It’s not enough anymore to show weepy chicks in bikinis running around drunk and hysterical on The Bachelor. I was watching humiliated Victoria stampede through the cocktail party in tears, struggling to keep herself upright as she screamed at producers and demanded to go home, and all I could think was, “Man, she better fall down some stairs or run through a big pane of glass or something!”
I have to be honest. For just a moment, I was rooting for it. This is what I have come to. Watching an undernourished human soul get crushed to a fine powder on national television is no longer enough to stimulate me. I must now also have some snuff.
Poor Victoria. Not only was she drunk and embarrassing, but she’s also a legal assistant and from Boca Raton! My ex-boyfriend Steve who’s from the Sunshine State used to always tell me, “If Sarasota is the armpit of Florida, Boca Raton is the lump.”
We’ve seen this happen so many times, we all know there’s really no good way out. Victoria ended up hyperventilating in the women’s room, while another woman gave her the “sorority girl” backrub, accompanied with the standard verbiage: “It’s okaaaaay. You’re so pretty!” Meanwhile, all the other women piled into the jacuzzi and performed a group-shaming.
“That is not alright!” one was heard to say.
Another added, “That’s scary, you guys. He has a daughter.”
Then Juan Pablo moped over and said, “I feel bad for her,” and they all nodded and squeaked out a communal, “Oh… us too! We were just saying…”
Now I’ll quickly run down the two one-on-one dates for you. Even though there wasn’t really anything new. Dead family members. Walls that won’t come down. Grandmas are the wisest. Someone misses their little boy. Someone misses their little dog. Cue the lights on a guy with a guitar singing about how his heart has been colored in with pastels.
First date went to Clare, which as we all know is a fat girl’s name. Michael walked into the den just as Juan Pablo was putting a blindfold over her eyes and shoving her into his sports car. “Ah! He is taking her to her death!” Michael proclaimed. Then he cackled and with his best Venezuelan accent said, “I wun too tie you up wiz some tape!”
Well, he didn’t kill her. He took her to an enchanted Christmas tree lot. I once thought it would be romantic if Michael and I went to a pumpkin patch.
“Where the hell are we gonna find a pumpkin patch?” Michael asked sourly.
I said, “On the corner of Sunset and LaBrea!”
And that’s when I learned the difference between a pumpkin patch and a pumpkin lot.
The second date went to Kat the Medical Sales Rep (“Hi there! I’m here to show the President of your company some Bactine!”). This date was even more boring than the first one, and this one had LED lights!
Juan Pablo and Kat took a private jet to something called the “Electric Run” where people voluntarily run five kilometers at night while dressed up like extras from a Belinda Carlisle music video. I winced and yelled at my television, “That neon is giving me a headache! It’s a Monday night for God’s sake!” Then I took some Geritol and had a hard candy, and I felt more settled.
Did anyone else notice that the girls were re-capping what their date cards had said, and we no longer had to sit and watch them read it out loud to the entire room when they first got it? That was always one of my favorite parts of an episode, watching the girl visibly shrink as she was forced to take a stab at the word, “cherish.”
Well, now it’s Group Date Time! 13 girls, 1 South American hunk, and 2.2 million viewers in the 18 to 49 demo throwing their heads back and groaning, “Fuck me, it’s the group date!”
Nothing interesting ever happens on group date! Even tonight, when the woman who was hosting the calendar fundraiser for homeless animals said, “Each month we do a sexy photo shoot with a dog!” I barely even blinked.
The next morning Juan Pablo went and visited Victoria, who instead of going back to the mansion had checked into the Best Western. She and Juan Pablo enjoyed a politely filling continental breakfast and free mini yogurt, and then he asked her to get the fuck off his season. I’d have done the exact same thing. I expect a Sarasota gal to hold her slosh way better than that babe did.
Then Juan Pablo raced back to the house just in time to hand two other girls their heads as well as a swell “But I Just Got Here!” gift bag, courtesy of Clairol.
Aside from Vicky, the two sisters hitting the bricks this week were:
Chantel the Account Manager: I’m more shocked than anything. I thought there was a connection. I haven’t dated in so long.”
And Amy, the Local News Reporter “I got kicked to the curb! Plus manatees may be smarter than we think!”
See you next week!