5/31-Let's Focus on Two Inconsequential Boobs, Shall We?
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?