[I've been recapping the episodes for my Bachelor Survivor Pool. I'm not going to catch you up, but here's Week Four.]
In past seasons, I've been embarrassed for the girls, their families, and even, on occasion, the hapless bachelors. This season, I'm even embarrassed for the producers, the bagel boys, and the lighting crew... basically, anyone associated with this farcical parody of a reality show. The premise was far-fetched to being with -- find true love on TV! -- but in past seasons, we've been at least a *little* suckered in by the hopes of a "real connection." Not so this season. No one is even really trying. Oh... a couple of girls are squeaking out some tears, gnashing some capped teeth, and tossing their long blond hair in anguish. But no one's really that excited about Lorenzo, and it doesn't appear that Lorenzo is really excited about... anything, except maybe applying his frightening, anteater-style lips to the face of whatever unsuspecting bachelorette is parked on the wall/bench/patio chair next to him. I seriously can't watch the Hoover in action. I have to cover my eyes.
I wish they'd quit bringing Erica back. They should just make her the next bachelorette, and stock her bachelor pond with pool boys and Best Buy employees. Now, *that* would be a ratings romp, and a riches-to-rags story in the making. Wouldn't you love to see Erica married off to a farm boy from Kansas, and be splashed across the front of US Weekly for the next year or so (ala Trista and Ryan) knee-deep in hog slop? Why doesn't anyone ask ME how to run a successful reality show?
So, apparently, Lisa really is an evil alien from the planet Hose Beast, and the other girls hate her. I take back what I said about her being smart. She's perhaps fooling Lorenzo (Congratulations! You've outsmarted a man who demonstrates the wherewithall of a puddle of snot!) but it's going to bite her in the ass in the long run. She'd better start making nice in a hurry. Jumping in the pool nekkers with Desiree didn't do her any good, either, as her little partner in streaking is now off of the show... BABY. (This further demonstrates her instability. Did anyone else see that coming?)
So, Sadie gets a one-on-one date, and she really still couldn't be any cuter. I'm still a little befuddled that she's from California. She is definitely giving off a more "Southern sorority girl" vibe, but I guess that breed is not unique to the South. The next big question about Sadie is whether she's some sort of fundamentalist Christian who attends a church so large that people call it Six Flags Over Jesus. Let's hope this is true, and that several key scenes of the upcoming hometown date are filmed there, perhaps in the baptismal hot tub.
How hilarious was the scene where the "date box" arrives, and Desiree, Agnese, Jeannette, and Lisa all start cooing about their group date, and it takes them a good five minutes to figure out that this means that Jennifer gets the second one-on-one date? Someone's little light bulb goes off, she lets out a loud squeal and shares her brain sprinkle with the rest of the girls, Jennifer collapses in a heap, stricken with the vapors, and Agnese is in the background, hitting her head against the wall. Speaking of the group date... no, let's not. I can't really take it. We'll leave it with a key phrase from the web site: "The togas come off to reveal bikinis underneath." SHOCKER.
Jennifer was so naively enthusiastic and crazily-grinning on her date that it was difficult not to be cautiously happy on her deluded behalf. I spent the first part of the date wondering if she had an IQ of oh, niner, but by the end, was convinced that even if she's a little dim, she's sincere, which should definitely count for... I don't know... something! Given my recent comparison of Lorenzo's mental acuity to a nasally-emitted bodily substance, this could actually work out.
Desiree, Desiree... I know that many were shocked to see you go. But, in the future, when you're saying something like, "I'd love to spend the rest of my life with a guy like you," and the horse's pazoo across from you is literally laughing in your face, it's time to pack up what little dignity remains after repeated booty-waggles, bed invasions and other assorted nationally televised shenanigans, and head back to Mormon country, hang it up, and make some seventy-year-old really happy.
So, Lorenzo's going home with Lisa (who may, at any moment, peel her face off to reveal the green skin and googly eyes that lie beneath), Jennifer (Whee! Let's meet some 8th graders!), Sadie (I really hope it's HER dad with the shotgun, which will confirm my suspicion that she is, in fact, really from Mississippi), and Agnese (who is going to TRANSLATE for Lorenzo and her family... this is gonna be good). When I think about Lorenzo and Agnese, I so want them to be like Colin Firth and that Portuguese chick from Love Actually. (CF: You learned English? PC: Just in cases.) But, sadly... Lorenzo is no Colin Firth. Sorry, Agnese. We can only hope that your mother puts some sort of exotic Italian curse on him and your father calls him all manner of terrible things in Italian, which Big Schnoz mistakes for inquiries about the Cardinals' chances in the World Series, and hilarity ensues.
In past seasons, I've been embarrassed for the girls, their families, and even, on occasion, the hapless bachelors. This season, I'm even embarrassed for the producers, the bagel boys, and the lighting crew... basically, anyone associated with this farcical parody of a reality show. The premise was far-fetched to being with -- find true love on TV! -- but in past seasons, we've been at least a *little* suckered in by the hopes of a "real connection." Not so this season. No one is even really trying. Oh... a couple of girls are squeaking out some tears, gnashing some capped teeth, and tossing their long blond hair in anguish. But no one's really that excited about Lorenzo, and it doesn't appear that Lorenzo is really excited about... anything, except maybe applying his frightening, anteater-style lips to the face of whatever unsuspecting bachelorette is parked on the wall/bench/patio chair next to him. I seriously can't watch the Hoover in action. I have to cover my eyes.
I wish they'd quit bringing Erica back. They should just make her the next bachelorette, and stock her bachelor pond with pool boys and Best Buy employees. Now, *that* would be a ratings romp, and a riches-to-rags story in the making. Wouldn't you love to see Erica married off to a farm boy from Kansas, and be splashed across the front of US Weekly for the next year or so (ala Trista and Ryan) knee-deep in hog slop? Why doesn't anyone ask ME how to run a successful reality show?
So, apparently, Lisa really is an evil alien from the planet Hose Beast, and the other girls hate her. I take back what I said about her being smart. She's perhaps fooling Lorenzo (Congratulations! You've outsmarted a man who demonstrates the wherewithall of a puddle of snot!) but it's going to bite her in the ass in the long run. She'd better start making nice in a hurry. Jumping in the pool nekkers with Desiree didn't do her any good, either, as her little partner in streaking is now off of the show... BABY. (This further demonstrates her instability. Did anyone else see that coming?)
So, Sadie gets a one-on-one date, and she really still couldn't be any cuter. I'm still a little befuddled that she's from California. She is definitely giving off a more "Southern sorority girl" vibe, but I guess that breed is not unique to the South. The next big question about Sadie is whether she's some sort of fundamentalist Christian who attends a church so large that people call it Six Flags Over Jesus. Let's hope this is true, and that several key scenes of the upcoming hometown date are filmed there, perhaps in the baptismal hot tub.
How hilarious was the scene where the "date box" arrives, and Desiree, Agnese, Jeannette, and Lisa all start cooing about their group date, and it takes them a good five minutes to figure out that this means that Jennifer gets the second one-on-one date? Someone's little light bulb goes off, she lets out a loud squeal and shares her brain sprinkle with the rest of the girls, Jennifer collapses in a heap, stricken with the vapors, and Agnese is in the background, hitting her head against the wall. Speaking of the group date... no, let's not. I can't really take it. We'll leave it with a key phrase from the web site: "The togas come off to reveal bikinis underneath." SHOCKER.
Jennifer was so naively enthusiastic and crazily-grinning on her date that it was difficult not to be cautiously happy on her deluded behalf. I spent the first part of the date wondering if she had an IQ of oh, niner, but by the end, was convinced that even if she's a little dim, she's sincere, which should definitely count for... I don't know... something! Given my recent comparison of Lorenzo's mental acuity to a nasally-emitted bodily substance, this could actually work out.
Desiree, Desiree... I know that many were shocked to see you go. But, in the future, when you're saying something like, "I'd love to spend the rest of my life with a guy like you," and the horse's pazoo across from you is literally laughing in your face, it's time to pack up what little dignity remains after repeated booty-waggles, bed invasions and other assorted nationally televised shenanigans, and head back to Mormon country, hang it up, and make some seventy-year-old really happy.
So, Lorenzo's going home with Lisa (who may, at any moment, peel her face off to reveal the green skin and googly eyes that lie beneath), Jennifer (Whee! Let's meet some 8th graders!), Sadie (I really hope it's HER dad with the shotgun, which will confirm my suspicion that she is, in fact, really from Mississippi), and Agnese (who is going to TRANSLATE for Lorenzo and her family... this is gonna be good). When I think about Lorenzo and Agnese, I so want them to be like Colin Firth and that Portuguese chick from Love Actually. (CF: You learned English? PC: Just in cases.) But, sadly... Lorenzo is no Colin Firth. Sorry, Agnese. We can only hope that your mother puts some sort of exotic Italian curse on him and your father calls him all manner of terrible things in Italian, which Big Schnoz mistakes for inquiries about the Cardinals' chances in the World Series, and hilarity ensues.
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