Hello, Readers, and welcome back to what is quickly becoming the most ridiculous season in Bachelorette history. Of course, it’s my job to elaborate on that eventually, but suffice it to say that I’m beginning to share William’s desire to simply end it all. At least that guy is not relegated to tolerating the adolescent whining of a clearly maladjusted Bachelorette for another 4 weeks. Hell, this week even Harrison looked as if he questioned the fat paycheck he cashes every two weeks in exchange for listening to Ashley drone on about that A-hole Bentley for hours at a time. The blog must go on, however.
Before we begin this week’s recap I’ll announce with great pleasure that Derek from South Beach is the big winner of the Roast Ashley Contest I announced two weeks ago. His rant about Cher made me laugh out loud and that’s good enough to earn him the big prize. Now trust me, Derek, I debated for a long time as to what an appropriate prize would be in light of your . . .uh. . .proclivities shall we say. God help me, but if you’ll email me I’ll send you a signed picture of Yours Truly (clothed and taken from the waist up) for you and the boys to enjoy in South Beach. Congratulations on winning. Please don’t defile me in effigy. With that out of the way, let’s get to it.
Incredibly, we begin this episode with another recap of the annoying “dot dot dot” conversation and see Bentley being slimy again. Mix that in with about 10 “Chiang Lang is the perfect place to fall in love” comments, some more crying and indecisiveness from Ashley, and some Flipcam shots of Ryan’s douchey, oversized, entrepreneurial sunglasses and all of a sudden we’re in Thailand. I’ll bet that guy has a closet full of Ed Hardy and Affliction t-shirts he wears to local night clubs in San Diego where he insists the valet backs his sports car into a front space before undertipping and heading into bar for a martini. Discouraged, I sipped Lone Star Number One and settled in like I would for a routine rectal examination realizing that what I was about to experience was necessary but undeniably uncomfortable.
Ames, sporting yet another version of his French blue pilot-themed shirt, explains that Chaing Lang is an old city famous for saffron robe wearing monks and beautiful architecture. How in the world is this guy still only peeking out of the closet? More about Ames later, but man, it’s SO obvious. Then again, I had no idea that Rob Halford from Judas Priest was gay back in the day and that was about as obvious as the holier than thou smirk on Jake Pavelka’s face. I’m certain that Ames would have preferred to visit Bangkok.
The guys land in Thailand and take some 1980’s Mercedes limousines to the Mandarin Dhari Devi Resort where an Earth-toned, linen-clad Chris Harrison greets them in the driveway. Shorts, loafers, and oxfords are the preferred uniform this week and as the guys ooh and ahh around the grounds while simultaneously “man” and “bro-ing” each other between macho handshakes we see Ashley strolling introspectively through the garden in her own Earth-toned oxford, a lei, and some F-me pumps as she actually drops a “happy ending” reference. (Open Lone Star Number Two).
As the boredom I felt was slowly simmering into a vigorous boil reprieve came in the form of a double dose of Harrison. I assumed he got some extra cash for the camera time, and it was nice to see him doubling up on his limited hosting duties this week. 11 dudes, 3 dates, 1 one-on-one, 1 group date, and the dreaded two-on-one all lie in wait this week as Constantine reads the date card and Ryan still looks like an as*hole in his oversized sunglasses.
In the meantime, Ashley arrives for her one-on-one date with Ben F. who frantically found the nearest crapper in order to attempt to fix his bad haircut. Wearing a hot pink, sleeveless silk blouse and a miniskirt that resembled one of those things they put around a dog’s neck after it has surgery so it can’t chew on itself Ashley underwhelms us with an insincere hello that screams “I’m still in love with Bentley.” It was clear that she didn’t want to be chewed. She and Ben walk away holding hands and Ryan still looks like an as*hole in his oversized sunglasses.
Ben drops the first “Ashley and I’s” relationship of the season as he attempts to walk as slowly as possible in his flip flops so Ashley doesn’t break her ankle in her Gene Simmons inspired pumps. In fear of a compound fracture, Ben hails a buggy thing and they enjoy watching their lives be put in danger as the old man recklessly drives them to the local market for a day of false frolicking, forced conversation and a game of Dysentery Roulette as they sample some indigenous cooked rodents from various unpermitted food carts. Gross.
Their trip to the market ends with some parasol painting and hand holding as Ashley and her pink eye shadow bestow a “tha is sooooo ka-yooooot!” on Ben’s artwork. (Roll eyes and open Lone Star Number Three). After some creative upskirt shots and a painfully awkward “mental kiss” in front of the sacred-no-public-display-of-affection temple, Ben limps away in a state of sexual frustration and Ashley performs some Kegels in anticipation of their dinner date.
Incidentally, I almost didn’t make it through that scene. That was awkward from 11,000 miles away. I can’t image the camera crew not getting nauseous, especially after eating those rodents at the market. That whole exchange was ridiculously childish. I literally had an almost identical conversation in the woods next to the junior high football field in my home town prior to stealing my first kiss ever from Samantha Stevens (who was hot for a 6th grader, by the way). I was 10.
Ben ditches his Fruit Stripe Gum shorts and t-shirt in favor of a see through silky number he probably borrowed from Jillian Harris. Ashley has some sort of Capri-length jumpsuit on as she holds back the excitement (and her feelings for Bentley) in an effort to show Ben the candlelight outdoor dinner set up reminiscent of the Police’s Wrapped Around Your Finger video that “she” planned for them. (Kill Lone Star Number Three in anticipation of Number Four).
Ashley throws out some Producer-fed questions to Ben and he succeeds in making his winery and wine making career actually sound boring. He missed a golden opportunity there. How in the world can anyone make that sound boring, I mused as Ashley tells Ben that she wants to help him make wine and harvest grapes like an indentured migrant worker in fear of imminent deportation who hasn’t heard of Cesar Chavez (Uvas No!). Wine making? Harvesting grapes? I thought this b*tch was a dentist?
After waking Ashley up from a deep snooze, Ben recounts his version of the “my father died and I was emotionally unavailable” story and actually does an admirable job of opening up to her in spite of the fact that Ashley was a.) not listening and, b.) thinking about Bentley.
Like most of you, I was sick of her crap this week. Frankly, she deserves the mess she’s got coming next week. Guys like Ben F. and J.P. are sincerely trying to win her over and all they get is that damned fake stare from a pair of over smoked smoky eyes and an insincere smile that betrays her constant pining over some dude that’s half way around the world counting his double top secret bad guy contract money from ABC. As the female versions of the Jabberwockeez emerge along with fire breathing Asians, Ashley gives Ben a well-earned Safety Rose and endures another stiff, passionless kiss.
Back at the MAN-sion William sports an odd hairstyle as he opines about the two-on-one date and the Date Card delivery is signaled by the ding dong of the doorbell. What was up with his hair, by the way? That look put him squarely ahead of Constantine, Ben F., and Nick in the weird hair contest.
“Love is Worth Fighting For” the card reads and we learn that Constantine, Ames, Nick, Blake, Lucas, Ryan, J.P., and Mickey are the lucky winners which, after some strenuous deduction, means that William and Ben C. are the dreaded two-on-one contestants. For the record, I said aloud “they’re both gone” as I sipped Lone Star Number Four. Ben’s been absent for the past two weeks and William has been sliding unabated down the slippery slope he built for himself during the Ashley Roast. Despite speaking French and playing the piano, Ben C.’s lack of focus and—apparently—a few slips of the tongue in English sealed his fate long before that date card made it to Taiwan.
By the way, although I’m conversational in Spanish (Tex-Mex Spanish that is) I have no idea how to speak French. The only words I know in French are “Buffet,” which means “all you can eat” and “Menage a Tois,” which also means “all you can eat.” Annyyyhoooo . . .
As the guys do their version of the Reservoir Dogs alley walk in dress shorts and colorful v-necks Ashley dons a sports bra and some tight ¾ work out pants and some ridiculously large boxing gloves in preparation for introducing the guys—and most of us—to something called Muay Thai, which is apparently a form of martial art practiced passionately in that part of the world. It’s like soccer in England or alcoholism in Ireland.
Ryan, who still looks like an a*shole even without his oversized sunglasses—tries to show off what he learned by Googling “Muay Thai” in the limo on the way over to the arena and Blake worries about chipping one of his teeth in the ring. That guy actually showed some personality this week. It was nice to see him as well as Lucas get some lines.
Ames (poor, poor Ames) begins that date by telling us that despite earning 7 Ivy League degrees and traveling to 70 countries, he’s never been in a fight—not to mention that he’s a male. Whatever. He nervously analyzes the situation at the gym by telling us that Muay Thai is “hands, legs, and fists” and “anything goes.” Frankly, I wasn’t sure if he was talking about Muay Thai or Friday night at his local bathhouse, but that’s neither here nor there.
After a gratuitous display of shirtless cheeseballs “training” and Ashley oooing and ahhing, Ames notices (ironically) that the Muay Thai uniforms are laid out just like the rainbow bumper sticker he displays on the rear end of the convertible Audi TT he zips around in on his weekend jaunts to the Hamptons, before being “forced” into grabbing the pink trunks and gloves.
Ryan, who still looks like an a*shole without his oversized sunglasses, points out a Muay Thai move called a “Reverse Elbow Shiver.” Frankly, I wasn’t sure if he was talking about Muay Thai or Friday night at his local bathhouse, but that’s neither here nor there. It becomes apparent to the guys that they’ll be fighting for all of the love and attention that Ashley is capable of giving while simultaneously thinking about Bentley. Initially, Ames was excited when he heard he’d be taking one in the face, but I doubt that’s what he had in mind.
After a brutal display of Muay Thai by some fighting group who I assume was named the “Jabberboxees” it’s the guys’ turn in the ring. Blake defeats a tired yet determined Lucas, Mickey gets the hell beat out of him by a considerably smaller J.P., and Nick and his pretty muscles lose to the Jake Lamotta-ish Constantine. Unfortunately for Ryan (a*shole), he gets tasked with beating up the resident sissy, Ames. Harrison undoubtedly sat affixed to a comfortable bar stool back at the resort and exercised his preference for Mai Tais rather than Muay Thai.
Let me say this: I thought the entire macho display date a couple of seasons ago when the guys were forced to oil wrestle for Ali was a bad idea. This one was even worse. Poor Ames—despite having one of the best physiques in the bunch—was literally defenseless against Ryan’s entrepreneurial blows. He took an unnecessary pounding—and not the kind of pounding from a man that he undoubtedly seeks at the local bathhouse, but that’s neither here nor there. Ames ultimately got his bell rung and lost one of his degrees in the process. I’m sure he forgot what he was in to in college. Oddly enough, in college I was really in to Typing: types of bars, types of women, types of booze….
I assume since most of you reading this are women you’ve never been in a fight nor have been hit so hard you literally see stars. It hurts. Badly. Having that happen for the first time at 28 years old like Ames did had to be painful. I actually felt sorry for the guy. I suppose that physique comes from a lot of yoga-lates and perhaps Zumba—you know, for maintenance purposes.
Ultimately, Ames was sent to the ER after Ashley had the common sense to suggest to the crew that they needed him as a tour guide. She is a doctor after all—well, she will be--sort of. The other thing that surprised me about the group date was that Ryan didn’t capitalize on the distraction of the fights in the ring to seek some alone time to “close” Ashley on a rose. Sadly, we’d have to wait until later for that moment. By the way, if I were Ryan in that situation, I would have insisted on riding to the hospital with Ames. It was Ryan who put the guy on the stretcher. Because he’s an entrepreneurial d-bag, he didn’t.
As if Ashley needed another reason to completely ruin another date-ending cocktail party, Ames does not return in time for her to whine around in her smoky eyes and horrible dress. The guys pretend to worry about Ames until he shows up overdressed in his white pants and blue blazer proving that you can’t beat the gay out of anyone.
Despite being loopy Ames manages a few funny lines including saying he was told by the doctors that he’s “hopelessly in love.” I’m going to officially bestow a “He’s Money” on Ames. The guy has won me over the past couple of weeks. I actually like him. Granted, he’s more suited to date the “strange” male cousin in Harrison’s family that no one talks about, but he’s been consistently interesting and charming the entire time. Ashley, of course, sees no value in those qualities and continues to look pathetic by worrying about Bentley’s stupid ass.
Back at the MAN-sion Ben F. quizzes William and Ben C. while displaying the Fruit Stripe Gum shorts that he thankfully did not wear with the Fruit Stripe Gum Shirt he wore on his date with Ashley. “Guide Me to Love” the date card reads and William gets some one-on-one camera time to look like Jake Pavelka.
Blake—successfully off a big Muay Thai victory—explains his lack of personality as a patient shyness and restores his beloved “order and precision” to his love hunt. Nice job. The other heretofore mute, Lucas, calls out Ashley on her Bentley obsession as she literally fights back tears before Lucas has the wherewithal to talk about golf before using the oldest “let me teach you my swing” trick in the book. Nice job. I had a “show me your putz” joke lined up here, but I’ll pass in the interest of brevity.
Ashley awards the Safety Rose to Blake and they all toast Ames’ head injury as the date mercifully ends and I sipped Lone Star Number Five in anticipation of seeing William and Ben C. hit the road. By the way, if you’ll remember, I gave Ali a really hard time for her utter lack of self-esteem (and by proxy self-respect) during her season. However, Ashley makes her look like Betty Friedan for crying out loud.
Memo to women: Everyone is cursed from time to time with insecurities. Everyone. However, leading with that insecurity—no matter what the cause of it—is an incredibly unattractive quality to any man. Insecurity is always an outward consequence of a deep inner conflict and if you don’t become a stripper, you’ll spend your life wondering why no man can stand to be around you. Deal with that issue BEFORE you drag someone down with you. Everyone will be a lot healthier and you won’t end up spinning naked on a pole while AC/DC blares around you. I think that most strippers take off their clothes so that no one will look them in the eyes. Just a thought.
The Dreaded Two-on-One date starts and William and Ben C. clearly feign friendship. Even the nuance-blind Ashley attempted to address the awkwardness before forcing them to paddle her forlorn ass down the river—for about 50 yards through elephant urine and cholera infested jungle. A picnic awaits and as Ben C. unknowingly coifs white wine from a snifter, William sells him down that very river by telling Ashley he’s been—GASP!—talking about online dating at the house. Incredibly, she kicks him to the curb without giving him a chance to speak. She did tip her hand in the one-on-one when she told us she was dreading sending Ben C. home---oops—I mean anyone home. The entire thing was pre-planned, but William looked like a peckerhead he is when he sold the guy out. I’m sure ALL of them talk like that around the house. William just happens to be a snitch---Remind you of any other snitches? He might as well have been wearing a pilot uniform.
After an elephant ride that left me longing for the footage of Emily’s white-shorted elephant ride Ashley dons a red and black off the shoulder tiny cocktail dress and some matching F-me pumps. That dress was . . . uh . . . busy to say the least. After confirming that William is about as emotionally mature as she is, she judges him for his worst qualities, ignores his best qualities, and sends him packing. Is it me or does Ashley make the most emotionally determined decisions in Bachelorette history? She’s so foolish. Look, that guy deserved to go home two weeks ago, but she should have made that decision THEN and not NOW. No wonder she’s alone.
In an unbelievable overreaction, William hates himself, his life, his cell phone sales career, his personality, his future, the Browns, the Indians, and various Galloway, Ohio landmarks before vowing suicide after entering his “dark place.” Perhaps they should have sent him to the ER instead of Ames. Ironically, he probably accessed the local WiFi connection at the airport and updated his Match.com and EHarmony dating profiles. Maybe he and Ben C. rendezvoused at the airport bar and made nice.
As the guys don their best oxfords and ties sans dress coats and head to the week-end cocktail party in hopes that hit hasn’t been ruined by Ashley’s rampant insecurity and whining about Bentley, Ashley throws on a tiny black number and some green eye shadow before being rampantly insecure and whining about Bentley again. Good Lord, she’s such a f*cking downer (Open Lone Star Numbers 6 and 7).
Also oblivious to nuance, Ryan, looking like an a*shole even without his oversized sunglasses, moves in to perform the assumptive close he learned at his last Tony Robbins seminar in an attempt to secure a rose for himself. His stupid speeches are so transparent. Frankly, I’m amazed that Ashley is too dense to see his sales pitch for exactly what it is. Then again, she “fell in love” with Bentley and hasn’t stopped thinking about him despite knowing him for all of 48 hours. I hope she dentists better than she relationships.
Ashley meets with Constantine whose shirt coincidentally matches her eye shadow and he does another good job of being honest with her. In fact, all of the guys who had a one on one with her were honest; however, that’s not enough for a woman like Ashley. She prefers smoke blowing and ass kissing. (See Bentley).
Sick of watching her flounder through the party a determined (and fed up) Harrison breaks out the ubiquitous champagne glass and butter knife and takes Ashley by the bangs back to the Lair of Seclusion to sort some sh*t out. For a moment, I thought Harrison was just going to show her the damn tape. I wish we were that lucky.
Again, seemingly unaware that she’s on a television show where Harrison is a host and a producer with access to all of the video, the “script,” casting decisions, plot twists, and every other aspect of the ratings-grabbing show, Ashley pretends like Harrison is going to surprised that she’s PW’d over Bentley. An unamused Harrison provides one word answers and impatient glances as Ashley hems and haws before finally “admitting” that she’s hung up on Bentley. Sipping Lone Star Number 8 or 9, I yelled, “He already knows, idiot!” at the television before hitting the seven second rewind button on my DVR so I could revisit Harrison’s reaction.
The look on Harrison’s face was priceless. He looked more pissed off than that time when Roz accused him of hitting on some dude’s wife after that fat guy with the black leather hat helped her pack her sh*t and threw her out of the mansion. Being the professional that he is—and perhaps also realizing that it’s the show’s fault the Ashley train derailed—Harrison does a good job toeing the ABC line knowing that they’d have to give Bentley a free vacation to Hong Kong in order to sort out the mess.
Perhaps they could call Jake in order to arrange a free ride over on his cargo plane. I’m certain he frequents Hong Kong in order to pick up plane loads of rubber dog sh*t and fake vomit for transport back to the USA before resting for a few days in his starter home in Denton.
Harrison humors Ashley some more before promising he’ll pull some strings and then attempting her to re-focus on the guys who have foregone alcohol more times than not this season and have had to unknowingly suffer her secret insecurities and love for Bentley. He gets the plane righted enough to get her to the rose ceremony and it went down as follows:
1. Ben F.
6. Ames (he preferred a wrist corsage but settled for the boutonnière)
1. Nick (he lost with class and didn’t embarrass himself. He won’t need an online dating profile. He’ll do just fine at whatever gym he works at).
Well, there it is. After an amazingly painful journey the episode is finally over. With the Amazing count at 54 and Journey count at 10, both of which were significantly eclipsed by the Bentley count of 13 this episode, we head into Episode 6 which will take place in Hong Kong. Enjoy your week. In the meantime, if you need me I’ll be filming myself with my Flipcam in oversized sunglasses pining over Bentley. DP