The Bachelor 15-2: Brad Womack and the Carnival Clowns



Turns out midnight carnivals at the ends of dirt roads that are mysteriously operating without employees come off less romantic… and more creepy and malevolent… than one might have originally guessed.

At any moment, I was expecting the carny romance blooming between Brad and Ashley H. on tonight’s Bachelor to be interrupted by a machette-wielding clown who, with the help of a midget in top hat and tails, chases our young lovers into the mirror maze where they’re both faced with visions of their impending multiple divorces and child support hearings.

But it didn’t happen.


The lead-off date for episode two of The Bachelor 15 involved some tedious exchanges near the Tilt-A-Whirl as The Bromack and The Girl Dentist compared deadbeat dads. This was followed by a couple of softball tosses at fluffy clown heads, and the obligatory make-out session on the ferris wheel after Ashley snagged the first rose of the night.

It didn’t make my heart skip a beat. Besides, what’s the challenge of throwing softballs at fluffy clowns when there’s no one else around? You can just reach over and grab the giant stuffed Pikachu and save yourself seventy-five cents.

I’m going to go out of sequence here tonight, because there was very little between the “Cougar and Dark’s Pandemonium Side Show” date that led off the show and the predictable Rose Ceremony at the end that wowed me very much.

And I was completely prepared for greatness. I even bought a brand new sofa from Crate and Barrel just for the occasion. I cranked up the fireplace, lit some jasmine scented candles, climbed into my Snuggie and readied myself to be swept away like I do whenever I’m taking a Calgon bath.

But it didn’t happen.

Oh, Bromack… your new contrite angle is wearisome already. Thank God your pecs are holding up (see below).


“Let me hug you.”
“It absolutely breaks my heart to see any woman cry.”
“You’re beautiful… regardless.”

Oy vey!


Yes, he was talking to you, Waitress Ashley and Manscaper Raichel… your mutual sniping, viper-spitting and desperate pleas for male comfort were responsible for sending The Bromack, desperate to appear rehabilitated, into a corner he could not escape.  How could he possibly be anything other than a shoulder for you both to cry on, when he certainly would much rather have been getting it on doggie-style under the shower spray like they did on Bachelor Pad.?

But it didn’t happen.

No, the Bromack had to play the sober, zipped-up saint.  And if it continues for much longer, it’s possible he will induce a sugar coma in the entire home audience, which will lead to a ratings nosedive… and Brad Womack will forever be remembered as the “Biggest Eunoch” in Bachelor history.

Come on, Melissa and Raichel!   Does any man want a woman who can’t stand her own ground… who can’t fight her own battles… who can’t play dirty when necessary in order to grab back the focus of her man and eliminate the competition?

Yes, I’m talking to you, Michelle.

You and your snotty dismissal of your competition during the Red Cross PSA sequence that went on longer than The Road to Perdition.

You were having none of it.  You walked away and made your man come seek you out, ask what was wrong, and console you back to the party.  And because of that, I applaud you.

You and your ugly Wilma Flintstone necklace…  I applaud you both.

You grabbed the second rose of the night, Wilma Flintstone, and you were proud of it!

If anyone can bring back the animal in The Bromack, it’s gonna be you!  Fight on, you nefarious bitch, fight on!

One thing I did especially enjoy about this episode: we got our first “Super Sad Doll” moment of the season, courtesy of Rockette Keltie. When she deemed the fifteenth season of a reality dating show celebrating a guy who had already jilted two chicks on national television her last shot at love… well, is it wrong that I nearly fell off my new Crate and Barrel sofa onto the floor, laughing? Who knew Rockettes could be so gosh darn funny if you kept the camera on them long enough? Not me!

Last question of the night, and this one’s for you, single mothers… exactly how long do you go on wooing a man before you reveal that you have a child by another man, that you’re basically a “widow” possibly still recovering from losing the greatest love of your life, and that you’re seemingly looking less for a husband and more for a father to your little girl?

Yes, I’m talking to you, Emily.

You weep over sacrificing time with your little girl to compete on a dating reality show in Los Angeles, with the lame justification that it will all be worth it if you can bring home a fiancé, which clearly seems to be code for “new baby daddy.” Last week, your innocent yet guarded routine came off as sincere and noble. But this week, I was expecting you to end the charade and admit to The Bromack that you have a toddler who nearly came to tears on the speaker phone, longing for her mommy.

But it didn’t happen.

Though you did get a rose. How proud your daughter will be someday.

I’m not rooting for Emily anymore… or Madison the vampire… or even Britt the Food Writer who sucked face with The Bromack so long during the Red Cross PSA shoot, it brought a shower of television reaction shots that were the only saving grace of tonight’s Bachelor.





Nope, I’m rooting for my new couch. The one from Crate and Barrel. I’m hoping it will be cozy and welcoming enough to sustain me for a season of The Bachelor that is already fast-barreling to mediocrity.

What did you think? Is Michelle enough of a villain? Were you sorry to see Raichel, Keltie and Melissa go home? Are you as afraid of late-night carnivals as much as I am now? Are you excited about the appearance of Seal next week, or does it just remind you of how awful Batman & Robin was?

Fill me in, and I’ll see you next Tuesday.

I’ll be on the couch. Where will you be?

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