Bachelorette Emily Episode 2: The Herd Thins

Welcome back, Readers.  I’m thrilled the season is in full force but I could have done without the stiff, stuffing-filled, string-operated characters and their inane scripted dialogue.  On the other hand, it was nice to see the Muppets.

 As we gain momentum this season, I’d like to point out that, pursuant to the articulately expressed insistence of some readers, I am desperately in search of some criticism of Emily beyond her veneers.  I’ll keep you well-posted as to my findings.  I’m no longer blissfully blind when it comes to her obvious charms; however, she appears to be a genuinely nice person and, frankly, a dedicated mother in search of a real dude to take out the trash and put up with her garbage.  I, for one, am actually rooting for her to find the prince in the heaping pile of toads this season. 

This week’s well-deserved shout out goes to the heretofore absent Derek and The Boys.  I know I speak for all of the heterosexuals reading this when I say that your contributions to the Comment section of the blog were sorely missed.  Granted, that’s a different kind of soreness that I’d imagine you and The Boys experience, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.  Welcome back to South Beach.  I hope your many adventures overseas were fulfilling.  I’d ask to hear about your adventures abroad, but I doubt there were any broads involved.  It’s nice to have my gay contingency back in the States.  Now, let’s get to it.        

We lead off with shots of the indigenous flora and fauna mulling peacefully around Emily’s Enchanted Forest, Charlotte, North Carolina with her daughter before she dumps the kid off with the frumpy moms and their minivans in the neighborhood park before hopping in her free Tahoe and heading to meet the crew for her morning taping session.  In the meantime, a French blue-clad Harrison drops the “Use Your Time Wisely” a/k/a “C*ck Block Whenever It’s Feasible To Do So” speech on the guys in the courtyard before heading out to judge day three of the Carolina Panther Cheerleader auditions. 

Resident chucklehead Chris grabs the “Be My King in the Queen City” date card and announces that Ryan and his odd haircut is the first big winner.  Oblivious to the invitation’s juxtaposition of royal titles in an attempt to appear clever, a gracious Ryan tactfully accepts the date card while screaming for joy inside.  Speaking of queens, albeit closeted ones, Kalon writhes inside still struggling with his feelings for Emily while simultaneously admiring the rigid symmetry of Ryan’s biceps and envying his strong jaw line. 

Ryan packs while the remaining men “bro” each other in vibrantly colored deep v-necks and bold board shorts at the pool as if they were male birds vying for the attention of the single female sitting stoically in the bushes.  Whatever.  Emily arrives in her free Tahoe and picks Ryan up like a 5 year old waiting for the Car Pool Mom to honk in the driveway so he can go on the yearly field trip to the local planetarium.  All he needed was a sack lunch and a note containing his home address, food allergies, and emergency contact number pinned to his turquoise shirt to complete the humiliation. 

While Ryan wonders aloud what excitement awaits him Emily takes him back to her free house and makes him unload her free groceries . . . for free . . . before baking cookies and slicing oranges to be timely delivered to Little Ricki’s soccer game.  Ryan stews in regret, quietly disappointed that he’s wasted one use of his turquoise deep v-neck.  He should have stuck with the black one he had on earlier.  After all, he’s probably got a dozen of those in his suitcase whereas the turquoise one is solely for the purpose of seduction.  Sigh. . .

Emily delivers the cookies and oranges as Ryan is forced to remain---like Quasimodo in the bell tower—out of the view of Little Ricki and the other respectable citizens in the community.  “Mommy, why is there a giant Monchichi in a turquoise deep v-neck sitting in our free Tahoe,” asks Little Ricki as the camera crew steps softly around the other six year olds.  Emily tactfully ignores the question before splitting a juice box with Ryan in her free Tahoe. 

I’ll say this:  Emily must have driven one hell of a bargain when ABC was begging her to do the show.  Soccer games, cookie baking, and Muppet plays featuring Little Ricki as the big finale aren’t exactly what I had in mind when this season began.  Again, it appears that Emily’s money is where her mouth is when it comes to making sure Little Ricki is well taken care of this season.  Now if only the cameras were where Emily’s boobs are.  Annnnyyyyhooo . . .

After getting screwed out of an adventure date—although I would argue that making cookies with Emily beats the hell out of strapping oneself to a bridge and jumping off of it and subsequently making metaphorical comparisons about bridges and jumps and obstacles and love—Ryan cheerfully dons his Rainman suit and heads to Osso for dinner with Emily who looked incredible in her little red dress.  I’m convinced that it’s impossible for her to look bad at any angle at any time.  She’s like the Grand Canyon for crying out loud.  Say what you want about me, but she’s a beautiful broad. 

Dinner seems to go well and I thought Ryan—odd hairdo and all—actually seemed like a pleasant, humble guy.  He scored major Emily points when he referred to “Ricki and our other children” and discussing “our” future with Emily.  Note to everyone who follows Ryan:  That’s an example of incredible pre-date preparation.  His days of watching film in dimly lighted locker rooms in order to bone up on the offensive formations of his football opponents clearly paid dividends on the date.  The guy was one Axe Body Spray scent selection away from the Fantasy Suite.  It earned him a rose.  Nice work, Ryan.  He managed a first one-on-one date, an at home cookie baking session, and earned a rose all without drawing the ire of the guys at the mansion.  That’s much harder to do than he made it look.  “Ricki and our other children?”  Genius. 

Emily chooses some naughty white oxford shirt and librarian hairdo to tell us about Ryan (she should have borrowed Aaron’s lesbian glasses to complete the look) and they eventually have an incredibly awkward dance among hundreds of pre-invited locals at a two song concert from some alt-rock college band I’ve never heard of before.  All in all, it was a solid date. 

Ding Dong.  Chucklehead Chris gets the Group Date Card and reads aloud. 

Alejandro, Nate, Michael, Alessandro, Tony, Wolf, Jef, Charley, Kyle, Chris, Eric, Stevie, and Kalon get the “Let’s Set the Stage for Love” group date card and Kalon hits the closeted homosexual nail deeper into the my-father-would-cut-off-my-unearned-and-undeserved-trust-fund-money-if-he-knew-I-was-gay coffin by professing his comfort in and love of the theater. “It is not love that should be depicted as blind, but self-love,” said Voltaire.  If that’s the case, then Kalon is as blind as that Chinese activist the American taxpayers just paid to bring over here last week.

The Group Date starts off with a Reservoir Dogs-esque chump walk as the men arrive at the theater and discover—much to their poorly hidden chagrin—that they will be performing show tunes and variety numbers to a packed theater with the Muppets.  At first I wondered why Kermit the Frog was hanging out with Chantal, but then I realized it was Miss Piggy.  Alright, that was mean and uncalled for but I’ll let you decide if Chantal’s inexplicable, non-thyroid-induced weight gain during Brad’s season is funny or not.  If forced, I’d apologize for that joke.  Back to Emily. 

I’ll gloss over the rest of what had to be a slow, excruciating day for all of the participants on the date.  Hell, even the Muppets looked tired.  The first highlight came when an obviously distraught Charley met with Emily and explained that his head injury caused him significant speech problems; some of which would prevent him from speaking lines in front of a packed house. 

I laughed when I saw him confessing, but not at Charley’s injury.  I laughed because of all of the people who could understand being purposefully and unwittingly put in a producer-contrived situation involving the most traumatic event in a person’s life Emily is infinitely qualified.  I half expected her to laugh and say, “yea, they put me in a private jet like the one that killed my fiance and then made me drive a NASCAR around a race track.”  Instead, a gracious and empathetic Emily agrees to make the change.  I’ll give the guy credit.  That had to be a tough call for a guy that size and in that situation to make.  I’ve changed my stance on him although I still think he’s going home early.

The second priceless moment came when Wolf dropped the “What’s the difference between Kermit the Frog and Stevie” joke followed by the “Kermit would never wear that hat” punchline followed by “I have a rule:  if you’re a dude and you have Louis Vuitton luggage, you’re a f*g,” regarding Kalon.  Solid work, Wolf.  Perhaps he should change his nickname to “Hyena.” 

Post theater, the boys retire to the rooftop bar at the Garrison Hotel and Chucklehead Chris wastes no time attempting to fumble the first-impression rose he slipped into last week.  Dude, you’ve tasted the end zone.  Act like you’ve been there before.  He clearly could have used lessons from Jef, who went with the ignoring the hottest chick on the planet strategy this week.  Frankly, that strategy hasn’t been effectively used by a guy with a nickname ending in a single “F” since the founder of Playboy.  Girls like Emily—no matter how sweet and sincere—are not used to being openly ignored.  Jef’s IQ is perhaps as high as his hair.  He capped off the conversation with: 

“We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you”

Nice work, Jef. 

Ding Dong.  A nervous Sean learns that Joe and the Kermit the Frog hoodie that Kalon got him at the theater gets the “Come Close to My Heart” one on one.  Man, that’s such a loaded statement.  It’s too bad I’m such a nice guy.  Back to the C*ck Block Party on the Garrison roof. 

Before I waste a lot of your—and more importantly my—valuable time rehashing the cocktail party, let me simply characterize the entire thing as a testosterone and alcohol-filled exercise in poor attempts at one-upsmanship.  Kalon has the balls to tell us that he’s never had to compete for a woman while clad in his white cardigan sweater, blue gingham oxford, and boat shoes.  I suppose that’s a true statement considering the fact that most of the places he frequents don’t allow actual women. 

I haven’t researched this p*ssy, but I know the type.  I’d be willing to bet a year’s pay that he’s a spoiled brat from Houston who trots around various country clubs and charity events doing his best Christian Gray impression trying to convince himself that his increasingly overwhelming attraction to the male wait staff is nothing more than a passing phase.  He probably went to Southern Methodist University in Dallas and majored in something vague like “Entrepreneurship” or “International Marketing.”

He was unquestionably a member of some fraternity filled with over-privileged, under-worked silver spooners like himself named Hunter Something IV or Rex Baxter III or something similar.  He drove a black SUV, went skiing in Vail every spring break and is likely guilty of a host of date rapes, either directly or by association.  At the end of the day, this guy heads back to his own version of the Red Room of Pain he’s created in the expensive River Oaks condo his grandfather’s company bought for him and struggles with the crushing realization that his father will never really respect him; rather he will simply award him the corner office without regard to merit because he is his father’s son.  He is materialistic, shallow, and—deep down—terrified of mirrors because he has to look at himself in the face.  Alternatively, he might actually be the narcissistic prick he appears to be.  Either way, he’s an as*hole.      

Eventually, after the d*ck measuring contest plays out, Jef, who has remained artfully outside of the controversy earns the Safety Rose and Chucklehead Chris laments Emily’s choice.  Now it’s Joe’s turn.

Joe, although he’s about to get dumped like a load of West Virginia coal, draws the private jet to White Sulphur Springs date as he and Emily arrive at the site of many of her childhood jaunts, The Greenbreir.  When I heard West Virginia images of coal mines and illegal distilleries popped into my head.  However, I seriously doubt Emily’s daddy ever descended into the depths of anything more hostile than a wine cellar based upon the looks of that place. 

The entire date was more forced than a Brad Womack pre-rose ceremony toast and we all felt as bad as Emily did when Joe got dumped.  She was right, he’s a nice guy who simply didn’t fit into her life.  On the up side, he did get to share a swim with Emily in the pool and I was thankful at the quick zoom in the cameraman executed when Emily disrobed.  The “pause” button on my DVR has been rubbed blank . . . in addition to certain parts of my anatomy.  That wasn’t easy to do without spilling my Lone Star.

Thank you, folks.  My first anatomy joke and beer reference of the season. 

Back at the MAN-sion, Kalon continues to annoy the men in board shorts and eventually receives a lecture from the meated out Doug on his fatherhood status.  As much as I hate to admit it, Kalon actually had a point about Doug leaving his kid back in Hug Land or wherever he’s from in order to go on the show.  As mad and veiny as Doug got, I think Kalon’s point was valid.  Granted, it should have been left unmade, but it was valid.  That doesn’t discount the fact that Doug might actually be a good father, but poolside lectures to half-buzzed and fatherless twenty-somethings on a reality show are not akin to political nomination acceptance speeches.  The audience is likely to be hostile.  Doug clearly needed a hug. 

After crying for the sake of Joe’s feelings, Emily returns home to put Little Ricki to bed before her GILF-y mom helps her into a purple little number in preparation for the cocktail party.  “Mommy, why is guy in black hat who helped Roz pack her sh*t hanging out in our free house?” says Little Ricki before fading off into the sleep of angels.  Emily hits the road for the mansion and the cocktail party begins in earnest. 

 

Again, it’s useless to rehash these things moment by moment at this stage of the season; however, I think we’ll all agree that the highlight came when Tony the Lumber Guy was forced to stand guard while a clearly embarrassed Emily read the seven page cliché filled missive carefully crafted by Ryan in memorial to their errand running session that morning.  Seven pages?  It might as well have started, “Call Me Ishmael,” for God’s sake.  That guy would benefit if he learned the simple yet elegant structure of the Haiku.  Here’s one I thought of:

Ryan and his hair

Sends nice words to Emily 

Written in Crayon

See how effective that can be.  Annnnyyyyhooo . . . .

Kalon sits alone and is ironically insulted by Wolf (I’ve come to love that guy) when the editors allow him to rehash the now forever classic Louis Vuitton luggage line.  Harrison enters, gray tie and all, to dispense with the tomfoolery and commence with the rose ceremony.  It went down as follows.

Roses

1.                  Ryan

2.                  Jef

3.                  Kalon

4.                  Arie

5.                  Michael

6.                  Nate

7.                  Sean

8.                  Chucklehead Chris

9.                  Give me Hug Doug

10.              Travis

11.              Tony

12.              Wolf

13.              Alessandro

14.              Charley (he was speechless)

15.              Alejandro

16.              Stevie

Sent home were Joe, Kyle, and Lesbian Glasses Aaron.  And so it goes.  With the Amazing count at 12 and the Journey count at a static 6 we head into next week where the herd will be thinned a bit more.  Enjoy your week and I’ll be back on Tuesday.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll drinking in my board shorts.  DP