Kaitlyn Episode 3: Countdown to the Big Bang

Hello, Readers. 

Yes, I met Chris Harrison the other night.  Here’s proof.

Here he is laughing to himself inside that Lincee and I bought two of his books.  

And here he is (apparently) responding to Lincee's question about a rectal exam.  At least that's what I think he was talking about.  It's a bit foggy.  

Lincee Ray and I went to his book signing at Barnes & Noble here in Austin along with Mrs. Some Guy on standby with her camera like some sort of Reality TV Jane Goodall photographing the chimps in their natural environment. 

Yes, he was Money.  Yes, he was nice.  And yes, I smelled him.  He smelled strongly of cash and, if you looked closely, you could see stripper glitter peppered throughout his sport coat.   

Biggest surprise?  He was considerably shorter than me.  I didn’t expect that. My favorite part of the meeting--other than when he hit Lincee squarely in the jaw like an Ali right with “we were talking about you in the back of a limo the other day,”--was when he politely declined to go out to one of my favorite honky tonks for a few Lone Star beers with us after the signing because he already had plans to meet Brad Womack for dinner.

Ditched on the Group Date because Harrison had a one-on-one with Womack.  Is it wrong that when he told me that I instantly pictured him and Womack dancing together in some abandoned, softly lit Austin landmark while The Band Train played a private concert?  

Oh well, it was worth the shot, I suppose.  In Los Angeles, California that would have been unfortunate for me but in Austin, Texas, that’s his loss, not mine.   It was fun meeting him, though.  Now I just have to figure out how to get his job. 

As for the recap, I need to disclaim a couple of things before I get started.  First, if you’ve even remotely been paying attention to the weather over the past couple of days you’ll know that Austin took a lot of rain.  In fact, it hasn’t flooded here like it did this weekend since 1981.  The up side is that Lake Travis is up about 25 feet in the past 30 days and is now over 60% full.  That means the Edwards Aquifer where we get our water is also full.  

The down side is that there was a lot of property damage to my beloved Hill County to the west and southwest of Austin.  Thanks to all of you who sent me a message of concern.  We’re fine here in Austin.   I knew Harrison had a reputation for making it rain, but this is ridiculous. 

Second, due to a brief power outage, the first group date (which was apparently a natural extension of the previously mentioned tip touching testosterone contest that ensued in the last cocktail party) did not record.  Oh Darn. 

Word has it that Ben Z. won and Kupah made a supah fool out of himself while the guy with the giant chin used it to block a haymaker and joined Ames as the only other contestant to suffer a life-altering concussion while trying to win the heart of a woman who is not going to sleep with him anyway.

Clint One on One Date

This is where I started watching.  Clint hasn’t shown me much personality yet but he is (presumably anyway) the creator of the soon to be infamous Triceratops Harrison charcoal pencil drawing.  Hell, if you ask me that should have been the cover of Harrison’s book. 

Just as I gave Clint the benefit of the doubt he shows up in Pink Bermuda shorts and a t-shirt.  Pink shorts?  Hey Clint, it’s a one-on-one date with a woman you’re trying to impress.  It’s not limbo time on the lido deck of some Bahamian cruise ship.  He might as well have been carrying a tray of mojitos and a laminated bar menu.   

Kaitlyn shows up in white jeans.   I don’t expect most of you to know what glaring message white jeans on a woman screams to every man, but trust me, don’t wear white jeans.  And, no, it doesn't make us think you're a Bee Gees fan.  

Like stereotypes, urban legends exist because there is a modicum of truth to them.  Based on last week’s previews, I’d say Kaitlyn isn’t exactly doing her womanly best to dispel the white pants stigma.  I’ll leave it at that. 

Thankfully, the date gave both of them an opportunity to lose their driving outfits and they ended up meeting “Giselle, the Conceptual Underwater Photographer.”  Please.  She’s likely related to that weirdo who made The Farmer dry hump poor Carly amongst the incense and turquoise last season. 

“Conceptual Underwater Photographer”?  I suppose that makes me a Conceptual Cyberspace Reality Aficionado.  Conceptual?  Something tells me that a few weeks ago she was probably an Actual Starbucks Barista.  

Regardless, Clint makes the most of an incredibly ridiculous situation and steals a few between-the-conceptual-underwater-pictures kisses.  Like the other 24 guys (and probably half of Canada) Kaitlyn lets us know that there’s just something about Clint that tickles her fancy but she just can’t put her finger on it.  Maybe not, but I’d bet she can wrap her legs around it.  Anywhooo . . .

Side note:  A reader commented that I shouldn’t post spoilers on this site and he referred to my breakdown of last week’s previews wherein Kaitlyn is caught in a rather compromising position.  I suppose only one guy really knows the exact position, but that’s not important right now.

What is important is that a “spoiler” is something that Reality Stan posts on his site (or so I’m told).  He apparently seeks out people to give him the dirt prior to the dirt hitting the air and then he posts the results to “spoil” the show.  Ergo, the clever name.  

What I posted was a recap of the teasers for the upcoming season that constituted the last 6 minutes of Episode 2.  In short, it wasn’t a spoiler.  Moving forward, as far as this blog is concerned, anything that can be learned by hitting play on the DVR is fair game for discussion.  Any of my “predictions” are pure speculation.  I don’t read Reality Stan—namely, because I don’t have the time or the interest—but also because I’m not interested in spoilers.   Moving on . . .

Clint and Kaitlyn have a boring dinner.  She flatters him before dusting off the “at the end of the day I want a best friend” speech before giving him the Date Rose.  Nice work, Clint.  It’s always good to see someone actually earn the date rose.  He was sufficiently engaged, demonstrated some spontaneity, and didn’t deck the Conceptual Underwater Photographer.  In hindsight, she should have taken Kupah on that date.  She could have saved herself an underwater conceptual photo session and sent him packing at the same time.  She missed an oppah-tunity.   

Second Group Date Card

Tony the Healer.  I’m not sure if this guy is harmless or he’s on the verge of a chloroform bottle and gauze towel purchase at the local medical supply store.   He’s. So. Freaking. Odd.  He also apparently doesn’t distinguish between Kaitlyn and Britt—at least not in his bathrobe while waxing poetic on the balcony.  He's probably ingested enough peyote to kill most of his brain.      

J.J.  This guy is an asshole.  Plain and simple.  He’s hyper competitive, clearly insecure (probably a homosexual panic), and he’s just not that charming.  He’d confirm all of this later in the evening when, after weaseling the Date Rose out of Kaitlyn with his fake “I miss my daughter” story, he still “stole her away” in violation of a gentlemen’s agreement between all of the other guys.  

It’s going to suck for him when, three months from now, he gets an anonymous text of a picture with showing his toothbrush between some strange, hairy butt cheeks in the mansion.  Oh, and he looks like George Eads from CSI Miami.   

I'm a real actor. 

I'm a real a-hole

Jonathan, Joshua, Chris, Ian, and Joe Dirt round out the group. “I’m looking for a man who will stand up for me.”  Instantly, we all knew how painful this date would be. 

Amy Schumer.  Yawn.  She’s like Chelsea Handler but chubbier and not as rich.    

I’ll spare everyone the massacre.  Stand up is not easy, but these guys were exceptionally bad.  Props to her for keeping it together watching all of these guys fumble with the microphone like a 15 year old boy with a bra strap.  That must have been painful for her. Then again, she got paid to do it.  

She did actually take some funny shots at the dentist and his toothpaste colored blouse and accurately summed up all of our feelings about J.J. when he professed that his humor was lost on the simple minded audience.  

Yea, J.J., that’s what it is.  You’re simply too smart for all of us.  I suppose that’s plausible; however, the overwhelming odds favor an alternate explanation:  your ego is inversely related to the size of your manhood and you’ve been overcompensating for it for the better part of your adult life.  You can think about that when you hit the airport parking lot in your hometown and walk to whatever two spaces you backed your sports car into before leaving for the show. 

Oh, and the guys put your toothbrush up someone's butt because you're a jerk not because you're smart.  

Cocktail party.  Kaitlyn acts like the guys were funny and Joshua looks like the guy from Nip/Tuck.  He’s never been in love before. 

 I'm a real actor

I'm a real welder. 

Tony is weird as hell.  JJ is an idiot.   Joe Dirt is polite.  Tony again brings up the Britt word.  For a Conceptual Zen Yoga Master he sure creates a lot of stress.   

Joe Dirt moves in for the kiss.  Everywhere he goes he’s running.  Is it me or could Joe Dirt be the oddest sleeper we've ever seen on the show?    

 Run, Joe Dirt, Run!  

She flatters all of them while holding the date rose.  JJ gets the date rose for talking about his daughter who he apparently left at home with his entire cache of dress socks.  Joe Dirt was disappointed.  

Ian gets some one on one.  The poor guy has no room to breathe before he drops his I went to Princeton and got hit by a car story.  The timing was all wrong but let’s face it he didn’t have much of a chance any other time to play his trump card.  He's coming across as too anxious, but he seems like a genuinely nice guy.  She'd do well to pay attention to that quality before Nick shows up like the sun in the desert and blinds her.    

The Healer starts to crack.  His karma crashes into his dogma and pushes his chakra out of whack. 

Speaking of cracking, Kupah drops some anger followed by I’m the “minority guy who fills a quota”.  Listen, Hines Ward, when your blood pressure finally falls below 180 over Vesuvius, maybe you’ll regret that comment and realize that an angry guy confronting a woman who just isn’t that into him is an angry guy in that woman’s face regardless of what color he happens to be.  

“You’re black” is probably the last reason on Kaitlyn’s long list of possible turn offs and, if I had to hazard a guess, it’s probably not on the list at all.  You know what IS on the list?  Aggressive, possessive, and irrational guys with anger problems.  He fumbled on his own 20, in the first quarter, with nothing on the line.  When she kicks him off next week it will be exclusively his own stupid fault.  Kupah has an angah problem.  That’s why he’s going home a losah. 

I'm Kupah and I'm Supah Angry.  

I'm Hines Ward, a Supah Bowl Winnah. 

We head into next week with J.J., Ben Z., and Clint sitting as safe as Kaitlyn’s reputation (ahem. . . ).  But first,

Brady and Britt are totally together.  We know that because we were treated to the actual moment when THIRTY-THREE year old Brady actually dropped a version of “will you go steady with me” on Britt.  Horrible.  You know what?  Good for that guy and good for her.  You know what would be even sweeter?  If Brady broke up with Britt and he’s the one who returns to defile Kaitlyn in her Irish hotel room.  Here’s to wishful thinking.   

Well, there it is.   For the record, I’m not feeling very funny today.   Even Michael Jordan fouled out every now and then.  I’m thankful to be dry and safe in Austin, Texas.  For those of you affected by these storms, perhaps you’ll find a gem in here that takes your mind off whatever it is you lost and puts it on exactly what you didn’t, if even for just a few moments. 

Take care of yourselves and we’ll talk next week.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be conceptually drinking some Lone Stars.  DP