Desiree Bachelorette Episode 7: Is Madeira End to the Boredom?

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 9^th 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.

Roses.

1. Drew
2. Brooks
3. Chris
4. Zak

Gone

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

Bachelorette Desiree Episode 6: The Fake House Husbands of Barcelona County

Hello, Readers.  Welcome back to this week’s installment of the Big Recap.  As usual, I’ve been traveling for work this week and I can’t say that my first thought upon being jarred awake by the touch down of jet wheels on an Austin runway was rushing home to watch Desiree Poontang around a Peninsula in search of a temporary, fake fiancé.  However, for your sake, I swallowed my pride (and a few Lone Stars) when I got home.  Let’s get to it. 

Good Lord.  There hasn’t been so much conflict on the Iberian Peninsula since the Second Punic Wars.  I’m actually proud of myself for remembering that there was more than one Punic war even though I can’t remember what “punic” means.  I’m also grateful that I was able to use an obscure second century B.C. reference that has heretofore sat dormant in my brain since my freshman World History course in college.  Thanks, Professor Crow. 

I have to preface this post by saying that this recap is going to be more commentary than recap simply because (like many of you, I suppose) I had a visceral reaction to the whining and bitching going on that prevented me from not hitting the Fast Forward button on my DVR. 

Is this the status of all twenty-something ‘men’ these days?  If so, I feel really sorry for the twenty-something women in search of a protector, nurturer, and provider.  As traditional as that might sound, let’s face it; women deserve better than this.  I haven’t seen a bigger bunch of feminized, petty, pastel wearing, eyebrow-plucking, pomade-using, Axe Body Spray worshiping, chest-shaving, fake tanning, malcontents since I accidentally flipped to the final episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race last summer. 

We all know from the ole getgo that James, the THIRD resident A-hole behind Ben and whatever-that-guy-with-the-former-Playboy-playmate-who-still-thought-she-was-his-girlfriend-and-is-at-a-loss-to-explain-his-lack-of-respect-for-her-tiny-son (notwithstanding the emotional scars the kid will endure at her live TV performance and nude photo shoot) because-he-went-on-the-Bachelorette-two-days-after-banging-her-out-of-wedlock’s-name is, melts down and drops the F word more times than Michael can whine into the camera during his solo shots. 

Before all of the drama can commence, however, we have to add Barcelona to the ever-growing list of “perfect places to fall in love.”  Personally, I’d put it right behind Tahiti, Bali, and the Riverside Hooters here in Austin, but what the hell do I know?  With the ink drying on the list, Des wanders, broods in seasonally and geographically appropriate attire, and Harrison appears and drops a few Spanish words he learned from the Castilian call girls ABC had waiting in his suite upon arrival along with the “use your time wisely” speech.  He drops the Date Card and heads back to commiserate with the aforementioned call girls. 

“Drew (Pavelka), Let’s build a foundation for love. Desiree.”  Puh-leez.  If Drew were anymore uptight you could stick a lump of coal up his rectum and end up with a diamond for Neil Lane to mount up in a pre-selected setting.  After we see Des wandering in the ubiquitous 30-foot scarf we learn that we’re headed for yet another “go exploring” date.  They head to the Bubo Bar (my money says Harrison was at a Boob-O Bar the night before) and Drew drops “my dad is a booze hound” story smack dab in the front of the deli line while Des chokes down a glass of red wine and feigns interest.  She might as well have had “What. A. Beating.” written across her forehead.  Hell, I almost pushed Pause and wrote it across my own forehead. 

They wander the alley ways and enter a “secret” door before Drew “steals her away” for a Jack the Ripper-esque make out session in a dark alley.  Was it me or was that just about the creepiest thing that we’ve seen in quite a while on this show?  There’s nothing like a spontaneous back alley date rape to get the seed of romance out of its husk and poking through the soil.  Odd.  Very odd.

Excuse me, Des.  Can I steal you away for a moment?

They loiter in the alley some more before Drew earns a Please Don’t Murder and Eviscerate Me Rose.  He immediately kills the fake enthusiasm by ratting out James for being a Mikey T.  Wes Hayden said it best:  “There’s nothing I hate more than a tattle tale.”

Drew = Jake. 

Incidentally, the best part about that entire (mind numbing) tattle session was Des chewing through her cheeks like a rat through a below-deck cargo net before dropping “what a f*cking a*shole” to the camera.  Boy, you have to love a real lady, don’t you?   

Des = Eliza Doolittle.    

Hoodies, boat shoes, and v-necks abound as the Group Date card arrives.  I’d like it noted that Juan Pablo is the only one of the group sans hoodie, boat shoes, or a v-neck.  The guy is Money.  I’ll go out on a limb and say that’s he’s easily the coolest guy who has ever competed on this show.  Brooks, Chris, Kasey, Michael, James, Juan Pablo draw the date and Zak W. is left to liberally apply self-tanner while simultaneously performing Kegels in order to kill time before his one-on-one date. 

The guys play soccer against a bunch of women “in comfortable shoes” and lose because James sucks at sports.  Des flits around in chartreuse as Michael and Kasey begin to plot against James.  Like two cardiac cells in one Petri dish, Michael and Kasey begin to whine in unison. 

Dinner.  Kasey basically turns into Michael with better hair.  Des flatters Chris and inexplicably takes him to some out of the way bedroom complete with mosquito netting and a cameraman.  She tells him (rather suggestively) that she “could give him any activity and he’d be good at it.”  Chris is apparently too dense to take that as an invite.  We call those “buying signals” where I’m from, Chris. Ring up the purchase.  Instead, he asks her if she wrote him something.   

Dude, when you’re lying in bed and an attractive woman drops “I’ll bet I could give you any activity and you’d be good at it” you don’t ask “did you write me something.”  She happily reads her horrible, predictable, cliché-filled stanzas.  She invents some incredibly creative rhyming couplets such as  “bliss” and “kiss” and “date” and “late” and “fate” followed by “unknown,” “shown,” and “home.”  She's no Emily . . . Dickinson, that is.  

Ode to Desiree's Poetry

by Some Guy in Austin

Forced to listen to rhymes so simple

I scratched my dimple

and pulled my ear

while chugging my beer

even though it was clear

that the end was not near. 

I filled the room with a dozen curses

as Des kept reading her senseless verses

and I prayed for silence

as I was driven toward violence. 

Man, was I glad when that scene was over.  I immediately went to my room to capture my emotions on my sketch pad. 

After yet another reset of the sketchily documented, allegedly overheard bus ride home conversation between James and the conveniently not there to defend himself Mikey T., Kasey, Michael, and Chris confront a highly agitated and even more defensive James who responds like a huge macho a*shole.

Michael and his mysterious thumb injury bears the brunt of James’ nonsense-filled rant as the entire show melts down into an episode of Real Housewives minus the plastic lips and “charity” event where the argument is usually held. 

Allow me to interject my serious two cents here:

Anger is our primary protective emotion.  It’s easy, shocking, and immediate.  In guys like James it’s basically the first option just shy of the blatant manipulative behavior that we saw (and Des bought…twice) when he knew he couldn’t berate everyone into seeing things his way.  Anger like that stems from perceived vulnerability and his perception of the magnitude of the threat in front of him.  In short, he lost it because he knew he was about to be sent packing after being caught in a lie.  Self-doubt and insecurity crept to the front of his Neanderthal brain.  I’d be willing to bet that any one of this idiot’s exes has seen that scenario play itself out dozens of times before. 

I’m no psychologist (or psychiatrist) but when any person allows anger to act against his long-term best interest in the name of saving face and avoiding a problem he’s obviously created then the issue likely needs to be addressed.  Self-preservation is an instinct in all of us; however, taking it as far as James did indicates the guy has a real issue with anger.  Next Bachelor, my ass. 

Kasey invents the hyphenated word “counter-accusate” and bridges the gap between being like Tattletale Drew and Whining Michael by again ratting James out to Des.  Good Lord.  No wonder she’s not interested. 

Des clears the room in the name of clearing house.  “Good for her,” I thought.  It would be abundantly clear that I thought too soon, however.  James cries, manipulates, and eventually Des gives in.  She’s no Emily . . . Maynard, that is.  “Get the f*ck out.”  Remember that gem?  

They “I can’t guarantee” each other along with some other meaningless placating remarks.   James cries at the possibility of being forced to return the key to his free hotel suite and the clothes to the ABC Wardrobe Department before having the fat guy that helped Roz pack her shit walk him and his bags out so he can hop a flight and return to his mediocre, angry life.   He wins.  She loses.  She’s a gullible idiot.  No wonder she hasn’t had any luck with men.   Although I will say that it would be interesting to see him meet Des’ brother. 

One-on-One

Zak borrows a shirt from Drew that was clearly washed repeatedly in hot water.  I believe it was an Extra-Medium.  He meets Des on a 45 degree angle in her orange leather and seasonally appropriate jacket. The only thing more orange than her coat was Zak’s spray tan.  He looked like an Oompa Loompa or The Heat Miser (thanks commenters for catching the mistake) from that Rudolph holiday special for crying out loud.

I’ll spare you the rest of the banality.  They sketch a nude hermaphrodite and suck face in a tunnel.  Zak’s rallied since his idiot display on night one.  As sure as the sunset is orange, I still say he’s going top 3, easy.

A point of order before we continue:

Can we PLEASE retire that annoying, overused phrase “with that said”?  I’ll be the first to recognize that the phrase has both a meaning and a value in the English language.  HOWEVER, it has become a standard lead-in for every putz on this show trying to sound intelligent or well-spoken.  It’s like “at the end of the day” or “I mean that. I really do.”  We have Womack to thank for that, I suppose, just like we have Mesnick to thank for “amazing.”  With that said, that pisses me off.  I mean that.  I really do. 

James and Drew have a mano-a-mano chat again resetting the entire alleged bus ride faux pas wherein James crossed the (GASP!) “Next Bachelor” line.  I’ll give Drew credit for being frank with the guy and holding his ground.  Granted, he had a camera and a film crew to back him up, but James’ anger issues were bubbling all over the place and it would have been just as easy for Drew to let the fat guy in the leather hat who helped Roz pack her sh*t do the dirty work. 

James gets defensive and tries to strong arm him and then readily admits he is, in fact, the jerkoff that everyone thinks he is.  

Drew Pavelka 1

James 0. 

Des is worse than Ashley in the insecurity category.  Hell, Des doesn’t have Emily to worry about and she’s still as malleable as Play-Doh.  There are few qualities less attractive to a man than rampant insecurity and indecisiveness.  Des displayed both in spades.  “Drop the hammer, Des,” I screamed at the TV.  Frankly, if I was one of the remaining guys and I saw James walk back into the room for a second time I would have gone down and removed myself from the show.   

Des retires to the Spanish Lair of Seclusion.  Harrison shows up in his Transporter outfit in lieu of a Cocktail Party (things are way too serious for that).  He displays his gift for overstatement by characterizing Spain as the “most emotional, dramatic, volatile week so far.”  I suppose that’s not that big of an overstatement, in hindsight.  However, I wish he would have added “petty, frustrating, and incurably boring” to the list.    

Upset, Des gives us a peek behind the curtain saying “I’ve always loved the wrong people.”  Cue the Esteban Guitar and bring on the roses.   

Rose Ceremony

1.     Drew

2.     Zak

3.     Chris

4.     Brooks

5.     Michael

Gone

1.     James (lesson in textbook denial and projection)

2.     Kasey (should have been Michael but that will happen next week)

3.     Juan Pablo (Noooooooo!  Las chicas se quieren.  He’ll find a step mom)

Well, there it is.  With the Amazing Count at an incredible 95 and the Journey Count at a respectable 26 we approach Episode 7.  The top five are headed somewhere else next week and, based on the previews, there is a lot of crying between now and the big finale.  Have a great week.   Follow me on Twitter or comment below with your thoughts.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be angrily sketching naked hermaphrodites and trying to think of a word to rhyme with hermaphrodite.  DP