Wrassler and Atomic Douche Rocket, Justin "Rated-R" Rego and his girlfriend # 1 (Or is it 2?), Jessica...er, Somebody, seem to have overcome his (Their?) skeeziness and his cheating as they make-out in a Toronto street last week. (Thanks to Life & Style Magazine, whom I stole this from.)
This show needs to drop the pretense. I thought it was supposed to be about love. What love? The love a harem full of insane bimbos have for a Canadian Wrassler Zero; or the love it's Star has for the creepiest, goofiest loser in the history of the show? This is like watching an enormous train wreck in super slow-mo. The producers didn't even bother trying to hide it either. What was with those previews? Why not just tell us what happens? I think one can safely conclude the magnitude of the coming train wreck by the fact that they aren't hiding anything. They've stopped even trying to sell love or even the mystery--they are actually selling the train wreck! And what a collision this promises to be. They only saving grace is that they are going to stage the bloodbath in some wonderful-looking locales. It's starting to look like National Geographic Explorer: Bimbo Edition.
Speaking of bimbos, all-around male-bimbo and general troublemaker, Chris "Wingman" Harrison, gets the trouble started early this week. We've barely finished seeing the aerial views of the ancient city of Istanbul when the wingman barges into Ali's suite with a sour look on his mug. He tells Ali that he has some information and has personally checked it out. "It's legit." Uh-huh. Ol Harrison burning up the transatlantic wires to nail down the story. Anyway, he lets Ali know that she needs to call her old bunkmate from Jake's Bachelor, Jessie Sulidis--a girl who was so silent on that season I dubbed her Jessie Who? Ali stares blankly at him a moment and is clearly thinking "Jessie Who?" but the winger clarifies and she fakes remembering anyway. Seems Jessie has gotten hold of some info Ali needs to know. Harrison places the call and Ali greets Jessie with that over the top cheerfulness you use when you don't remember who the hell you're talking to. Jessie then launches the scandal bomb of the week and lets her know one of her douches has a girlfriend back home. Ali looks less than crushed when she finds out it's Wrassler Rego, a guy she clearly could give a rat's ass about, but the actual girlfriend is then put on the phone and rats the Wrassler out. Shockingly, she admits the Wrassler is only on the show to get into show business and promote his sorry Wrasslin career. She also tells Ali that her and Justin have dated for nearly two years and he has called her numerous times during the show to assure he loves her, and oh, by the way, he has another girlfriend besides her. This is why they call it Reality TV, because if you wrote an episodic show with all this cheesy bullshit, you'd be laughed out of Hollywood. Ali thanks the wronged brunette and proceeds to go scalp hunting.
The Ambush at the Istanbul Corral
To the practiced eye, its not too hard to tell when they're acting and when they're not. This time, they wasn't acting. Ali storms down to the boys' suite with Harrison in tow and confronts the Wrassler-douche right in front of his buddies. "You must really miss talking with your girlfriend back in Canada, Justin." He starts shaking his head and she immediately follows up, "She just called me!" The Wrassler folds up like a cheap card table. He immediately gets to his feet, gathers his things and refuses to say anything else until he's nearly out the door and Harrison shouts, "Aren't you going to talk with her?" The Wrassler shouts back, "Fuck you, straight up!" and leaves. So busted. Ali and the camera team spend the next few minutes chasing him around the hotel and outside trying to get him to talk. At one point, she puts her hand in front of him to stop his march and he warns, "Don't touch me!" I was truly hoping that Harrison would call the famous Bachelor Stagehand Palooka out to beat his sorry ass, but they don't. He hobbles all over the hotel grounds trying to hide from the camera while the boys upstairs watch him through the window and laugh. All except Frankfurter--hmm. Anyway, as we go to commercial we see the Wrassler escape the grounds with his passport and bags. But when we return from commercial we see that Harrison has called someone much scarier than the Stagehand Palooka, he's called theLawyer Superhero: GoldMan! As we come back, Ali and the Wingman are seated on a garden wall by the hotel, the camera crews and sound teams all in place and here, his tail so far between his legs it might have been up his ass, comes the Wrassler. We never got to the see GoldMan at work, but I'm certain some combination of the words: "Ass", "Yours", "Will", "We", "Sue" got used. Regardless, it's effective because his body language tells you that the Wrassler would rather be interviewing with Satan to be Hell's new doorman than sitting there being cross examined by Ali, but there he sits. For pure spite, she drills him with questions too. Weak lies are his only defense and he finally just gets up and wanders away. Woman scorned Jessica also helpfully supplied producers with phone messages Justin sent her and they play them complete with subtitles as he wanders around aimlessly. GoldMan's work done, there is no longer any barking to get the camera out of his face either. But just in case anyone thought this incident wrecked Wrassler's life or even properly shamed him, please look at the picture at the head of this column. Some things about women passeth all male understanding.
Tennessee Ty's Feminist Awakening
Despite the destruction of the Wrassler, the show must go on! So, the 1st one-on-one date of the week is awarded to Tennessee Ty. Ali meets him downtown and they wander around Istanbul taking in the historic sites. If ever you wondered where Turkey comes in on the progressive and liberal scale of Islamic Countries, the fact that a woman was allowed into a Turkish Bath should have put that to rest for you. Ali even mentions it as her and Ty enter the centuries-old structure. Turkey made an exception for this show?! Somewhere Kemal Ataturk is rolling over in his grave. Anyway, to demonstrate cultural sensitivity to a society with more conservative values, she leads Ty inside the bath where they dress in picnic-table cloths, oil each other up, and make-out. Screw you, Ataturk! This leads to a dinner date on the water where Ty lets Ali know that his first marriage was doomed because he didn't much care for his wife leaving the house to work.(Ignore the interviews his ex is doing where she hints at his infidelity also being somewhat of a problem too.) Super-career-girl Ali turns her nose up but then Ty lets her know that he's seen the light and become a bra-burning feminist. The Tennessee legislature orders him to move his ass to Alabama and Ali gives him a rose.
I Thought We Got Rid of the Oily Wrassler?
While Ty was letting Ali know that Hillary Clinton is his new hero, the Group Date Card has arrived back at the hotel. Sleazy lawyer, Palooka Craig reads off the names of Groucho Roberto, Normal-Guy Chris, Captain Kirk, and his own damn self. That means--inexplicably--that Frankfurter, the Human Cartoon is being given another 1-on-1 date. Is this some kind of joke? Nevermind. This means that Palooka Craig is the only dude remaining without a one-on-one and he's now been lapped by the Frankfurter. Instead of doing what any normal guy would do--give up and have a beer--Palooka vows to fight even harder for Special Quality Time with Ali. He's been looking much more sober since the show took to the road; maybe its time to go back to drinking Craig. The boys head out and meet Ali at some old castle where some dumpy, but well-oiled Turkish dudes come in wearing leather drawers and some business-like scowls. She tells her Nerd Posse to man-up, cause these dudes are Olive Oil Wrasslers--sorry, wrestlers. Now your Old Corsair here is all for cultural open mindedness but an Olive Oil Wrestler? Are you shitting me? Anyway, the Posse is told they have to wrestle these guys. Unsurprisingly, the Turks kick their asses. Should have tried the Canola Oil Wrestlers first, I suppose. Like it matters. The whole stunt is a set-up to get the boys to fight for time with Ali anyway. Captain Kirk hops out and is promptly pinned by Groucho Roberto while unathletic marshmallow body, Palooka Craig scores a shocking upset of Normal-Guy Chris. This sets up the final and the desperate Craig is shown being tossed around like a sack of grain by former-ballplayer, Roberto. Roberto then moves in for the kill and while trying to break Craig's greased-up neck, he trips and Craig lands on him. Tweeeeeet! Craig is pronounced the winner. Ok. Anyway, Ali takes him on a ferry ride across the Bosporus Strait between Asia and Europe for Special Quality Time that looked more like a full-fledged date that was neither Special nor Quality. The Palooka makes her laugh and whistles past the graveyard, but he is surely doomed.
Frankfurter's Magic Carpet Ride
Wow, and I thought that Jessica girl was stupid. At least the Wrassler is good looking, which is more than we can say for semi-employed, parents-basement-dwelling-geek, Frankfurter and his dorky glasses. Frank hauls Ali out into the streets of Istanbul wearing what appears to be last Members Only jacket in existence while a Private Interview lets us know that he thinks their feelings are dying. They go to a spice bazaar where Frank puts on a silver turban and manages to look even more like the Great Gazoo than he already does, and Ali shatters what's left of Turkish societal norms by running around in a belly dancing costume. Then they have a sit-down with some pushy rug merchant so all of dumb America can see that 'them A-rabs like to haggle', just like we always heard they did...even though they're Turks not Arabs. Turks, Arabs; same difference. Thankfully no one tried to sell Frank a Magic Lamp, but Fleiss buys them the Magic Carpet anyway so we can see that Disney has been right all along. The only thing missing was Robin Williams running through the scene doing his Genie Routine. The shopping over, Ali takes him for dinner in a cistern. Really? What's the matter, was the sewer already booked? Weird. They sit down atop the water and have a meal. Foreshadowing is the whole point as they play back and forth about their feelings and Frank blows hot and cold like a furnace and a freezer. One minute he whines about "Being out of touch with his feelings", and the same guy who declared their feelings dying at the beginning of the date states forcefully, "I'm falling for Ali hard", by the end. This is gonna be fun. Date over.
Since the producers know they have gobs of great footage of the Wrassler controversy to work in this week, Ali declares that she needs no further alcohol to make her decision of whom to pole-axe. The boys wait downstairs, nervously bonding like bromances are in bloom, until the wingman comes down and tells them Ali is ready to axe one of them. He lines them all up and here we go:
Already Safe: Screeching feminist, Tennessee Ty and too absurd to be believed, front runner, Frankfurter the Human Cartoon.
Cut: Palooka Craig. The free ride around the world is over. He claims to be 'shocked', but I think he won a few fans tonight. Never hurts; it won't be long before the "Next Bachelor" contest gets underway. Not that he's got a chance, but hey.
Previews: I promised no spoilers here on the Blast and it's impossible to even discuss the previews without spoiling everything.
Next Week: The Turkey Train Wreck goes to Lisbon, Portugal and since its a controversy-free week, Jake and Vienna will be around to throw things at each other. Lovely. See ya then.
One thing will stay with me long after this turkey-of-a-show has ended and all break ups have been duly reported: damn, Iceland is beautiful...and COLD! Wow, I thought Whistler, Canada looked chilly last season but this place looked like a scenic, volcanic Siberia. Note to self: if ever a chance to visit Iceland arises, make damn sure to schedule the trip in whatever passes for summer there because the Green Bay Packers would freeze their asses off in this place. It's almost a shame the Weather Elf wasn't around for the trip. He could have given us one of his hilarious weather routines: "It's so cold, I've got blue ovaries!" Anyway, the wingman gets things started off by greeting the boys in the center of Reykjavik by a statue. Trying to look hip, Harrison eschewed a coat and settled for jeans and a turtleneck--a decision he appeared to regret almost at once as he rubbed his hands together and practically danced up and down.
Roses are Red and Damn I'm Turning Blue!
Talking fast before his blood congeals, Harrison tells the boys there will be one, 1-on-1, one group, and one of the infamous, 2-on-1 somebody gets hugemiliated dates this week. He lets them know they all need to compose a lame love poem for Ali to 'win' the 1 on 1 date then ducks into a local coffee shop before frostbite sets in. Regular readers of my nonsense already know how I feel about this crap. Most seasons its a love song, this year a love poem--same damn thing but Fleiss appears to think my ears have bled enough already this season so they can read their childish rhymes and not sing them. Like it matters anyway. The winner is preordained. Think they want her naming Mushmouth the winner and screwing up their 2-on-1 glacier battle? Not. The boys move out quickly and start pestering the locals for a quick linguistics lesson in Icelandic to fluff their poems and give them an excuse to move around before they get hypothermia. Several folks try to help them but Icelandic sounds like a mighty jawcracker of a language. They'd be better off trying to bust a rhyme in Arabic from the sound of it, but several will try anyway. Groucho Roberto, who professes to be a regular whiz with languages--demonstrates that Icelandic is definitely not a romance language while Normal-Guy Chris L. sticks to kiddie English and talks about Green Eggs & Ham or something. Somebody finally presses the mute button and Chris N. does get to speak, and I'm certain he wished they hadn't. He is shown mumbling about church bells and his edit for the week is set: he's retarded. Palooka Craig aims for the funnybone and hits my spleen instead, while Kasey Mushmouth gets to rhyme instead of sing and mumbles so incoherently that Fleiss finally hears my pleas and inserts subtitles. Like it mattered. Fleiss' own sound team had no idea what the guy was saying."Smarmony harmony snicklefrits??"Beautiful stuff. Captain Kirk, who Ali appears to like, hasn't had a 1-on-1 yet, then walks over to Ali and tells her she's got eyes like a root beer float or something. Alleged writer, Frankfurter the Human Cartoon, mimics his move but fills it with cartoonish flourishes, better prose, and hams it up, but to no avail. You didn't actually think you were going to get a second 1 on 1 just because you're a better writer and performer, did you Frank? Nah, of course you didn't. Captain Kirk wins the date for walking over to her and holding her pointed chin while he waxed poetic. Fine, better than singing.
Searching For Warmth and Finding Mold
What does one do when in Reyjkavik on a 1 0n 1 romantic date? Go sweater shopping. Not that I blame them of course. I read somewhere that Icelanders have the highest per-capita alcohol consumption of any humans on the planet, and now I understand why. I wouldn't have blamed these two if they'd gone shopping for a kerosene heater and a few bottles of Stoli. But they stick to clothing and Kirk hops around with his child-like enthusiasm and they try on dorky sweaters. A steady drumbeat of skepticism from AliCat lets us know some big reveal is coming too. She takes him to a private chalet for dinner and he tells her a serious story of nearly dying of mold poisoning. I've known people who suffered with that. Dangerous stuff. It's a good story of perseverance, and CaptainKirk makes up for the macrame scrapbook a little bit. Strangely enough, they both appear sober, which is odd when compared to how drunk Ali's going to look shortly, but the rose is never seriously in doubt.
The Blue Skin Lagoon
While Ali and Kirk have been storing body heat, the Group Date card arrives. Moving out onto the frozen tundra will be: GrouchoRoberto, Normal-GuyChrisL., Semi-muteChrisN., PalookaCraig, TennesseeTy, and the Frankfurter. This means the 2-on-1 get lost date will feature crazy-assed KaseyMushmouth and smarmy-assed Wrassler creep, Justin. The wrassler gets his smirk on early and plays his trump card. He hobbles over to an Icelandic doc-in-the-box and has his cast removed. "That's one small step for Justin; one giant leap for Rated-R." Listen, you douche; you're not allowed to make any allusions to the Apollo Program. The only thing you have in common with real men who risked all for the moon is that they might have accidentally collected your head on the surface thinking it was a moon rock. Anyway, Frankfurter, obviously desperate to do anything to convince the producers to let him leave, plays Life Coach to Mushmouth, who is looking crazier by the second. Frank helps the narrative along by asking him about his tattoo and letting Kasey mumble incoherently about guarding her heart again. Damn! Can we please get to the tundra? They try and block me with more mumbling, but since I'm writing this, I'm going there anyway. Up yours, Fleiss!
And when I said Tundra, I wasn't joking. Ali awaits them in a frozen wasteland with some Siberian ponies (Yes, I checked) and they all go for a ride. Since his singing is so putrid, this is the big chance for Tennessee Ty to take center stage and prove what a cowboy he is. He takes the lead and helps Ali onto her pony and runs around helping people out because he's from Tennessee, where everyone knows how to rope and ride except most people. Normal-Guy Chris L, looks much like the Massachusetts clam-digger he claims to be by nearly falling and splintering his tailbone on the ice sheet they're riding on, but makes his escape anyway. She then leads them to a hole in the ground and its time to go frozen spelunking. Normal-guy Chris goes first so he can steal 5 seconds with her at the bottom of the hole. Her hands are frozen like a Popsicle when she descends so he risks frostbite by giving her his gloves, which impresses her. Seeing this, every other douche races to bury her in clothing, except for the Frankfurter, who lays back. Privately, he moans about how group dates suck and goes on another of his now familiar jealous rants. She answers with one of her own and says he "disappeared" on the date. Their spelunking adventure over, Fleiss gets them to the Blue Lagoon hot springs so Ali can strip down and get near-naked and totally drunk. Ty, being the cowboy hero of the moment, gets 1-0n-1 time first, but I can't remember anything that was said. Chris L gets his shot and she asks him about his past relationships. Wow, really? He's been there for 4 weeks and had a 1-on-1 date with you and you're just asking this? Anyway, he shoots up red flags by admitting he's always tried to change for women. They make out so Frankfurter can melt down. He finally gets his 1-on-1 time and she orders him to "step up" like a football coach. Go on, Frank, grovel at her feet while she's tonguing other dudes in plain sight. What the hell is wrong with you? Frank vows it's a wake-up call and doesn't act surprised when Tennessee Ty gets the rose. Much to the chagrin of the female audience, we see little of GrouchoRoberto. Sorry gals, you'll need to re-watch last weeks Lion King date if you want to see his beefcake, Fleiss is busy showing crazy at the moment. Stranded at Santa's Workshop
One thing we can always count on this show for is it's cruelty. When it comes to dumping people, sometimes Fleiss comes close to executing the departing just for our amusement. And when you consider the sanity of the guy he's about to shitcan, I think you can imagine just how few Christmas cards Fleiss gets, despite his billions of dollars. Ali takes the Mumbler and the Smirker out to an active volcano via helicopter, and I have to say its one of the more impressive sights this show will ever capture. Not content with flying around it, the chopper actually lands on the volcano. A private interview with Ali lays out the score pretty clearly: "All Kasey has to do to get a rose is act normal." Sorry, babe, that's like asking a mouse to act gigantic, but it should tell you how she feels about the Wrassler. They all leave the volcano for a glorious glacier where the Icelandic Tourism Bureau has carved out an ice cave for them complete with ice furniture. Wrassler goes first with her while Mushmouth waits outside in the cold shooing invisible mosquitoes or whatever he does when he's alone. The Wrassler hits her up with what she wants to hear (i.e. he talks about HER and not himself,) and she's too young and stupid to see she's being played. She then wanders out into the deep freeze and has a sit-down with Mushmouth so he can mumble some more and then he whips out his tattoo. She goggles at it, and looks like she wants to yell for a cop. Uncomfortable, is a very good word for it. She then hems and haws around like she's talking to an asylum escapee--which she is--before she lines them both up and gives the Wrassler the rose. As the chopper lifts off, Wrassler smirks down at him and a pull back shot shows Kasey standing in the ass end of frozen nowhere all alone. The only thing Fleiss passed on was having the helicopter swing around and strafe him with a machine-gun. But if you're worried about him, you can drop him a line. Just address your card or letter to: Kasey Mushmouth, Reindeer Glacier, Reykjavik, Iceland. 320FU. I'm told that Robby the bartender from Jillian's season continues to receive fan letters in the middle of the Canadian Rockies and mail and food drops are regularly made to Payton from Andy Baldwin's season on that aircraft carrier she got stranded on, so he will be fine.
Time to Get Even More Drunk
The party gets going as Ali enters and she tells the boys about Mushmouth and tries very hard not to laugh her ass off about it. The story barely ends when Frankfurter hops up and snatches her away for the 1st private time. He reminds her that he's supposed to step up and they kiss. Frank then gets that look in his eye that every woman understands called male horniness. Ali sensing the Frankster is about to tackle her on the couch and do her, giggles with glee. Frank praises her "brains". Heheh yeah, her brains. Next up is Palooka Craig, who has been expressing extreme nerves that he's about to get dumped and won't be able to fly around the world on somebody else's dime anymore. Give the 'ol Palooka credit though, he comes in with a joke and you can rarely go wrong making a girl laugh. He shows her a pen-drawn tattoo on his wrist that has her breaking up laughing, which tells you just how broke up she is about Mushmouth freezing in that ice cave. Somebody hits the mute button again, and for the first time we get to see a private moment between Ali and Chris N. She asks him about his fun side and the edit makes sure he looks catatonic before responding, "I like Mexican food." Fleiss, you're such a dick. But this does lead us to where the ladies want to go anyway; Normal Guy Chris gets a brief talk where he lies about how willing he is to leave Cape Cod and his old man so he can go collect garbage in San Fran while Ali appears on Dancing With The Stars or whatever. Then, finally, the Wench Queen sits up straight as we get to Groucho Roberto. Ali hauls him out into the cold by the hot springs and they exchange about ten slurred words that amount to her telling him he's too damn good-looking for her. Then they make-out.
For the 1st time this season, there's enough filler-time left over from all the drunken insanity for the wingman to slither onto his cheese throne and feed some storyline to the primary. The whole recap boils down to what they need you to know for the rest of the show: Ali is afraid to fall in love and terrified she won't get loved back. If you've missed the central theme of her edit to this point, there it is all spelled out for you. Nice to know Fleiss thinks you're a blithering idiot, isn't it?
The Least Dramatic Rose Ceremony Ever!
Already safe: Virtually half the cast, including Tennessee Ty,Captain Kirk, and Justin the Wrassler. Which leaves three guys she's drooled over, one guy who cracks her up and is employed as a lawyer, and one guy we've seen speak twice and both times he was made to sound and look handicapped. Oh, the drama was killing me.
Roses: 1) Frankfurter--He's gonna step up so he can step out. 2) Normal-Guy Chris L.--coming to a sanitation truck near you. 3) Groucho Roberto--This guy could go to sleep until the finale. 4) Palooka Craig--cool! A trip to Muslim Europe on the house!
Cut: Guess. He walks out to the limo alone and climbs in as it pulls away. For a minute I think they're going to keep the mute button on but then he speaks, looking dazed at his dismissal but not heartbroken, and says some of the most intelligent things I've ever heard uttered on this show: "This process was just too rushed. Maybe in other, different circumstances I could have opened up more. But this all came too fast." No wonder they didn't let the son of a bitch talk, he's a friggin genius.
Breaking News: Hot off the presses or whatever they call the internet these days. It's just been announced that Jake Cheesemachine Pavelka and his partner, I mean, fiancee, Vienna Sausage Girardi, have decided they have secured adequate Hollywood opportunities and are therefore calling their partnership over. The bad news, he's now free to come swooping in on what remains of Ali's season. Lets hope not. Rumors are also swirling that Jillian Harris and her fiance, Drop-Dead Edward Swiderski are about to raise the white flag too. If we combine this with this season, which is starting look like an all-star bust, it means Fleissmonster and his evil minions are back to where they usually are in terms of success. Just ignore the Jason/Molly wedding, that was obviously a fluke.
Ok, next week, this turkey goes to Turkey and the producers pull an ambush that's guaranteed to wipe that smirk of the Wrasslers face before I have to slap it off him. See ya then, mateys!
Well, so much for that background check thing. I'm beginning to think Bachelor Producer/Human Maggot, Mike Fleiss, and his showrunner Martin Whatshisname, actually do perform background checks on contestants--they just insist the person have three unresolved relationships and a history of mental illness before they let them on the show. That's what it seemed like last night anyway. Bad enough it looked like a reality show filmed inside a loony bin, but they also decided to add spastic dancing and are trying to set the season record for most incidences of bad singing. Toss in the whiny vagina known as Jonathan the Weather Elf and it looks like Dr. FrankenFleiss is trying to combine the worst aspects of Hoarders and America's Got (No) Talent into one sad spectacle of a show. It's also starting to look like Dramamine is this season's sponsor too, as they take flying-phobic Ali F. and start flying her all around the globe. That's the good news too, however. It looks like instead of much romance, we're going to get to see some pretty cool vistas. We begin the journey metropolitan-style.
The Wingman shakes awake the Hangover Crew and packs them away from the Bachelor Mansion and on to New York. He tells them they won't return and that Ali awaits them in the Big Apple. No, actually that's a lie. Ali isn't waiting on anyone--she's doing a cross promo pimp for In-StyleMagazine that, just coincidentally, goes on sale right this very day. She shows up at the Mags headquarters looking like she spent two hours in make-up before filming started so some arrogant fashionista homo can tell her she looks like a redneck. He then subjects her to two more hours of make-over work before she emerges and looks...exactly the same but with trendy New York clothes on. They snap a bunch of pics as the Nerd Posse arrives in the city.
Oft unseen ChrisL. provides some narration to let us know that KaseyMushmouth, the recipient of the first one-on-one date of the evening, is basically out of his gourd. Save your breath, Chris; Fleiss is about to do it for you. I've been dreading this date since night one. How am I supposed to write a recap of a date when I can't understand a word one of the daters says? Forgive me if I have to wing it here a bit, but I'm sure it will sound saner and less embarrassing than the Mushmouth himself did. A helicopter arrives as intercuts are showing us interviews with Kasey where he is making bold predictions about his chances with Ali: "RasafracktaGerdherhearta!" In desperation, Fleiss sends in a helicopter to drown the guy out and give him an excuse to insert some subtitles. But unfortunately, what goes up must come down, and the helicopter eventually lands and Mushmouth breaks into song. (No, I'm not making this up.) Ali, god bless her, laughs right in his face, but nothing can stop the Mushmouth now that he's on a roll. The more excited he gets, the faster he talks. By the time they arrive at the MuseumofNatural History and take a flashlight tour (what was with that about?) he sounds like a gibberish machine gun. They run around the museum where Kasey trades talk with a stuffed gorilla that probably understood him better than I did. Bad enough he's unintelligible and obviously unhinged, but the worst part was the one of every three words I could catch: "Guard your heart...you're imaginary...spend my life looking into your eyes...someone to guard my heart like I guard yours...." he sounded like a robot programmed by Nora Roberts. Nauseating, doesn't begin to cover it. He busts out some more singing and I'm begging the Wench Queen: "Turn it down, turn it down!" Ali finally shushes him somehow and tells him he sounds like a Hallmark Card, not a human being. She stiffs him on the rose but doesn't send him home (The Producer's have plans for this guy!) The last scene was him crying because she doesn't believe his sincerity...I think.
The Lying King
Next up is the group date featuring: Captain Kirk, Groucho Roberto, Jonathan the Weather Elf, Tennessee Ty, Jesse the Contractor, Frankfurter the Human Cartoon, and Palooka Craig. The boys wander down Broadway looking lost with only a few hundred crew members to guide them until they come upon a jumbotron where Ali is vamping at them. They spot her across the street on the veranda above the theater showing the LionKing. She leads them inside and is starting to look and sound a little punk, but guides them down to the stage where some Tony-Award winning somebody tells them to win a rose from her they will need to try out for the play. The boys are all dressed in gym shorts and T-shirts and try some dancing...and I emphasize the word TRY. Funniest is the sleazy lawyer, Palooka Craig, who busts moves like a rusting robot. Also looking surprisingly leprechaunish is Frankfurter, who hops around looking handicapped and sporting pin-needle-sized legs. "I'm normally a good dancer," he insisted. I guess normally was the operative word here. The director-guy sits in the seats like its a real audition and joins in the flim-flammery by noticing Groucho Roberto, "Has Roberto done this before?" No, not unless you're looking for a guy to throw half an inning of 12 -hit baseball during the Second Act, he hasn't. A millisecond cut shows Roberto spin around without falling down and we're supposed to believe he's the next Fred Astaire. The comedy dancing over, its time for some ear-shattering singing. One after another, the boys belly up onstage and try and shatter all the glass in the theater. Tennessee Ty, who purports to be some kind of singer, is as putrid as the rest. It's all ear-covering until Jesse the Contractor blows em all away with a shockingly good rendition of Can You Feel the Love Tonight? (You could almost sense Ali look at the producers and shake her head anyway.) Roberto steps up, looks directly at Ali, waggles his caterpillars at her, and breaks my glasses he's so off key. That thump! you heard as he finished singing just before Ali squealed "Awww!"and ran to him was the sound of a pigeon, falling dead from the rafters. But there's little doubt who gets to perform in the show that night, and its a good thing the director auditioned their dancing and singing talent since Roberto and Ali were required to hang above the stage on high wires dressed like half-naked tangerines and make out for ten seconds. ZZZZZ.
Once they're finished performing Shakespeare in The Park, Ali hauls the boys to a swank hotel lounge where she proceeds to get really sick. Her voice failing, various dudes try and sweep in for the kill anyway. She takes Frank for a walk and heads outside into a hurricane so she can reassure the jittery one that their connection is solid. After getting some of hers, and Roberto's germs all over him, he has to practically carry her back inside. This doesn't stop skeezy lawyer, Palooka Craig from sitting her down and making his pitch, "...in the end, its going to be you and I together." She can only croak in response. Meanwhile, the Weather Elf has been working himself up into a tizzy, spouting lame weather humor and whining like an ovary. He moves into steal her but Palooka tells him to get lost and like a little fairy, he tucks his tail and runs away. Moments later, Captain Kirk, still trying to shake that macrame scrapbook debut, reaches over Craig and just takes her. The Weather Wimp whines he just couldn't do it. You know, I'm starting to get excited about BachelorPad ever since the cast leaked out. I'm actually looking forward to CraigWalken-drunk terrorizing this little excretion on an hourly basis. Anyway, Kirk tells her to go to bed in a fairly manly fashion and she departs with him. He tucks her into bed as the other douches realize there will be no rose tonight.
Birthday boy, ChrisL. is up next and he's on the next one-on-one date, but...not so fast, my friends. Turns out Ali has taken a real turn for the worse, and their date in canceled. But much to his delight, she's invited him over to her hotel to take care of her. Wow, congratulations, Chris; for your birthday you get to take care of some sick chick who got ill tonguing ten other guys. Happy Birthday! But Chris just grins, tosses on a flannel shirt like he's about to go dig clams, and says he is confident. Considering the competition, bud, I would be too. The producers supply him with a bouquet of flowers and a gallon of chicken soup and he heads to her place. They eat, lie in bed and coo while he hammers her with that crooked smile of his. Soon, Ali feels much better and insists on taking him out for his birthday. They walk to some swanky club the producers have cleared out for them and have a serious talk. (Kindly take note, this is Serious Talk # 3. The first two went to Frank and Roberto--make of that what you will.) They talk about Chris' dying mom (and I assume a lot else Fleiss neglected to show us) and then she leads him up onto the roof where Josh Radin and a choir serenade them. They swap germs, signaling Chris L.'s ascendancy into the playa club and telling me I'd better find a nickname for him fast.
While Ali and Chris are having their serious talk, Kasey Mushmouth has decided to lead the camera team to a tattoo parlor where he can look positively-stark-raving-bananas and get a shield protecting a heart tattooed on his wrist. I'm sure there is talk out there that the tattoo is a fake Fleiss had painted on the guys wrist--doesn't matter. The guy is a fruitloop. He needs to have "Lunatic" tattooed on his forehead. He returns to the hotel and lies, saying he burned himself. A producer then tells Rated-R Wrassler-dick, who has spent the entire night communicating almost solely by smirk, that he is lying, setting up the closing inanity of the night and probably something as equally stupid and insane for next week.
Here, let me summarize the amazingly dramatic confrontation between Mushmouth and Wrassler:
Wrassler: "You're lying." Mushmouth: "Rasafracka areyouquestingmeintegraty!" Wrassler: "Yes." (Smirk) "You might be lying to Ali too, just like me." Mushmouth: "Howyouknow?" Wrassler: "A producer told me and was so desperate to get it across they let ChrisN. speak."
There. That was sorta it. Anyway, Mushmouth reveals his tattoo to the doofus brigade and they all just stare at it in disbelief. Frank finally claps him on the back, "That will show her," then hustles off to a private interview: "This guy is nuts!" Thanks Frank, we appreciate the heads-up. Ali comes in and Mushmouth gets her alone but to keep him from revealing the tat for another week, Frankfurter is sent on a mission of theft and barges in for the steal. Mushmouth wanders off, knowing his place in Bachelor history is secure. The Weather-Elf then moves in to finish off my hearing with another song. CraigWalken-drunk, I take back everything I ever said about you. Please kill this guy.
Roses: Already safe: ChrisL.
1) Captain Kirk 2) Frankfurter 3) Palooka Craig. Haha, ok. 4) Chris N. Huh? Must communicate telepathically, I guess. 5) Groucho Roberto--say the magic word and get to appear in the LionKing! 6) Rated-R Wrassler-Ass--Smirk 7) Tennessee Ty--Filler--like oatmeal 8) Kasey Mushmouth-"Rrarareguardherhearta!" Dude, I speak for America: Shut the Fuck Up!
Cut: JessetheContractor--dude, you got rooked. If this were an election instead of a show, you'd have grounds for a lawsuit. Worst exit choice I've seen in many seasons. And, the Weather-Elf--Thank god! Actually threw less of a hissy fit than I was expecting. They probably told his he was such an embarrassment, he was going to be on BachelorPad.
Ok, next week it time for more Dramamine as they all head off to Iceland. You know where I'll be.
Oh, you devastated Frankfurter; you wimpy little Weather Elf; you douche bag Wrassler. I'm afraid since Craig Walken-drunk is no more, and its waaaayyyy too early to show much actual romance, that it's time for some heartbreak, jealousy, douchebaggery, and pussy-like sniveling. In other words: You're on boys! Sharing the spotlight is Groucho Roberto, and a cameo appearance by Chris L...but just a glimpse, so don't get overexcited. All eyes, and lips, will be focused on the Ali Cat, who is looking more feral by the minute. The episode opens, like seemingly all the others, with the weekly meeting of the Hangover Club, as Chris Wingman Harrison slithers into the mansion and orders the bedheads to rise and try and smile through the pain and meet him in the living room. Oh what will they talk about? Dates, of course. This week its one group date and 2 individual rose-or-get-lost dates.The wingman, since once again not everyone gets a magic date, takes a moment to coach the boys up: "You don't want to get left out, do you? You need to fight, bitch, and act like jerks! As a matter of fact, it wouldn't surprise me one bit if one of you took matters into your own hands and crutched your way three miles on asphalt in Malibu sunshine and managed not to sweat a drop. TV is just magical, isn't it?" The necessary foreshadowing delivered, we're under way.
A Marx Brother on a Highwire
Ali's first individual date this week is with that notorious Latin hottie, Groucho Roberto. Ali drives over to Nerd Nirvana to greet him, and Roberto, showing some extra macho with his plaid shirt and beer crammed into his fist twirls her about for the other ding dongs to see. The producers, trying to wrest the car keys from Ali's control-issue hands, send in the first helicopter of the season so they can bang on about her flying phobia again, and get the Frankfurter started on his jealous meltdown of how Ali is alone with someone other than his own self. They helicopter away, but she can't let go of the steering wheel issues as she squeals with fear and tries to backseat drive the chopper pilot, "Not so close to the power lines!" Fortunately, he misses them by about a quarter of a mile--like always--and manages to land safely like the other 3 and a half million helicopters around the country on that day. But it does give Roberto a chance to cuddle her--like 12 other guys will do this episode--as the chopper sets down on a building roof. Ali assures us she feels "safe" with the Funny One. The producers attempt to remedy this by having them go highwire walking to get their dinner. I was expecting them to be securely attached by cables or wires for their heart stopping walk; I was not expecting them to be nailed down with chains Superman couldn't break. They engage in some cheesy banter about falling for each other and Roberto--in a very manly fashion--leads her out on some high tension cables you could drive a Greyhound Bus over and only stops midway to smooch her and does it so wildly he proves they couldn't be knocked off those wires by a low flying 747. Oh, the drama. The Flying Wallenda act concluded, they actually sit and try and talk like regular people. What has been obvious since the second she saw the oldest Marx Brother is still obvious: She digs him. Ali informs him he's so handsome he's almost out of her league. Roberto peers sheepishly from behind his caterpillar eyebrows, but doesn't argue. He does lets her know he can speak five different languages and his brother plays the harp and only speaks with a horn. No, not really, but he should have. She then asks him to do something to her she heard from a rap video. Whoa! Pretty nasty for a first date. Oh, it was just to kiss her in Spanish. Roberto waggles his caterpillars at her, tells the waiter to stick her with the check, and mauls her. Rose? No doubt!
While Roberto is sneaking a 1 cent cigar, the group date-card arrives and we hear the 9 lucky fellas who will go on a Rock n' Roll date on some sort. Participants: Frankfurter, Jonathan the Weather Elf, R-Rated Wrassler-dick, Chris L., the mute Chris N., Palooka Craig, Butt-ugly John C., Captain Kirk, and Steve-O! His name missing, KaseyMushmouth lets us know that he wants to be a singer in only the way he, and Boomhauer of King of the Hill can: "Mmmmmababaurh.ssinging, man!" Hey, dude, lets work on talking first, shall we? Anyway, Ali and the boys all get dropped off in some back alley and they hear the bass chords of the BareNaked Ladies strumming away. The Ladies have apparently sunken so low as to need Ali and her geek squad to help them out making a video. The Ladies lip-synch a tune about some women who gets around a lot, just like Ali, so I guess it makes sense. Our favorite Bachelor Palooka Stagehand comes out and has somehow been promoted to video clapper and semi-director and rounds the boys up for the first scene--a beatdown of the Frankfurter. Ali vamps and smacks him about 12 or 14 times while Frank slobbers on her back and the other boys all cheer. Intercuts show us that Frank is in fine form as long as he is the only one Ali is whipping up on. They segue to the embarrassment of the moment, as the Weather Elf finds out he's supposed to kiss Ali and nearly faints with nerves. They try to film the scene a few times and the Elf looks like a boy pinned in by his mom at a Junior High sockhop. The other dudes all howl with laughter. The Elf tears up as they laugh. The female audience either swoons "Awwwww!" if they're idiots, or scream "You dickless wimp!" if they're not. Finally, in an act of pity, Ali does the kissing for him and the delusional cookie baker swears there is a "connection." How much do they pay these people? The Pity-kissing over, Ali now stumbles into bed with the mute Chris N. and then stalks away. But then Kirk makes like Captain Kirk, and he and Ali tumble around kissing like they are making a porno. The Frankfurter promptly pisses down his own leg. A brief scene shows Ali kissing the naked back of Chris L. and Frank nearly passes out. We see a guy every season who has jealousy issues, but this was different. Frank looks utterly crushed, like his bubble of how special he and Ali had it exploded right in his face. He will spend the rest of the episode mewling away in private interviews about how he now doubts their connection. Foreshadowing indeed. Frank may be a naive putz for thinking Ali wasn't going to be driving her tongue down about a hundred throats besides his, but I'm actually tempted to believe the guy. You could almost hear him thinking, "Damn, I'm just another body to this gal. Maybe that one back home who was dedicated to me was onto something?" It's not like Fleiss-monster to give someone an escape hatch from the crowds of angry women who will call for his scalp one day soon, but I'm starting to wonder. I am certain Frank would need a defibrillator if he watched Ali heading into a Fantasy Hotel Suite with any of these guys. Finished driving Frank to the point of insanity by acting, Ali goes for the real thing and gets herself corralled by Captain Kirk in a hot tub. He says he's checking to see if what he felt was real. She confirms but he spends the rest of the episode sounding like he wants to win a competition and couldn't care less about her. Chris L. makes a brief appearance, and drops the dead mom bomb, but then defers anymore talk of it for later. Frank and the boys break up the smooching with some cannonballs and they all watch the end of the Barenaked Ladies career on the videotron. Shockingly, Kirk gets the date rose.
Bad Wrassler Acting and the Cannon Fodder Part of our Show
The second individual date card arrives and after all the roses coming on automatic, Ali picks a guy she wants to dump just to change things up. Ukulele Hunter gets his chance to strike out in technicolor, but before he can, the producers send designated douche, Justin, the Wrassler off on a mission of absurdity. We're supposed to believe that a guy dressed in black, with a broken ankle, suddenly gets the wise-ass idea to crutch his way along a Malibu highway in midday heat a few miles so he can pop in on Ali. Helpful security guards, who normally have orders to shoot on sight any potential mansion escapee, happily point Justin to where Ali lives and the director shoots about thirty seconds of footage of him crutching along...before they pick him up in a production van and drive him to her rental. Justin is seen crutching into her driveway just as Ali happens to be filming a private interview. He crutches up behind her looking like they drove him there in a make-up truck, and when she goes to him, he squeals, "Aww, I'm so sweaty!" Are you now? Just where are you keeping this sweat, Mr. Wrassler? Ali is so off put by his pungent stench, she buries her head into his bone dry chest for the next hour or three so he can BS her about his rotten childhood. She then drives him back to Nerd Nirvana and he slips in unnoticed. Yeah, right. Nothing staged about this one, folks. Oh, yeah, the date with UkuleleHunter; let me summarize: BOOM! You're dead. Enjoy your cab ride home.
Crocodile Tears at the Crocktail Party
The nights nonsense starts off with a weird moment. Ali wanders in and offers a toast to the guy she just dumped. "Lets hear it for Hunter!" Yeah, here's to you Hunter, you ugly bag of cement. Thanks for leaving. Damn, girl, that's cold. Anyway, what starts weird gets stupid in a hurry. The whispering committee meets out by the pool to dis the Wrassler for being there for the wrong reasons while Frankfurter, enjoying way too much deck-side lounging and sporting a face like someone who feel asleep next to a nuclear reactor, leads a jealousy support group by the pool. Ali has a sit down with Groucho Roberto and she rats Justin out for cruthcing over to her place. Roberto marches away and informs the guys of what Justin did. Tennessee Ty-xedo and Palooka Craig charge off to the Wrassler and hammer him for it. Kasey Mushmouth gives him an earful too, I just wish I knew what. "Mmmmblewimble...guarderheart, man!" Justin tried some lame excuses and Craig snorts and stomps off. "Man, I'm a bullshit detector; its what I do for a living!" Sorry, Craig; you're a lawyer, which means your a bullshit generator, not a detector, but whatever. We're supposed to believe that Justin now goes and bawls all by his lonesome. ZZZZZZZ. Mercifully, the wingman steps in tinging the glass.
Already safe: Groucho Roberto and Captain Kirk
Ali gives a quick preamble: "Thanks for coming here and let me drive you guys around and tongue suck most of you. By the way; Cheers to Hunter!"
1) Chris L.
2) Jesse the Contractor--practically silent this week
3) Chris N.--totally silent as always
4) Tennessee Ty-xedo--Well, at least he's stopped singing.
5) Kasey Mushmouth--Please stop him from singing!
6) Palooka Craig--Mr. Bullshit Detection and Generation, inc.
7) Frankfurter, the Depressed Human Cartoon.
8) Jonathan the Pathetic Weather Elf--rapidly earning his doctorate in masturbation after this.
9) Douche bag Wrassler
Cut: Steve-O! Tried to have a picnic with her in the driveway. That should cover it. And Jonathan C., whom she refused to get within five feet of.
Ok, next week: I have no idea. The Wench Queen cut the recording off. Well, whatever it is, you know where I'll be...and cheers to you Hunter, wherever you are!
Craig Walken-Drunk "Careful! My breath may damage your TV screen."
Mike Fleiss, Mike Fleiss; when you have nothing to say, you REALLY have nothing to say, don't you? You almost have to admire this guy's temerity. He has a dead week on his show, so instead of simply throwing up his hands and walking away, he turns the camera and editing lens on two pointless turds, and spends an hour and a half of broadcast time focusing on the conflict between them that no one cares about. Not since the tasteless, classless clash between two of Jillian's most inconsequential suitors--Caveman Dave and Liberace Juan--have the Bachelor producers wasted so much airtime. The dating front had only one nugget of interest this week anyway: the rise of Frankfurter, the Human Cartoon, to prominence amongst Ali's suitors. In between? Uh....The Wingman enters Nerd Nirvana and announces this week's dating line-up: 2, 1-on-1 dates, and 1 group date. He closes with his favorite threat too; not everyone gets a date this week.
Frankfurter and the Magical, Malfunctioning Cadillac
The first 1-on-1 date of the night is won by Frankfurter, the Human Cartoon. Frank lets us know before they leave that if he doesn't get a rose, he'll be "Heartbroken." Really? After just meeting her? Yeah, you're sincere. Anyway, Ali comes to pick him up in a 1950's Cadillac and drives down the road about a hundred feet when the Caddie dies on a busy six-lane California freeway. Ali coasts to the side of the road, parks by a concrete embankment and tries to restart the car as we go to commercial. When we return, Ali is still grinding away, but no luck. Then, Voila!, they climb out of the Caddie and the concrete embankment has been magically replaced by a leaf-covered slope. Ah, such magic you wield, Mr. Fleiss. Its not your shenanigans I mind so much, its when you insult my intelligence that you piss me off, you cretin. Anyway, the flying Cadillac has managed to crash land close enough to the Hollywood Sign for Ali and the Frankster to take a short walk and hang out by the big sign admiring the view. He goes through his Robin Williams repertoire and she melts at his humor. He also hits her with some cheesy BS about love. The Cadillac magically repaired, these two head to Lovers Lane as night falls and spend a huge amount of time making out on the car's hood as they overlook the lights down below. Ali lets us know she "Loves Frank", and is clearly very smitten by the guy. The Frankfurter gushes as well, and all is wonderful in Happy Land...for the moment.
Sex on the Beach...Not!
While Ali was busy flying her Cadillac around Hollywood, constant inter-cuts have shown us various dudes getting testy with one another. This sets us the "tension" for the group date to Malibu where the dudes will have a photo-shoot especially designed for maximum embarrassment. Ali leads them to the beach where some guy who's photographed many a sex god, including Will Ferrell, comes out to tell the boys they are gonna' shoot a "Sexy guy Calendar". Man, does this guy have the wrong address. Several dudes are allowed to dress in baggies, and are never seen again, while several others are ordered into Speedo marblesacks so we can all enjoy a hearty chuckle. Jonathan, the Weather Elf, is handed a marblesack I couldn't get around my ankle, but much to his credit, he's embarrassed and even enjoys a few decent gaffes on the humiliating attire. The Craig Walken-douche, who does have a great bod, is put into pajama bottoms and stands around chomping on an unlit cigar and sipping brandy. Tennessee Ty-xedo, whips out his guitar and makes like Greasball Wes, sans the talent. He croons Ali an awful diddy while the camera tries to focus in on the Weather Elf's humiliation. Strangely ignored is the lawyer, Palooka Craig, who is also wearing nut-huggers, but unlike the Weather Elf, has a body like a sack of Gummy Bears. Hobbling around in the background is the Rated-R Rassler, who shows he might be ready for the Bachelorette, but is a far cry from Rasslin'-ready by sporting some serious manboobs. Time to find a shady doctor with a penchant for prescribing HGH, bub. Ali takes them up to the beach house so the Jonathan-Craig Douche hate can get thumping. The Weather Elf scores some alone time with her, but spends all his time warning Ali about the Craigster. Yawn. Tennessee Ty-xedo gets a moment alone with Ali so he can confess to being divorced, then says one of those dumb things this show is justly famous for. "I really enjoyed being married." Really? Then why did you get divorced, idiot? No matter, his horrible singing nets him the date rose.
While humiliation on the beach abounded, the producers mysteriously decided to leave behind several real players, and one of them, Jesse the Contractor, is called out for the 1-on-1 date. Engraved cuff-links arrive with the date card to let us know this one is going to be fancy-schmanzy too. Jesse gels his hair and then goes to meet Ali at the airport where she is waiting with a private jet. "Jesse is hot!" she lets us know as they climb aboard and Ali shows off her fear of flying again. Landing in Vegas, a Ferrari awaits them on the tarmac, and just like former Bachelorette, DeAnna Pappas, and very unlike Jillian Harris, Ali shows that if there is driving to do, she'll be the one doing it. She speeds him away inside Vegas where the Fleiss-monster has landed a product placement gimme at some soon-to-open swimming hole called "Liquid." They go for a swim and Jesse, being twenty-four, lets her know his idea of romance on the water consists of body slamming her into the pool. Ouch! They then dress super fancy and go to dinner, but something is definitely missing here. The conversation seems forced and the rose seems much in doubt until well into the date. "You're a solid guy." Yep, sounds like true love alright. Comparing this to her date with the Frankfurter, well, there isn't any comparison. Even dancing at a private concert generates little heat. Jesse gets his rose but his status seems much diminished.
Let's Waste Some TimeCocktail Party
With about an hour to fill, producers take the first fifteen minutes to show Ali talking with the guys who got left behind this week: Groucho Roberto, Chris L, and Kasey Mushmouth--and 45 minutes of crap between Craig Walken-bully, and the Weather Elf. I'll try and stay awake long enough to type this. First up, Chris L. has a sitdown with her and starts it off by re-introducing himself. Heh. Pretty good. They talk about his brothers and all seems cool. Grouch Roberto is up next and all sorts of hilarious hi-jinx abound. He starts it off simple, "So, how have you been?" Ali turns to him, opens her mouth, and acts like someone just shoveled three tablespoons of peanut butter into it. Her tongue melded to the roof of her mouth, she can only blush at Roberto and giggle like a 14 year-old. (It's tough to spot the players, isn't it?) He tells her he used to get shelled as a Double-AA pitcher and they go play catch.
Kasey Mushmouth gets his moment in the sun and shares deep thoughts with Ali by speaking genuine frontier gibberish: "Murrmhig funger runger tungoen!" Desperate producers order Frankfurter to swoop in and steal her away before they have to resort to subtitles. Frank steals her, lip-locks her, and all but declares his undying horniness.
The Weather Elf, in between constant bullying from one of Canada's finest embarrassments, gets 1 on 1 time and squanders it whining about Guess Who? Ali decides to investigate and has a sit-down with the guy the Weatherman correctly pegged as a "Category-6 asshole!" It was long, boring, and stupid--I'll translate for brevity and clarity:
Ali Cat: "So, did you come on this show just to get an expedited case of Cirrhosis of the Liver or what?" Walken-Drunk: "Yep, pretty much." That should cover it.
Roses: Tennessee Ty-xedo, and Frankfurter, the Human Cartoon.
1) Kasey Mushmouth--"Kasey, will you accept this rose?" "Arffur Conndene Calour!"
2) Hunter--no ukulele this week--a definite plus
3) Groucho Roberto--No date, no worries
4) Chris L.--Ditto
5) Rated-R Rassler--No tan, no muscles, no rassler.
6) Steve-O!--didn't say a word. Showed off a ripped bod though.
7) Captain Kirk--also silent this week
8) John C.--Oh, wow.
9) Palooka Craig--Nice bod, dude.
10) Chris N.--Who?
11) Jonathan, the Weather Elf--forecast calls for a short stay anyway.
Dumped: Tyler V., Chris Something, Craig Walken-dick.
What a crappy week for blogging. Anybody else put to sleep by this one?