Good
Lord. Do I even have to open with my
usual “Hello, Readers?” For those of you
who humored me on my live Twitter feed last night you’re aware that (like the rest of you) I was . . . well, Amazed at the meteoric and unprecedented
escalation of the Amazing Count. We went
from an already annoying 17 in Episode 1 to a heretofore unimaginable FIFTY
TWO in just one show. Hell, the Journey
Count is already at 18 and we haven’t even left the MAN-sion yet. Is it possible that this could actually be
the Most (Insert Provocative Adjective Here) Season yet?
Incidentally,
when proofreading the above paragraph I noticed that I inadvertently omitted
the “O” from the word “count.” That
makes it a totally different show, does it not?
Annyyyyyyhhoo . . . .
Before we start I'd like to send a shout out to my friend and local Austinite, Sherry. I've run into her at a few local music venues and a honky tonk or two over the past couple of weeks. That's like meeting a hen in a hen house, I know, but Sherry is always pleasant. She also introduced me to her friends as "Some Guy in Austin" last week and even asked Mrs. Some Guy if she could call her by that name. Solid work, Sherry. Now, let's get to it, shall we?
We
open as we have the past few seasons.
Desiree’s voice over mulls over the remaining bold colored v-neck-wearing
pack of frenzied suitors vying for a potential shot at possibly having the
right to butter up Neil Lane in order to procure a conditionally free diamond
engagement ring and drop to one knee in a rented suit in the middle of a
debilitatingly humid subtropical “paradise” and ask Desiree if she could maybe
be his temporary fiancé for an indefinite period of time and possibly move
toward a marriage provided a host of conditions precedent occur and ABC’s
myriad of contractual obligations are met.
Des
tickles our fancy by wondering aloud if she’ll avoid the “potential for
disaster.” Notwithstanding the fact that
I love to have my fancy tickled, I sort of hoped that the potential for
disaster would realize itself sooner rather than later.
Back
at the MAN-sion Harrison blows the
metaphorical conch shell and summons the men for a morning sit around. He lays out the rules we already know and
drops the date card before heading out to the quiet solace of a nudie bar VIP
room in his Hefner-esque blue pajama shirt.
Brooks
in his giant red plastic watch hopes for a sign but has to settle for a note
handwritten by an intern. Yup, the first
date is his and we all know that in Bachelorette Code that means he’s the front
runner. Contrary to a well-meaning
reader’s comment last week, I don’t read Reality Stan or any other Bach blog
aside from Lincee Ray’s www.ihategreenbeans.com. I pick Brooks as the winner because he simply
has no competition at this point in the game.
However, we’d all do well to remember that (ironically, no less) it was
Des who was awarded the first date with Sean.
She killed it before fizzling out over the rest of the season. My guess is that one of the mutes will soon
speak and will actually make a race of this thing. Back to Des.
Des
sits in her secret sketching area doing Kegels while contemplating what color
lip gloss to wear before putting on her Emily-esque seasonal boots, tight
jeans, and tank top. Drew Pavelka and
his lavender hoodie are jealous of Brooks.
Zak tones it down from last last week and on a scale from tolerable to
jackass crosses the midpoint toward the former. F*ckin’ Mikey T. and his Marianas
Trench DEEP V-neck do their best to set the destruction of Italian-American
stereotypes back to the 1800’s. I didn’t
know if he’d purposely stretched that V-neck beyond repair or if it was simply
cowering away from his ten o’clock shadow.
Ben
gets jealous. Des and Brooks split for a
PCH drive in “her” Bentley.
Brooks
Date
The
conversation was easy and it was clear that
they had good chemistry. In an attempt
to destroy that, Des brings Brooks straight to a bridal shop. Good Lord.
She could have at least had the common courtesy to swing by a bar on the
way there. Regardless, Brooks handles it
masterfully. He’s confident and unafraid. Clearly, he gets it.
They
shoplift a couple outfits and Des makes a “spontaneous” decision to walk around LA and take
pictures. They visit a cupcake truck and
take pictures with paid extras before
heading to the Hollywood
sign like Frank and Ali before them. We
all know how well that worked out. After
the lowest ranking Bachelorette intern removes the used condoms and empty Mad
Dog 20/20 bottles from the immediate area Brooks seals the deal AFTER we have
to listen to more annoying fairytale and princess references.
Any
dudes reading this need to pay attention.
Brooks puts on a textbook clinic of first date finesse. He showers Des with small compliments rather
than blathering and overdoing it. He
makes eye contact, nods his head in agreement, listens to her talk, shares some
emotions but not too much, maximizes non-sexual physical touch (statistically
the most common of the Five Love Languages), and cherrys up the sundae by confirming that
he’s “in.” That, in a word, was
Money. Sure, he has a bit of a feminine
speech thing going on and his hair oil makes Ric James look like he has split
ends, but none of that matters to Des.
She bought what he sold and she paid full price.
He
did all that without showing up shirtless, borrowing a suit of armor, or acting
like an asshole. He earned the first
kiss. It’s a good first act, Brooks,
but it ain’t over until the fat lady sings.
Nighttime. Des gets another “spontaneous” idea to move
the road block signs and head into a “shady area.” I opined that the “shady area” was named Los Angeles, but that’s
neither here nor there. They
arrive at an allegorical bridge over the road and Brooks continues to pile
on.
“Tell
me about your family,” “That’s a great question,” “It takes time for me to share deep emotions,”
coupled with timely pauses, and the begrudgingly surrendered lost dad story, capped
off with tearing up and giving the ‘give me a moment’ sign. Brilliant.
He might as well have picked up her entree off her plate and put it in
his hand. He had her eating out of
it. He got a rose and I was surprised she
didn’t include her bra and panties too.
Hell, I would have kissed the guy at that point. Nice work, Brooks.
They
eventually “enjoy” music from someone named Andy Grammar. He looked like one of the other dudes and
sounded like a John Mayer, but worse, if that’s possible. I have no idea who he is and have no
immediate plans to find out. Like
hundreds of double-left footed tools before him, Brooks can’t dance either but
at least he tried. He also mixed in the
phrases “expose myself” and “strap on.”
My guess is that he’s hoping those subconscious seeds will blossom in
time for the Fantasy Suite. By the way,
my money says that Des spends the night with all three dudes. We’ll get there eventually.
Group
Date.
Dan,
Juan Pablo, Zack, Will, Brian, Drew Pavelka, James, F*ckin’ Mikey T., Zak W.,
Nick, Michael, Brandon,
and the guy who read the card. “Men, are
you here for the right reasons?”
We
head to the Malibu Rocky Oaks Winery.
Des awaits the idiot Exodus from the MAN-sion in her purple shorty dress
with weird shoulder straps on it. The
men are forced to perform an uphill walk toward Des. I assumed that was a metaphor—a poor one.
F*ckin’
Mikey thinks real hard and tries to figure out the date in pink shorts. Des ends the suspense by announcing that they
are there to film a rap video. I would
have quit right there. Being “fun” and
“spontaneous” is one thing. Subjecting
oneself to intentional humiliation is another.
Some guy called Soulja Boy—another “artist” I don’t know—shows up to
perform a miracle. According to Mr. Boy,
Love is like Hip Hop. “Filthy, misogynistic, and over-produced?” I
wondered. Regardless, the men perform awkward
attempted rhymes. I’m not certain, but I
don’t think Mr. Boy was impressed. James
even forgot how to rhyme.
And
how in the world is it that Will can’t dance?
I hate to stereotype, but come on.
Brandon
emerges from “wardrobe” in an Ed Hardy shirt and no pants—He looked like a
Douchey Winnie the Pooh. Des shows off
her stomach. Dallas Ben looked way too stupid
in his ‘cowboy’ outfit while Michael and F*ckin’ Mikey go for broke. I suppose that’s the best you can hope for
under the circumstances. Brandon’s shaved legs
didn’t do much to offset the jockstrap either.
This
was as painful a segment that I can recall.
On another note, could that video have been more degrading to everyone
involved? After having Brandon’s junk shaken around her face like a
maraca in a salsa band, she dons a bikini and a wrap and jiggles through a
tunnel of thrusting tube steaks. So much
for being respected, Des. I hope Soulja Boy got a fatter check than Harrison. Lord
knows the only reason he was there is because Harrison
wanted a quarter bag full of the Sticky Icky for the after party.
Dinnertime. Zak W. apparently got most of the jackass
out of him last week. He (astutely)
admits to being a “buffoon” and presents her with a gift.
No
wrapping paper: Points Off.
Antique
journal with an inscription from Dad to daughter: Points On.
Why
didn’t he open up with that on night one?
Simple and sincere beats soaked in vanity and beer any day of the
week. Nice recovery, Zak W. Keep that up and your shirt on and you’ve
got decent chance at the Fantasy Suite.
Brandon,
this season’s insecure freaking weirdo, tells us that love is like a butterfly. If we hold it too loosely it will fly
away. If we hold it too tightly we will
destroy it. Nice try, Brandon.
Steinbeck tackled that metaphor in the late ‘30’s in Of Mice and Men. He’ll melt down in a show or two. Adrenaline Junkie, my ass.
Ben
c*ck blocks F*ckin’ Mikey and his pink plaid shirt right in the middle of his
“My Italian Family” talk. Very poor
timing, Ben. Like Luca Brasi, he’ll
sleep with the fishes for that one day.
Did
anyone else perceive the preponderance of purple provided to these putzes? Alliteration aside, purple is the color of
royalty, which is good because most of these guys are royal a-holes.
Michael
G. gives his “women I respect” speech to Des.
Perhaps he felt guilty for throwing his genitals in her direction at the
rap video shoot. That’s a canned staple
of the Bachelorette franchise but it’s proven to work in the past. Juan Pablo plays it cool in his leather Hasselhoff
jacket and frohawk. F*ckin’ Mikey gets
more Italian the more he drinks. For
some reason, he feels compelled to talk to Ben about “swooping in on Des.” Has he ever seen the show? This whole schtick has been tiring for
several seasons now and it’s still tiring.
It’s the same argument every cocktail party. That fact eludes F*ckin’ Mikey. Unfortunately for him, Ben is much smarter than F*ckin’ Mikey and
wins him over by simply complimenting his shoes.
Luca Brasi might be smarter than F*ckin’ Mikey.
Date
Card. “Bryden, Road Trip! Desiree”. Bryden admires Des’s gift for brevity with
his Dumb and Dumber haircut.
Brandon looks like he’s going to be the first to
melt down. He nervously interrupts Drew
Pavelka who looks like Max Headroom and the guy from the Nazi propaganda
posters had a kid.
Brandon goes with another Bach’ette standby and gives her the “what I’m not” speech. He predictably exposes his abandonment issues stemming from his dad’s departure. That explained a lot. Top that off with the fact that his mom was a drug addict and the control, abandonment, and fear of inadequacy issues stand out like a five o’clock shadow on an amped up Italian Suitor.
I’ll
give Brandon a
pass but he’d better sort that out soon.
Des is not likely to be so forgiving.
She’s got her nutjob brother to deal with. The last thing she needs is those two downing
a few too many cocktails on Thanksgiving Day at the in-laws pad.
He swung for the fence when he needed a base hit. Between that and the Winnie the Pooh outfit
he deserved the rose. However, Ben got
it because the Producers told her to give it to him to piss off F*ckin’ Mikey T.
Mission F*ckin’ Accomplished.
I’d
also like to make a point. What’s said
is often just as important as what’s not said.
Did anyone notice Juan Pablo interjecting his accent into that fray of
testosterone-filled nonsense?
Exactly. When there’s a big fire
down the street there’s no good reason to leave the safety of your house and run
toward it. Props to Juan Pablo for
saving his energy.
Bryden
Date.
She
honks in “Her” Bentley. Can you imagine
if the tables were reversed? I love
double standards. They
hit the PCH for less than exciting freeway banter about driving. They stop at the local Quickie Mart for popcorn,
tampons, and a 12 pack of Malt Liquor before heading on an all day drive. Apparently, Spago was booked for lunch.
Des
tells us that “California
embodies everything that I am?” Give me
a break. They arrive at El Matador Beach. I could have used a Matador because there was
a lot of bulls*it to deal with. Kite
flying. Taco eating. Yellow t-shirting.
They
head north to Orange Grove. Picnic in
the Orange Orchard. Picnic’s suck
Head
to Ojai. If I had a Bentley on loan I’d drive the hell out of it too. Overall, it was a decent date without much obvious
romantic chemistry. Compared to Brooks
this guy might as well have been a cardboard stand-in.
He
drops the car accident story.
Incredibly, he brings the car accident pictures on the date. Hospital and road rash pictures abound as
Bryden recounts his harrowing brush with mortality. I’m glad they didn’t have pizza. She acted sympathetic but didn’t seem
smitten.
Look,
Bryden is a veteran and a guy who has been through a lot for someone his
age. He clearly has something to
offer. However, he’s no oily headed
charmer with dimples. He gets the rose
anyway and does get some pool and hot tub time. Des eventually ordered him to move in for the
kiss. That was a hair bit less awkward
than the rap video. Let’s be fair. He never had to move in for a kiss in Iraq and he’s
entitled to be a bit guarded. Des is
likely to understand that but will ultimately choose an easier (and oilier)
path. Still, he’ll stick around for a
while and be one of those “good guys” who just couldn’t make it. His home town will treat him kindly
Cocktail
Party.
Ominous
music fills the air as Des’ limo pulls up and the sword fight in the MAN-sion
begins in earnest. Drew Pavelka was nice
enough to skip out on his Hitler Youth meeting to attend. Des clichés her way to the ballroom. She’s “blown away” and “the luckiest girl in
the world.” Mike G. drops the diabetic
talk. What. A. Freaking. Beating. Doesn’t anyone have a positive story to
share? He had the balls to share his
blood sugar number and Des pretends to care, eventually admitting that she has
no idea what that number means.
Just as Michael is wowing Des by covering the finer points of the body’s
homeostatic mechanisms involving mutually antagonistic catabolic and anabolic
hormones Ben shows up to shut it down.
Frankly, Ben did the guy a favor.
If he’d have kept speaking Des was likely to fall into a coma of her
own. We all know that Ben’s move-in was
Producer instigated. Well, all of us but
F*ckin’ Mikey T.
Honestly,
I became bored with the macho fest. Even
when I was much younger and filled with hormones I always found this type of
chest beating ridiculous. They looked
and acted like fools. If Michael,
Brandon, and F*ckin’ Mikey T. truly think that Ben’s behavior “it is what it
is” then they should have just let it be what it is. They looked like a bunch of school aged kids
arguing on the playground. Well, school
aged kids with oiled hair and five o’clock shadows.
Brian
(whoever he is) pulls a pick up and walk move.
The guy had twice as much grease in his hair as Brooks. Unfortunately, he’s only a third as charming. What’s up with the oily hair this season, by
the way? Alfalfa had less product in his
hair that most of these guys. Frankly,
Brooks is the only one of these oil barons who doesn’t look like an extra in a
30’s mobster movie.
Harrison
FINALLY shows up in grey with the ubiquitous champagne glass and butter knife
and puts an abrupt end to the tomfoolery.
Roses
1.
Ben
2.
Brooks
(aka First Place)
3.
Bryden
4.
James
5.
Kasey
6.
Dan
7.
Juan
Pablo (Juan Pablo no Hablo this week)
8.
Brad
9.
Chris
(who’s the hell is he?)
10. Nick
11. Zak W. (Nice come back)
12. Drew
13. F*ckin’ Mikey T.
14. Zack
15. Michael
16. Brandon
Gone
Will,
Robert
(Liam Hemsworth)
Nick
M.
Well,
there it is. No real surprises this
week, folks. We’ll see how it all pans
out next week when Harrison throws an angry
badger of an ex-girlfriend into the cage.
Follow me on Twitter or Facebook. I’ll live Tweet during next week’s show. Have a great week. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be at
the local auto parts store buying oil by the case. DP
