Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Wake me up when Roberto gets naked...

Dear Ali,

You. bore. me. 


Bachelor/Bachelorette Superfan


Dear Kasey,

Ummmmmm..... hmmmmmmm.... I know you can't hear yourself, but if you could you might fully realize why you have yet to find someone to guard and protect your heart. There isn't a woman in the world that wouldn't call her local police department after five minutes alone with you. You obviously have extinguished the life of every gal who's ever left you. You obviously store the bodies in your crawl space. You obviously have rosacea. And you obviously have been lied to on several occasions about your "vocal stylings".

I ask now, that you resume crafting miniatures in your mom's basement, only surfacing for your audiology appointments. I feel the world will be a safer place.

Many thanks,


Dear Chris N.~

Food for thought: When telling someone that you're funny, it helps to not stare directly at them in a sort of "I could wrap both hands around your neck and watch as the last morsel of breath escapes from your petite and helpless frame" kinda way.

Also, when asked what your "guilty pleasure" is... the correct answer is NEVER "Mexican food".

And finally, are you sure you're not the boom mic operator?

Sincerely confused and concerned,



Dear "Rated R",

You are a GIHUNGUS POSER and your flavor saver SUCKS. Someone should tie you to a tree and kick the shit out of you, on principle alone. You are the worst.

And PS- Entertainment wrestling does not a hard ass make. It's not even a real job.

Piss off,

Your Worst Nightmare


I love the Bachelor/Bacherlorette franchise for oh-so-many reasons. I love the absurdity of 25 people fighting for the same pre-selected mate. I love the manufactured emotions and outlandish courting. I love the pissing contests. I love the shit out of some drunk ass slobs attempting to woo with cohesive sentences. I love our host Chris Harrison, all business to the untrained eye, but really just as shallow and insulting as I. I love the sorostitute trash that somehow passes the bevy of STD checks required for casting. I. Love. This. Show.

I also understand that after 20 seasons as a loyal fan, my judgment may or may not be a smidge biased. I have seen the best of them (i.e. Andrew Firestone) and the worst (i.e. "Prince" Borghese). I have paid homage to the bananner jammers of yore. I've winced at the bad poetry and impromptu acoustic singer/songwriter moments. I've laughed. I've cried. I've cringed. I've regurgitated meals.

But even taking all that into consideration, I have to ask... Who the hell made Ali Fedotowsky The Bachelorette, and have they been fired yet?

This bitch is boring.

She does not make for good TV.

At least, in the past, when ABC execs have committed gross misconduct unbecoming a United States Entertainment Company they swung that pendulum to the furthest reaches of WTF. They were fully invested in forcing my skin to crawl right off my body and light itself on fire. (I'm looking at you Jake Pavelka) But in choosing Ali as The Bachelorette, it's like they've just given up. And on behalf of crazy ass reality TV whores such as myself, I say "Eat Shit ABC! Get your head in the game!"

The only saving grace for this, the 6th installment of The Bachelorette, are the ASSTARDS in the ring duking  it out for Ali... (and by "Ali" I mean, a lifetime of missionary positions and HGTV).

So hats off to you, the creepsters, the douche rockets, the awkwards, the deaf tattooed and clinically insane. You are the only reason I'm still here... Well that, and there isn't PISS on TV in the summer...

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Headline: ABC casts Season 6 of The Bachelorette with To Catch A Predator alum...

Yes, this is long overdue...

Yes, I suck at life...

Yes, I have YET AGAIN, let you down...

And frankly, I don't want to hear about it...

So take a moment, inhale a few, deep, tantric yoga breaths, release on the exhale all that animocity that has built up inside you regarding my negligence, and read on... 'cause you can't make this shit up...


The Bachelorette: Recap (in the style of Jill)... 
Episodes 2-4 (I know, I know, the guilt is paralyzing)

What we've learned so far:

1) Apparently, during the exhaustive and excruciating audition process that potential Bachelor/Bachelorette contestants are forced to endure in what can only be described as a public rape of one's dignity in the town square, ABC Executives have been forgetting to ask one vital, and yet seemingly imperative, question... "Are you a homosexual?" And yes, I'm looking at you "Weatherman"...

2) There is an obvious and alarming drought in the Reality TV dating pool... Or at least the one our host Chris Harrison be fishin' out of. It's as if the "next generation" of adults have some new-fangled ideas about how and where to find love. I'm not quite sure who to blame. But be it Facebook, eHarmony, "the bar scene", or just good ole' fashioned fix-ups, someone needs to put a stop to this nonsensical ballyhoo.

EVERYONE knows that the way to find true and everlasting love is to sign up for a television show in which you share your potential future spouse with 24 other ne'er-do-wells, clawing and scratching your way to the front of the meager pack until you are whittled down to one of the two people that your potential future spouse has fallen madly and simultaneously in love with and then pray to whatever God in which you believe that when they flip that coin in the 11th hour, it lands on heads... and, of course, that you were assigned to heads.

Just ask Brett Michaels, I hear this route has proved extremely successful for him.

3) Ali Fedotowsky could win the "ARBITRARY UNCOMFORTABLE INAPPROPRIATELY TIMED EAR PIERCING CHUCKLE CONTEST" with both hands tied behind her back... And this still holds true if Jake Pavelka AND his stunning he/she fiance went toe to toe with her in a sudden death ARBITRARY UNCOMFORTABLE INAPPROPRIATELY TIMED EAR PIERCING CHUCKLE off...

4)........... ummmmmm........ okay, that's all we've learned.

On to the crazy... (rubbing hands together a'la Gargamel of TV's The Smurfs)

The sheer volume of Bat Shit Bananner-Jammers this season is staggering. We've seen The Crazy before. We relish in The Crazy. The sprinkling of coo-coo atop our bland yet delightful bowl of Average O's is just that certain je ne sais quoi that keeps us coming back for more...

But when the entire lot of suitors could conceivably have been cast via an open call at Camarillo State Mental Hospital, one is forced to wonder... Isn't Tyra Banks supposed to be here for this?

Case Study 294.5: Gollum... er... Hunter.... no, I was right the first time, Gollum~

In a splendid display of too much too soon, Gollum decided that their relationship, as of THE FIRST TIME THEY EVER SPOKE PRIVATELY, had progressed to the point that Ali no longer required her given name and it was time to exclusively address her using generic pet names such as "Darlin" and "Babe" and "Hun". This sufficiently creeped out our Bachelorette. Paired, of course, with the blatant and uncomfortably transparent absence of chemistry, emotional, physical, or otherwise... And back to Middle-Earth was he sent...

Case Study 706.14: Jonathan... "The Weatherman"~

As is true for most closeted homosexuals, the mere mention of touching tongues with a subject of the opposite sex is enough to incite PTSD. And so is the case with our resident gay, Weatherman, as displayed oh so unpleasantly at the Bare Naked Ladies video shoot (Don't even get me started on BNL... are they even still a band?!?! Were they ever?!?!)  So to you, sir, I say this...

Jonathan, there is no shame in your sexual orientation. You needn't prove anything to anyone at KPRC Houston. You are a proud, petite, homosexual man, and it is OKAY. The only judgment being cast is coming from within yourself. Please to come out. There is a multitude of handsome fellas waiting to love you, with bated breath, no doubt... Also, in the off chance that you're not gay, you are for sure the most awkward person living. Please stop being so creepy... and whispering is only sexy when the person whispering is sexy... otherwise it's offensive... and uncomfortable... and menacing... and ew.

Case Study 154.3: Justin aka "Rated R"~

Hobbling down a California highway complete with crutches and a Orthotic boot is not hot. Nor is it endearing. Nor is it noble. It is, in fact, just super duper creepy. There are serial killers with more tact. And furthermore, we are filled to the brim with Coo-Coo-Cachoos in these here United States... please go tip the scales on your own soil. We're plum full.

Case Study 567: Kasey

Is this guy deaf? Seriously? Is there a reason no one has addressed this man's speaking voice? And listen (pun intended) I'm partially deaf. I cast no stones. But C'MON! Am I the only one that can hear this guy?

But that's just the icing on Crazy Kasey's cake... the batter is certifiable.

There have been no fewer than 76 occasions in which Kasey has uttered the phrase "I want to guard and protect your heart".

This is not a joke. He REALLY says those words... in that order...

The first thing Kasey said to Ali upon meeting her at The Bachelorette mansion, Episode 1... the FIRST thing he said was "Hi, I'm Kasey. I am here to guard and protect your heart". When speaking with the other contestants he often states "I want to guard and protect Ali's heart." or "I'm looking for someone to guard and protect my heart just like I will guard and protect their heart." On Kasey and Ali's one-on-one date he recited his favorite mantra no less than 17 times. In further cringe-worthy news, when Ali mentioned that she felt Kasey might not be sincere (not true, by the way, Kasey is sincerely moments away from a full fledged psychotic break) what Kasey ACTUALLY heard was "Go get a tattoo about guarding and protecting my heart to prove yourself to me."........... WHICH HE DID!!!!!!!!

And to solidify K.K. as the Craziest Crazy That Ever Did Crazy, there's this:

Confused? You should be. The moments leading up to this impromptu vocal catastrophe did not, in any way, instigate such behavior. While there was a film crew, this was NOT the filming of The Sound of Music: Part Deux... and while there was, indeed, a Broadway stage, it was actually NOT part of Kasey's date. But as they so often do, the stars aligned, the "moment was right", the "sun was setting", and I could not be more thrilled.

Now I'll be the first to admit that I've dated the lion's share of asstards in my day... but not a one compares to this lurid collection of Creeper-Doodles... (okay maybe one... two, tops...)