Hello, Readers. My tardiness is beginning to become a habit, but then again, so is my creditors’ penchant for sending me bills that have to be paid. Sometimes I do what I really want to do. Most of the time, I do what I have to do. Thanks for being patient and thanks to those of you who sent me encouraging messages. I won’t bore you with my usual intro fluff in light of the late post. Let’s get to it.
We begin with
an odd purple patterned shirt with solid purple cuffs. Look, he’s The Man, but even The Man can make
a bad shirt choice and he certainly did.
Perhaps he took a few early pops of Bermuda rum before staggering into
the hotel gift shop and slapping down the network credit card for that shirt so
that one billing cycle from now some accountant in his hovel in the ABC sweatshop
could classify that line item as “Bachelorette Host—Wardrobe Expense” thereby
relieving Harrison of any perceived financial obligation. Either that or his soon-to-be ex-wife hates
that shirt and never let him leave the house in it.
Poor shirt choice aside, Harrison tells the v-neck and board short clad potential soon-to-be Emily’s possible fiancé and ultimately maybe her husband hopefuls that there will be a one on one, a group date, and the dreaded two on one date. Jef rolls up the sleeves of his t-shirt confirming he has no muscles. Doug and Ryan continue to look like a couple of beefy idiots. I predict that they'll make out with each other before the season is over. There's simply too much macho tension there.
Upon finding out about the impending trip to Bermuda, the testosterone filled bunch takes a moment to touch tips (Google it) before wooo hoooing their way back to the community bedroom like a sexually charged bunch of Bonobo chimps and packing additional v-necks and board shorts for the trip.
Emily moms it up on the beach. Nice work negotiating the free trip for your daughter, by the way. Say what you want, but whoever she hired to strike whatever deal she got to be on the show did a pretty f*cking good job striking it. I assume she locked up the free keys to her free Tahoe in her free house before leaving on her free trip with Little Ricki and heading to the beach . . . for free. Emily silently thumbs her nose at Ali by dressing Little Ricki in yellow. She regurgitates snippets from the “Fun Facts about
brochure she found tucked into the right pocket of the itinerary folder she was
handed prior to the trip.
The guys arrive in their travel v-necks looking like a bunch of homosexual Hell’s Angels on scooters. They park at the Tucker’s Point resort and engage in some more tip touching while “bro-ing” each other uncontrollably. The Date Card arrives and Arie reads it. "Doug, Let’s let our senses lead the way." Doug attempts to restrain his excitement much like his tiny black v-neck t-shirt attempts to restrain his overall beefiness. Ryan opts for a gray shirt, which, let’s face it, is a shade of black and Arie drops a classic “I really want the football team to disband” line that might as well have been stolen from the head of Yours Truly.
A heretofore hugless Doug takes off his black v-neck in favor of an identically fitting blue one as the men take the “bro-ing” each other to a completely different level of annoying. In a rare candid moment we get a great segment of Doug getting his HGH shrunken balls busted by the men and a small glimpse of an obvious anger problem lurking just beneath Doug’s thin cotton v-neck. That will rear its ugly head sooner than later, but Doug manages to keep it in check long enough for Emily and her maxi dress to arrive in time to intercede in the aforementioned ball busting. Delivering yet again, Arie refers to Doug as the Hulk and includes a masterful impression of him.
Look, I know Arie and his odd Scandinavian surname got some bad press this week, but the guy is killing it on this show so far. He’s not out of putz range yet, but he certainly demonstrated an intellect sharper than some of the idiots who rely solely upon the stuff in their t-shirts than the stuff between their ears.
Again, I don’t trust Doug but I can’t yet tell you why. Perhaps he’s simply not likeable or perhaps he does have a latent issue waiting to erupt. Regardless, he pretends to love shopping for glass figurines and perfume with Emily before hitting the church steps and laying it on thicker than whatever product makes Ryan’s hair look like Ryan’s hair about his kid, his charity, and his overflowing wonderfulness. Whatever. The last time we heard that "too perfect" garbage from a contestant on this show was when the Douchebag from Denton uttered it in episode one of his laborious season. We all know how that turned out.
Emily seems sufficiently impressed but (pay attention ladies) does not eat it up before melting into an indiscriminant giggling fit like every Bachelorette in recent memory would have done. You wonder what I see in her besides her white shorts? This is part of it. She’s got a level head--it appears--and she’s not easily swayed by bullshit attempts to snow her over. We saw a lot more of that this week as she rebuffed Ryan’s idiotic attempts at whatever it was he was attempting to convey. Incidentally, that’s a big reason why wimps like Jef will always have a shot with her. Sincerity and a humble tone obviously go far with her and while it’s probably not impossible to fool her—no one is immune from that—she’s not going to depants herself for the first guy who starts a kid’s charity or used to play “pro” football.
Doug masks whatever problem we’ll find out about in an upcoming episode by saying he has “bad days.” They fake write a postcard to Doug’s son, Austin.
"Dear Austin, I’m the MILF your dad left you to chase around for 8 weeks while you stay behind and try to play catch with yourself. I was smart enough to get the network to pay for my daughter, Little Ricki, to come on this great around the world trip with me and she gets to sit around in a
hotel room with an overly permissive caretaker and eat chocolate and cotton
candy all day. Anyways, I’ll remind your
dad to pick you up a toy replica of a 747 at the airport when his anger gets
the best of him and I’m forced to send him back home. Love, Emily."
Alright, it’s an unusually large post card and Emily has uncharacteristically small handwriting and immaculate penmanship. Poetic license. Sue me. Emily probably dots her i’s with hearts.
Dinner with Doug. Emily confirms what I believe I’ve seen and says she feels like he's hiding something. She goes with the "similar to Brad" card. Look out. We assume she wasn't referring to the preponderance of Axe Body spray emanating from the cotton pores of his tight v-neck undershirt. Doug attempts to duck his way out of some legitimate questions and Emily doesn’t give up. Again, I was impressed with her persistence. Nice work, Emily. Finally, a Bachelorette with her head out of her ass, I thought. She's clearly not buying it, but eventually lets Doug up for air. "I'm just a guy. I'm not a genius." I'm just Doug.” Fair enough, Schmuck. Emily relents, let's him off the mat, and gives him the "It's not time for you to leave yet" rose. Putz.
Doug fumbles the ball on the goal line in the waning seconds of the Superbowl by failing to move in for the kiss. To top that off he tells her that he hasn’t kissed anyone in months (Ryan obviously doesn’t count) and then he refers to himself in the third person, which is exactly what Arie did when he mocked him. Weak finish, Doug. Hell, I felt like giving the guy a hug.
Knock Knock. The Group Date Card arrives and Travis whines like a sissy. How is that guy still around? The whole egg thing should have spelled the end for him. "Let's set sail on the sea of Love" it reads and Charlie, Ryan, Chris, Jef, Sean, Arie, Travis, and Kalon are left to ponder the cryptic message while accountant Nate does the math postulating that Alejandro, Wolf, and Silent Michael are left to stew over the dreaded two on one.
Group Date. Emily awaits the arrival of the men wearing an incredibly feminine sweater. Kalon shows up in an even more feminine sweater. Kalon is “in his element” on a sailboat and Ryan wishes a shirtless football game was on the agenda. Some middle aged guy gives the men rudimentary sailing lessons and we learn the winners of the Douchebag Regatta will enjoy the company of Emily while the losers will cry all the way home like every child's little toe after This Little Piggy.
It’s yellow t-shirts vs. red t-shirts as most of the men lament the lack of a v-neck. There’s another Bonobo moment or two and Jef vows he’s never gonna give her up, never gonna let her down, never gonna run around. He’s simply going to put his lack of muscles to use in the regatta. He’d have been better off using his hair as a wind foil, but bless him for trying. Accounting wiz Nate looked confused when one of the guys vowed to “give 1000%” in his quest to win for Emily. Nate is keenly aware that 100% is, by definition, the maximum amount of effort that can be put forward. He restrains the urge to correct the glaring error but notes that an audit watch is warranted in the future.
Emily echoes what most of us were thinking after the d*ck measuring contest began: She hates watching guys compete. Amen, Emily. Ryan feels out of place in yellow and longs for black as Emily awaits the results of the ridiculous regatta alone on the shore. She should have hightailed it to the local beach bar and knocked back a few pops with
and his purple cuffs. Yellow wins, Red
Arie, Jef, Kalon, and Ryan get the prize and the losers ride home in silence until Charlie, overcome with the heart wrenching realization that he’s going to be forced to return to a free luxury suite in Bermuda with no responsibilities and a full bar awaiting him, bursts into silent tears.
Far be it from me to make light of a brain injury, but for those of us who have been close to a person who’s suffered one, it is literally like someone took a giant magnifying glass and put it on every personality trait that person has. Emotions run very high and often in extremes. I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what we were witnessing with Charlie. Look, he seems like a nice enough guy, but perhaps he needs a little more time to recover before being thrown into unfamiliar, emotionally charged situations in front of a camera. Just a thought.
Speaking of people with brain issues, Ryan has the balls to refer to Emily as “a trophy wife” when kicking off the cocktail party with a toast. The look on Emily’s face was priceless and the other guys wisely distanced themselves while secretly grinning from ear lobe to ear lobe inside. What. A. Tool.
Arie gets first one on one on the beach under the blanket and wastes zero time making it count. He wisely goes with "I missed you," instead of whining about indecision or kissing her ass with hackneyed compliments and aww shucks deprecation. From his long, thoughtful pauses, wrinkled brow in show of interest, and his liberal use of non-sexual physical touch, this guy gets it done under the white blanket. He's clearly brushed up on his Love Languages. THAT’s how you take advantage of alone time, boys. Arie lays it on thick without smothering her in affection and caps it off with early and often kisses. Stuff that in your v-neck and smoke it, “If Doug wants a kiss Doug will wait for a kiss.”
Jef gets some time under the blanket and does little more than look like Woody Woodpecker as his hair gel succumbs to the
wind. He opens up to Emily in a low key
way but she was likely distracted by Arie’s lingering pheromones still seeping from
the white blanket. He too missed an
obvious invitation for a kiss. Bummer,
After more whining at the house we get to Ryan who has clearly and unequivocally distinguished himself as this season’s biggest jerk. Please tell me that the vast majority of women wouldn’t buy the load of crap he attempted (unsuccessfully, I might point out) to spoon feed Emily. She’s been “given a great deal of responsibility,” “I have a mature approach,” “I have a lot of depth,” “I’m not here to impress you but to make an impression on you.” Give me a break.
Look, I’m sorry his “pro” football career is over and he’s now relegated to charging chubby, insecure women fifty bucks for a 40 minute session of doing sit ups on that giant rubber ball thing before walking 15 minutes on the treadmill and going some “core work” at the local 24 Hour Fitness but the attempt at overcompensation is beyond comprehension. That entire speech was more canned than Jef's giant bottle of White Rain hairspray and more rehearsed than a Jabberwocky matinee (remember those guys?).
The absolute best part—well, there were several best parts—was Emily’s complete and utter disregard for his entire act. Is he really ignorant enough to believe that a girl who looks like her has never been unabashedly hit on by 100 idiots exactly like him in the past? Apparently so. She doesn't buy it and if you look close enough you can see her trying not to laugh. She drops a crushing "You're very interesting" Translation: You're a putz. Then she stands her ground and goes at him. Good for her. It’s the same garbage that Bentley fed to Ashley last season except Ashley was too dumb to do anything but swoon over it. Props to Emily for knowing better. For those of you Emily haters out there, give credit where it’s due. That little bit has probably been working for Ryan for longer than he’s been wearing black v-necks.
He's so used to apple-tini soaked twenty somethings in
bars buying that
line of crap he was literally out of options when it didn’t work. I half expected him to take off his shirt
like that guy on the first episode whose job was also teaching girls how to
lift weights. He tops the whole thing
off with a transparent speech about using her “power” to influence women when
what he really meant was “I’m a jealous fool who can’t stand to lose.” Emily rightfully points out the double
standard and successfully fights the urge to tell him to go F himself. Let’s hope he’s the guy ordered to “get the
f*ck out” next week. Atlanta
The Date Rose goes to Jef, who paid for it with a tacking and jibing hand injury aboard the S.S. Cheeseball. Hell, he deserved it. He humbly accepts it and the date ends as it should. Ryan goes home to explore the “depth” of his rectum with his head.
Two on One Date
They need to take this date out behind the shed and put it out of its misery. It’s a good idea in theory but it makes for horrible television—well, even more horrible than we usually see in this time slot on this particular network. Besides, I actually like both of the guys selected but wanted Wolf to win solely because of the Louis Vuitton luggage comment. Nate claims to have a "fun outgoing side" but I think it was clear before the date started that he’d idled in the garage way too long to capture Emily’s attention. Wolf might have started in the same boat (no pun intended) but the guy is funny enough to get her giggling on the first date and do enough to stick around.
The hotel-stuck bros take an informal vote and agree on John coming back based on his age. Chris, who’s 25 and walked right into that producer planted discussion, disagrees. Tension fills the air and Chris and Doug square off. Stupid.
In the meantime, Emily vows to keep an “open mind” about the date. Translation: I don't know either of these mutes because they haven't said a word to me. The first one out of the gate wins. She likely forgot that Michael was a contestant on the show. She probably thought he was in the room delivering towels and hand lotion.
They go cliff diving. That’s it. When the only usable footage from an all day yacht date at sea in
is a far off shot of a cliff dive you can imagine how boring that date actually
Emily dons her white pants which I was glad to see because I hypothesized that the white shorts she wore on Brad’s season got their start that way. I prayed the same fate awaited her current pair of white pants.
The go to a cave for dinner and each guy fails to make phallic jokes about Stalactites vs. Stalagmites. I, for one, was disappointed. Emily does her best to manage the awkwardness, but the deck was stacked against her. On a bright note, she complimented her white pants with a silky green blouse that looked nice. Sure, it wasn’t as nice as the silky coral blouse that Nate chose to compliment his Sperry topsider, cuffed jeans, and beige sport coat ensemble, but it worked nonetheless. He looked like he was headed to play shuffleboard on the lido deck.
I’ll skip the details here and let you know that Nate was ultimately sent packing and Wolf respectfully took the victory in stride. Nate was gracious and I’m certain he’ll score some hotties at the local sports bar in his hometown during the first “radio remote” he’s invited to do by K whatever 93 point whatever with Fast Eddy and The Boner in the morning. The crying about whatever he cried about during his one on one with Emily was a nice touch too. Safe travels, Nate.
Before cocktail time, it’s Little Ricki time. Emily goes over Little Ricki’s school lessons and makes sure she’s studying her “Sight Words.” For those of you who are unfamiliar with the state of elementary education, “sight words” are short, often common words that children are drilled on in order to commit to memory so as to make reading easier. “The,” “Of,” “Stop,” “And,” are examples. I’m sure Little Ricki’s were a tad different however.
Sight words for Little Ricki: Loser, Rose, Stepdad, Free trip, Trust Fund, and Monchichi likely made her list. Emily blows kisses on her way out the door as “Miss Nina,” the overly permissive nanny, fires up the chocolate milk spiked with Rum in a sippy cup before spanking a big fat nasty filled with
Bermuda’s finest weed.
Ryan bathes in overconfidence like Womack bathes in Axe Body Spray. That never gets old, and even if it does, I won't abandon my theory that Womack loves Axe Body Spray. I literally smell it every time I see him in the distance. I'm like some sort of twisted Pavlov's dog. Annyyhooo... Emily goes with the white pantsuit with an array of beads and Kalon breaks out the lesbian glasses. I assume he had an array of luxury brand beads tucked strategically beneath his luxury brand blazer. He’s a luxury brand as*hole.
Alejandro realizes that mushrooms are probably legal in
Bermuda and moves in to seize his opportunidad con la chica bonita, Emily. Again, this guy is
about as much of a stepfather as Jef is a body builder. He gives Emily the hard sell. She all but tells him, "You're safe dude. You're a putz but not the biggest one
Jef wears--appropriately enough--Bermuda shorts but caps off the ensemble with light blue knee socks. You know what? Good for that guy. If you're going to bust out ridiculous regionally appropriate attire like that it might as well be when you have a Safety Rose. He owned the blue socks and unapologetically sipped his beverage. Nice work, Jef.
More one on one with Ryan and the only thing I’ll say about it is that he’s officially moved from a front runner to sexist pig to a downright creepy jerk with a passion for black v-necks and his own reflection. Emily was CLEARLY uncomfortable. She was so happy to see Arie "steal her away" she barely contained it. She jumped out of her chair as if someone goosed her.
I tried really hard to see who was talking to Emily at this point but ABC was definitely skimping on the mood lighting this episode. Perhaps all of the blue and purple neon was being utilized in
Ryan sinks further into denial and the ABC cameras are all too happy to watch him go there. He’s being set up in a huge way and, frankly, the guy deserves it. Michael finally talks. Ryan tells him that he feels like he's been "called to something bigger" like The Bachelor. Give me a break. What an asshole.
The rain comes in. That's God telling Ryan he's a chach, I thought. Sean gets some one on one. Etc., etc., etc. Yul Brenner movie lines aside, I can't believe no one went with pirate jokes in
Sean strategically goes with "how would Ricki handle marriage?” Nice work.
He, like Wolf, was a slow starter but he’s better looking so he gets
more leeway. He’s come on strong
lately and I see him passing a couple horses on the third turn. Perhas he’s headed toward the Fantasy
Suite. He moved in for a terrible kiss,
but at least he got one. “When Doug
wants a kiss, Doug waits for a kiss.” He
was still waiting while she was kissing Sean.
Doug whines to Ryan. They talk about kissing "when we were younger." Chris gets some one on one. House drama talk. As vague as it can get. Chris pulls Doug aside to discuss the age issue. Mano a mano session. Doug drops a "calm down" and Chris takes the bait. "What are you hiding?" Chris unloads to the fake thunder and lightening. Choppy recap, yes. But that was painful to watch and type. Forgive me.
Harrison FINALLY shows up dressed like The Transporter with the ubiquitous champagne glass and butter knife.
For the first time in as long as I can recall we dust off the ole head shot examination and one on one with
in the Lair of Seclusion. Harrison stirs the
pot as only he can. It’s clear that he
likes Emily. That hasn’t been the case
since Jillian’s season and it was nice to see him engage her. Harrison
laughs heartily at the "maybe he's just that not into me" comment
Emily made about Jef and presses her on Arie.
Harrison is money.
She’s not sure about Charlie and Travis, doubts Alejandro can be a dad, and knows Ryan is a manipulative meathead. Again, say what you want about the veneers and the boobs but she appears to have these guys pegged. Again, everyone is vulnerable when love starts to creep in, but she’s doing her due diligence and she’s doing it well.
is so excited to have an intellect rather than an empty cocktail dress sitting
across from him. They adjourn and the
Rose Ceremony begins in earnest.
6. Travis (he’s harmless but won’t last another week)
8. Ryan (weak, but he’s a producer’s pawn at this point)
9. Kalon (kept his condescending mouth shut this week)
1. Charlie (
Harrison actually dropped a “Sorry, Charlie”)
2. Michael (No date, no dialogue, no nothing)
Well, there it is. With the Amazing count at 25 and the Journey count at 7 we head into next week. Take care of yourselves. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be touching tips with my bros.