Hello, Readers. Well, we’ve made it to the edge of Hometown Week and after enduring seven glorious episodes of Des pretending to be enthused I’m ready to see her brother go nuts next week. Before we jump ahead, however, I believe a recap of this week’s episode is in order.
First, I have some thanks to say. For those of you who have been reading for a while, you know that Some Guy often gets hit up by various marketing folks looking to advertise on the site. I used to be amenable to those emails but I had a couple return emails saying something to the effect of “we’re glad we can advertise on your site but we want you to tone down your content . . . blah, blah, blah.” My response to those emails was simply to delete them in the name of maintaining my artistic integrity. Besides, they weren't offering to pay me.
I know. I’m an oak.
The other long time readers will also recall that I was once approached by a marketing company who wanted me to be the “Celebrity Guest” at the grand opening of the first Carl’s Jr. hamburger joint here in Austin. I politely declined (thereby foregoing a free cheeseburger) and ended up getting a life-sized cut out of “Miss Turkey” delivered to my office anyway. I’m still trying to explain to my receptionist why a life sized cut out of a twenty-something in a bikini holding a handful of lunch meat was sent to me.
You can imagine my surprise when I was contacted a few weeks ago by the wonderful folks over at Rounderwear (www.rounderwear.com) about giving the Jam Fit Lift Boxer below a test drive and then commenting on it. Let’s just say that this little number keeps everything it touches securely in its proper area. Of course, I ordered the large. Putting them on is a like stuffing a toddler into a sandwich baggie, but once in place everything stays . . .well, in place. They definitely work as advertised. Thanks, Rounderwear for trusting me with your unmentionables.
Now, with the Amazing Count at an unthinkable 114 and the Journey Count at a not so shabby 30, let’s get to it.
We begin in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean near Madeira Island, Portugal. I know that because Des’ voice over repeated the geography lesson she’d been given on the flight over by the weary intern tasked with kissing her ass and getting her up to speed on the local hot spots.
She walks contemplatively along cobblestone paths in cork wedges and her 30 foot ubiquitous scarf in a pair of pants so tight I could have read the words “In God We Trust” on a quarter in her pocket. Good Lord. Were those things vacuum sealed? I searched in vain for one of those Space Bag nozzles. Her uterus was probably in her throat.
Since James’ unceremonious departure, everyone is “falling in love” this week. Amazing. Remove the as*hole and everything smells like roses. Harrison is nowhere in sight. Frankly, I don’t blame him for sticking it out in Spain for a few more days. He was probably in Pamplona for the Running of the Sluts. Hell, he’s so Money I’ll bet he could go for a morning jog in Pamplona and the bulls would run from him.
Three solo dates and one dreaded two on one date are in the mix this week. Brooks dons some cut off jean shorts and Drew drones on about the city being “built for love.” Whatever.
In a rare honest moment this season, Des confesses that the “past few weeks have been brutal.” Yea, all of that miscellaneous ass kissing, free pampering, and free exclusive mansions to herself must have been exhausting. I think we’d all agree that the last few weeks have certainly been brutal for all of us.
Three former (and jobless, no doubt) B’ettes, Catherine and her subtle post-engagement weight gain, Jackie and her hotness, and Lesley and her new hair show up for some booze and girl talk. That 5 minute scene was about 5 minutes too long. Frankly, I was appalled at the gawking, lewd comments, and lack of respect they showed the remaining men.
The guys were basically paraded shirtless out to the local pool within binocular distance from the women and subjected to everything from “take your shirt off” to inquiries about who has the largest wedding tackle. I know you think I’m overreacting but turn the tables on that one, would you? Enough said. At one point, Des refers to Zak as “reflective.” Right, I thought. He’s so orange he reflects sunlight. Boring.
Brooks ditches the out dated jean shorts for some even more outdated maroon shorts, an Army green v-neck, and an oxford shirt. Des shows up in some more inexplicably tight jeans and a flowy shirt. After a cliff side drive amongst the majesty Brooks uses the word “pensive” to describe his feelings. I was relieved that he wasn’t “expecially inexpressive” toward Des. The only thing that wandered more aimlessly than that forced conversation was Des’ attention span from the road. Was she hopped up on Madeira wine?
Brooks comments on the “amazing mountains and deep valleys” he sees. I struggled to determine of that was a not-so-subtle Fantasy Suite metaphor or an actual description of what he observed. He loses the v-neck along with his inhibitions somewhere above the clouds and he and Des revert to the old Cloud 9 cliché about Cloud 900 times.
Incidentally, if I recall correctly, the term “Cloud 9” is derived from Buddhism. It’s the 9th and ultimate of 10 States of Being of the Bodhisattva (that means ‘peaceful dude’ or something to that effect). It is the point when all of his acts are unselfish and he is without any desire for anything else. You know, sort of like Harrison in his Madeira Suite. That Philosophy Minor of mine comes in handy from time to time.
Cue the Spanish (or Portuguese) guitar, add a sparkly shirt for Des and an incredibly awful sweater for Brooks, and top it off with sprinkles of more Cloud 9 bulls*it and The date ends. It wasn’t as good as his first date but it’s likely enough to get him into the final two. Nice work, Brooks.
Date Card. “Chris, Let’s sea if we can find love here. Desiree.” Clever. I saw the play on homophones and I knew we were in for some more poor poetry. Is it just me or does Chris look like Bob Saget? Hell, I’ll let all of you decide.
Chris and his Mikey T.-esque five o’clock shadow show up looking like Bob Saget if Bob Saget had been up all night trying to solve a murder. They take a yacht ride to a deserted island after he rubs lotion on Des and she takes off her prodigious cork wedges to reveal her hammer toes. He slathered enough lotion her to style Brooks’ hair for crying out loud. She could have taken a nap on the sun and remained freckle free.
I’ll gloss over the rest of the horror that followed. Watching them attempt to write a poem on that island reminded me of the scene in Apocalypse Now when Willard approaches Kurtz’s camp from the river boat. You know you’re in for something awful, but you’re not sure what it is or how bad it will make you feel. Oh, the Horror.
Chris really needs help with his poetry. I listened intently to decipher the meter and the rhyme scheme. I believe most of his work was written in Idiotic Pentameter; however, his couplets weren’t very heroic. If he makes it to the Fantasy Suite I’m certain that Des will volunteer to help him straighten out his Longfellow. Hell, she might even show him her heroic couplets. Ahhh, English Lit. humor. I love it.
Dinner. They have dinner, Chris drops this season’s first poorly timed and unrequited “I love you,” and yet another horrible poem is read.
Date Card. Michael whines. Zak and Drew on the 2 on 1.
As soon as I saw Michael was granted the "wandering around the open air markets so ABC can spend more money on dates with guys who are actually going to stick around" date, I knew he was doomed. Wearing the classic ironed khaki shorts and immaculate oxford shirt, they wander around and go Statement Necklace shopping as Des “that’s cooooools” whatever it was that Michael was blathering about.
“This necklace will look great on me when Brooks ravishes me in the Fantasy Suite while you’re sitting at home crying into your iPhone asking your mother why I dumped you,” is what Des should have said. Instead, she humors him all afternoon.
By the way, the ironed combination of khaki shorts and fancy shirt with matching belt and sandals or boat shoes has been affectionately referred to as a “Boyfriend Outfit” by my friends and me since high school. You know that outfit. It’s the one that your buddy shows up in every time he’s out on a date. It’s the outfit she picked out for him because she knew he’d look cute in it. It’s also the outfit that all if his buddies relentlessly torture him about when she’s not in the room.
Please don’t be THAT girlfriend (or wife), Ladies. I can tell by the collective, worldwide moan I’m hearing that you don’t believe me. Again, try the same test I asked you to try earlier. Reverse the roles and picture you’re man coming home with arms full of shopping bags and telling you what you were going to wear to dinner.
“But, but, but, Some Guy . . . “. Hush.
Don’t be that girlfriend.
Dinner. Michael shares his dumped on Facebook story. Geesh. What could possibly be more humiliating than that? Oh, I don’t know, getting blindsided on national television in front of millions of viewers who were all in on the secret before you were and then breaking down into tears before insisting that the camera guy in the limo on the way back to the airport loan you his phone so you can call your mother and cry perhaps? If we had any doubt Michael was headed home Des “great guys” him before they listen to an aria by a drag queen in the town square.
Great Guy = Great Seat on the flight home.
Date Card. “Zak and Drew, I’m looking for a man that can make my heart race.”
Drew won the rose but only because he’s insecure and she knew she was keeping Zak. I’ll (again) give Zak credit for handling the entire date with class (including respecting Drew enough to back off of Des a bit) in addition to losing the rose with more class than any guy in the history of the two-on-one date. The guy has certainly won me over this season. Dare I say he’ll be in the running for the next Bachelor? He’s FAR more exciting than Drew and he’s much more likable than Chris. Brooks will be busy pretending to love Des while sitting patiently in the Dancing with the Stars cheap seats, but Zak is more mature than him as well. Go Texas.
Chris packs his . . . giant yellow sunglasses? What the hell was that? As the men pack and suit up for the big Rose Ceremony minus much needed but not in the budget cocktail party, Des dons a teal curtain she made into a dress like the freaking Von Trapp nanny.
Harrison shows up. FINALLY. The Lair of Seclusion is outdoors this time. He runs down the dudes and drops an “Is this over?” when asking about Brooks. Clearly, he’s seen alternate footage but we all know Harrison knows what Harrison knows. She denies it but blushes like a 50’s school girl meeting Elvis.
Chris’ pop collar on the grey sport coat should have sent him home. I won’t even mention the suede elbows. Suede elbows? Is he an Economics professor? The first two roses are doled out and for the first time in Bachelorette history Harrison fails to reemerge and “Gentlemen, Des, this is the final rose of the evening. Des, whenever you’re ready.” I was crestfallen.
Michael (he looked stunned).
Note to Des: There’s no purpose in the “how special you are” talk after you kick a guy in the balls with no warning. Oh, and don’t use the F word. You’re a great “Friend” is the last thing a person in that situation needs to hear. Just let him go after you just let him go. At least he got a roomy black van instead of a cab.
Well, there it is. We head into home town dates next week and Des' brother makes his first creepy appearance (on camera anyway) of the year. I can't wait. Attached is a picture of Some Guy sans V-neck and ironed shorts on Lake Austin for the Fourth of July Weekend. I had fun. I hope y'all did to. Take care. In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be looking for a nice pair of heroic couplets. DP