Bachelor Recap: Hometown Dates

Sorry for the delayed post, lovers!! Enjoy! :)

In this episode, Brad criss-crossed the country (but not in backward jeans like the eponymous 1992 child rap duo) for hometown dates. He started things off in NYC where he stood on a tiny patio and stared out at (what looked like) midtown, inevitably thinking, “Why am I being flown from here to Seattle, then to Maine, then back across the country to Cali, then to NC, only to end up in NYC?” Or perhaps that’s giving him too much credit. His thoughts were probably, “Duh… did the producers instruct me to stare off longingly, or pensively? And what do those words mean, anyway?”

The hometown dates started off with Chantal’s family in Seattle. Holy crypes their house is like a McMansion on steroids with a dash of Hearst Castle and a pinch of nouveau riche. Her family actually seems really functional, despite the fact that both parents appear to have had work done. I’m not ragging on people who have plastic surgery, that’s for damn sure. I’m just pointing it out because I can spot plastic surgery at 50 paces. It’s one of the skills you develop as a WASP. That, and the ability to throw a mean cocktail party. Brad and Chantal’s father have a really sweet talk by his statue (Self Made Man, which was quite badass) and I can’t tell if they’re really connecting, or if Brad’s just schmoozing him. I hope it was genuine because it was a very nice moment.

Then it’s off to northern Maine where Ashley’s SUPER ENERGETIC family awaits. The apple doesn’t fall far from the ‘ole Acadian apple tree, eh? Brad and Ashley spend some time at a diner eating what she calls “putin” that she tries to pass off as a northern Maine/Acadian delicacy, but we all know what’s going on here: Disco Fries, baby! Fries covered in cheese and gravy is what we call disco fries and eat when we’re drunk! Come on! Disco fries is a brilliant name for the food because it distracts from the fact that you’re eating FAT covered in FAT with a sauce on top made of FAT. But the name is all like, “Shhh… let’s just do the hustle, OK? Why don’t you ring my bell? You really ARE more than a woman—I aint just saying that, baby doll.” (I know a bit about disco because I went through a phase in high school when I loved disco, no joke. Not the coolest era in my history. I also went to my junior prom with a guy whose last name was Bell and yes, I spent a LOT of prom night making jokes that combined his name and the hit disco song “Ring My Bell.”)

Where were we!? OK, Brad and Ashley have dinner with Ashley’s family and wow—Ashley’s family is just as bubbly and bouncy as she is. Her mom seemed really funny and sweet, I must say. And her sister was a tattoo machine! I like it!

Then Brad took a cross-country trip down to Chico, CA to meet Shawntel’s mortician family. If I knew more about the Adam’s Family, I’d make a weird joke about mortician families right now. Alas, that joke is not to be because I never watched that show. I didn’t have cable as a kid, OK!? Shawntel gets thrown under the bus by the producers, as she leads Brad through the mausoleum and tells him all about cremation and embalming. I’d be willing to bet MONEY that the producers pushed for this day of death because it’s good/creepy television. None of the other girls walked Brad through their JOBS, ya know? Ashley didn’t give him a cleaning. Chantal didn’t answer his phone or fax some papers. Emily didn’t plan an event for a hospital that Brad owns… errr… bah! Whatever. You know what I mean. None of the other girls walked Brad through their workplace. Shawntel’s family seemed very nice (despite the fact that her sister is named DESTINY and I think we all know what your destiny is when your given name is DESTINY), but there was some tension about the ‘ole family business. I just can’t even hear the words “Chico” without thinking of the awful mall women’s clothing store. Sucks to be from a place with a negative connotation like that, Shawntel. Sucks a lot.

Then Brad & Emily hang out in North Carolina with her daughter Ricki! So yes, Emily took a leap of faith and let Brad meet Ricki, which was big. Ricki was a sweetheart and they flew a kite together, had a picnic, and attempted to bond as much as you can when cameras are rolling. Back at their house, Brad seemed confused by the fact that Ricki would be upstairs sleeping anytime Emily would be home with her. That’s how it goes, buddy. When someone has a kid, her/she is around. When the kid goes to bed upstairs and you guys hang out downstairs, the KID IS STILL UPSTAIRS. Brad seemed stunned and bewildered by this.

Time for a rose ceremony at the Gansevort Hotel in NYC! Aww snap! Across the street from Pastis and Soho House! Party time! ABC didn’t rent a deluxe suite for this rose ceremony, though, and the ladies walk actually obtain the rose from Brad was about three steps. Who didn’t get a rose? The hottest mortician in the biz, Shawntel. Like Biggie said, Shawntel is going back to Cali strictly for the weather, women, and the weed. Or, for her job and family in Chico. Either way, we’re down to three ladies. Until next week!

The time I got mugged in Boston

The Bachelor: 6 Ladies in Anguilla

Monday’s episode was thrilling, as we saw Brad give a mid-date Heisman and the ouster this season’s resident crazy.

The six remaining ladies (Michelle the crazy; Ashley, my sister in A cups; Shawntel the hot mortician; Chantal the good time spitfire; Emily the Barbie mom; and Britt the emaciated food writer), Brad, and a team of producers/date planners move from Costa Rica to Anguilla because NBC will NOT air an episode of “The Bachelor” in which women aren’t in bikinis at some point.

Shawntel gets the first 1:1 date and I gotta say, she’s a rad girl. Brad and Shawntel go for a bike ride, walk around a farmer’s market, and do double-dutch (the real thing, not the dance move that my best friend Suzanne and I do when you’re at a crowded club and we break out imaginary jump rope and get everybody in on that action). That night they eat dinner together and talk about their respective fathers (Shawntel’s is great, Brad’s is MIA). They enjoy a concert by Bankie Banks, the most famous singer in Anguilla (and finalist for the most redundant name of all time), then go swimming. Shawntel is wearing a sequined bikini and exposes a giant tattoo on her lower back. Wow, lady who works with dead bodies has got ink all over the back of her body. I bet her favorite “Clue” character is Mr. Body, right? I bet her favorite line from Olivia Newton John’s “Let’s Get Physical” is, “let me see your body work.” This paragraph is going nowhere.

Emily and Brad are the next 1:1 and what do we got here? Champagne, a helicopter ride to a private island, lunch and presumably some swimming (because they kept cutting to shots of the two with wet hair, then dry hair—way to go on continuity, NBC!), then dinner on the beach. Emily’s unsure if she would want to introduce her daughter to Brad (understandably) and Brad’s a bit pushy. So that they can speak openly, he tells her that he is definitely giving her a rose in the next ceremony. In the words of Chris Harrison, UNPRECEDENTED! Brad’s breakin’ all the rules like a regular Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli (learn your “Happy Days” trivia, people).

Up next, Britt goes on a 1:1 with Brad and they hang out on a yacht. Just your average date. When Britt gets in a bikini, her emaciated frame is almost hard to look at. Seriously—girl is way too thin. They end the date with dinner on the yacht and Brad drops the bomb (or anchor?) that he’s just not feeling it with Britt. She’s then escorted off the yacht, onto a dinky raft with only a motor and a GIANT SPOTLIGHT on her. Poor thing. She goes back to the house to pack and all the other women are positively stunned that Britt is being sent home. Had they not noticed the elimination of every woman before Britt? Thems the breaks, kids.

That night, “The Bachelor” turns into sorority pledging, as the ladies are roused at 2:00 am and taken outside. Will they be blindfolded and driven to Colgate, left there, and told to find a way home!? Will they be dropped in the woods and told to find a way back to campus while carrying a fire extinguisher? Will they be asked to recite the Greek alphabet over and over? No—they’re brought to a makeshift beauty salon where they are done up for a sunrise photo shoot that will appear in the Sports Illustrate Swimsuit Issue. So much better than collegiate sisterhood! NBC keeps it classy as both Ashley and Chantal pose topless (using strategically-placed hands and seashells), then Michelle one-ups them by posing atop Brad. (Topless and atop—see what I did there!? No moronic regurgitation of “top” words would be complete without a tribute to the place that used to be Weston Massachusetts’s most beloved dry cleaner, TIP TOPS!) Where were we!? Oh yes, boobies in primetime and Brad acting like a boob. BOOM! Brad has one rose to give out on this date and he gives it to Ashley, who acts like she’s 11 going on 12.

Let’s get to the good stuff, shall we?

Ashley already has a rose and Brad has three roses to hand out. Britt already got the boot, so only one lady’s going home. First rose goes to Emily. We knew that was coming. Second rose to the hot mortician, Shawntel. Now it’s down to Chantal or Michelle. In the words of Guns ‘n Roses masterwork, My Michelle, “Well well well, you just can’t tell” AM I RIGHT!? Chantal is anxious and convinced that she’s going home. Michelle seems cool as an (insane) cucumber, which makes it even more beautiful when Brad says, “Chantal.” Most bachelors keep the crazy, unlikable one around until the bitter end. Not Brad Womack. Graceless Michelle walks out, refusing to speak to Brad or let him touch her. Then in the car, she refuses to say anything and simply flops down on the seat.

Next week: Hometown Dates!

The Most Redundant Names

Boulevard Terrace (Street in Brighton, MA)

Auditorium Theatre (Theater Chicago, IL)

Epoch Times (National Newspaper)

Street Road Accessories (auto parts store in Feasterville, PA)

Diner Grill (Restaurant in Chicago)

New Comedy Short

Last week I filmed a comedy short for the great website PMSports.com. Warning: it's hilarious, but very offensive, so don't watch if you're easily offended. Seriously. Check it out here:

I've been cheating

To the THOUSANDS of people who are my dedicated blog readers:

I have been cheating on Monday nights. “The Bachelor” can’t always fulfill my needs for trash reality TV and I recently discovered another Monday night delight: “RuPaul’s Drag Race.” It’s like a combo of American Idol (if they only lip synced), America’s Next Top Model (if they had dicks), and Project Runway (straight up) and it’s amazing. So I didn’t get a chance to see “The Bachelor” last night, which is a travesty since Brad & the Gals visited beautiful Costa Rica. Costa Rica is an amazing country that I visited a year ago with 6 friends in a gorgeous house. Yes, things DID “stop being polite and start getting real” just like the opening credits to that pioneer of reality TV. (Actually, no drama really went down. We had a blast, ate a whole lotta guac, hit the beach a bunch, and generally had a fantastic time.)

But back to “The Bach” as we call it in the biz.

I can’t tell you about Brad & the Gal’s ziplining or cloud walk or hot tub parties. But I *can* tell you who got booted off and what I think of those people. I’m full of opinions, people. (Seriously--here’s a sample platter for ya: Justin Bieber: dinky twerp whose career is like a joke on the American public; the entire wedding industry: a racket that pressures families to spend far too much money on ONE day; Oracle: one of the worst computer programs I’ve ever had the misfortune of working with; Hilights when too much purple dye is used: terrible and they make a 20-something look like an old lady; Sex & the City: a phenomenal show that was edgy for its time and dealt with real, important issues like abortion, divorce, and infidelity and is now mis-remembered as being silly and about only shoes.)

Where was I? Oh yes, proving that I have opinions (as if anyone doubts that). OK. So Brad booted off two ladies this week, or so NBC.com seems to say. Who was sent home?

Alli the sporty brunette who learned that her father was a cheater late in life. She seemed cool, but she was pushing it a bit too hard and trying to make it work.

Jackie the brunette “artist” (?) from New York, NY. Similar situation—I suspect that she was a bit too creative and smart for this season’s cardboard cutout bachelor, Brad.

Marissa the brunette girl who wore a tiara in her 2^nd to last rose ceremony. The moment she even put that tiara on her brunette dome, she should have been immediately whisked from the mansion. Seriously, girl? A tiara!? A tiara on an adult is NOT cool. I don’t care if it’s your wedding (I’m looking at you, Mrs. Rudy Giuliani #3) or just a brunch in Brooklyn (I’m looking at you, crazy lady who ate next to me on New Year’s morning) or anytime. So Marissa, you were lucky to even get a trip to Costa Rica after the tiara situation.

That’s all for this week, pussycats. I promise I’ll watch next week. Until then, as RuPaul says, lip sync for your LIFE!

Another Bachelor recap

Sorry I didn’t recap last week, lovelies. I live-tweeted it, then got lazy. But this week the Bachelor and his (increasingly blonde) harem traveled to one of my favorite cities, so I gotta report.

Chris Harrison kicked off the show by informing the ladies that they’d be traveling to a location FOUR HOURS AWAY: LAS VEGAS! The girls shrieked and squealed, but I secretly hope that the actual journey from L.A. to L.V. was like in “Swingers” when they start off all fired up, and then just end up tired and bored.

The ladies arrive in Vegas and they’re staying at Aria, a new hotel on the Strip that is just down from the Bellagio, if my memory serves. They will be living in the penthouse and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Brad meets the women at the hotel, presumably after he traveled to Vegas in an isolation pod so that no off-camera flirting would go down. We learn that during their week in Vegas, there will be a 1:1 date, a group date, and the dreaded 2:1 date. Note to newbies: the 2:1 date includes one rose and one fat Heisman to the face. So somebody is going on the date and never coming back. Yikes. But ya never know what will go down on these things, dear reader. Remember when Jake “Pilot Nerd” Pavelka was the bachelor and he kinda freaked out during his 2:1 and sent them BOTH home!? There could be curve balls, people. Keep your eyes open and your mouth closed (huh?).

The 1:1 date goes to lucky Shawntel, whose parents obviously wanted a son and wouldn’t budge on the name. She’s a sexy mortician (note to self: remember that for Halloween costume next year) and we hear an awful lot about embalming and draining of veins. Yes, she almost quoted “Roadhouse” with her comment about draining the main vein. Blind guitarist Jeff Healy would be proud, Shawntel! First Brad & Shawntel go on a shopping spree, which idiotic Ashley H. refers to as a “perfect Pretty Woman moment.” Umm… have people forgotten that in “Pretty Woman,” Julia Roberts is a woman whose JOB IS SEX and who keeps what little cash she has in a plastic soap dish INSIDE her toilet. Brad and Shawntel then eat dinner on the roof of the hotel and as they walked out there, I thought they were going to somehow reenact “The Hangover.” Terrible sunburns, lost bachelors, and a cameo by Mike Tyson!? I wish. All we got was a death-chat dinner, fireworks, and smooches.

The group date is to the Las Vegas Track, as in the workplace of Emily’s dead fiancée/baby daddy. So for those keeping track at home, NBC has put Emily on a plane (how her fiancée died) AND at a NASCAR race track (his workplace). What’s next, a group date at a Medium who claims she can access the spirit world!? Will there be booze!? This date is pretty boring—everyone wears ugly driver suits and big, round hats (they’re called helmets, I know, but isn’t it more fun to call them hats?); they do some slow-mo walking through smoke on the track (wish I were joking about that one); booze and tears abound; girls wear bikinis. Standard.

So that leaves the 2:1, which will be Ashley S. vs. Ashley H., or as Brad calls them “the Ashleys” which only reifies the fact that this is a harem freak show. They watch a rehearsal of the Elvis extravaganza show on the strip and I must admit, it looked awesome. They even played my favorite Elvis song, “Suspicious Minds.” Brad and the Ashleys learn a few dance routines and even dangle over the seats in ropes and harnesses. It’s Elvis plus Cirque Du Soleil, so the use of harnesses and dangling bodies is actually pretty neat, not freaky or bondage-y. The threesome then eat dinner together and Brad sends home Ashley S. (who you may remember from the “Kiss From a Rose” date). As they show footage of her crying in the limo, talking about how she has so much trouble with love and relationships, we hear the sounds of Elvis’s “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” and then cut to shots of Ashley H. and Brad having a blast. Pretty harsh stuff.

Finally, it’s time for a rose ceremony in the Aria hotel suite. Shawntel, Emily, and Ashley H. have roses already, so they are safe. Michelle tries to lure in Brad using a strategy that resembles a prisoner-of-war interrogation room-- SEXY! Marissa appears to be wearing a tiara and hands Brad a card of what she calls “texts I would send, if we had cell phones.” How did we, as a society, become so addicted to texting that we can’t see that texting is a modern form of (very short) letter writing? Are we so modernized that we can’t simply revert to letter writing, but rather we have to phrase it as texts you have transcribed!? Just write a frigging letter, weirdo. That letter can’t save Marissa, though, and she gets sent home. Also eliminated is Lisa M, who never had a 1:1 with Brad and seemed lucky to make it this far. She had on a cute dress for her final rose ceremony, though. Chantal received the final rose of the night and I think that her drunken use of the “L word” may have been a bit too much for Brad, even with his trips to “intensive therapy.”

What’s coming up? A trip to Costa Rica and some hometown visits within the next few episodes.