If you've EVER read this blog, you are privy to the well documented fact that I date some effin' creeps. I was equipped with a malfunctioning creep deflector at birth. Whereas, when faced with a gargantuon creepster, I am filled with butterflies and puffy hearts instead of red flags and warning buzzers. It's a substantial issue. I'm working on it.
And yet, in all my vast creepster experience there are very few things one can do on a date that I find creepier than what we, the loyal viewers of abc's The Bachelorette, were forced to stomach on Monday night...
They include, in no particular order:
- Hog tieing your date and forcing them into your crawl space
- Taking your date to a fertility clinic to ensure they are reproductively viable
- Asking your date to "play dead" during intercourse
- Removing sections of your dates dermis for use in a "human skin suit" you are constructing
Now, even with the Ph.D. in The Bachelor/Bachelorette Series that I earned 7 seasons ago, I'm still not altogether positive who is at the helm of the date planning. On one hand, it is OBVIOUS that abc is shellin' the duckets for these shananagans, and it's highly probable there is some "gentle nudging" coming from the puppet masters on what would make great TV. But on the other hand, The Bachelors and Bachelorettes must have some say in what they do.
All I'm sayin' is, if I was on the show (which I probably will be) and those bitches told me I was going to be locked in a cage with monkeys and my date and a candlelit meal, I'd kick every one of 'em in the baby maker and run for my GD life. But that is neither here nor there...
The first dates were upon us. This is where the magic happens. This is when the bitches get crazy and the homeboys start peacocking. This is why we tune in.
The initial one-on-one went to William, a Cell Phone Distributor (aka Entry Level Car Toys Sales Associate). We'll call that "Mistake #1". The date takes place in Vegas (Mistake #2). The date consists of the following activites; wedding cake tasting (Mistake #3), wedding ring shopping (Mistake #4), meeting with a minister (Mistake #5), walking down the aisle with boquet (Mistake #s 6 & 7), joining hands at the altar (Mistake #8), RECITING VOWS (Mistake #s 9, 10, 11, 12, & 13), William saying "I DO" (WTF?) Ashley saying "I will someday, but probably not today" (Seriously, WTF? You crazy bitch! This is your FIRST date with this asstard and not only did you force him into a faux wedding rehearsal, but you ditched him at the altar?)
Then it was off to the waters of the Bellagio in a row boat where the holiest of douchedom commenced in the form of a meal atop a plywood platform and dull conversation including, but not limited to, "the saddest story I can think of", and "what do you want to be when you grow up?"
The initial group date went to... ummmm... basically everyone else... except that mo in the mask, meh (shoulder shrug) JP, Hey-Face-Raper-Not-So-Fine, and a couple other dudes. And instead of Ashley's lazy ass flying back to LA, she flew them all to Vegas. Because as they say, TRUE LOVE ALWAYS BLOOMS IN VEGAS... or is that Chlamydia? I can never remember.
(Insert- Vh1's America's Best Dance Crew pissing contest dance-off, awkward and painfully obvious ploy to get Ashley's remedial dance skills in front of an audience, and about 17 half shirts- Here)
After the "dance show", it was back to some seedy Vegas digs for the "no-fair-it's-my-turn-to-talk-to-her" grown man bitch fit. Always a fav. Bentley, apparently still under the impression that being a huge cock will give you a huge cock, decided to toy with Ashley's awesome judgement and manipulate the rose out of her. All in all, Vegas Fail Part Deux.
Back at the ranch, Mickey 9-1-1 was forced to flip a coin with Meh (shoulder shrug) to determine the final one-on-one date pairing. Mickey won. Ashley lost.
Surprise, surprise, to Vegas he went to engage in THE MOST BORING DATE I'VE EVER BEEN ON AND I WASN'T EVEN THERE. So boring in fact, that I don't remember shit about it. I think there was a meal. I'm almost positive I gagged once or twice. Colbie Calliat may have shown up to perform the trademark Bachelorette concert-for-two that makes everyone involved wildly uncomfortable. The rest is but a blur of monotony.
What I do know is this...
- Ashley is the human incantation of nails on a chalkboard
- Mickey and his giant loafer selection bore me to suicide
- William wants to be a stand up comedian, which wouldn't even be possible if Steve Carrell possessed his body ala Patrick Swayze in Ghost
- Bentley is under the misguided impression that there is ANYONE ON THE PLANET who gives a piss about him and his deplorable attempts at womanizing for fame
- Jeff, the masked mo, jabbers nonsensically (Ex: "I'm taking the stealth approach and I feel like everybody else is just riding around in cabs"... ? ? ? ummmm ? ? ? what ? ? ?)
- There are too many schmoes with greasy, chin length mops to keep track of
- Everyone else is so completely unremarkable that I don't even remember enough to make fun of
So pull your shit together, Chris Harrison. You are the fearless and noble captain of this vessel upon which I ride, and I will not allow you to just pull the covers over your head and go down with the ship. Capiche?