"Smell the Money Pit"
It was drama time last night on the Bachelor and that can mean only one thing: $Cha-Ching!$
After a beginning of Brad Womack bowing and scraping for unneeded forgiveness last week, episode two of the Bachelor got back to what we've come to expect: one pushy, obnoxious, actress-wanna-be agreeing to play 'vixen' to pimp her barely existent Hollywood career, and two, grating, obnoxious drama-queens hastening their way to the exits with tears-a-flying. In other words: all is well again the in Bachelor-Kingdom. No need for slap controversies for PC clowns to get all upset about, nope, just good clean Bachelor-fun: crying, embarrassing ethnic stereotypes, group-dates that turn into mouth-rape orgies, and maybe a minute or two of realistic dating.
The Sherbert Icicle
First up, its time for the wingman to make his quick appearance to announce the date line-up. Chris Harrison comes strolling into the mansion looking like exactly what he is: the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. Hugh Hefner probably calls this guy and tries to trade job descriptions. Anyway, looking relaxed and (naturally) without a care in the world, the wingman announces the rules to the babes: Two, 1 on 1 dates, and one group date this week. He also reminds them to go crazy whenever possible or they won't get anything but a bus ticket back home. The veiled threats at an end, he drops the first date card and they all obediently squealed like it was a bar of gold. Former boxer, and this week's narrator, Chantal O., hops up and calls out the name of Ashley Sherbert as the recipient of the 1st one-on-one date.
We see Brad strolling about Malibu and for some reason he's hefting a football. Is he about to complete a pass to the desert? There's nothing else around. Or is this a subtle dig at all the men who are missing the National Championship football game because their wives have hijacked the TV? We can't know. Anyway, Brad drops the pigskin, and races up to the mansion in a stolen sports car to pick up the Sherbert, who fittingly, is dressed like an icicle. He hauls her deep into the dark woods before the lights come up and we see that the producer's have set up a hick carnival for them to enjoy. Brad races about like a ten year-old as he and Ashley go on rides and mix cotton candy and wine (Barf!). They take a break to vomit the noxious combination, and things get all serious. Ashley lets him know she is strong and going to take care of herself because her dad was a drunken no-show. Brad swallows hard and starts to spill about his own loser father, then they make-out big time. Disney music blares as these two are made to look like the ultimate peas-in-a-pod and some viewers will undoubtedly think that Brad has met his match. Maybe he has. But I ask you to remember that the 1st one-on-one dates on this show rarely win. The Fleissmonster never makes it that easy. Despite the fantasy music and strains of love in the air, the cameras have switched back to the mansion and we get see the focal point of tonight's show: Michelle Money. She puts on a show worthy of Cleopatra; whining, vamping, pimping, and preening, Michelle lets us know that today is her birthday and her half-life on the Hollywood shelf is coming to an end and she's willing to do anything on this show to extend it another five minutes. The producer's are going to get their dimes worth out of this one. $Cha-Ching!
Hiding under the auspices of a Public Service Announcement for the Red Cross, Brad now takes 15--yes, I said 15!-- girls to a studio to insult any latinos in the audience and to let him play manwhore for a day. The bosses assign the girls costumes to wear for the shoot that must have been doled out according to how much the skeezy producer's like them. Nascar Emily, her of the widowed, single-momma sob-story and Pam Anderson-beauty, gets to play a naughty maid who does married men. While Keltie, the crazy Rockette with the unfortunately cavernous mouth is dressed like Larry the Cable Guy...that is if Larry had just gotten run over by a John Deere. Saucy Stacey, and her fake cans, are assigned to play Brad's hot-blooded wife while Madison, the famewhore vampire is attired appropriately in a Catwoman's suit. But the best is saved for the Star; Brad is dressed with fake-chest hair and an enormous, cheesy mustache. So much for PC. He looked like a slimmed-dow version of the Frito Bandito. They play their little piece abut those wild, hot-blooded latinos that is supposed to be tied to giving blood...somehow. Anyway, Brad's "Gustavo" breaks up a catty, slap-fight between his 'wife', Saucy Stacy, and the maid he's boinking, Nascar Emily. But he is interrupted by Lisa from Oz, sporting a bowling ball belly that's supposed to be "little Gustavo." Damn, Brad; Gustavo gets as much tail as you do. But the scene can't be run without $Cha-Ching$, dressed like--well, a whore; vamping and pissing about how her birthday is ruined by watching other women rape her boyfriend. Brad then sits at a table so 31 year-old, Meth Head Melissa, can play 'cougar'. She sits at the table, needing no make-up to look old enough (and debauched enough) to play cougar to 37 year-old Brad. Yeah, she had a chance. Before the Latino-insult ends, Meth Head races in to try and gobble Brad's mustache in some unscripted famewhoring. Subtle. The table scene ends with Madison ordering Brad to lick her jackboot. And people were pissed about a slap? Jeesh. Part two of manwhoring consists of Brad, sans mustache and insulting accent, portraying a drunken pick-up artist. Chantal O. and Bony Britt dress like a couple of barflys and accompany Brad back to his pad to have a 3-way. Britt, her mesmerizing green eyes flashing, says she is "shy" and "a bit of a prude". She then tackles Brad on the bed and mouthrapes him so thoroughly she would have swallowed his mustache if he hadn't taken it off. This is all for $Cha-Ching$ and she races for the nearest exit refusing to play anymore because Brad is a manwhore. Obediently, Brad chases her down and proves his gullibility by assuming she is genuine.
After Party: Brad gets the laughter started right away by calling for: "No drama, just good clean fun." You do realize you're on the Bachelor, right Einstein? Meth Head Melissa snares a one-on-one and tells Brad she crashed the set to kiss him because she is "spontaneous." Damn, I need to go re-check the dictionary. Yep, sure enough; spontaneous is now defined as: skanky, strung out, crazy, and desperate. How things change. Anyway, Melissa moves away and enjoins the mannish, body-waxing Manripper, Raichel in a game called: "You're a psycho--No, you're a psycho!" They'll play this charming pastime the rest of the episode. Since the after party sports a rose to hand out, Brad wanders around looking for a deserving recipient. He finds a thoroughly bombed Money Shot to award the producer drama rose to. Michelle waves it around like a magic wand and is shown jamming it between her teeth in a private interview like...well, like a whore.
Cinderella's Fashion Nightmare
Amidst the name calling at the after party, a date card arrives at the mansion for the remaining women. I'm surprised to hear the name of Jackie Gordon, a girl I've seen as an afterthought to this juncture, being read aloud to join Brad on this season's Cinderella Date. Jackie has come across as normal, sane, and classy to this point and she doesn't disappoint either. Brad arrives in plaid, picks Jackie up and whisks her away. They head off to a spa where they change into robes and Brad leads into a room loaded with Prince's Castle Ballroom clothes. Jackie attacks the clothes and gets her make-up and hair done while Brad goes to dress. Unfortunately, she emerges having picked the ugliest dress in the entire room--it looked like an ill-fitting, gray shower curtain, and appeared to have had her hair styled by Pee Wee Herman. Jackie, sweet though she appears to be, has no semblance of an upper lip and a sharp, hawk-like nose. The hair and dress do nothing but accentuate her faults. Regardless, Brad tosses her into a Jaguar limo and they're of to the Hollywood Bowl for dinner. Dining onstage, Brad moves in deeper quick, asking her about her dating experiences. Jackie tells him she has only had 2 boyfriends her entire life and deliberately did not date through all 4 years of college. Brad splutters in disbelief, deeply concerned that she hasn't jumped into the sack with enough men. "But...but this show is about throwing caution to the wind!" (Spoken like a man with no experience.) Jackie confirms she is cautious and appears way too sensible to be on this show. Regardless of his obvious concerns that she is a fellow commitment-phobe like he used to be, Brad goes on to offer her the most hesitant rose we've seen in a while. She accepts with all class when suddenly the stage revolves and out comes Train--a group I've heard a million times, but never seen--and now I wish I hadn't. Train's lead singer looks old enough, grungy enough, and strung out enough to be Meth Head Melissa's next boyfriend. They lip-synch a few songs while Brad dances Jackie around (badly) and gives her a few sweet, tentative kisses that have friend vibe written all over them.
Here for the Right Reasons Contest
This week's Cocktail Party has scarcely begun when the Money Shot moves in for the steal. I'm being literal here. Brad hadn't even lowered his glass from the opening toast when she waylaid him. The other girls all gnash their choppers and rag her for theft whilst in possession of a rose. Michelle, it turns out, has some damned important questions for Brad:
"What king of coffee do you prefer?"
"What's always in your fridge?"
Brad stares a moment and says, "Uh, eggs and water."
She nods like Nostradamus has foreseen their love match because she has those things too. (He should have answered truthfully about what any bachelor has in his fridge instead of lying to spare the comparisons: "Uhh, an empty pizza box, mold, several things I can't identify, and two twelve-packs." But alas, the moment is lost.)
Money Shot informs Nascar Emily what she asked him and Emily wrinkles up her nose. "Michelle is ridiculous! I don't care what coffee he drinks."(I see she's trying to win a pirate-fan to go along with her legion of women-supporters as well.)
Brad swoops down on her and Emily, sweet as sugar, confirms she is "Private. I'm just grateful you're the Bachelor." (You can practically sense Brad's tent pole hardening.)
Despite all the abounding wood forming, the relentless drumbeat from the after party goes on as Manripper Raichel and Meth Head Melissa tear into each other again with more 'psycho' accusations and orders to 'walk away! just walk away!' being exchanged. Last week's First Impression Rose winner, Ashley Sweetums, strangely absent all episode tried to step in to get Meth Head to knock it off before Brad has to get involved. Fat chance. Brad, looking as cold as a fish and pissed off that his drama-free Cocktail Party is being ruined sits down with Meth Head and listens to her whine and bitch. Looking bored to death, he then wanders away and finds the Manripper, who is also bawling and drunk. He gives her a few hugs, mumbles about hating to see women cry and prepares to dump both their dramatic asses.
Suddenly, in walks Harrison tinging his glass much too early. He announces that there will be a Cocktail Party Rose and back to help Brad are least season's happy couple, Ali and Roberto. Ali comes into the mansion wearing a dress just short enough to almost cover her bubble-shaped ass on the arm of the Funny One himself, notorious latin hottie, Groucho Roberto. Brad takes them aside and pathetically begs for their help dealing with his psycho herd. They head out at once to begin their inquisition to find out who is here 'for the right reasons'. We get a spattering of several girls before Meth Head Melissa comes out and melts down everywhere. We hear nothing of what Ali and Roberto report back to Brad. Odd. Maybe a lot of the women tried to attack Roberto and beg him to dump Ali and replace Brad as the Bachelor? Evidently, they joined the rest of the known universe and loved on Nascar Emily cause Brad grabs the rose and heads straight for her. Brad corners her, and gives up the rose quickly. This time, the wingman, exhausting himself to the max, enters again tinging and this time he means bidness.
Dump 'Em, Danno!
Already safe: Ashley Sherbert, The Money Shot, Jackie Gordon (back in a normal dress and hairdo and looking lovely), and Nascar Emily.
1) Chantal O.-lost her Slaphappy moniker here on the Blast cause I'm sick of hearing about it. She was everywhere in the P.I.'s, but barely seen near Brad.
2) Sarah P. Who?
3) Alli Booty--also in the background this week, but her cans and ass are not forgotten
5) Shawntel Munster--P.I appearances, but that is all...Dark Horse? We shall see.
6) Saucy Stacy--yum.
7) Ashley Sweetums--visibly relieved. Previews show a comeback next week.
8) Madison the famewhore vampire--previews hint at darkness.
9) Lisa from Oz--"Gustavo's" babymaker scores one. What would Toto say?
10) Marissa--feeling like this one is just a placeholder.
11) Megan--bordering on invisible.
The wingman, teetering with exhaustion, manages to wander back into the room one more time and announce that only a sole flower of the sweetest scent doth remain.
13) Bony Britt--mouth assault pays dividends.
- Keltie, the crazy Rockette--hammers herself as the "worst dater ever" and bawls. Yes, if I sucked at dating, I'd certainly want it showcased on national TV.
- Meth Head Melissa--adios. Maybe someone gave her the number of that Train singer?
- Raichel, the manripper--leaves drunk and wearing a dress so small I still can't figure out how they got her into it. 3 for 3 on the tears.
Say what you will, but Mr. Womack whacked 2 of his 3 biggest drama queens. Have no fear, more will step forward. Previews next week show (or sound) like the Vampire famewhore wants to go home. Her agent must have called with a better offer. And Brad and Sweetums show themselves to be cruel, animal haters by butchering a Seal.
See ya then.