Was anyone else disappointed that tonight wasn’t the actual first episode of The Bachelor, but rather some sort of drawn-out Bachelor preview entitled, “Countdown to Juan Pablo”? A countdown to Juan Pablo is about as necessary as a countdown to the McRib. But I guess ABC knows I’ll sit through just about anything they put into my television set, even that show with the British aliens who live next door to Jami Gertz.
So what exactly did we learn about this season’s love-chasers tonight? Nothing much. The hour was mostly comprised of assorted women throwing their arms in the air and squealing “Juan Pablo!” in that same embarrassing way my grandma squeals when she gets a BINGO.
There was also an uncomfortable tribute to Gia, but I don’t want to talk about that.
Oh yeah, in case you had money on it one way or the other, Chris Harrison is still on the show.
I kid Chris Harrison. He walked into a dream gig. And he’s probably a nice guy. But after, what, 18 seasons of spelling out the serpentine-like intricacies that make up the “rules” of this show, can’t they just insert shots of him from previous seasons? We really don’t need him to continue spelling out for us what might happen when you shove 25 girls into a house with a hot Venezuelan soccer player and giant rugs from Aladdin. He’s just eating up valuable time I could be watching slim people making out in blue, heated water. Plus they dress Chris like a Baskin Robbins store manager. The only thing missing is a hat with “31” in big puffy letters on his head. Someone really should say something.
First, Chris explained how the audition process works on The Bachelor. With the overly-focused, academic tone and calculated diction, you would have thought he was explaining how to build your own bagpipes from scratch. Of course, it boils down to attractive women having their friends put on their make-up earlier that day, then sitting in front of a camera with a bunch of dopes like me asking them questions no one would ever get asked in reality, designed to elicit responses like these gems:
“I wanna, like, find someone. I wanna get married… again.”
“My eggs are not becoming any more fertile.”
“I have a great sense of humor. I love to cook various cuisines.”
“I was a virgin until about two weeks ago.”
Once the final 25 lucky gals have been selected, Chris Harrison personally goes to their house to notify them with a rose in one hand and 13 pints of Jamoca Almond Fudge in the other. Actually, Chris Harrison only hit the houses of girls living in Southern California. He couldn’t get to the girls that lived in different parts of the country because he was too busy preparing a special he’s pitching to ABC called, “Chris Harrison Counts Down to the Countdown That Introduces The Next Bachelor Who Won’t Start His Journey Until Tomorrow But You Can Read All About it Right Now on RealitySteve-Dot-Com.” It turned out that the girls who didn’t live in California had to be notified by someone who works behind the scenes on the show. So while Chris toyed with the girl for a few moments before revealing the good news and got a little drama out of the scene, the other women were met by a round-looking guy with Weird Al Yankovic hair at their front door muttering, “Hi. Congratulations. You’re on The Bachelor.” And the poor girl had to act like she was really excited and wasn’t totally just going for her mace.
By the way, what does a Mineral Coordinator do? I don’t have jokes yet, but I will soon, so I hope she hangs around a while.
And hey did anyone else wonder this… are we gonna get to see the mother of Juan Pablo’s baby girl? Has he ever mentioned what that whole deal was? Do you think he’ll seek his baby momma’s counsel when he gets to the Final Four? I wonder if she’s a hot Latin spitfire like the kind you see in telenovelas. Or maybe they’re not showing her because she’s a real Butter-Face from a bad night of Juan Pablo partying. I know it’s rude to say “Butter-Face” even though I didn’t know what it meant until two months ago when I overheard Michael explaining it to my dad. I also didn’t know what a “hood rat” was until my friend Cris told me. And I thought “SMH” meant “some more haha” and that it was the new “LOL.” So please don’t hold it against me that I suggested the mother of Juan Pablo’s baby is a Butter-Face. But if she is a Butter-Face, I want to see her.
Here are a couple other thoughts I had:
If I saw Chris Harrison wandering around the streets of Hollywood in the daytime with a rose, I would think, “Oh he just wants attention.”
When a person’s occupation is listed on-screen as “Free Spirit,” that means they work at Denny’s.
Juan Pablo said he retired because his daughter was born. I didn’t know we were allowed to do that! You mean you can have a kid and just opt out of the workforce entirely and people have to be ok with it? (Mom and Dad, please use this moment for an insufferable comment on the American welfare system. You’re welcome.)
Juan Pablo does something with sports and I really tried to understand what the fuck he was talking about. It sounded like he said he steals American baseball bats and smuggles them into Venezuela. He should be more careful. It’s that kind of admission that makes one ineligible for Bachelor Pad.
Was anyone else hoping they’d give us a better shot of Juan Pablo’s brother so we could see if he was equally hot? And if you were, were you also hoping that if he wasn’t equally hot he was at least somewhat hot, or “hot in his own way,” just so we could all pretend for a moment that life is fair? Maybe he’s a Butter-Face too. It works for both sexes, you know, so it’s really okay to say.
I would have enjoyed this show more if after every tape package they threw back to Chris in the studio and he had a fun co-host for some chirpy, casual banter. And you’d think after the hordes of attractive women that have cycled through The Bachelor, there’d be someone we’d still want to see more of. But really… can you see Emily Maynard sitting across from Chris? Ashley the Dentist? And it turns out that displaying the name “Ali Fedotowski” onscreen causes convulsions in puppies and some of the elderly. So I guess the format we got was probably the smartest way for them to go
And anyway, tomorrow night is where the fun really begins. We get to decide who the alcoholics are, we get to play “Spot the Looney Shrew,” and we get to sympathize for the timid wallflower girls who don’t get any “one-on-one” time with Juan Pablo while the other girls say comforting things to them like, “Didn’t you get any one-on-one time with Juan Pablo?” and “Oh sweetie, you must feel so left out!” I’d say if anything needed a countdown show… and a recap show… and a halftime show… and one of those things that freezes a shot so you can draw strategy arrows all around, it’s the 25 Type-A chicks drinking and maneuvering during the first cocktail party of any season of The Bachelor.