Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Emily Episodes 6 & 7 Updates

Hello, Folks. I appreciate the support but do confess that I owe all of you an apology for missing last week's post. I'm in Waco, Texas all week working on that death case I alluded to in my other excuse of a post. Without elaborating, I've been unavoidably preoccupied professionally for the past few weeks in addition to the mountiain of personal goings on in Some Guy's life.

In short, balance is elusive these days and I'm certain that the limited amount of balance this blog interjects into your day from time to time is sorely lacking from your lives. For that, I'm regretful. I appreciate your patience and the show of support--both on the blog and via email--that most of you have shown. For those of you who haven't been as supportive, I suppose there's a big part of me that understands the hostility. Tell you what. I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me.

The good news is that I've allotted some time to amalgamate my notes from Episodes 6 & 7 into a rudimentary post and I'll be carefully sculpting that material like Ryan sculpts his ridiculous pseudo beard. Granted, it won't take me three hours to complete that project, but the metaphor is fresh, so what the hell?

I'll be commenting on that as well as the ridiculous t-shirt he wore to lounge around the Man Suite before his date. After very careful analysis, I'm not entirely convinced that the shirt wasn't a onesie he got in the husky toddler's section at Baby's 'R Us. I swear that thing has snaps in the crotch. Annnnyyyyhooo . . . You'll be hearing from me in earnest shortly.

Thank you again from the top of my head to the bottoms of my turquoise loafers for checking in. For what it's worth, I miss y'all too.

DP

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Emily Episoide 6: Confession

Hello, Readers.  I have to confess that I've been traveling for work in addition to moving into a swanky new pad here in Austin, Texas.  Since I just got my cable back on Tuesday, I haven't even watched the show.  That's a first in blog history.  I will watch and write tonight, although you're all likely to be Bacheloretted out by the time I post.  I'll post as soon as possible.  Remember, time flies like the wind but fruit flies like bananas. 

DP

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Bachelorette Emily Episode 5: Kalon Gets the F*ck Out


Well hello, Readers.  I trust that your week went by swimmingly.  Mine was rather busy again.  I’ve got a lot of balls in the air right now and it’s often difficult to keep juggling them.  Notwithstanding the fact that I’m grateful to have my balls juggled, it’s an exhausting proposition to sit through a one hour show that lasts two hours and come up with a witty breakdown the next morning.  Oh, who am I kidding? I love doing that.  I just wanted to set up an early anatomy joke. 


Before we begin this week I’d love to send a shout out to my London fan base.  I have fond memories of the ex-pats from the USA who now call England home because they were the first people to contact me and let me know that this little blog happened to be read on the other side of the pond.  That still makes me smile when I think about it and they’ve been kind enough to stay in touch over the past couple of years.  In fact, I got an early email last week reminding me that our favorite, least favorite show was being filmed from London.  Thanks for the message.  Good luck in London and travel safely wherever you end up going.  Oh, and if you see Kalon in a cab, point him toward the airport, would you?  Now, let’s get to it.  

We begin in London, England with canned shots of familiar landmarks before seeing Emily and Little Ricki stroll around the city taking advantage of the free swag provided by the ABC advertisers.  They take pictures and ride around in a double decker bus while Emily’s voice over (predictably) recaps her current “in search of the right man for the right reasons” status. 


In a subtle yet definite display that purple was indeed the color of nobility back when Mel Gibson was running around in a kilt, Harrison summons the remaining dudes for a powwow in Trafalgar Square in order to display his new purple scarf.  No one has worn purple that effectively since Prince.  So adamant was he about his selection, the men were prevented from wearing anything but grays and blacks.  It was like watching the first 15 minutes of The Wizard of Oz for crying out loud. 


Harrison lines up the three dates of the week.  There is, of course, the Group Date accompanied by two one-on-one dates.  No flower means you’re on a plane in an hour.  The men absorb the enormity of the week and retire to the Amarillo Suite in the Mayfair Hotel where they undoubtedly snuggled with their multicolored v-neck t-shirts before stumbling upon the first one-on-one Date Card.    


"Sean, Love takes no prisoners," it reads and I screamed “Tower of London” at my television after a swallowing a pull of cold Lone Star beer.  A muted, yet excited Sean overgels his hair (he’s from Dallas, what did you expect?), throws on some plaid over his v-neck, and busts out his best pair of Rascal Flatts jeans (he’s from Dallas, what did you expect?) as Kalon longs for control of the situation.  His androgynous smirk smacked of frustration.  My guess is that this little adventure is likely the first time in his entire life he wasn’t given exactly what he wanted on a platter matching the silver spoon that has been stuffed in his mouth since birth.


Emily arrives looking like a hotter, younger, female Colombo in her brown trenchcoat to meet Sean in the park.  They board a double decker bus and take an identical tour to the one she just had with Little Ricki before dropping her off with the overly permissive nanny.  Sean screams like an idiot and Emily spouts off some more facts from the “Things To Do In London” brochure she received in her ABC itinerary packet. 


BOOORING…   


Back in the Amarillo Room Good Guys Ari and Jef—as evidenced by their white t-shirts—set up this week’s conflict with Bad Guy Kalon in his black t-shirt.  Please.  They might as well have been issued cowboy hats and badges.  Kalon badmouths Little Ricki setting the pre-planned plot in motion and somewhere in the sound truck an ABC intern hit the “Confirm Reservation” button on a London to Houston flight he booked via the Priceline.com website.  We all knew it was coming.  Frankly, so did Kalon.  More about that later.      


Back in the park, Sean confesses that his last date was a harrowing 4-5 months ago.  He’s "selective" he tells her as they philosophize about "good guys" and their qualities.  Honestly, they seemed to have an understated chemistry.  Emily was clearly interested.  He carries her luxury brand handbag on the way to a place called Speaker's Corner where he gets up and speaks about love and some other horrible clichés about his parents and grandparents.  Canned?  Yes, but I’ll give him credit for owning it and she appeared to buy it, which, let’s face it, is all that really counts. 


Sufficiently impressed, they head for dinner in Tower of London.  “I knew it,” I smiled to myself.  Emily does her own royal impression sporting a light purple pashmina while being accompanied by Sean who is dressed like the Transporter.  The guy went from gray pinstripes and a pink tie to dressing like a chauffer.  What gives?    


Some English guy in a stupid outfit seats them.  By the way, I’ve never been to London but it appears that there are a lot of people in ridiculous outfits walking around that city.  It’s like a Renaissance festival accidentally occurring amidst a big city’s daily activities.  Just an observation.  Annnyyyhoooo….


Emily makes small talk and we realize that her grueling luxury brand schedule has made her a bit hoarse.  She bravely pushes on in spite of the pain by spouting off more facts from her ABC prep packet as Sean wisely demonstrates that, unlike Kalon, it is not absolutely necessary to hear himself talk.  The guy’s approach was subtle, yet I have to admit, effective. 


Even when Emily went with the usual 20-something scare away line, "I want a lot of kids," Sean didn’t flinch.  "How many kids does he want?"  We don't know, but she certainly wants a bunch.   I could literally see her ovulating from across the ocean.  Look, I’ve made no secret that I think Emily is hot.  However, she clearly has a biological clock ticking loudly in her ear like that guilty guy from Poe’s The Telltale Heart.  I have my own opinions about that.  Perhaps that’s an off-season post.  I was happy how Sean handled it, though.  Emily appeared happy too.  That fat guy in the black hat who helped Roz pack her s*it when she got booted for banging (allegedly) a producer was sad because he didn’t get to step out of the darkness in his guillotine executioner costume and scare the hell out of Sean.  He was too busy wondering if, like William the Conqueror in 1066, he’d get a chance to storm Emily’s castle.  Hell, she looked like she wanted to see the Crown Jewels. 


Ahh, English humor.      

Sean proves himself to be the anti-Ryan and Emily seemed more receptive than a pack of middle-aged housewives to a Chris Harrison Pool Party invitation.   All we needed was for The Band Train to show up (remember that?)   Sean masterfully illustrates the maxim “When you get to the end zone, act like you've been there.”  Nice work, Sean.  He gets some kisses and a rose.  Like Jef, he’s not “working” Emily and she clearly responds to subtle ass-kissing rather than blatant flattery.  Sean, of course, was just being himself.  That may seem elementary; however, I think we’d all agree that more often than not on this show, that tends to get lost.  


The Group Date Card arrives.  "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." 


Let me pause for a moment.


That quote is perhaps one of the most famous quotes in all of any written or spoken genre and was written by the most famous author of the Western world and beyond.  Not knowing that quote is like not knowing that Tiger Woods plays golf.  Hell, it’s worse than that.  In our world, it’s like not knowing that Chris Harrison hosts this show.  Any person with any semblance of an education has been exposed to it.  Period.  Top that off with the fact that they were in England—the birthplace of that famous author—and I have to agree with Kalon’s assessment of the bunch as "macho dumbasses" when they all failed to recognize a Shakespeare quote in England.  He actually deserves credit for that one.  They apparently teach English Lit at SMU.


Chris, Arie, Ryan, Doug, Alejandro, John, Travis,  and Kalon, who acts like the spoiled brat he is when he doesn't get his way, get the Group Date.  In spite of Nate’s absence, Jef does a bit of math and realizes that he’s drawn the big one-on-one.   


Group date takes place in Stratford on Avon, the birthplace of Shakespeare.  In a feeble attempt to perhaps bond with Emily Ryan inexplicably wears a scarf.  They find out that they’ll be acting out “portions” of Romeo & Juliet for a local crowd.  Good Lord, I thought.  Having this bunch come to Stratford on Avon and act out Romeo & Juliet is like having the Queen of England come to a union hall in Jersey and give a Hoffa speech. 


Arie proves that he is apparently functionally illiterate.  Travis doesn’t do any favors for the struggling Mississippi public education system when he uses the word "menstruals" instead of "minstrels".  All the while Alejandro sat there in his diamond studs drawing on his limited but valuable experience from the time he was the understudy for the part of  Bernardo in Bogata Junior High School’s Summer production of West Side Story in the park. 
 
 
Kalon is hard core, as usual.  He actually shooed Emily away.  She correctly wondered aloud, "I don't know who he thinks he is."  She should have used “get the f*ck out” right then.    
 
 
Doug drops the most ironic line of the night, telling the camera,  "I don't want to sound like an idiot...especially in front of an audience."  Too late, Doug.  There’s been an audience of about 8 million people who think you’re an idiot for the last five weeks.  He clearly needed a hug. 
 
 
People from West Virginia should probably not perform Shakespeare without taking diction lessons beforehand.  I’m just saying.  The only thing this segment had in common with the actual Romeo & Juliet is that, it too, was a huge tragedy. 
 
 
Arie, forced to take a female role, laments the fact that he's "not a thesbian."  I believe he meant "thespian" but dressed like a woman, he sure as hell looked like a thesbian.  If he had 8 more thesbians with him he could form a softball team.  It’s doubtful those thesbians would have to worry about menstruals either.  What do you get when you cross a bike and tampon?  A menstrual cycle.  I'll be here all week.


 
Travis calls Ryan a "sapsucker."  Who is he, Yosemite Sam?  I felt like breaking an ostrich egg over his head.  Confession:  I fast forwarded.      


 
The cocktail party—oddly enough—takes place at Cox's Yard.  Hell, this whole show takes place there.  I wondered aloud if this was actually a “Cock Tail Party.”  It’s amazing what a touch of the “space” button can do, isn’t it?    


 
Emily looked stunning in her short, white number.  They have beers in the pub.  No lights again?  What’s the deal this season?  I was beginning to wonder if Emily either had a pimple or was afflicted with photophobia.  Either way, it’s been awfully dark this season.    


 
Arie snuggles and goes to his backup "I missed you."   Then Emily has alone time with Ryan and his vest.  I prayed she had her rape whistle.  Of course, this is all window dressing.  “Let’s get the f*ck on with it,” I said, drinking my own beer. 
 
 
Kalon sulks and the real Kalon comes out.  Arie and Chris talk it out.  Kalon’s “Ricki is baggage” comment spreads like scurvy on an English vessel as the guys "right reasons" each other.  Doug wants to kill him.  Doug tattles.   She's understandably pissed.  She tries be a lady.  Doug shares some of the safety words he learned in Anger Management training as his ex-wife and her friends simultaneously spit up their chardonnay before bursting into hysterics.  Austin remained in his room alone throwing his baseball into the thin, lonely air surrounding him.    


 
Emily goes all Doug saying, "I want to go out there and rip his limbs off and beat him with them."  So much for being a lady.  Emily loses the jacket like Olivia Newton John in the closing scenes of Grease and confronts Kalon.  Kalon stutters like the pus*y he is.  Eventually, Kalon gets the f*ck out. She removes herself.  He hits the road.  


 
Emily retreats to spend time with Little Ricki.  Oblivious, Ricki wonders why her hotel room is so small and understated as compared to her room in her free house in Charlotte.  Emily is clearly rattled.  This is the part that sucks about being on the show.  We’ve seen everyone—most recently Ben—learn that lesson the hard way.  At least she didn’t curl up in her sheets and hide her head from the camera like some hormonally charged ostrich like Ashley or sob uncontrollably from a balcony like Jake or Mesnick.  She took the time to collect herself, probably had a long shower full of perspective-bringing thoughts, and suited up for her one-on-one with Jay Eee Ef.    


Poor Jef unwittingly inherits the real baggage of the evening but is perceptive enough to lead with a simple compliment and a hug.  He’s in a good position if he plays his cards right, I thought.  He's not a meathead and that's exactly what she needed after the baggage fiasco.  Unfortunately, his gratification will be delayed by a bucktoothed etiquette teacher.  It’s a shame Kalon left so soon.  This sort of garbage would be right up his alley.  A clearly miserable Emily and a mildly annoyed Jef suffer through the “proper” way to do things.  I don't think it works this way in West Virginia or at Jef’s water company.  They hit the Bell and the Crown Pub for some beer and fish and chips.  Now we’re talking.

Jef broaches the Kalon subject and confirms that he sort of told Kalon off in a round about way.  Emily drops the Bachelorette act and says some things that would make Jean, the bucktoothed etiquette teacher spit out her dentures.  That was hot, by the way.  Jef makes some solid luxury brand jokes comparing Ricki to a luxury handbag.  She digs him.  Fast forward to a dinner date where he talked WAY too much and me screaming “Kiss Her, Dude!” at the screen over whatever nonsense he was spouting, Jef did well.  He ended with a kiss and a rose.  I think I speak for most of us when I say that I was proud of him. 

Cocktail party.  Emily calls guys to the carpet for not ratting out Kalon but forgives and forgets.  It's good to bury the hatchet . . . as long as you don't forget where it's buried.  The entire Ricki is baggage comment and the surrounding fallout is immediately dubbed  "The Kalon Situation."

Emily busts everyone’s balls collectively and separately--a lot—about not “having her back.”  Frankly, I think they’re all more interested in her front, but that’s another post.  She made her point clear . . . over and over again. “ For never was there a segment of more woe/Than this which Emily could not let go.”    

Ryan pulls a balcony stunt and then demonstrates what a complete chach he is by speaking in clichés.  Oddly enough, Emily pretended to buy it.  I recalled the time that I was drunk in front of my television at 3am (well, ONE time) and I was almost lulled into picking up the phone and buying Tae Bo.  If you blanket someone with an idea enough times, it will eventually have an effect.  Ryan has been putting the press on Emily with the same line of crap for weeks now and she appeared to buy some of it in her weakened mental state.  Let’s PRAY that this a-hole doesn’t make the Fantasy Suite.  Unlike the one reader who thinks he’s a “hoot,” I can’t stand him.   

Harrison finally gets the f*ck in and pulls out the Ubiquitous Champagne Glass and Butter Knife.  Wolf sports red pants harkening back to Ames’s masterful presentation last season.  He’s no Ames.  Harrison redraws the line in the sand and we’re off. 
Rose Ceremony
1.         Sean
2.         Jef
3.         Doug
4.         Ryan
5.         Chris
6.         John
7.         Travis  
8.         Arie
Gone.
1.         Kalon
2.         Alejandro (Adios y vaya con dios.  Buen intento, amigo)

Well, there we have it.  With that Amazing count at 35 and the Journey count at 8 we head to Croatia for the top 8.  Thanks for your patience this week.  Until next week, please take care of yourselves.  If you need me, I’ll be getting the f*ck out.   DP

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Bachelorette Episode 4: Ryan Loves Doug


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 Harrison in 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 Bermuda” 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 Caribbean 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 Harrison and his purple cuffs.  Yellow wins, Red loses. 


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 Bermuda 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, Jef.    


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 Atlanta 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. 


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 Bermuda is a far off shot of a cliff dive you can imagine how boring that date actually was.  Painful.


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 here."


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 Harrison's suite. 


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 Bermuda.  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 Harrison 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.  Harrison 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. 


ROSE CEREMONY  


Roses



1.         Jeff

2.         John

3.         Doug

4.         Sean    

5.         Arie

6.         Travis (he’s harmless but won’t last another week)

7.         Chris

8.         Ryan (weak, but he’s a producer’s pawn at this point)

9.         Kalon (kept his condescending mouth shut this week)

10.       Alejandro
 

Home.


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. 



DP