Bachelor Chris Episode 5: Britt Gets Bratty

Amazing Count 81

Journey Count 16

Well hello, Readers.  Dude.  I have to confess that this is shaping up to be my favorite Bachelor season since Jake cried like a sissy demanding to see Chris Harrison when Roz cheated on him at his own cocktail party before being told to hit the road and being walked out of the mansion by that fat guy in the black leather hat who helped her pack her sh*t.  

This week would bring us a Tierra-esque fall, more classic female dating mistakes, and tantalizing tastes of turquoise in the capital city of Santa Fe, New Mexico.  

Incidentally, when Texas became a republic in 1836 it claimed Santa Fe as part of Texas along the Rio Grande.  Unfortunately for the people who lost their lives gaining independence from Mexico, Megan never got the message.  According to her, Santa Fe might as well be Cancun.  Can you imagine how simple and myopic her day-to-day thoughts are?   It’s fascinating, really.  It’s inconceivable to me that any person with a grade school education---or a smart phone---would have no idea that New Mexico is part of the United States.  Apparently, that word doesn’t mean what I think it means.

I do not think it means what you think it means.  

Chris arrives early in Santa Fe to scope out his Southwestern-themed hotel and align his chakras.  More about the chakras and vortices later.  For those of you unfamiliar with the Southwest, you’re in for a treat.   The only thing more colorful than the scenery is the host of hippies and weirdoes who specialize in unconventional healing methods and existing off the grid.  

Harrison pops in for a moment in his casual v-neck sweater.  Like his appearance later in the show, he’s got no time for nonsense.  “Listen up.  Pack what you need.  You’re going to Santa Fe.  No, you don't need a passport.  Here’s the date card.  I’m out.” Drop mic.  Exit Stage Left.  After all, that peyote isn’t going to eat itself.  

Speaking of peyote, Megan optimistically hopes that in New Mexico they’ll be going to a “beach resort place.”  In New Mexico.  All of the virgins and non-virgins alike are excited to take the field trip.  Date Card.  “Carly.  Let’s come together.  Chris.” 

Subtle.    

Kelsey, who’s been creeping toward instability for weeks now, begins to take on crazy like water into the engine room of the Titanic.  She’s officially nuts---and possibly a murderer, although I’m hopeful that poor Sanderson’s plot involved some Sleeping with the Enemy-type escape plan rather than an early demise. 

The irony is that Santa Fe would have made a perfect hiding place for him to re-build his modest, albeit fulfilling, new life with a mousy, yet sweet and angelic school teacher who appreciates him for who he really is rather than how carefully he aligns the soup can labels in the pantry. 

What’s more plausible:  an early death due to congestive heart failure or a well-planned falsification of own death in order to get away from the hyper-possessive claws of his f*cking crazy wife?  Let’s pray it’s the latter.  If not, God rest his soul.  His parents were likely not thrilled with her little display.    

I know I’m rambling this week.  Let’s see where this goes. 

Britt.  For weeks now I’ve been wondering who reminds me of Britt.  Fortunately for me, my friend Heather has a daughter named Eliza who grew up with Britt and her sisters.  Eliza was nice enough to send me a picture them.

That's Britt in the middle.

Boom.  She looks like a Bratz doll.  Hilarious.  Apparently, the biggest difference between Britt and an actual Bratz doll is that the Bratz dolls wear a pant size large than her and occasionally bathe.  That was weird, wasn’t it? 

On a side note, Eliza, a teenager, was away for the summer when the Mrs. and I visited Heather and her extremely tolerant husband Mike.  They are very dear friends and, because of that, Heather insisted we sleep in Eliza's room because--spare the thought--the guest room bed was not up to par.  It was a bit close to the wine cellar as well.  To be fair, letting me sleep there is like letting the wolf sleep next to the hen house. 

At any rate, I proceeded to enjoy Heather and Mike's vast wine collection and ended up hammered with a set of purple lips and purple teeth before staggering into bed.  The Mrs. has the creepiest picture of me drunk off my gourd lying alone with a purple grin like the Grinch in a teenage girl's bed.  It's extremely disturbing  . . . and funny too.  Sorry, Liza.  That's your mom's fault.  Back to the recap.   

Everyone wanders amongst the turquoise and peyote and we find out that Santa Fe is the perfect place to fall in love.  Sigh . . . . exactly how long is that list now?   

Carly successfully executes this season’s first leap and kiss greeting.  She and Chris compare overbites before heading into the Hacienda del Poontang for the weirdest date in Bachelor history.    

They find a New Mexican meditating by the pool.  Frankly she looked a lot like an old Mexican, but that’s neither here nor there.  Her name was Tsatziki Sauce and she was an Intimacy and Love Coach which, in Santa Fe anyway, is apparently synonymous with Bullsh*t Artist and Voyeur.   

Look, I know there are some of you reading this who actually believe in vortices, crystal powers, chakra realignment, tantric healing, and even free healthcare.  I’m not judging.  If that works for you, fantastic.  Perhaps I’m too cynical to buy it.  Sedona, Arizona is one of my favorite places to go.  It’s basically Santa Fe with less turquoise and Indians instead of New Mexicans.  I’ll admit the rocks and crystals there have great healing power . . . just not the rocks and crystals they sell in the gift shops.

Healing Rocks.

Carly has gotten the short end of the stick this season.  Goat’s milk, mud races, and chanting ex-hippies.  Poor thing.   She tried to be a good sport, but was clearly uncomfortable. Well, everything but the straddling him Indian-style before Chris finally manned up dropping “it’s our first date and some things are worth waiting for.”  I can’t wait for the end of this date, I thought. 

After a great conversation by the fire, Carly got the rose.  As I said last time, she’s really won me over and I thought that her fire time was reminiscent of last week’s time with Jade.  She was open, honest, calm, and listened when she had to.  He’ll respect her, but he won’t pick her.   Why?  Too much damage lurking below the surface and she’s not hot enough.  Sorry, but it’s the truth.  Carly will find the right person.  She’s too funny, genuine, and sweet not to.  It’s just not Chris.   

Incidentally, if you’re looking for tips from a guy’s perspective here’s one:  Women get locked up on the superficial things about other women, which is why they say things like Ashley I. did this week about the other women.  “I don’t see him with someone like her” or  “how could he like her, she’s not even pretty.”  Their focus is on the wrong thing.

Looks are important to men, but looks alone won't keep a man around.  Men looking for a commitment look for authenticity.  They look for a girl who doesn’t pretend to be something she’s not.  I think we’d all agree that Ashely I. is an example of what not to do.  Jade and Carly are real people regardless of who they are.  Neither one of them is acting.  That’s the same reason why Michelle Money is . . . well, Michelle Money.  She’s a high maintenance pain in the ass but she owns it.  There’s something liberating about that to a man.

Put another way, there’s only one relationship you can control.  That’s your relationship with the guy you’re into.   Focus on a.) being honest with yourself and with him and b.) being a decent person.  The rest is chocolate ice cream.  Sorry, that’s the best I can explain it.  Just watch Chris’s reaction.  You’ll see what I mean.    

Kelsey talks and talks.  She’s terrifying.  I was waiting for her to be overcome with guilt and break into a sleepwalking fit. 

“Out, damned spot! Out, I say!—One, two. Why, then, ’tis time to do ’t. Hell is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! A soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?—Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him.” 

My Story is AMAZING!  

Granted, Lady Macbeth talked her husband into killing King Duncan, but you get the picture.  I’d bet even Lady Macbeth would have waited more than 15 months to go on a dating show.  

How’d you like to fall asleep next to Kelsey knowing the Wustoff-filled Crate and Barrel Knife Block she made you register for was sitting on the kitchen counter just down the hallway?  I think we all envisioned the disinterment of poor Sanderson for the much-needed toxicology tests his heretofore “grieving” widow refused to allow.  Disturbing. 

Group Date    

Jade, Megan, Kaitlyn, Whitney, Mackenzie, Becca, Samantha, Ashley, Kelsey—Group Date.  “I’m rapidly falling in love.”  

The girls show up in 8 different versions of the same outfit.  Lululemon yoga pants and hoodies give way to helmets and life jackets right after Cisco the Water Rafting Guide ducked into the shot for the best cameo in Bachelor history by terrifying the women before the big boating trip (drop mic. exit stage left).  He’s apparently had some free time on his hands since he recorded The Thong Song.

Rafting is Dangerous

Dinner.  Tight dresses and leather tiny jackets are the yoga pants and hoodies of the evening.  “Time is the most important thing” becomes the theme around the regionally decorated lodge.  Sigh… do they know nothing? 

Jordan, who apparently took three weeks to sober up, shows up at the hotel after her 392 mile drive from Denver (thanks Google Maps).  She drove from Colorado.  Good Lord.  I wonder if she disabled her ankle bracelet.  Notwithstanding the fact that we all suspended the “how did she know to go to that hotel at that time and wait in the lobby for Chris” question and just accepted the fact that she was there, I think we couldn’t ignore the most obvious question:  how did she even remember who Chris was after walking around drunker than a hobo with gout for a week before being sent home?  Like an idiot, he brings her to hang with the remaining ladies. 

Look, if the Producers made him do it, ok.  However, if that was his idea, he’s dumber than Megan.  Turquoise necklaces prove there’s a gift shop in the hotel.  The only things more prominent than the shiny new turquoise swag were the go-to-hell looks jumping from the women’s faces like angry frogs from hot lily pads when Jordan entered the room. 

Ashley I. in her hymen-accentuating “dress” loses it.  She’s a child.  The rest of the women, one by one, proceed to complain about Jordan to Chris rather than taking the time to talk to him about—oh…any other subject than what a bad decision he just made.  Another tip:  Men LOVE to be nagged into submission by being told they’re too stupid to make a good decision. 

Becca and Jade came the closest to doing it artfully but Whitney scored points by remaining classy.  She was rewarded with the “Girl Who Bitched the Least” Rose from Chris.  Solid work, Whitney.  You have 9 lives.   

Ladies, ladies, ladies.   See my rules from last week’s post. NEVER question the Bachelor’s decision when it comes to the other women.  It’s useless not to mention the fact that you’re all being artfully manipulated by the production staff.  If any of the women are under the delusion that Jordan woke up one day, jumped in her Jeep, blew into her court-ordered breathalyzer ignition lock, and headed South to Santa Fe on a whim, they need to wake up.  Chris finally relents and sends Jordan packing. 

Man, it would have been fun to meet her at the hotel bar that night and get drunk with her.  Can you imagine?  I pictured Harrison popping up next to her, whiskey bottle in one hand, two glasses in the other saying, “man, that was tough in there” and then texting that Tzatsiki lady his room number on their way up the elevator.  Annyyyhooo. . .  

Kelsey looks like Olive Oyl.

There's arsenic in your spinach.

Date Card.  Britt apparently doesn’t shower.  He should have taken her on the Rio Grande date.   “The Sky’s the limit.”  She’s terrified of heights and she cries based solely on the word “sky” in the Date Card.    

Britt is a closet pain in the ass.  It’s obvious.  She sleeps in her makeup for crying out loud.  Mass murdering clowns don’t even do that.  She doesn’t shower either.   I’m not buying that, however.  When Chris “snuck” into her already open hotel suite to “wake her up” for their date, her hair was freshly blown out and her eyes weren’t stuck together like Ashely I.’s legs at a frat house.  Now SHE’S acting. 

She and Chris have a date filled with hot air.  It involved a balloon ride too. 

Kelsey continues to go nuts.  And jealousy begins to flow like free chardonnay.  She’s the type of girl that is so jealous she’d look at a guy's calendar and wonder who May and June were.   

Saint Augustine wrote “[s]he that is jealous is not in love” and John Dryden wrote “jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.”  I think both of those are true statements.  The women this week spent more time focusing on what they could not control than they did on why they came there in the first place.  Sometimes that’s funny and sometimes I try to make it funnier than it is.  This week it bordered on sad.    

There is always something containing “Self” within jealous speculation.  “We begin by coveting what we see every day,” says Hanibal Lecter to a young Clarice Starling in Silence of the Lambs.  Some of these women have been coveting a wedding for so long now, they’ve forgotten about the part between being single and getting married.  The ones who can focus on that in the remaining weeks will walk away with roses.   

You’ll notice I’m glossing over the next bit of goings on.  That’s because we were treated to my favorite Bachelor scenario.  Our Bachelor, overcome with emotion after Kelsey fooled him into thinking she’s not a sociopath, “takes a moment” to go cry in the driveway.  We all knew what was going on behind the scenes.

Production Asst.:   “Mr. Harrison?  I’m sorry to disturb you and Jordan.”

OHCH:                       “It’s fine.  Tsatziki, stop chanting.  Go on.”

Production Asst:         “Hayseed One has left the corn field.  We have a code yellow.”

OHCH:                       “I’ll be right down.  Tsatziki, grab my vest.”

 “What just happened in there?” is his lead in.  Brilliant.  He calms our Bachelor sans the yet-to-be-seen Lair of Seclusion, drops the “no cocktail party” speech on the ladies and heads back to his tantric hideaway to finish exploring Jordan’s vorticies.  You know he handed his butter knife and ubiquitous champagne flute hastily to the anxious intern in the lobby on his way to the elevator.

OHCH:           “That’s how it’s done.”

Intern:             “Th—th—thank you, Mr. Har…”

OHCH:           “No eye contact.  Don’t address me.”  

Kelsey, realizing she’s on the chopping block in spite of her veiled threats of mariticide fakes a slip and fall near the bathroom.  She needed a lawyer more than she needed a medic at that point.  For the first time in as long as I can remember, there is no rose ceremony.  Nice twist.  Bravo. 

Roses.

Whitney

Carly

Britt

We’ll have to wait until next week to see what awaits the rest of the ladies.

Well, there it is.  More reflective and preachy than normal, but this season, unlike the last few, has made me think.  That’s a nice change.  Speculate away in the Comments below or find me on Twitter @SomeGuyinAustin.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be rafting in Santa Fe, Mexico.   DP