Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Fantasy Suites: Time to Thai the Knot

Well hello, Readers.  Yes, Some Guy survived his week-long ordeal.  All I’m allowed to say about it is that we ended up with a great result for the clients.  I’m glad it’s over.  Trial work is a taxing, exhausting experience and the best you can hope for is a favorable resolution to the case.  Fortunately, that happened here.  


I appreciate those of you who sent well wishes and encouragement.  Hell, I even appreciate those of you who sent self-interested tweets and emails encouraging me to drop my life and simply post a recap.  It’s good to feel needed, I suppose.  One of you told me to “stop tweeting and come back armed with a recap.”  Brutal.  Poor Sarah got elbowed out weeks ago and you’re still making jokes about it.  Between her and Pistorious it’s been a rough ride over the past few weeks.  If only he’d been unarmed.  I tried to think of a joke but, frankly, I’m stumped.  Annnyyyhoo. . . .


Actually, that’s not entirely true.  I have a few Sarah jokes I’ve kept under wraps in anticipation of my return to the blogosphere.  Let me just preface this by saying that her departure was literally the saddest thing I’ve seen on the show.  Ever.  It was impossible not to feel badly for her.  She’s a lovely, attractive woman who’ll find that certain someone eventually.  


Ok, here goes.  


You know it has to be tough to be single like Sarah and try and build a life.  I know she wants to buy a house and put down roots.  She should really look into an Adjustable Rate Mortgage.  She’d really benefit from an ARM.  I’m going to go out on a limb and say Sarah will be happy one day.  It was difficult to see Sean give her the stiff arm like he did.  Alright, enough with the Sarah jokes.  I doubt she would find any of these jokes the least bit Humerus.    



With that out of the way, let’s get to Put Out or Get Out Week. 


Cut to our forlorn, brooding Bachelor roaming the beaches of Thailand in search of purpose in his turquoise tank top.  He broods in his tank top, broods in a hammock, broods by a fountain, and generally broods around the resort grounds.  Sean tells us that Thailand looks “like something out of a movie.”  We presume he means a movie about Thailand.  Regardless, he broods some more before recapping all of his “relationships” with Catherine, AshLee, and the dimwitted Lindsay.  He was as red as a baboon’s ass, by the way. 




Date Time with Lindsay.


As she is accustomed to doing, Lindsay shows up in heat.  Sean is “blown away” (an expression I found apropos for the Fantasy Date) by Lindsay who sports some sort of skirt get-up and immediately begins doing what she does best:  sucking face with Sean.  Frankly, I couldn’t fault her for relying upon what got her to the fantasy round.  She’s dumb but she’s not oblivious.    


They go to the local market where Lindsay opines that when she and Sean finally marry their “normal vacations will be just like this.”  Right.  Shopping in open air markets and eating bugs in Thailand.  Bless her heart.  I mean that literally.  Her heart should pump harder in order to feed more oxygenated blood to her brain.  Looking at her is like looking into a flashlight whose batteries are just about to fail.  You can smack her against your palm all you want, it’s not going to make her any brighter.


After looking at some Thai knick knacks and whatnots they wander to a cooked bug stand in search of nourishment.  Sean immediately proves what we already know:  Lindsay will try anything.  She eats a bug.  Big deal.  I’m sure that’s not the first time she’s put something in her mouth that she was unsure about in order to impress a guy.  I envisioned her getting some sort of chemical repellent poisoning from the bugs and being forced to have a liver transplant as a result.  Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be a big deal.  After all, there’s no way Lindsay’s body would reject an organ.  Annnyyyhooo . . .     


Incidentally, there was a girl I grew up with that was (bless her heart) about as intellectually gifted as Lindsay.  She was a sweetheart and was rather “gifted” between the neck and the belly button, if you know what I mean.  I cannot tell you how many times during our 4 years of high school she fell for the “I’ll bet you a dollar you can’t touch your elbows behind your back” joke.  Teenage boys are horrible.  Back to Lindsay.    


Filled with crunchy exoskeletons, they retire to Yong Ling Beach to feed the monkeys; all of whom outsmarted Lindsay.  As I watched a half-naked Lindsay relate to the primates, I finally understood what Sean sees in her.  After all, Dumb and Agreeable looks pretty damn good next to Broken and Controlling or Independent and Asian.  The patent nymphomania is like the (busted) cherry on top of the sundae. 


Lindsay tries real hard to find the perfect words to convey her undying love to Sean in time to capture his tri-torn heart.  She confidently offers, “I absolutely have everything open.”  Wow.  That’s up there with Gia’s “you want to eat my salmon?”  I’ll give her credit for trying.  Lindsay doesn’t know the meaning of the word “quit”.  Then again, she doesn’t know the meaning of a lot of words.  I’ve used that joke 3 times in this blog and it keeps getting funnier every time I use it. 


Lindsay and Sean enjoy a light dinner and some wine before opening the Harrison-crafted Forgo the Foreplay card inviting them to an all night make out session in the Fantasy Suite.  Of course, Lindsay is in.  Again, I can’t fault her for keeping “absolutely everything open.” I assume that statement included her legs.    


A bunch of Thai dancers show up in traditional costumes and perform the local mating dance in anticipation of Lindsay and Sean’s night together.  You know Harrison invited a couple of those Thai chicks back to his suite after having a few pops in the beach bar. 


Date with AshLee. 


AshLee shows up in her white mesh Wes Hightower shirt and white Daisy Dukes.  She lays it on thick.  Really thick.  They take a voyage in a phallic boat around phallic rocks.  Subtle. 



Sean makes a wonderful decision when he decides to bring the control freak to a undersea cave.  Notwithstanding the giant cave in front of them (again, very subtle), I think we were all understandably distracted by AshLee’s giant fake cans.  Good Lord, those things were like ears on a Mickey Mouse lollipop.  She may have a fear of abandonment, but those things aren’t going to abandon her any time soon.  I felt comforted that if Sean’s raft got punctured in the cave that he and AshLee would both have adequate flotation devices.   


After another series of metaphors for life AshLee and Sean reach the secluded beach and talk forever literally about NOTHING.  She also says she won’t put out in the Fantasy Suite.  Booooooo.  Sean pretends he’s fine with her unwillingness to poontang it up in the Suite.  He “wants the time to be alone with no distractions.”  Right, like his pesky erection or those giant fake melons she’s been shoving in his face all day.  Whatever.


In perhaps my favorite Bachelor moment ever AshLee drops “I’d like a cushion ring with a band with diamonds all the way around and I’m a size six and a half.”  I actually broke from tradition and rewound that part three times.  For those of you sitting in anticipation of an impending proposal from Mr. Wonderful out there, here’s some free advice from Some Guy.  Don’t do that.  Being confident is one thing but trying to name your ring is like stepping up to the plate and pointing over the right field fence.  It might have worked once (allegedly), but it won’t work for you.  If some dude is going to go out and buy you a diamond, do him a favor and appreciate it, would you?  Sean knows she’s headed home so that little faux pas failed to grab his attention.  Poor AshLee.  We all saw it coming, didn’t we?


But first . . . Catherine date. 


Sean and Catherine jump on a boat and enter Thailand’s well-known yearly boat race:  The Poon-yatta Regatta.   We try to listen to what she and Sean are discussing but are distracted by the stark contrast in their coloring and nationalities.  I tried to picture sunburned blond Thai kids but couldn’t do it.    


True to her competitive Asian spirit Catherine shows off her cans as well.  Granted, they weren’t as impressive as AshLee’s, but they were nothing to shake a Thai stick at.  They make out on the boat and Sean proves that he still needs kissing lessons.   Where’s Arie Loveadyke when you need him?


Proving more cautious than the others, Catherine lets us know that she “cares a lot” about Sean.  She implies that she “might” put out in the Suite.  It’s always the one who is the most non-committal that gets chosen.  In the end, Catherine’s smarts and maturity will win out over Lindsay’s well, whatever it is that Lindsay offers.    


Catherine again implies that it’s “on” if Sean will sweep her away to the Suite.  We assume she hopes that her fellow countrywomen have washed the Lindsay and AshLee off the sheets prior to her arrival.      




Before he can whisk Sean away to the Lair of Seclusion, Harrison pays some ABC bills with an odd Wizard of Oz promo.  The cross-pollination of shows is an annoying trend that I wish would stop.  Come to think of it, cross-pollination is appropriate for the Fantasy Suite episode. 


Harrison and Sean meet in the Lair of Seclusion which has taken on a Thai flare beyond having a picture of Catherine in it.  Sean views the Private Video Messages and we all know it’s over for AshLee when we see Sean’s reaction to her video. 

Let me say this about AshLee.  I honestly hope(d) that this experience is a step up instead of a regression back into her obvious childhood issues regarding abandonment.  She seems like a genuinely nice person who was blessed enough to find incredibly decent people to raise her.  I felt like she, more than any contestant I’ve ever seen on this show, really did “put herself out there” (to keep with the standard cliché nomenclature) in an effort to win Sean over.  At some point, she forgot there were two other women competing for Sean.  Sean clearly felt awful about sending her down stream but I think he probably made the correct decision. 


Rose Ceremony.   




Gone:  AshLee

She looked Pissed Off.  REALLY pissed off.  I found that disheartening in light of my paragraph above.  She looked like Medusa for crying out loud.  I was hopeful when I saw her finally shed some tears in the limo. 

Let’s hope she’s put that moment in its proper place by the time the Women Tell All episode airs. She’s proven herself capable of trying to get past some pretty serious issues. Let’s hope she goes the rest of the way. On the positive side, she gets to wake up with those boobs every day. Hell, if I had a pair of my own like that, I’d never leave the house. 

Well, there it is.  Next week is the Women Bitch about Everything Episode and the following week is the THREE hour finale—the first two hours and 50 minutes of which is filler.  It’s nice to be back.  Thanks, as always, for continuing to show up here each week.   Take care of yourselves and the people around you.  In the meantime, if you need me I’ll be brooding in my turquoise tank top in search of a cave where I can park my boat.  DP



Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Check it Out. DP Checks In

Hello, Readers.  I have a window of time in which to contemplate the vicissitudes of my existence lately.  From what I hear, our mutual friend Sean had a similar opportunity with Harrison last night.  For those of you following me on Twitter, thank you.  It's fun getting feedback (even from those of you gently harassing me from afar) amidst the stresses of my life as a dedicated Doctor of Jurisprudence (that's a fancy way of saying I went to school to chase ambulances). 

Like sands through an hour glass or, more appropriately, sh*t through a goose, my days move from ante to post meridiem faster than I'd like them to lately.  Frankly, my "real" job is making me delirious.  I was watching Fox News on the treadmill during a lunch break the other day and I could have sworn Megyn Kelly winked at me.  Granted, it was subtle, but then again I believe she mouthed "Some Guy in Austin" as she winked.  I'm like some sort of modern day Mark David Chapman, for crying out loud.  I might as well fly to New York and talk to passing strangers in front of The Dakota.  Annnyyyyhooo. ...  

Incidentally, while proof reading this brief hello, I was reminded of a lesson I once learned (and that was forever burned upon the deep recesses of my brain as a child) from a Catholic nun in the first grade (I am no longer Catholic or in the First Grade) when I was berated in front of the class and summarily slapped with a ruler across my delicate and well formed (that is still true) buttocks when I misstated the time as 8 o'clock "Anti Meridian" as opposed to "Ante Meridiem."  I was reminded in no uncertain terms that Ante Meridiem is a Latin expression meaning "after mid-day," while "Anti Meridian" refers to the 180th meridan on the globe--the basis for the International Date Line.  Excuse me, Sister.  Sexual frustration and gender envy have odd ways of manifesting themselves, don't they?  Although I was six years old, I'm certain that question ran through my head as I was being slapped by a fat stranger in a poorly fitting habit.   
Up until that day I always thought the International Date Line was something I'd have to cross in order to get a date with a Spanish chick.  Details.  You can see why I went on to earn a degree in and pursue a profession in a field that obsesses about details.  I should sue that nun.  
Remember this movie? 
Keeping in line with my stream of consciousness style of writing, the nun reminds me of two jokes that I'm particularly fond of telling.  For your entertainment, I've taken the liberty of sharing them below. 

Joke 1:  A priest is walking down the street and he is propositioned by a Corinthian woman (that's a whore for those of you who were not subjected to Catholic school).  "Hey Father, how about a blowjob for twenty bucks," she asks.  Confused, the priest hurries into his nearby church.  He approaches a nun praying in the front pew.  "Excuse me sister, I have a delicate question I need an answer to, please."  "Certainly, Father," replies the nun.  "What is a blowjob?" he asks.  "Twenty bucks.  Same as downtown," says the nun. 

Joke 2:  What kind of meat can priests eat on Friday? 

You're welcome.  Enjoy the rest of your week and the next.  I'll be back as soon as I can.   In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be comparing prices downtown.  DP

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

DP Faces the Cold, Hard Truth

Hello, Readers.  As always, welcome back to the modestly named Best Blog in the World.  For the observant ones in the crowd you've undoubtedly noticed that my title does not include the words "Bachelor" or "Sean."  For the non-observant ones, I'll pause a moment so you can look.  

It's true that I haven't posted about Episode 6 and, although I watched intently last night (my Sparkle hurts this morning), I have not yet posted about Episode 7.  The unfortunate truth is that my professional life (the real one that pays the mortgage and keeps me buzzing about town in my fancy German sedan) requires all of my attention and focus at the moment.  

I've alluded over the past few months to one of those all encompassing cases that come along every so often in a trial lawyer's career.  Think A Civil Action with Travolta or The Verdict with Newman.  Despite my best efforts, the case is going to trial very soon and my clients need me to be prepared.

I've often thought about posting a day in the life of a lawyer on this blog.  The truth is that I'm now sorry I've never done that.  Contrary to the usual images of lawyers as cheats, thieves, and liars the vast majority of the people I encounter in this profession are honorable, passionate, unapologetic advocates for their clients.  You see, I believe very strongly in "The System" and there is nothing quite like being tasked with guiding my otherwise helpless client through its corridors in search of a resolution.  (I'll spare you the word "Justice").  

My case is a case involving a horrific death that left a wife without a husband, three kids without a father, and eleven children without a grandfather.  It's contentious, exhausting, and (perish the thought) very personal.  Again, for the observant ones in the bunch, you saw where I was headed with this a few paragraphs ago.  Preparing for a three day trial with a few witnesses and a stack of documents is one thing.  However, preparing for a three week ordeal with 30 witnesses and stacks of boxes filled with documents is another.

Something must give (for a while anyway).  I'm officially going on hiatus for a few weeks.  I hope to be done in time to return for the end of the season.  For now, I'll stick to Twitter and live tweet during the show.  I appreciate those of you who have chosen to follow me.  For those of you who haven't, get on it!  SomeGuyinAustin or just click on the thingy on the right side of this blog.  

Thank you all for choosing to come here and share part of your lives with me on this blog.  I cannot put into words (how's that for irony) how much joy I get out of hitting the "Publish" icon and waiting for all of you to chime in every week.  Take care of yourselves, hug someone you love, have a wonderful Valentine's Day, and check in on me on occasion.  In the meantime, if you need me I'll be polishing my briefs until they Sparkle.   DP

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Sean Episode 5: This Goat’s Milk is Baaaaaaad.

Hello, Readers.  Welcome back to Episode 5 which, apparently, is nothing more than a precursor to Tuesday’s Episode 6.  As dumbfounded as I am about ABC scheduling choice, I’m more confused about this season’s obsession with cattiness and first responders.  The ambulance has showed up more times this season than at a Charlie Sheen pool party for crying out loud.  Ambulance schmambulance.  They need to call the police and mix in some sort of standoff that ends with Tierra getting a Taser straight to her ample cleavage.   


It’s so obvious that the hours upon hours of film taken this season yield little usable footage beyond petty bickering and Sean’s gratuitous Bowflex workouts.  The cache is so unusable that the normally dormant Harrison came out of his Lair of Seclusion like some well-dressed Punxsutawney Phil peeking out of his hole in order to determine the length of the Bachelor season.  He’s been forced into major camera time.  At least ABC knows when to play its ace, I suppose.  


Before we begin in earnest, I’d like to give a shout out to two of my most loyal readers.  The first is laurap from NYC who sent me a message last week saying she had something to send me.  Normally cautious, I confirmed that the aforementioned item would not be ticking and provided an address for her to send it.  Lo and behold, two days later I opened a package and discovered that I am now the proud owner of a genuine “Breathe if You’re Horny” hat.  I’ll provide some photos of me in the hat in the next post.  “Thanks,” laurap. 


The second shout out goes to Mallory, my twenty-something reader, who was kind enough to give an old(er) man some Twitter advice.  Thanks to those of you who chose to follow me on Twitter and thanks for Mallory for the tips.  Incidentally, I now understand that the past tense of “Tweet” is “Tweeted.”  That’s good to know.  It explains the strange looks I got from people this week when I told them I’d been “Twatting” a lot.  Annnyyhooo. . . .  With the Amazing Count at a suggestive 69 and the Journey Count at an appropriately unlucky 13, let’s get to it. 


We begin with Tierra acting like the snotty little brat that she is.  Flights, buses, and mountains set up the two day event in breath taking Montana.  Harrison leads off in his untucked oxford.  11 women (21.5 arms), 1 One-on-One, 1 Group Date, and 1 dreaded Two-on-one date await them this week in Whitefish, Montana.  Here’s a picture of me in Montana.


The best part about the big “you’re traveling” announcement Harrison made to the ladies was two-fold.  First, the women could barely contain their disappointment when they realized they were A.) Going somewhere in the United States and, B.) heading even further North of the Equator.  The second best part was the close up on Daniella’s vacant face.  You could literally see her wondering where Montana was and hoping that the yellow summer dress she’d packed for the exotic location trip was geographically and seasonally correct.  Tough luck, Daniella.  Tough luck. 


Sean arrives early to self-reflect a bit in a Buddy Holly plane.  He misses the women in his rugged underwear shirt but looks forward to “roughing it in the outdoors.”  Right.    The women arrive, whoooo hooo The Lodge at Whitefish Lake, and  “So” everything . . . well, everything before Selma finds the date card.  She opens it without kissing it while AshLee organizes everyone’s thoughts. 


“Lindsay, Let love soar. Sean.”  Frankly, it would have been funnier if they would have spelled it “SORE,” but I suppose they’re saving the homophone jokes for the Fantasy Suite dates.  Realizing she’ll have some extra time on her hand, Sarah combs the phone book in search of a half priced manicure (or was it a two for one?).    


Lindsay tells us that she’s on top of the world.  I presumed (and not unfairly, I think) that Lindsay did not mean that she was excited about the date.  She actually believed that Montana was literally on top of the world.  Sarah has half an arm and Lindsay has half a brain, apparently.  Incidentally, I noticed that “Sarah” has an HA but not an ND.  It also has an AR but not an M.  “What an odd coincidence,” I thought.  Odd indeed.    


Sean shows up in his Montana-appropriate flannel and Lindsay does the same in her seasonal winter boots.  “Is that a helicopter?” she asks.  I waited for her to follow it with “No, really, is that a helicopter?”  Presumably, Sean explained to her that it was, in fact, a helicopter. 


Glacier National Park tour.  Picnic at Blackfeet Indian Reservation.  Make out in the meadow in the freezing cold weather.  Nice date.  That looked cold.  I immediately thought about The Highlander and his wife in Scotland.  Remember that movie?  Incidentally, Chistopher Lambert, the guy who played the Highlander, was married to my lifelong crush, Diane Lane.  She dumped him when she became aware of my existence. 




Back at the lodge under a giant moose head they drink by the fire as a lone rose waits nearby.  Lindsay tells Sean that she doesn’t know what brought her there.  Presumably, Sean explained to her that it’s called a “car.”  Lindsay like explains that like her Dad was like totally in the like Army and that it was like super scary when like he went to like that far away sandy place that’s like SO far from the top of the world like where she is right now.  Sean pretends like her like Army brat story is like good and gives her a rose.  Since when does “My Dad’s a General” equate to “I was born without an arm?”  Whatever.   


One more surprise.  The entire town of Whitefish (and a bunch of ABC extras) shows up to see Sarah Darling, whoever she is.  Apparently, she’s huge in Whitefish.  They platform dance awkwardly and Lindsay drops “He’s very good looking on the eyes.”  Sigh….  She can't even cliche correctly.  She’s. So. Dumb.   By the way, no, that’s not real country music.   Harrison must own a piece of her record label.   


Knock knock. 


AshLee rushes to retrieve the Date Card.  “You make my heart race, Sean.”  Selma, AshLee, Desiree, Catherine, Sarah, Leslie, Robyn, and Daniella get the big Group Date.  After thinkin’ real hard the girls surmise that Tierra and Jackie have drawn the dreaded Two-on-one date.  Tierra knows (and so did all of us) that she can beat the heretofore personality-less Jackie. 


Seasonal vests, scarves, and knee boots abound as Selma perfectly executes a Jillian-esque leg wrap jump greeting.  Granted, it was incredibly slutty to lead with her hoo ha, but it wasn’t a kiss so she won’t burn in hell.  I immediately tried to write a joke for that thing she was wearing on her head but for the life of me I couldn’t even think of what to call it.  Awful.    


Harrison stands waiting with goats.  It’s time for the Montana Wilderness Relay.  Teams of 4 will complete a canoe race, hay carry, saw through a log, and a milk a goat.  To “win” one of the team members must drink the goat’s milk straight from the goat.  Desiree announces that she will gladly down warm salty fluids to hang out with Sean.  Notwithstanding my temptation to simply list all of the warm goat’s milk jokes that popped into my head, I jumped to my first practical thought.  “I think you need two hands for all that stuff,” I thought.    


The winners stay and the losers go home.  Everything that was said sounded dirty.  True to her promise, Desiree chugs the milk and her team wins.  Boring.  I prayed that the goats would escape making it necessary for Harrison and Sean to stand in their stead.  Then I realized this was ABC and not VH-1.    


The winners head to Casey’s bar which has been pre-lit in true blue light Bachelor fashion.  Sean bends the rules by sending Harrison to the house with his  5 o’clock shadow and naked ring finger to retrieve the losers and invite them to the party.  “Good idea,” I thought along with the rest of you.  Here we go. 


Ashley, Daniella, Catherine, Lesley show up at the party in spite of not having chugged the goat’s milk.  Harrison invites Jackie and Tierra back to his lodge for a drink and a pillow fight.  Fifty bucks says he invited one of the goats too. 


Daniella, also a few miles short of a full intellect, announces that “this is not a competition but it’s a race for him.”  Tomato, tamahto, I guess.  Tierra is pissed and immediately writes in her diary,


“Dear Diary, Writing in a fake diary worked for Courtney last season so I think I’ll try it now.  The Lodge is one story so I can’t fall down the stairs. 


Love, Tierra. 


P.S. (Remember to Google ‘hypothermia’ when I get back from being a bitch.).” 


Back at the bar, Selma won’t kiss anyone but swears a bunch and talks in the third person, neither of which will send her to hell.  Sean reassures the women.  Robyn pouts.  Tierra shows up in flannel.


Desiree remains bummed that the losers got to show up.  Look, I’ll give her credit.   She chugged warm goat’s milk straight from the goat.  How many of you think she’s ever going to live that down when she eventually gets sent packing?  Hell, Lance Armstrong will live down his recent troubles sooner than that.  AshLee shows up  to make a personally organized speech filled with clichés.  Sean kisses her to shut her up. 


Knock knock. 


Ugh boots and flannel shirts.  Lindsay, gets the Date Card and like reads it.  “Tierra and Jackie, Love is a wild ride. Sean.” She also like reads the note from like Chris Harrison  “Two women, one rose.  One stays, one goes.” 


Sean gets some time with Catherine (she’s going to win, by the way).  He carries her down the street and they snuggle like hobos on various benches and alleys.  



Daniella, in her unseasonal yellow (see, I told you she had no idea where Montana was) refuses to break up the cuddle session. She cries before getting some of her own one-on-one time and ruining it by crying. Sean listens to her and eventually kisses her snotty face. I’d rather drink goat’s milk. Sean hands out a placation rose to Daniella.   Robyn is pissed off and we all realize that February is indeed Black History Month. 

Get it?  She’s history?  See what I did there?  Annnyyyywhooo . . .   


Two on One


Tierra and Jackie pack their bags and reiterate the rules.  Jakcie dons her  Ubiquitous 30 foot scarf and about 30 pounds of eye liner and mascara. . . each.  Tierra acts like a C-word.  Sean re-loves Montana in his cardigan sweater before riding up to meet them on a  white horse.  Please.    


Tierra does her best to impress Sean by sitting on the saddle horn.  Jackie has trouble working the horse. 


Jackie makes the Cardinal Mistake of the two-on-one:  She talks trash about other girl on the date.  Poor Jackie.  Sean was clearly bored and Kacie got sent home for the same thing . . . well, that and being desperate.  Jackie does her best to pour goat’s milk on Tierra.  Being that girl on the two-on-one is like being the first slave out of the tunnel at the Roman Colosseum. 

After an odd dinner back at the lodge Tierra drops a dead boyfriend from rehab story for good measure.  She's flustered (oddly enough) with both her “feelings” and her “emotions” which we assume bear some distinction in her own crazy mind.  Whatever.  It works and Jackie gets sent back behind the Sephora counter with her eye makeup and fake white doctor’s coat. 


Sean “great girls” Jackie while walking her to the hearse.  “NOW is the time to pile on, Jackie,” I thought.  She apparently thought better of it and ended up losing with class.  She clearly wasn’t heartbroken.  She’ll find a nice dude behind the retail counter at Dillards.  She cries a bit.  I liked her a lot, but if I’m honest, she didn’t do much to impress me and, more importantly, Sean.   She does the cover the face cry in the car and  Tierra rubs it in.  I can’t wait for her to fake like she almost freezes to death.    


Cocktail party. 


Grouse Mountain Lodge.


We realize that everything in the entire state of Montana is made out of a dead animal.  The stuffed heads watch in awe as Sean shows up in his limo.  I meant the taxidermied animals and not the women just in case you were wondering.  He pretends to be excited about the remaining stragglers by giving another canned toast.  I’m going to apply to this freaking show as a Toast Writer/Dance Instructor.  Good Lord.  The entire thing is a giant cliché.   


Speaking of inanimate things that are prepared, stuffed, and ready to be mounted, Tierra melts down . . . again.  Robyn loses her cool and vows to go “Bad Girls Club” on her.  Some of the “ladies” confront her but Tierra stands her ground like a Honey Badger.  She’s not about to get “Threh-end” even though she’s “fuss-trated.”


Lesley gets a one-on-one and inexplicably fails to take a direct invite from Sean to unload on Tierra.  Mind boggling. 


Harrison shows up (mercifully).   The tension mounts, albeit vaguely.  “Certain things have come out” about “some of the girls here.”    


Sean spends some time with Harrison and Harrison’s naked ring finger venting in the  Lair of Seclusion while comparing Limo driver neck ties.  Harrison listens while simultaneously counting his fat paycheck (minus child support and spousal maintenance, of course.)  Harrison feigns concern.  Sean has heard a lot, we’re told, about Tierra’s awfulness but he’s so confused at the lack of evidence.  Too bad there’s not hours and hours of video tape he can review in order to….oh wait. Never mind. 


Harrison sets up the Rose Ceremony.


1.      Lindsay (defies explanation)

2.      Daniella  (She’s gone soon)

3.      Tierra   (She is too)


4.   Selma   (She should have kissed the goat)

5.   Catherine (She’s going to win)

6.   Lesley (seems to have lost interest)

7.   AshLee (top three but she won’t win)

8.   Sarah   (Sean kept her at arm’s length this week)

9.   Desiree (looks better without the bangs but is stalling quickly)


Out:  Jackie and Robyn


Well, there it is.  I’ll do my best to get Tuesday’s episode up quickly but, man, that will be tough.  Until next time, take care of yourselves.  In the meantime, if you need me I’ll be making goat cheese.  DP