shirt companies sitting on their respective couches with smiles on their faces wallowing in their successful product pitches to the show’s producers.

Harrison—as always--sets up the week by letting the boys know that there will be 1 group date and 2 individual dates. In what proves to be an unbelievably transparent set up, Harrison encourages the men to seek out individual time with Ali. He drops the date card and heads out to catch his ride and finish his bloody mary before crashing in his hotel room until the rose ceremony.

Craig R. takes a well-needed breather from whining about everything and assumes the duties as the Official Date Card Reader of the week. As he reads the name “Roberto” we see the air literally sucked out of the sails of the other men. You could almost hear the crack of the metaphorical bat when they announced the date. Home run. “Love is a Balancing Act,” the card reads. Roberto and his dimples make a classy acknowledgement of his coveted position and he retires to the changing room to dress for the date and admire his cleft chin in the mirror. They should just give this guy the final rose right now. He’s miles ahead of the competition. Giving Roberto a one-on-one date with Ali is like giving Hemmingway a bottle of scotch and a typewriter. The guy is as smooth as silver tequila. Provided he’s not the one with the girlfriend he’s going to be tough to beat. John C. from Ipsa-something, Michigan pokes his head out from the nether regions of obscurity and tells us that he’s worried about Roberto getting alone time with Ali. Yea, well Captain Smith was worried about that big iceberg in front of the Titanic, but it didn’t stop it from sinking the boat.

Roberto musks up and puts on one of Jake’s leftover plaid shirts from last season’s “camping” trip and Ali arrives in her unmarked Audi, proving that Germans don’t have much use for dating shows. I suppose that’s why it’s not called Der Frauline-ette . I digress.

Ali enters the Macho Cave in her royal blue, sleeveless, off-the-shoulder blouse, shows off her left shoulder, and tells us (unconvincingly, by the way) that she has a picture of who Roberto is but just wants to make sure it’s true. Give me a break. She giggles and squirms around like she’s got a mouse in her pants every time the guy cracks a smile. Her Jackie-O sunglasses couldn’t hide the anticipation. Roberto—well aware of the ammunition in his arsenal—opts for a quick hug and a “you look good” as opposed to the usual grab Ali like a rag doll and spin her until she pukes greeting. The guy is in his own league. Some unfunny small talk is made by the shirtless contingent of the guys—perhaps about board shorts—and the helicopter arrives to whisk Roberto and Ali away on their date. Craig R. resumes his role as this season’s whiner and complains about it. Ali, Roberto, and his dimples leave the board short party on the helicopter and Ali again pretends like she’s still afraid to fly. Right. Just like she loved to work at Facebook. Roberto plays along and uses the opportunity to comfort Ali as they fly to their destination.

Seriously, could Harrison have teed this one up any better for Roberto? After watching it even I wanted to take a helicopter ride with the guy. I’d pretend to love my fake job be afraid of flying too if only Roberto would comfort me.

Looking at the vast expanse before them Ali wonders what’s better looking: the vast expanse or Roberto. The mountains aren’t bilingual with dimples, Ali. The answer is Roberto. Roberto continues to comfort Ali by offering her some candy he took from a baby and some fish he shot in a barrel. She finds Roberto “protective and manly” and is confident that their impending tightrope walk between two nameless LA office buildings will be easy with him by her side. Roberto is excited about the “dangerous” walk. Note to Jake: THAT’S how you handle a date involving heights. You don’t hyperventilate and cry like a fairy when they tell you what you’re going to be doing.

Back at the MAN-sion. The guys eat burgers and bond. Jesse and Short Steve bond as do Justin and the Weatherman who finally gets a chance to show off the white sunglasses he got to match last week’s jacket.

After donning camera helmets and getting chained in with giant, redundant safety chains apparently left over on the movie lot from when they captured King Kong, Roberto and Ali begin their tightrope walk and Roberto continues to be manly and protective. “Are you ready to fall for me?” she playfully asks as Roberto fends off the canned line with his dashing smile and cleft chin. Roberto continues his stroll to the top of the heap by stopping Ali for a mid-air first kiss before finishing the walk and getting ready for the rooftop dinner. Suck on that, guys at the house.

After sucking on Roberto’s domination, the guys at the house ponder their fate. John C. makes a rare appearance, we get the usual two second shot of Craig N. (who might actually be Justin Bieber’s father) just to let us know he’s still there, and Chris L. lets us know that he jonesing for a date. Keep in mind that he still has the deceased mother story bullet in the chamber. Snail mail comes and we learn that Kirk, John C., Chris N., Frank, Weatherman, Craig R., Justin, Chris L., and Jesse have been invited to rock Ali’s world. Kasey (tick, tick, tick) laments the lack of his selection and goes into the house to tuck in front of the mirror and gently pet his dog Precious. We hear him ticking as he leaves.

Roberto continues to score points at the rooftop dinner by pulling out the gun he brought to the knife fight as he subtly drops some Spanish before the meal. “Are you like completely fluent in Spanish?” Ali asks, clearly mesmerized. She actually looked really pretty at dinner. I suppose it was the giant smile she couldn’t wipe off her face and the glow caused by exposure to Roberto’s pheromones. “I speak some Italian and some French,” he piles on as Ali begins to wiggle in her chair like a school girl. “You’ve been everywhere,” she squeals. Well, not everywhere.

Next stop, Ali’s pants.

Ali confesses her attraction to Roberto. She’s worried that she’s not pretty enough for him. Frankly, she’s not. A tipsy Ali shows off a skirt so short you could see what she had for dinner, confesses to Roberto that she’s a cuddler, tries out her Spanish, and makes out with Roberto. Roberto gets the rose Ali was hiding in her hair extensions. She might as well have pinned it on his zipper. Anyone interested in going on the show needs to study the tape from this date. It’s a case study in how to bag a Bachelorette. Que bueno, Roberto. Bien trabajo.

Back at the mansion all of the guys wake up, shave their chests, dishevel their hair, and hit the cheese wagon for the group date. The limo drops them off in a “seedy area” where Ali stands waiting in the middle of the street like a hooker in search of 14 tricks. Chris N. emerges in some giant, old person driving slow in the right lane on the freeway sunglasses and hugs Ali before fading back into the background like a stick bug in the forest. We learn that the group is there for a video shoot and hear the band in the background.

The Weatherman pretends to love Barenaked Ladies and then he pretends to love the band too. Kirk lets us know he’s loved the band for 10 years and everyone wooohooos and fake dances to that annoying “it’s been three weeks since you winked at me” song. There’s nothing quite like some crass and shameless cross promotion to get a date going. Craig R. lets us know that he’s happy about the video shoot and then he whines about being happy. Frank sits amazed at the “coincidence” of how the lyrics to the new song mirror what’s actually going on in his life. I began to think that Frank forgot to take his medication this week.

Scripts get passed out for the video and we learn that there’s going to be a lot of kissing. The wheels begin to fall of Frank’s wagon as jealousy begins to eat away at him like rats on a carcass. Oddly enough, he looks sane and together compared to the Weatherman who absolutely loses it over the possibility of kissing Ali on camera in front of people. Wait, isn’t that exactly what happens in a wedding? Craig R. emerges in a disastrous wardrobe choice and speaks. I couldn’t hear him over his shirt, but I assumed he was whining about something.

The guys all take turns groping Ali on camera until we get to the Weatherman’s scene. He’s nervous. When I say nervous, I mean absolutely terrified. Clearly, the Weatherman is neurotic. He makes Woody Allen look like Woody Harrelson. He actually demonstrated that he possesses the Pavelka gene by crying in front of everyone. I actually felt sorry for him. He seems like a nice enough guy, but man, he’s a p*ssy. He eventually gets his scene filmed but regrets the unauthentic nature of the kiss. Frank continues to get eaten by the Green Monster named jealousy as Kirk cashes in his lottery ticket by making the most of his making out in the bed scene with Ali.

After the shoot, Ali and the boys retreat to some rooftop patio for small talk and a few cans of Coors Light. We’re all relieved to know that the beer is cold because we can see the mountains on the cans are blue. Ali grabs Chris L. for some alone time and they stroll off meaningfully to this week’s talking place as we see that Chris L. really needs to have his jeans taken up. Those things would have been too long for Shaq. I half expected him to reveal that his hobby was stilt walking. “Uh, yes, Mr. Sales clerk, I’m looking for something in a weathered denim. Waist 32, Length 62.” As they walk away, Kirk and Frank (both nice guys who I think will go far if they don’t lose it first) engage in some Sex in the City type banter about Ali as the Weatherman looks on clearly preoccupied by the fact that he had to kiss a woman on camera. His boyfriend is going to be pissed.

Chris L. finally and somewhat reluctantly drops the “my mom died and I got a tattoo of her signature on my six pack” story ensuring himself a rose for the week. Frankly, he should have held that story until he felt like he was in danger of going home, but Ali asked about the tattoo. In a move that should have sealed his fate, the Weatherman and another awful jacket choice intrude upon Ali and Chris L.’s seclusion in what proves to be a pathetic attempt to rehabilitate himself after his disastrous attempt to fake an attraction to a woman. “You, uh, wanna go somewhere and have a real first kiss?” he asks. I can only imagine he was referring to the equipment shed behind the football field or maybe the bleachers on the south side of the stadium. Unimpressed, Ali giggles and continues to drink champagne. Craig R. and his crossing guard yellow v-neck sweater interrupt because he’s tired of whining to the camera and prefers to whine to a real person and the Weatherman basks in denial as he mutters some insincere garbage about his “connection” with Ali growing by the minute. Frankly, I didn’t see a connection but then again, she did let him borrow her jacket.

Ali makes a quick change into bikini and stealth sarong number two and Kirk moves in for some hot tub time. Frank begins to melt down like a stick of butter in a warm skillet and we pray that he can keep it together long enough to make it past the rose ceremony or until Kasey implodes. Besides, if Frank had studied prior season’s tape he would realize that the person who gets the first hot tub make out session of the season is guaranteed to come in third. (see Jillian and Reid). Hang in there, Frank. She likes you. Kirk and his rock steady demeanor eventually get the date rose and everyone jumps in the pool.

In the meantime, Hunter, Short Steve, Kasey (tick, tick, tick), and Ty and his giant choker necklace kick it around the MAN-sion waiting for news of the next date. “Home is where the heart is” the date card reads and Hunter is happy to learn that he’s been given the next date. Obviously, like Kirk in the hot tub, Hunter is unaware that the second one-on-one date is virtually a first class ticket back home. Hunter combs his hair and powders his ears in anticipation for the date.

In the contrived move of the week, Justin decides to go rogue and hobbles three miles down the road on crutches to get some quality time with Ali. If you look closely, when he arrives at Ali’s bungalow his cast is clearly on his right foot as opposed to the left. I have to think this is some sort of editing snafu. The producers of the show can’t be that arrogant. Fake injuries aside, Justin shows up with his shirt on inside out with pictures of his parents to show Ali. Although he’s set to catch a ton of macho heat for the move later, I’ll give the guy credit. Sure, there’s bound to be some unspoken rules of engagement like not buying the same dress as a girlfriend or giving your number to one of her ex-boyfriends even though she dated him like years ago and is so over him, but Harrison opened the door and Justin walked through it. He caps off the move with his own version of a deceased parent story and appears to have a rose in the bag. Bravo, Rated R. Bravo.

Hunter and his ears talk to Kasey and his Affliction t-shirt as Ali gives Justin a ride back home in her unmarked Audi. Craig R. whines some more and Hunter admits to being nervous. When Ali finally arrives to pick him up, we realize that the date’s budget is clearly indicative of Ali’s lack of attraction to Hunter. Roberto got a helicopter ride and walked across two buildings. Hunter? Well, he got a green apron and a hamburger. Hell, he didn’t even get ice in his Coke. Sans ukulele, he proved to be insecure and clumsy. He gets the “good guy” speech from Ali and we envision that fat guy in the black hat who helped Roz pack her sh*t last season dialing 310-777-7777 on his cell phone to call a cab for Hunter and his ukulele. Nice guy, yes. But giant ears and an aww shucks smile don’t equal dimples and a cleft chin. He’s no Roberto.

Back at the MAN-sion, Kirk and Justin talk in their black shirts and Justin is less than truthful with the guys about his little trip up the road. He should have watched All the President’s Men. It’s never the act that gets you in trouble. It’s the cover up. Justin adds to his impending ostracization (no, that’s not a word, but it works so I’m using it) by celebrating a little too loudly about Hunter’s demise. He’s happy “aboot” Hunter getting thrown “oot” of the “hoose” and caps it all of with a “soooory, Hunter” as the cab arrives to pick up his luggage.

Dear Canada, I really miss you. Please stop ignoring me. Signed, The Letter “U”.

Craig R. whines some more and we begin to see how unattractive he really is. He looks like an overweight Peyton Manning. Seriously, he’s so ugly his mother must have fed him with a slingshot. He annoys me and we can only hope that he annoys Ali enough to get the boot soon so he can go back to Philly and complain.

Ali arrives back at the MAN-sion in a strapless silver gown with a sparkly belt. She’s bustled and ready to keep drinking. Seriously, have we had a bachelorette as routinely tipsy as Ali? If she gave a urine sample, there would be an olive in it. She arrives to the guys in suits. Roberto still doesn’t tighten his tie because he doesn’t need to and Chris N. still doesn’t say sh*t.

Chris L. gets some more face time on the heels of his buzz killer tattoo story and actually reveals to Ali that he took second place in a Las Vegas Flip Cup Tournament. It’s no “I travel the world, speak 4 languages, and play baseball,” but hey, it’s something, right? As Chris L. regales Ali with fascinating flip cup stories, Frank shows up dressed like a cast member from Mad Men and Kirk shows up in an unexplainable mint green shirt he probably borrowed from the Weatherman. They bond. Justin gets some one-on-one time and attempts to head off the “not here for the right reasons” moniker he’s tried so hard to shed. Ali compares him to Vienna and recalls that she used to be as whiney and tattlely as Craig R.

In a too little too late attempt to resurrect his chances for a rose, Short Steve “plans” an impromptu picnic on the front lawn and seals his fate as he struggles against an unmerciful champagne bottle. Ali’s drunk anyway and we know he’s headed home. It was a nice try but a guy that short has to have incredible game or a ton of money to stick around with the big boys. You’re a nice guy, Steve. You’ll do fine back home.

Inside, the beer begins to take effect and Ty leads the mutiny against Justin who in Fletcher Christian-like style tries to prevent it. Ty confirms what we all know about the public education system in Tennessee by saying that Justin reminds him of “Mr. Jekyll . . . and Hyde” and we hear Robert Louis Stevenson roll over in his Scottish grave. Stick to Davy Crockett references, Ty. Roberto eventually finds out about Justin’s visit to Ali’s place and the lynching is on.

Frank, Kirk, and Craig R. bond again and Frank continues to melt down. “Keep it together, Frank!” I yelled at the TV nearly spilling my Lone Star beer. Craig R. opines that the quest for Ali’s affections is a “test of mental toughness.” Sure, like fighting in Iraq or being waterboarded by the enemy. I see his point. Living for free in a mansion for 5 weeks with unlimited access to alcohol and a hot tub requires an iron clad will and stones of steel.

Ty and his giant choker and Soon-to-be Krazy Kasey confront Justin about his trip to Ali’s house and, although he admits it and takes full responsibility for it, the guys pile on. Justin plays the “Chris Harrison said it was ok” card, but the guys won’t hear it. We find out that the “R” in Rated R stands for “rejected.” He’s shunned into the dark, murky depths of the backyard beyond the soft lighting and candles to mull over his mistakes cry on his crutches like Pavelka on a patio. Alliteration aside, I actually believed the guy was sincere. It was a bit unfair of everyone to fault him for a bold move.

In this season’s Pot calling the Kettle Black moment, Kasey refers to Justin as “creepy.” Craig R. whines some more, officially disavows Justin, and Chris N. gets his single line of dialogue out in order to justify the rose he’s going to get for no reason at all. Finally, Harrison and his ubiquitous champagne glass and fork arrive to announce the rose ceremony. In his gray suit, blue oxford shirt, and black tie with hints of royal blue, Harrison promises that “it will only get tougher” after this ceremony. Roberto and his dimples and Kirk and his minty shirt revel in their safeness and Ali fights through her buzz in order to hand out the remaining 9 roses.

1. Chris L. (he earned it this week but has to jockey next week now that his major card has been played.)

2. Jesse (under the radar this week. He’s good looking enough to stick around)

3. Chris N. (no comment. Just like him)

4. Ty (she should have pinned the rose on his choker)

5. Kasey (tick, tick, tick. That bomb should go off any time now)

6. Craig R. (I think I heard him complain about Ali’s placement of the rose)

7. Frank (he made it. If he can pull it together next week, he’ll be in the game)

8. Weatherman (congrats on getting the “he’s too good for ratings” producer’s rose this week. Lose the jackets and man up or your days are numbered)

9. Justin (nice work this week. Your girlfriend is probably proud of you.)

John C. and Short Steve get booted and both go home better men. See ya.

With the Amazing count 56, we head into next week ready to begin our “journey” around the world. Let me know your thoughts by commenting below and I’ll respond as quickly as I can. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be jacket shopping in Houston. DP

Ali “Bachelorette” Episode 2: D-Bag vs. Gay-liath

Episode 2 and we’re off and running in what actually might prove to be an exciting season. This week’s lead-in promised fast cars, Las Vegas nights, sexy photo shoots, and a classic Alpha Male vs. Wimpy Guy showdown. With 17 guys in the mix and 14 roses up for the earning, we all put on some post-Memorial Day aloe vera, grabbed a glass of wine, and fired up the DVR in search of the perfect cap on our holiday weekend. Thanks to all the troops who do what they have to so I can do what I want to. Let’s get to it.

Ali Fedetowsky continues her quest to purge herself of her awful maiden name. She does a poor job with her voiceover telling us that she’s SO excited to be dating 17 guys but, in spite SO much pressure, she’s feeling SO confident.

SO what?

Like I said last week, Ali just didn’t put in the work in the off season. Take some diction lessons, work out like it matters, and practice. It’s not like she had to be anywhere unrelated to the show for the past few months. She’s homeless and unemployed for God’s sake. Please come up with another adverb besides “SO.” There are SO many other options.

Cut to the Macho Palace. After some macho mimosas (if that’s even possible) to get the macho morning moving, the guys are instructed to go upstairs and put on their best macho pastel Armani Exchange t-shirts and True Religion jeans before convening in the living room where Harrison tees up the episode. Harrison emerges unassumingly in his untucked oxford gingham shirt and black slacks to announce that there will be 1 group date and 2 individual dates. The macho tension is palpable as everyone except Roberto and his warm up jacket grips hard at the possibility of not getting one of the coveted one-on-one dates. True to form, Harrison plants the seed of conflict by letting us know that these dates are “double edged swords” because each invitee has a chance of being summarily dismissed by our pouty-lipped and wide-hipped bachelorette. He drops the date card to the wolves and makes his exit.

“Get Hefner on the phone. Tell him to have the grotto ready. I want the oldest thing in there to be my 21 year old single malt scotch,” he barks as he leaves the mansion.

Two things: First, Harrison could relax a bit on the less than subtle phallic imagery. There’s already enough testosterone floating around in that house to impregnate a female octogenarian. Second, I know Ali isn’t fat and I don’t think she’s carrying a wide load. However, there are many valid points to be made about her caboose. Humor me.

Hunter assumes Gia’s last season duties as Really Important Card Reader and reads the “All Signs Point to Love” date card aloud as we find out that Frank and his glasses get the first one-on-one date. He and his Member’s Only jacket understandably celebrate. Incidentally, I naively thought that Frank’s jacket would be the worst jacket featured in this episode. I think we all know I was incredibly wrong. More about that later.

There’s some standard guys-who-didn’t-get-a-date-sitting-around-the-mansion-talking-strategy talk and we cut to Ali’s voiceover reaffirming this season’s theme about her “second chance at love” as she gets ready for her big date with Frank by donning a (*yawn*) yellow tank top, pedal pushers, and purple, low top, Chuck Taylor sneakers. I found myself wondering if she was preparing for a dress rehearsal for a way off Broadway production of Grease and then realized that if that were true, she would have picked Justin for the first date since Danny Zuco didn’t wear lesbian glasses. Ali braids her hair, covers her big bottom lip in gloss, and leaves her love nest to pick up Frank.

As the men sit around the pool in pseudo-aviator sunglasses, v-neck t-shirts, board shorts, and choker necklaces exchanging “one time I nailed this chick” stories, Ali enters to a chorus of underserved Ooooo’s and Ahhhh’s and Frank looks happier than a prisoner in steel underwear as Ali follows direction by giving Frank an understated version of the Jillian leg wrap greeting. Frank rubs it in just enough to not offend anyone before leaving to see the turquoise, convertible, late 50’s Thunderbird he and Ali will soon be using to sit in gridlock traffic on the 105. We see a shot of the Weatherman’s disappointment and assume it’s because the car was the same color as one of his ties. Ali and Frank pull away to the sound of more cat calls and a shot of Justin hobbling in his white Capri pants, black muscle shirt, and dog tags behind the rest of the men. I was confused by the Capri pants and muscle shirt prior to seeing the dog tags and realizing that Justin had evidently joined the gay army.

Apparently under the long-standing “Bachelorette” tradition that anytime a person rides sans seatbelt in a fancy convertible it is necessary to raise his/her arms and give a loud “whooooo” before announcing how “amazing” it is to ride in a convertible, Frank and Ali “whoooo” all over the place and “amazing” each other to death before the car finally gets sick of it and shuts down. Ali “oh my God’s” like SO many times I actually thought the DVR was stuck. Frank and his glasses sit there looking useless and as they abandon the car on the 105 in favor of a walk we see how short Frank is before someone calls a cab.

Come on, Frank. You’re a guy. At least pretend to examine the engine or drop some car lingo like, “it must be the alternator” or “maybe the plugs fouled.” Don’t just sit there like Gay J. Foyt. In spite of the speed bump, Ali is proud of Frank for “going with it.” In a flashback moment, we see Ali’s rats’ nest hair reminiscent of last season when that d-bag from Denton made her wear a motorcycle helmet on their first date.

When they arrive in the slum that is Hollywood, Ali immediately draws “unwanted” attention in front of Mann’s Chinese Theater and she and Frank mug for the camera. The best part about that exchange was the poor cowboy in the background with the video camera who had no idea who they were. He came there looking for the Walk of Fame stars of Gene Autry and Johnny Cash and ended up on the “Bachelorette”.

After successfully turning the date into a cross-promotional publicity stunt (nice job PR Department), the Producers order Ali and Frank into another dirty cab and they go to a secret location in the Hollywood Hills for more romance. We then return to the mansion to check the blowout preventers and gauge the tension between the men.

We cut to a shot of this season’s biggest complainer, Craig R., whining to Justin again about not being sincere and some other nonsense about not telling him about his pro wrestling career as McCheesy (Craig M.) stands by watching. Tick, tick, tick, tick. . .

Ali and Frank arrive behind a secured fence line and break into the locked gate as Ali does that annoying giggling thing that is apparently impossible to edit out of her comments. They giggle knowingly down the hill and end up in front of the Hollywood sign where Frank’s hair gel continues to provide maximum hold and Ali attempts to hide the blemish on her chin. Frank retells the moving to Paris to be a screenwriter story, lets us know that he “left it all behind” in search of his dream. Yes, he followed his heart. Frank tells Ali that he was following his heart in Paris “for like a month and a half.” Really? Six weeks. Riding the momentum he’s created, Frank moves in for the kiss in spite of the giant zit on Ali’s chin and he appears to be falling in love. I have to admit that I like Frank. He’s been the only ballsy one since the first day and—assuming Ali is a prize—he’s clearly been rewarded for it.

Ali pretends to appreciate and understand Frank’s six week quest for Nirvana by ignoring reality and characterizing herself as “SO career driven.” They cuddle some more in front of the sign and exchange some more staged kisses. Nothing says sweet love quite like a date consisting of no lunch, no limo, no drinks, a broken down late model car, and an illegal trespass. I hope Harrison at least picked up the cab fare.

Miraculously, the car was not stripped and sold for scrap and Frank and Ali get it back. We see Ali looking like a low rent Sandra Dee as she accessorizes her tired yellow tank and pedal pushers with a black leather jacket. She and Frank pretend to be comfortable in their booty socks on the hood of their junker as they share more “oh my God’s,” cupcakes, and champagne. It was nice of the mechanic to pack a picnic basket for them. Frank procures a rose and ensures his safety in the upcoming rose ceremony because Ali likes “like four things” about him. He’s funny, smart, quirky, and -------. Well, three things. We are glad for Frank and hope his retail career is as a manager of either the Gap or Old Navy since Ali appears to be comfortable in their clothes. If Ali qualifies for his 30% employee discount, he should let her know before the finale. Nice job, Frank. You’ll be around a while. Just pray that Roberto is the one with the girlfriend.

Back to the mansion. We learn that Weatherman, Ty, Chris H., Kirk, Hunter, Tyler V., Steve, Craig R., Chris N., Justin, Kasey, and McCheesy get the group date. “Picture us Together” is the clue and the Weatherman forecasts McCheesy’s demise. We get a foreboding shot of McCheesy looking like he just won a Gin Rummy tournament in Miami Beach with his playfully unbuttoned oxford shirt and his Sammy Davis, Jr. hat. The guy screams A-hole and, unlike seasons past where it could be argued that people received a “bad edit,” it becomes abundantly clear that this guy is the real deal. Craig drinks, insults and attacks the Weatherman and Jesse for no apparent reason, drinks, attempts to bully everyone, drinks, and continues to drink.

Date two begins with a shot of Ali’s midsection meandering around Malibu. She’s wearing a bikini top and, of course, cargo pants to secure the extra cargo in her pants. In a moment of sheer perfection, the guys pull up in a Hummer limousine—a ride befitting the gorilla-like behavior oozing from their pores. Incidentally, driving a Hummer is like living in Dallas: It’s nothing to be proud of. Thank God GM took that brand behind the shed and put it out of its misery. I’m sure that guys who own gyms will find something to drive instead.

Ali is greeted with mating calls as she stands there shyly with her hands in her pockets waiting for the sword fight for attention to begin. She lets us know that we’re in “Malibu where it’s like a beautiful day.” At least she didn’t use “So.” The men exit the limo carrying drinks in one hand and salamis in the other and proceed to do their best Ali on a date with Frank impression by rolling up their True Religion and Seven jeans and walking down the beach with Ali. We wonder if they sell men’s clothes for men where any of these guys shop. McCheesy appropriately wears a cheese-colored, v-neck tank he borrowed from Ali, Justin hops around on his crutches, and we find out that the guys will be wearing Speedos for the photo shoot. Despite this “surprise” we breathe a deep sigh of relief as we realize that all of the guys have shaved and waxed in all of the appropriate places.

Weatherman calls McCheesy a d*ck and a jerkoff and then almost cries about having to wear a Speedo. Ty, Hunter, and Craig R. make the most of it before Ty breaks out his fortuitously present guitar and sings this season’s “It Don’t Take that Long” entitled “Living in a Moment,” while Ali melts; once again proving that the beating anyone takes as a kid for taking music lessons pays off in spades as an adult. The shoot ends with feats of strength, more of the Weatherman putting his sexuality in doubt, and more of McCheesy setting up the final battle between himself and the Weatherman.

Cut to the dinner portion of the date. As the cheese chariot arrives and the men exit we get a slow motion shot of them in their Lucky jeans, starched, untucked shirts, and choker necklaces walking side by side. It looked like a gay version of that Reservoir Dogs scene. Meanwhile, Justin hobbles and worries aboot being the odd man oot. You’d think that they would have heard about the vowel “U” in Canada by now. Odd.

High on the success of his new song, Ty and his giant choker get Ali alone and he gives her the “I’m divorced” talk. She pretends to buy it. Ty, trim your Luke Perry sideburns and stick to the guitar. You’re fine. Oh, and buy a comb too. The Weatherman escalates the trash talk about McCheesy as we see McCheesy priming the pump and working himself and his pink shirt into a macho frenzy by belting down beer after beer and becoming more aggressive toward everyone. In a moment of pure “Bachelorette” gold, the Weatherman fights back tears and refers to McCheesy as a “Category 6 A**hole” before breaking out his white Beat It jacket and going to co*k block Ty.

What in the world was going on with that jacket? If that doesn’t push him out of the closet, it certainly unlocks the door. It might as well have been covered in sequins. The Weatherman meets with Ali, tattles on McCheesy, looks as gay as ever, and eventually thanks Ali for letting him borrow her coat. After realizing how feminine he looked in that jacket he does some damage “I’m straight” control in his one-on-one by insincerely going on about how hot Ali looked. He returns to the bar and orders a tall and stiff drink. I suppose he likes his drinks like he likes his men. McCheesy continues to pile on while the others sit around and laugh. I think you’ll all agree that it got old.

Cut back to the house where Chris L., Frank, Jesse, and Roberto are all sitting around doing nothing. Frank—still high after his low rent date with Ali—reads the date card and opens a set of monogrammed cufflinks. After they figure out Jesse’s initials are different from theirs, they figure out that Jesse has won the coveted one-on-one date proving that Roberto and Chris L. are at the top of the Ali’s food chain. Back to the party.

Justin hobbles in for some alone time with Ali. She “likes him” but seems a little tipsy. It’s not every season that our maiden is a lush. That’s nice to know. Craig R. continues to whine and whine and whine about just about everything. Kasey, dressed in a black shirt and sport coat with a silky grey tie probably not unlike the guy who chauffeured the limo, reminds us that he’s creepy (tick, tick, tick). “It puts the lotion in the basket or it gets the hose again,” he says as he tells Ali that he’s been kidnapping husky women for the past few months. Despite Justin and Kasey’s efforts a tipsy Ali gives Ty the date rose adding to the return on investment for his guitar lessons. Divorce Schmorce. He’s in.

Time for Date 3. We cut to Jesse and his overdone tribal art tattoos getting ready for his one-on-one. Ali primps in front of the mirror before donning another tank top and skinny jeans that accentuate her badonkadonk and loading up her giant purse and walking amongst the cacti and yucca bushes to meet Jesse. She awaits him in front of a private plane and tells him that they are going to Vegas for the evening. Everything is “SO” everything and they board in spite of her fear of flying. Jesse “makes her feel safe” aboard the private plane by holding her hand. I’m sure the Big Bopper did the same thing to Buddy Holly. They land in Vegas and hop into a convertible Ferrari for some “whoooo” action shots. Ali again forgets her scrunchy as we endure shots of them whooo hooing down the Vegas strip to cliché Brat Pack music and the standard shots of Vegas. They both looked uncomfortable with each other.

Ali tells us that they are headed to the pool at Liquid and “like no one has ever been here before.” Well, if you exclude the location scouts, contractors, architects, crew, and various mobsters, I suppose she’s correct. We get another look at Jesse’s tribal tattoos in his board shorts and I wondered if there was an entire tribe of contractors in Peculiar, Missouri with similar artwork. Ali emerges from the changing room in a hot pink bikini top and—you guessed it—a sarong covering her trailer proving that her rear end is certainly bigger than Jillian’s. They eat oysters, which Jesse hates and she drops “nice guy” on him a few times before she loses the sarong behind a strategically placed shrubbery and quickly submerges herself in the pool. They frolic.

After the pool, Jesse eventually figures out the single Windsor knot and awaits Ali in her Rain Man Suite. He actually cleaned up nicely. Too bad his personality didn’t match his looks. She emerges with her hair in a bun looking underwhelming in another poorly fitting Linda Evans-esque gown with a bedazzled collar and a really weird neckline. I’m a dude and even I could see the dress didn’t fit her. They go to a private suite for a candlelight dinner where she “nice guys” him some more. Clearly, she wasn’t interested but Jesse garnered another rose with some “I’m from a small town” talk. They eventually go to Haze nightclub for a private performance by some guy no one has ever heard of and some awful dancing. Jesse is a nice guy, but she doesn’t dig him. He’ll last another week or so.

Back at the house McCheesy drinks and plays dress up in the Weatherman’s clothes. Liquored up from dinner, Ali eventually shows up in a bedazzled silky dress thing with another weird collar and Chris L. steals some alone time to exchange regional banter and quell his insecurity. You’re safe, dude. Relax.

As if he needed it, Roberto gets some one-on-one time while Craig R. whines about it again. Ali giggles like a drunken sorority girl as Roberto fishes with dynamite. Armed with Spanish Fly and disarming good looks, he tells Ali casually, “I travel the world and play baseball,” and Ali eats it up as if it was her first meal in days. They play catch and he teaches her how to throw a knuckleball. If he’s not the guy with the girlfriend, the others are light years behind. Frank fights through Attention Deficit Disorder to comment on Ali and Kasey fights through his desire to tuck in front of the mirror. Craig R. complains again and almost cries when Frank is assertive enough to get yet another kiss. John C. emerges from obscurity, Weatherman pinky drinks his cocktails, and McCheesy stews in alcohol and testosterone.

Ali eventually slams the door shut on McCheesy by confronting him with the “dangerous” accusations. He fumbles around like a school boy in the principal’s office and seals his fate. No hug, no kiss equals No Rose. See ya, sh*thead. Frankly, I would have liked to see her (and the producers) embarrass him a little more. It’s not every day that a jerk that big gets put in his place. After the meeting, McCheesy makes an attempt to call out the Weatherman in front of the guys but the damage is done. We all know a guy like this and we were all glad to know he’d gotten his comeuppance.

Latent Homosexuals 2

Angry Guys Still 0

Chris N., the silent “entrepreneur” from wherever, FINALLY gets to speak a line that the Producers gave him and we all appreciate his Justin Bieber hair but struggle to remember his name. For the record, I had to look it up.

With the stage set, Harrison emerges with the ubiquitous champagne glass and fork looking annoyed he had to stay late because of McCheesy’s guy meeting and puts an end to the penis measuring contest. Thank God. Ali retires to the Lair of Seclusion and does a poor job of acting like she’s trying to make a decision between the macho antics of McCheesy and the not so macho antics of the Weatherman. Harrison states the obvious in his standard issue black suit accented nicely by a soft pink patterned oxford. He shows the guys how to make a dotted tie work and then leaves for a beer run before the liquor store closes.

Frank, Ty, and Jesse were safe from elimination this week thanks to successful date performances. The remaining roses were as follows:

1. Kasey (tick, tick, tick . . .)

2. Hunter (he cashed in the remaining mileage on his ukulele serenade. He’d better step it up next week)

3. Roberto (She might as well have pinned the rose on his junk)

4. Chris L. (Nice guy. He’s still got the deceased mom ammo in his belt)

5. Justin (She seems to really like him. Either that or the cast is that effective)

6. Steve (Short and quiet. He’d better bring it next week)

7. Kirk (innocuously nice guy. We’ll see how he does)

8. John C. (this season’s dial tone. Jump in front of the camera, dude)

9. Craig R. (the resident tattle tale and complainer. I wish he’d go)

10. Chris N. (we discovered that he’s not mute. His looks will get him only so far)

11. Weatherman (Congrats. You survived a Category 6 A**hole. We all owe you. Oh and for those of you who didn’t notice, he was wearing a rose in the shot prior to him getting one. Nice editing)

Eliminated were Tyler V., McCheesy, and some other guy. Tyler V., go home and work on your game. You’re a nice guy. I won’t dignify McCheesy’s exit speech other than to say it was what we all expected. See you later, Jerk.

With the Amazing count at an incredible 48 (yes, in just 2 episodes), we head into next week. Until then, if you need me, I’ll be taking guitar lessons. DP