2/7--Down And Out In Costa Rica

Before I get going this week, a quick 'thank you' to all who have commented on the blog. The feedback helps immensely knowing that some people are enjoying reading. A special shout out to the folks over at Joker's Updates, who have been very nice in their comments, as well as the usual gang at Misfits, who have been supportive of the Blast for several years now. If you want to leave a comment, just click on the link at the bottom. It only takes a minute and the support is really appreciated. Oh, and before we take off to hot, sweaty, rainy Costa Rica, I have to let you know that those irritating text messages will not stop. I even changed my ISP to a mi-fi hotspot and still they come crashing through the blog. I appreciate your patience, but we are just gonna' have to deal with it. Ok, onto last night.

*Beep! No worries this week, hon. This was one of our magical ones! And thank you for the flowers! Ur so sweet!!!!!

Let's Sweat Until Our Too Tight Clothing Sticks To Our Bods

Brad starts us off with a lengthy soliloquy about how much bigger a douche ba...I mean just how much better a man he is, as he wanders around some product placement lodge gimme in balmy Costa Rica. Seriously though, I like the guy; can't help it. But boy was he one down and out dude last night. He's stuck in a tropical paradise with 8 hot babes--ok, make that 6--but anyway, hot women and an all expenses paid opportunity to whore around and the guy acted like he needed a Prozac patch last night. True, until he rids himself (and us) of the high maintenance maggot, Michelle Money, he's got it coming to him. Unfortunately, that means coming at us. But the good news is that the producer's have decided to bring her forward to show Brad some of the double-barreled 'bitch' we have be seeing in every private interview with her all along. True, she's a paid actress hamming it up for the producer-slime, but I'm ready for them to give her her check and let her be on her way.

A lightning quick intro and we see Brad standing around in a too tight polo shirt trying not to sweat in the 110% humidity. Fat chance. The women's plane lands and we see Ashley Sherbert predict she is willing to get down and dirty with Brad in the jungle. Really? Don't you need five minutes alone with him for that? She vanished this episode as all the attention danced about between ZipperRipper Chantal and the ever dramatic Money Shot. The women pull up to the resort in a jeep and...they let Michelle drive? Whose malfunction was responsible for that choice? I'd be terrified to let her near the wheel of anything. Anyway, they do a quick commercial for The Springs Resort & Spa and then hustle over to meet Brad. He's standing out back, the beads of perspiration soaking through his shirt, and he gives them the tour. As has been the case this season, it's up to Brad to do the explaining and deliver the first date card because the wingman is down at the Resorts bar and probably already loaded. Nascar Emily, looking like someone finally convinced her to scrape off a few pounds of the make-up she normally wears, snatches up the card and calls out the ZipperRipper for her second one-on-one. This gives Alli Booty a chance to whine that she hasn't had a one-on-one with Brad yet. Don't worry, dear, it's coming...like a thrown spear coming right for the side of your head, it's coming.

I'm Screwin' in the Rain! Just Screwin' in the Raaaaiin!!

Michelle heard Chantal's name called and hustles off for her first bitch-moment of the night: "I don't know why Chantal's name was on the date card." Uhhhh, cause he likes her? More than you. "I hope she gets attacked by monkeys. Or apes." Ok, enough with this chick. I'm skipping her P.I.'s for the rest of the night. See you at the waterfall, you slag. Anyway, Brad takes Chantal to a helicopter and flies her into the middle of the jungle for some zip-lining. Way to change it up Fleiss. And it rains. Which is always seems to do when these two are together. They zipline all over the jungle and Brad tells us how happy he is. But the good part comes later, when we see this season's fortitude challenge acted out again; namely, can Brad get within five feet of this babe without his zipper exploding? As night falls, they sit down on the river's edge to enjoy a luau-style dinner. They haven't even opened the wine when the rain starts to fall again. Running through the rain they head to Brad's pad to dry off. Brad, being a gentleman, insists Chantal go and put on a white, button-down Van Heusen so he (and we) can all ogle her. She doesn't get three steps out of the bathroom before the director is alerting the seamstress to get ready. "Oh man, I'm in trouble here," Brad moans as she bops over to him smiling. Brad sits down gripping the arms of the chair and clearly fighting for control, as she stands in front of him. Swallowing hard, he stares at her, his mouth agape and she slithers down next to him, coiling her arm inside his. He stares, his eyes as round as saucers, and drool puddles in his lap. "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii," She breathes at him in a throaty voice. Brad's eyes go catatonic, a noiseless explosion goes off in the center of his skull, and his brains run out his ears like yesterday's oatmeal. Pow!! Sorry, seamstress lady, looks like your work is never done this season. Date, and Brad: Done.

*Beep! He-heh-hehehe-he! Double LOL

While Brad has been getting more of his wardrobe destroyed, a date card arrives back at the Resort telling Alli Booty that the other 1-on-1 date is all hers. This leaves the mute, doe-eyed, Bony Britt to stare ahead in a calorically-deficient mope as she realizes she is the only woman remaining without a 1-on-1.

Rappelling or Repelling?

It's time for some group-date hell. Maybe this is why Brad was such a Debbie Downer all night. We've gotten to the point in the season where even the audience is sick of watching the deadwood, I can't even imagine what it must be like for Brad. He hauls a whole stack of it--less Nascar Emily and producer's drama-dream, the Money Shot--to a scenic waterfall so they can all have another terror-inspired moment of togetherness. He walks them out on the platform and Jackie Gordon promptly drops a brick in her climbing shorts. Yet another woman terrified of heights being required to "confront her fears." Shame she's gonna' have to do it alone. The ever athletic, Shawntel Munster, traipses past her and bounces down the rappelling line like Spiderman. As she bounces down the waterfall, and Jackie sweats a bucket of white-hot terror, Brad shows some sense by keeping his eyes out behind him. The Money Shot is angrily glaring at the assemblage with her Manson Lights on high beam. "I'm pissed! Brad promised he would never rappel with anyone else--we made a pact!" Brad finally convinces Jackie to head over the top while keeping one out behind him to make sure Michelle hasn't got a butcher knife stashed in her climbing suit, and can't manage both tasks at once. A nervous eye cast to his six, he practically shoves Jackie over the edge, "Hurry up, you pussy before I get shanked between the shoulder blades here!" Jackie makes it down safely to join the other women at the bottom. Brad turns back to Michelle and she pummels him with punches. "We had a pact!" Brad backpedals like crazy. "I was saving you for last!" he reels back trying to hold her off him. "I thought we could go down together?" She smiles like a ferocious feline and purrs at him. They go over the edge together as the women watch them descend the waterfall. If Jackie had been allowed a cell phone, she could have called her mother to have her pick her up at the airport.

The climbing torture over, Brad takes the women to Hot Springs for some seriously depressing whining. Jackie decides she might as well get this over with, and moves out with Brad first. He's there to check on her after practically tossing her over the waterfall. "I'm ok. It would have been good if we could have done it together?" Brad grimaces like she just punched him in the balls. "Uh...maybe one day." Jackie, it was nice knowing you. Congratulations; you get to escape this show with some lovely diamond earrings, many miles travelled, and your dignity and reputation in tact. Next up, a thoroughly hammered Michelle tries to corral him and give him a bunch of shit about Chantal. Speaking of our fair ZipperRipper, she's back at the Resort room down the way hanging out with the next day's victim, Alli Booty. Both gals look to have a snoot full of wine and the producers have thoughtfully stashed a beetle in the room and told Chantal to terrorize Alli with it. Chantal picks the bug up with a magazine and chases her with it. Alli completely freaks out, screams, and throw a glass of booze at Chantal, screaming so loud in the process, she interrupts Brad getting his balls busted off by Michelle. They return to their talk and Michelle bitches him out for liking Chantal. Brad is clearly pissed, so he switches to ever-sweet, Nascar Emily. Emily sits with him on the edge of the springs and basically tells him she knows how to sabotage a relationship like an expert. Brad's face falls. Having seen enough, Brad gathers the women and tells them that there will be no rose tonight. He wanders off in a pout.

*Beep! If Only I'd Been There To Comfort You Sweetie!

Dumped at the Altar

Alli Booty, whose date card had read, "Meet me at the altar," sits around being nervous and fielding questions from the other gals. Chantal is gleefully pressing her about the date when Brad comes riding up outside on a horse. Strangely, he has a tiny little horse in tow, and two baby-horses? Is this a circus act? Why the little horse? He's taking the largest woman left on a pint-sized ride? Alli grins anyway and struggles aboard the poor animal. Talk about weird-looking. Alli gnashes her enormous choppers and straightens her man-shoulders as she climbs aboard her sagging mount. The horse looked like it wanted to bolt. The sadistic producers must have fallen out of the control truck laughing at this visual. Alli's not a bad-looking woman, but she is somewhat oversized in her features and nowhere near in the same league as most of the remaining women. Brad leads her deep into the jungle as the two little baby horses tag along for some reason I can't divine. They stop near some cave and Brad gets her off the tiny horse before it's back gets broken and slams a crash helmet onto Alli's head. "We're going into this forty million year-old cave." Her fear of bugs clearly established by the planted beetle, Alli scowls fearfully into the dank cave and Brad has to pull her inside. She cringes and follows him around fearfully as the camera pans onto every bug and spider they can find. Alli screams and vows to "throw up" as she notices bats hanging from the cave's ceiling. "Oh my god! They won't come after us, will they?" "They have no interest in us," he assures her. "How do you know?" Brad turns and stares at her and I was hoping he was gonna' blurt, "Cause I'm Batman!" but he doesn't. He just vows to protect her from the nasty old bats and leads her up a cave stream to the 'altar'. The altar, it turns out, are some stone steps carved into the cave floor by a running spring. Alli slips and slides as Brad pulls out a one inch thick scarf and lays it down in the running water for her to sit on. And I thought the producers were laughing about the horse. Alli grimaces and sits on the razor-thin cloth that's covering slimy, moss-covered rocks as water splashes up her shorts. I could almost hear Harrison laughing. The whole thing was as romantic as lounging around a sewer. Gross. The scene switches and they've managed to somehow get both of them onto a floating table-island for dinner. Predictably, Brad hears gurgling while Alli is speaking and asks, "Are we sinking?" Thanks for the metaphor. She tries to talk and he finally puts her out of her misery with a dumpjob.

Now For Your Completely Unplanned, Totally Spontaneous Stalker Moment

Brad, looking shot, wanders back into his room to sniff the lingering odor of Chantal's perfume and feel better. He tells the strategically placed camera that he is as burned out as Charlie Sheen and needs time to collect himself.

Director: "Cue door knock!"

Unsurprisingly, the producer's have sent their favorite echo chamber, the Money Shot into his room to pester him. Brad looked like he wanted to slam the door in her face, but some arm twisting must have ensued and he invites her in. Michelle finally puts on her double-barreled bitch act in front of him. He lays there like bag of meal while she tries to molest him. Realizing he'd rather be kissing a fire hydrant in a dog kennel, she sits up and systematically announces which girls he will cut and in what order. Brad looks at her like he found her steaming and stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Finally getting the cue from the director she can leave, Michelle slithers out the door before Brad grabs a bottle of hemlock and drinks it.

Cocktail Time and Your Weekly Nascar Reminder

The party starts off with Brad having a sit down with Nascar Emily to get some clarification on her saboteur comments at the Springs. Brad sizes her up: "I'm scared of you." Nascar unfolds her angel wings and clarifies, "I pull away...but, I really care about you a lot!" The thought planted in your head not to forget this one, Brad moves off in search of fresh prey. Unfortunately, the prey finds him. The Money Shot corrals him and he all but tells her she is a total skeeze. "I feel like we've taken ten steps backward!" Finally called on her awful acting performance, Michelle turns on the waterworks. Hey, it works for everyone else. Brad manages his escape while ZipperRipper Chantal, dressed like a roman empress in a leopard print toga, holds court with Shawntel Munster, and the two babes decide based on Brad's comments that someone has been giving him a load of hell. Eyes immediately swing toward the Money Shot and after much lying and rigamarole, she finally confesses to being a stalker.

*Beep! I got the restraining order just in case! Stop hiding under your bed and call me back! I'm not mad. C'mon or you'll miss out on our big moment!

Chantal steps forward to sooth her wounded beast and rips all restraint off, "I'm, I'm in love with you! I wanted to tell since I have a rose and you know I have no ulterior motive." BUZZ! Whoa, clear violation of show etiquette. There are to be no pronouncements of love by any contestant until the Last Chance Dates... except the bat-shit crazy ones. Chantal has introduced an new element to this season. Which means she is the winner or just sealed her doom at the podium of humiliation and a spot as the next Bachelorette. Brad, me boy, I could be a selfish prick here and pray you dump her so I can ogle her for 11 weeks this summer, but I'll let you have her if you want her. Just the kinda guy I am. Anyway, Brad stares at her and then says like a robot, "Thank you." You romantic devil.

Somebody must have sent a St. Bernard into the local watering hole, because the wingman makes a shocking appearance tinging his champagne glass with his cheese knife calling a tedious week over.

Dump Em Danno!

Already safe, The Zipper Ripper.

Roses:

1) Ashley Sherbert--no more H. required. Our lone Ashley broke her vow to get down and dirty with Brad unless you can do it in a passed note.

2) Nascar Emily--still very much in the running, but this pot needs to start boiling and soon.

3) Bony Britt--the last dress filler

4) Shawntel Munster--really like this girl. Hey Fleiss, she'd make a good Bachelorette. Can't you just imagine your creeped-out Nancy Boys? Fine television, I tell ya.

The wingman comes in and notices through his bloodshot orbs that there is only one rose left,then steps into the shadows like John Wilkes Booth and loudly cocks the hammer back on a pistol and points it at Brad--just in case he's feeling rebellious.

5) The Money Shot. Yeah, he wanted to do that. (rolls eyes)

Cut: Jackie Gordon to go along with the already dismissed Alli Booty. Jackie cries but not too much and departs with her dignity intact. Good for you, Jackie. You were horribly miscast.

Next week: My take on all the Scandals (yawn) and Brad hauls the gals to some tropical locale so several can remove their bikini tops and make me a happy pirate. See ya then.