Off Season Post 13: Twas the Week Before Bachelor

Hello and Happy Holidays everyone! Frankly, I’m not sure any of you will read this prior to Christmas, but I figured I’d give it a shot. In the spirit of the holidays, I’ve decided to begin a new SGIA Blog Tradition. But first, a little background.

A man named Clement Clarke Moore wrote a poem called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822. It eventually became known by its first line, “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” Prior to the story St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, had never been associated with a sleigh or reindeer. The power of the written word is—well---amazing. In tribute to Mr. Moore and his priceless contribution, I have taken the liberty of drafting my own version of the poem in light of the upcoming season of our favorite show. I hope you enjoy it. Oh, after looking at the bios of the women on ABC.com I’m going to go on record early saying that Ashley S. will be the big winner. With that said, let’s get to it.

Twas the Week Before Bachelor
an adaptation by Some Guy in Austin


Twas the week before Bachelor, when all through the house
The DVR was silent, we talked to our spouse.
The vodka was chilled in the freezer with care,
In hopes that Chris Harrison soon would be there.

The contestants were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of rose ceremonies danced in their heads.
And Some Guy with a bottle and a Lone Star bottle cap,
Wondered how many contestants for sure had the Clap.

When out at the Mansion there arose such a clatter,
Harrison sprang from the strip club to see what was the matter.
Away to the Mansion he flew like a flash,
Jumped a big bar stool and threw a stripper some cash.

The moon on the breasts of the girls on the show
Proved there were some women who could never say no.
When, what to Chris Harrison’s eyes should appear,
But a big fat stretch limo, filled with hussies desperate for beer.

With a freshly pressed sport coat, so Money and slick,
Harrison knew in a moment he’d be getting paid quick.
More rapid than eagles the limos they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Ashley! now, Britnee! now, Keltie and Stacey!
On, Cristy! On, Jackie!, on Lauren and Lacey!
To the top of the porch! to Bachelor’s first ball!
Now drink away! Drink away! Drink away all!"

Lone Star after Lone Star was drunk by Some Guy,
As he plotted to watch with his careful, keen eye.
Then up to the Mansion, a new limo it flew,
With the tray full of roses, and the new Bachelor too.

And then, with a twinkling, it was heard on the floor
The prancing and fawning of each little whore.
Desperate and anxious the girls turned around,

Down the hallway The Bachelor came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fleece, from his head to his boots,
And we wondered if the producers and he remained in cahoots.
A bundle of roses he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a douchebag, with the last name Womack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His ears were perked up as if he’d been listening,
And the girls pictured him naked, his abdominals glistening.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And axed the plain women who then called him a jerk.
As the rose bearing women looked down from their noses,
We heard, “say your goodbyes if you don’t have no roses!”

Harrison sprang to his limo and to the tramps gave a whistle,
And flew to the strip club like a giant love missle.
But I heard him exclaim, when he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all! Tune in Monday Night!"

Well, that’s it. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to all of you for reading all year, especially those of you who stuck it out with me during the off season. Have a wonderful Christmas or whatever other holiday you celebrate. Have a safe and happy new year. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be writing my apology to the descendants of Clement Clarke Moore. DP