As a huge Gilmore Girls fan, this was a labor of love (and silliness). I hope you all enjoy Gilmore Girls: “Aliens Attack Stars Hollow!”
And in case you need to know where I stand personally, Jess > Logan > Dean > Marty > Paul From The Actual Revival > Guy Who Rejected Rory In The Laundry Room at Yale.
Oh, and Luke > Max Medina > Alex The Coffee Enthusiast > Christopher > Gross Guy Who Hits On Lorelai in the Pilot Episode > Jason Styles.
In omnia paratus!
You know what they say, Chad me once shame on you, Chad me twice, shame on me.
We left off TWO WEEKS AGO with Chad scratching at the window like a god damn murderer. What they conveniently left out was that while this was happening the remaining guys were spreading his protein powder ashes all over the boring ass forests of Pennsylvania. Ya. I know.
Chad comes into the house and wants to talk, so they gather at the landing to hash it out even though I’m 99% positive this house has like, 20 sitting areas.
Aaron Roger’s brother wants an apology from Chad, which is neva-gonna-happen so instead Chad puts his precious QB throwing hand into a vice death grip while they try to shake it out. Thankfully his QB hand is not too important for his career nowadays. (“Burn!!” -you guys)
Evan decides to take a stand. He wants his ripped shirt money and it’s like dude GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. You don’t need Chad’s ripped shirt money! Just buy a new shirt! Or better yet, pretend you went through your closet and gave that dumb burgundy v-neck to Goodwill. Canadian Daniel just stands in the corner eating cereal, watching this shit go down like he’s a guest at mystery dinner theater: where the action is all around you!
Chad’s out. He gone. See you at Bach in Paradise, babe. Alex returns triumphant, and the boyz are SO FUCKING HAPPY. Alex is seeing things from a whole new perspective tonight, literally.
Like any group of grown men, they celebrate with cakes and sparklers and I assume invisible party hats (“Mine’s got stripes on it!” –James T.)
At the pre-rose cocktail party, errbody is starting to tweak.
We’re also at the point in the season where I’m audibly going, “Ugh” whenever she walks off with a guy I’m ready to see leave. There are quite a few that wouldn’t make my cut.
I don’t even know this guy’s name but I hear him say, “I wrote you a poem.” Yikes.
She talks with Luke, and it’s cute because girl is way into him. He has some good angles, but his hair is very tall. Jojo notices his tall hair.
Now everyone’s talking about what made Chad wonderful and it’s like Jesus Christ, pick a lane!! Are you fucking KIDDING ME? You spent a month punching Chad’s voodoo doll in the dick and now you’re saying he brought all of you closer? I literally. Can’t. Even.
Evan’s in a tizzy (what else is new!!) because Luke is going to talk to Jojo again and Evan hasn’t gotten a turn yet. Evan SAYS he wants to talk to her, yet he is just standing with all his dude friends NOT talking to her so you tell me, DOES he want to talk to her? Simple reasoning says no. (I fucking killed the logic section of my SATs, guys. Really annihilated it. Is there a logic section of the SATs? Things to think about.)
Meanwhile, Aaron Roger’s brother is gettin’ some:
At the rose ceremony I’m kind of thinking to myself who DON’T I want to go home? Robby gets a rose, and here’s the thing about Robby. He ALWAYS looks like he’s heading to Easter brunch. Dude only dresses in pastel pink and yellows. It’s alarming.
And Vinny is still getting roses, so we know there is a longggg way to go before some sucker gets down on one knee. Here’s Evan getting the final rose:
Ugh. See? Ugh. Canadian Daniel gets kicked off and tells the boys to, “Take care, ey?” BYE DANIEL. He then talks to producers for his exit interview and says that if this were all about body he would stay, because he has a better body than Evan and Wells. Um, did you think this was all about body? WHY would it be all about body. For the record, his body is weird.
Jojo tells the rest of le brosefs that they are going somewhere exotic and if I remember her big drum roll to the Pennsylvania reveal correctly, I assume she is about to say, “Fort Lauderdale!!” But she doesn’t, they’re going to Uruguay. Is Grant excited? I can’t tell.
When they get to their hotel room in Uruguay somebody says they have a 360 degree view of the ocean, which just goes to show that we are watching dummies.
Aaron Roger’s brother gets the first one-on-one and the rest of them immediately turn on him. They think he’s just trying to get another stamp in his passport which is CRAZY because he JUST got another stamp in his passport like, that morning at customs. Also have you ever seen someone style their hair this aggressively?
Such intensity in the eyes! I don’t like it.
He and Jojo go to Seal Island, which sounds a lot like Shark Food Island and my meh-level swimming skills would definitely not save me in that situation. No gracias, as they say.
Back at the hotel the guys suddenly have a copy of InTouch Weekly and Vinny’s cutting hair like this is the set of Barbershop 8: Loser White Guys. Like, is this real? ABC wants me to think Vinny just happened to have a NEW InTouch Weekly even though none of these guys have been allowed to turn on a TV or hold a cell phone for the past five weeks? The main article is Jojo’s ex-boyfriend dishing about how they were still talking and in love when she was on Ben’s season. Smells fishy, kids.
Meanwhile Aaron Roger’s brother and Jojo have dinner and Jojo decides to confront him about some things. She met someone who dated him and it didn’t end well. This boy is SQUIRMING.
He explains that ya know, he didn’t cheat, he was just talking to and enjoying other girls when he shouldn’t have. I think that’s cheating? He and Jojo have a weird, deep conversation about their feelings and love and Jojo goes, “Do you ever think it’ll scare you so much it’ll make you pull away?” I want you guys to just picture, for a second, me saying that to a guy. They would be like WHAT, SAM? Are you talking to me or making yourself a voice-memo for your audiobook?
They get back from their date and these dudes have a lot of questions about the magazine and Jojo’s ex, who BTW is also named Chad. Let me remind you that this is the same Chad who sent her a creepy love letter during Ben’s season and the producers let her think it was from Ben until she FREAKED OUT about it.
Upon being handed this article Jojo gets, in a word, hysterical. Like, hysterical in that way where you’re like oh fuck, she’s got some demons about this relationship. Something bad happened there. She explains things to the boys and they now officially hate all Chads of the world.
Little bonus Charlie’s Angels clip for you guys.
On the group date they go sand surfing and Brad is jealous of everyone, which is right on schedule for the guy who got the first one-on-one date ten billion years ago. Also I just realized his name is actually Derek, not Brad.
Derek gets the group date rose because he needs reassurance and it does NOT sit well with Alex. Alex is all pissed off and I want to tell Alex to get a fucking life. Also, let me take a moment to say I think I would be great on this show. I would never win, but I could totally be the “funny” girl in the house who gets kicked off six weeks in. I’d lose in love but I’d gain lifelong girlfriends. It’s honestly a sisterhood.
ANYWHO Robby gets the last one-on-one and things seem to be going pretty well.
Ha! I’m kidding, that’s not Robby! That’s a dog.
They go cliff diving and Robby looks like an 80s Ken doll from hell.
He loves her. Okay? He loves her. So he says it! Except now my boyfriend, who has been absolutely SILENT up until this point goes, “Little early, huh?” Yip.
Before the cocktail party Derek thinks some of the guys have a clique and he would like to tell them that they have a clique. It is very lame of him.
Also Grant next to this candelabra in his vest thing looks exactly like he is playing the part of Lumiére in the Broadway revival of Beauty and the Beast and someone wanted to interview him sitting next to his costume:
Chris Harrison lets these noodles know that there won’t be a cocktail party tonight, they’re headed straight to the rose ceremony and THREE people are leaving. I vote Grant, Evan, and Vinny. Jojo agrees with me.
Evan is sad. Vinny is sad. Everyone is sad.
Next week we’re in Buenos Aires, and Jojo is in some sort of AMAZING BLUE DRESS. Stay tuned.
Read last week’s recap here. Or other ones here.
You can also be a GEM and follow me on Twitter.
PS: what the fuck was going on with Alex’s hair here???????
Look I’m going to be honest, I really shit the bed on this one. My rosé drunk, long-weekend ass didn’t realize this shit wasn’t recording until 8:09, so we’re gonna have to jump right into the action. My bad, y’all. My bad.
I turn on the TV in sheer panic/blind rage, only to find Chad the Villain lifting a DIY luggage weight belt like some kind of deranged lunatic who’s been held in administrative segregation too long. (You guys watch Lockup? You should. It’s great.)
Also a bunch of bros are on a group date at a fire station, including Grant the actual fire fighter. No pressure, dude, but if you fuck this up you’re going to be the laughing stock of your entire station. Even the Dalmatian I assume every fire department has is going to be chuckling his spotted doggy face off.
Wells is on the date and he is like, NOT equipped to be a fire fighter. He looks like he should be sipping Perrier on a fucking sailboat, not running through actual flames to save lives. Or as he describes himself, “I’m so much not like everyone else here.”
Gorgeous sentence. He should be a writer.
Wells is suddenly paler than Emma Stone’s upper thigh so I know he’s about to faint. Jojo comes to his aid and now everyone wishes THEY were about to faint. Guys, calm down. Do you really think she wants to fuck a guy who gets light headed after five minutes in a slightly heavy jacket? Negative.
Back at the mansion the rest of the guys write a song about Jojo called, wait for it, Jojo. Sounds like a hit, get Rihanna on the hook and send that shit to Seacrest.
They’re also hanging out in a kitchen that has so much god damn food I am FREAKING. OUT. Look at all this produce!!
I mean, my God. How many bell peppers can twenty men need? If you’re a Borrower (a tiny human living in the walls of a house, duh), this is the kitchen you wanna be in.
On the group date it’s down to Grant the fire fighter and Luke the cowboy, in an epic race to save Jojo from a burning building to win more time with her. Obviously Grant is going to crush it because if he doesn’t he will probably leap off the building. But Luke, I gotta say, is a big ol’ bag of yum in the process.
Even after Grant wins, Fainty Wells gets the rose. But you know what he doesn’t get? A kiss because LIKE I SAID, there is nothing sexy about weakness and girl is all about the two men who made it to the final challenge like god damn men.
It’s time for her one-on-one date with Derek, and all the dudes are forced to watch them leave in what must be the most emasculating send off of their lives.
“Bye Jojo, have fun! Bye Derek, hope you fall off a cliff and break every bone in your body!”
Their date is going to be all about CHOICES, and of course the first thing they do is get on a prop plane. Hi, remember me, Sam Jarvis? The hilarious bitch who HATES PROP PLANES??
Like, no. NO. No. Here’s a choice: go fuck yourself. I’m never getting on a prop plane.
Back at the house, Canadian Daniel and Chad the Villain are having a very important meeting for their Black Tank Top Club.
Chad thinks everyone is an ingenuine piece of shit, which he explains with the most confusing, absurd protein shake analogy I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Yo, what the FUCK are you talking about? It’s here I realize that Chad is a muscle-obsessed douchenoodle. At first I thought he was just your average bad boy with a chiseled jaw, but the second I piece together luggage weight belts and protein shake analogies it’s like fuck, I am OUT.
On their one-on-one Derek gets choked up talking about his last relationship, which ended three years ago. Dude is like, straight up crying and I immediately think he’s about to say that his high school sweetheart was crushed to death in a tractor accident. Nope, she just cheated on him. Um, yawn. Big fuckin’ deal! Why don’t you cry about it OH WAIT YOU ALREADY ARE.
On the second group date they go to ESPN and play a little game called BachelorNation. I personally wish they’d gone to ESPN Zone for some pop-a-shot, but you can’t win them all. They have to do touchdown dances, someone refers to Jojo as “merchandise,” and everybody has to fake propose to her. Basically, shit is awkward as FUCK.
Chad knows it’s awkward as fuck, and won’t tell her why he loves her because spoiler alert, he doesn’t love her. Girl just wants to hear some good qualities about herself and he promptly calls her NAGGY. Audible gasps. Everyone: outraged. You’d think he just called her a cunt by how flabbergasted they are.
Chad’s in the hot seat and explains that he was just being honest. And you know what? Jojo’s bad boy lovin’ ass buys that shit faster than a pair of espadrilles at Saks Off Fifth.
Back in what I assume is the room from Top Chef where they wait to hear who got kicked off because they over salted their pork loin, Chad is starting to unravel.
He doesn’t get why everyone is obsessed with her and is like, “Is this the first pretty girl y’all have seen?” Chad’s fucked some hot pieces, okay? Don’t get it twisted.
They leave ESPN and go to another cocktail party, where James T. explains to Jojo that although he is not named Abs McGee, he does have a love poem to read her. She CRIES and I have to give it to him, shit was pretty adorable.
More importantly Alex picks the WRONG CHAIR TO SIT IN.
Some Bachelor producer must be real fucking proud of themselves for this shit. They stood in a fancy ass production meeting like, “And we’ll have the short guy sit in this humongous chair!” Raise, benefits, matching 401k for that genius.
Chad is missing at the start of the rose ceremony and of course he’s just sittin’ on the steps of the mansion, whiskey in hand, waiting for Jojo like the start of some weird stalker movie.
What was the one with Mark Wahlberg where he fingers Reese Witherspoon on a roller coaster and then kills her dog? Fear? It’s like that, kind of.
All the bros are pissed about it and DEMAND. AN EXPLANATION. Chad’s all, I went out to get some air and they’re all, well did you see Jojo? And he’s all yeah I did I said ‘sup and they’re all well what ELSE did you say? It is the dumbest exchange I’ve ever seen and every single one of these guys could benefit from taking a fucking Xanax.
And now for a segment I like to call Chad and His Meats. Chad eats tons and tons of deli meat during this party and I am suddenly starting to think it is possible that Chad is my soulmate.
Maybe that’s really all I need in life and it doesn’t matter if my partner is a complete psycho with serious anger issues, so long as I have someone to sit and eat honey maple turkey with, you know? Things to think about.
In reality Chad is eating all of this meat so he can beef up (LOL) for the big fight he’s about to get in. He explains to BFF Canadian Daniel that everyone here is a pussy to which Daniel responds, “a gang, ey?” Jesus Christ. (“Could he BE any more Canadian?” –Chandler Bing)
Chad keeps cutting into everyone’s time with Jojo and Alex is OVER IT and somehow thinks he can take him. He wants to punch him in the face, which is hilarious because if he swung for Chad’s face I think his fist would land somewhere mid-chest. Chad is 6’4’’, buddy. That is one tall drink of toxic water and he will pound your face in.
Chad gets up in Alex’s grill and goes, “Keep it up and you’re going to lose your teeth.” I am now rubbing my hands together and chuckling, gleefully sipping my vanilla milkshake as I turn up the volume on my TV. Now we’re getting into it!!
Chad gets the final rose and everybody is shocked, JUST SHOCKED, even though he has the best body in the house so really they should be the exact opposite of shocked.
Next week Chad beats the fuck out of somebody, I think. Tune in!
Also, here’s Christian’s dick:
Read last week’s recap here.
Or other recaps here.
Be a doll and follow me on Twitter. Sometimes I’m funny.
Guys I’m going to be honest with you IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK. Not as good as like, eating a chocolate lava cake, but still pretty lovely.
We kick off this season of debauchery with a friendly reminder that Ben took Jojo’s heart, put it on a pedestal, took it OFF that pedestal, and then stomped on it. He smashed that shit into a million pieces like it was a glass at a Jewish wedding. Mazel tov!
It is super fun to relive how Ben told her he loved her, looked her dead in the eyes and said, “I promise you won’t be blindsided,” only to blindside the FUCK out of her ass. But now she’s feeling better and most importantly HOPEFUL, even though I feel like the only thing she should be feeling is hungry since she definitely hasn’t eaten since January.
Great bod though. Great bod. She gets advice from basic bitches AHEM I mean FORMER BACHELORETTES Desiree, Ali, and Kaitlyn. Look I liked Kaitlyn, I really did, but seeing her sit next to Jojo makes me feel like somebody should just pull Jojo aside and be like girl, you don’t need advice from 7s. (Hey man, it is what it is.)
But you know what I’m ready to see? Some dudes. Chris Harrison’s ready to see some dick too, as evident by his classic Chris Harrison gesticulations.
First up is firefighter Grant, and my immediate thought is oh my God, I hope these guys don’t all have professions that double as Chippendales characters. I’m sure Grant is very nice but he is being a little aggressive with his sexy pose and it’s making me uncomfortable.
Next up is Aaron Roger’s brother, who I will now and forever refer to as Aaron Roger’s Brother. Dude’s foyne, I’ll give him that. The hair is too SWISHED for me but at least he’s in Jojo’s league. We also meet a short marine and I can barely pay attention because honestly I am so fucking distracted by THIS AWESOME ASS DOG.
Like, holy shit, that dog is amazing. Is it his dog? Is its name Velcro? I need more information.
We meet a superfan whose face looks like it’s made out of clay and it’s like, Bachelor superfan is not a job, James S. from Phoenix, Arizona.
There’s also a dick doctor, a bartender from Santa Monica, and some guy who wakes up at 3:30 in the fucking morning to work out. Um, no thank you. Unless you have the body and philanthropic kindness of The Rock, I am not into that shit. The last thing I need is to feel like a lazy asshole for waking up at 8:30 on a Saturday. That is an ACCOMPLISHMENT and nobody can take that away from me. NOBODY.
Anyway so it’s time for these dudez to get out of some mothafuckin limos, AMIRIGHT? As each one gets out and greets her my friend Jordan and I nestle into the couch to discuss which ones look tall. There are of course gimmicks and awkward moments, including one guy who “drops” his notecards, which does nothing but points out how soaking wet the Bachelor producers keep the pavement outside of the mansion.
I get that it looks magical but it’s like guys, c’mon. We are in a fucking drought out here and you’re hosing off the pavement so the moon will glisten off it? Leo DiCaprio’s environmental ass would NOT BE PLEASED!
We’re now moving into looney tunes territory as we meet a half Scottish dude in a kilt, somebody in a full on Santa suit, and a guy who looks like a Bar Mitzvah magician and thinks being Canadian is somehow a job.
You can thank my couchmate Jordan for the Bar Mitzvah joke.
Guys, I’m gonna be straight with you. The only thing that’s attractive is when they come out of the limo in a nice fucking suit. Don’t give me stress balls and tell me to squeeze them, don’t wear weird pocket squares and a tie with a knot that is way too wide. A NICE SUIT, and I swear to God I will think about fucking you. That’s all it takes.
As we meet all these weirdos, it’s suddenly clear we’ve got a villain on our hands. Chad, Chad, Chad, you salty motherfucker. He is hating on everybody and thinks he is seriously hot shit which is funny because he seems more like room temperature shit to me. Gooey, room temperature dog shit. Anyway here’s how Jojo’s doing:
At the cocktail party she wishes they weren’t all so nervous and it’s like bitch, they’ve been waiting months for this and now there are fifty billion cameras in their face AND your giant amazing boob job. I’m sure it’s slightly overwhelming.
One of the guys makes her kiss him by playing a dumb fucking paper child’s game and the first thing out of her mouth after they kiss is, “Maybe that will get better.” Off to a great start, dude! Something to write home about.
Aaron Roger’s Brother decides that like Ray Finkle before him, dude fuckin choked and should maybe go back and kiss her. She is VERY into it because 1) he has a nice butt and 2) because I’m 100% positive producers told her long ago that he is related to a famous person and she has already picked out their china pattern.
Villain Chad whisks her away to talk and immediately says, “Normally girls are so worried about themselves” and it’s like BRO, eat a dick. If some guy wanted to date me and his opening line was “girls have no self esteem” I’d probably be like cool story, I’m going to go home and order pizza like the badass bitch I am.
Canadian Daniel tries to explain the Damn, Daniel meme to Jojo and it is what the internet trolls would call an epic fail. He then touches another man’s belly button and everybody hates him and makes fun of his short ass tie, which now that you mention it does make me giggle.
And now, the parade of the drunks. Daniel takes his clothes off and random dudes start sitting in on Jojo’s one-on-one interviews with the producers. It is, in a word, crazytown.
Aaron Roger’s Brother gets the first impression rose even though she’s also drooling over every guy from Texas. But wait, another limo!! I am freaking the fuck out, 100% positive J.J. from Bachelor In Paradise is about to walk out of that fancy super long car.
Turns out it’s Jake Pavelka, former Bachelor/boring person not to be confused with Jessie Pavelka, trainer/bad Chinese symbol tattoo-haver of Biggest Loser. Anyway Jake gives her advice like “don’t put up walls” and all I keep thinking over and over is oh my God, you are a loser.
She starts giving out roses and it’s like, so many god damn roses. They keep cutting away as she puts them on their lapels because you know it’s taking her ten thousand years to pin each one on these fools. Vinny hasn’t gotten one yet and is NOT THRILLED.
You know who IS thrilled to get one? The dick doctor. Look at this goofy ass grin:
The final rose goes to crazy Canadian Daniel because the producers were like girl, you HAVE TO give him a rose. That is obviously the only explanation. The rest of them go home and are experiencing all the sads, although I think going out to a nice breakfast together would cheer them up since it is literally so fucking light outside that they have probably already missed the early bird special at Denny’s. It’s like 9 o’clock in the morning at this point.
We get a sneak peak of the rest of the season and shit is about to POP. OFF. Chad the Villain is like, actually punching people and threatening their lives while Aaron Roger’s Brother is pressing Jojo up against walls to make out with her. Seems like one way or another, errbody’s going to Poundtown.
Read previous Bachelor recaps here. Or other weird stuff I write here.
You can also follow me on Twitter.
By Sam Jarvis
The blue-eyed, red-breasted phillabrew is a bird of great complexity. Feeding on mainly seeds, it lives much of its adult life high in the treetops resting on branches and pruning its feathers. But in the early stages of adulthood, the male phillabrews retain many of their feathers, aspiring to fluff them out should they meet a suitable mate for breeding.
It is not difficult for the blue-eyed, red-breasted phillabrew to find a female companion with whom they wish to procreate. Their challenge, is convincing the female that he is the best option for her. Approximately three or four days after its initial contact with a female, he will take out his cell phone and text her. The correspondence varies, but usually begins with “hey” and will have some form of “babe” peppered in. He will sit on his couch, smoke weed with his friends, and wait for a response while pretending he does not care. Research has found that he actually does care, but doesn’t want to come off as a pussy to his fellow bro birds.
In very rare instances this approach will work, eliciting a response from a female who is either looking for a serious boyfriend, or just wants to get laid and thinks Jason is “cute enough.” They will go out a few times, usually somewhere kind of inexpensive so that the male doesn’t have to spend his fortune in the process of fornication. The females will notice this, and although statistically they will still mate with the male phillabrews, they will be silently annoyed that he can’t get his shit together and spend a little more money on the wine.
Turns out cheap wine gets you just as buzzed as the good stuff, so the females will inevitably go home with them. High up in the branches, he will kiss her. It is worth noting that most male phillabrews are bad at kissing, a combination of inflated ego and the fact that their beaks make it difficult. His performance usually worsens as the night goes on, the male thinking he is doing a great job pleasing her while the female is kind of going, “Oh great, I’ve officially lost all sexual attraction to you.” Science however, suggests that we shouldn’t place too much blame on the male. Sure, he can’t find most of her female parts, but can you point out the female parts on a bird? You can’t. You are sitting here right now thinking oh my god, where are all of their parts! Where are the male parts, even?! So you see, it’s more complicated than you think.
Want more weird shit? Try What Really Happens When Girls Go To The Bathroom In Groups.
Or maybe you’ve been asking yourself How Many Houseplants Is Too Many? 10,000?
OR you want to hear about My Date With Gary Busey.
“More links! More links!!” -You guys.
Mrs. Perkins knew she was in trouble the second she set the plastic mold of the female reproductive system onto her desk. The class before her, 20 students and 20 of their parents, looked on with wonder as they sat in the room that was usually adorned with test tubes and Einstein quotes. Today, they were surrounded by graphic diagrams and step-by-step instructions on how to put on a condom.
Why Principal Thompson would schedule the first annual Bring Your Parent To School Day during their sex education rotation would be discussed for years to come. This was one of two large oversights in his calendar, having also picked the week the PE activity was swimming. Sally May’s mother in a bathing suit was nothing to be desired. Tanner Bergman’s father had refused to wear a swim cap, worried the rubber would rip out the last hairs that remained on his horseshoe head. Mrs. Perkins adjusted the plastic vagina as fifth graders and their namesakes looked on.
“Let’s start with the inside. Here are the ovaries, where eggs are produced.” Children giggled and adults shifted in their seats with discomfort. Finally, little Laura Mazur shot her hand in the air, her brunette hair held back by the cutest of headbands.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Perkins?” she asked.
“Yes, Laura?”
“Where exactly in the uterus does an egg attach itself?” Laura sat awaiting a response, pen and paper at the ready. Laura was incredibly smart. Yale bound, for sure.
“On the side, although it varies each time,” Mrs. Perkins responded. Laura wrote it down, word for word. It was then that Mrs. Perkins opened it up to the class. The discussion, not the vagina. “Does anyone else have questions so far?” Ed Lerman, father of the adorable nerd Charlie Lerman, after much deliberation, raised his hand.
“Yes?” Mrs. Perkins asked.
“Why is it that whenever I initiate intimacy with my wife, she turns a cold shoulder and pretends to be asleep?” Mrs. Perkins looked over to little Laura, sitting patiently in front of her notes.
“Well Mr. Lerman, perhaps if you were more motivated in your career…“ Mrs. Perkins started.
“Is that it?” Ed asked.
“Well,” she continued, “it could also be that during your children’s bath time you watch Sports Center and drink beer.” Ed pondered this as Scottie Nemoy’s father chimed in.
“I help with bath time every night. Or I did, before we separated.” As the word separated clung to the air, Sally May’s mother to perked to attention, pushing her boobs higher into her bra.
“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked. And like that, they were gone. Now little Laura, who had just finished rereading her transcripts, had another question.
“Mrs. Perkins, where did Mr. Nemoy take Sally May’s mother?” she asked.
“Well Laura, they went to have sexual intercourse in the women’s restroom outside of the band room.” Laura jotted all of this down, furrowing her brow.
“I thought two people only had sex when they were in love,” Laura responded, now confused but still writing.
“Yes, only when they are in love. Or drunk, bored, or lonely. Or if the other person is really cute.” Mrs. Perkins then looked over to Ed, who was staring inquisitively at the plastic vagina.
“Did you have another question, Mr. Lerman?” she asked.
“I don’t think I’ve heard of half of these parts.” He squinted his eyes, still looking at the model.
“Well perhaps that, dear Ed, is why Nancy turns a cold shoulder and pretends to be asleep.”
Ed rubbed the top of his head as the bell rung and Mrs. Perkins handed worksheets to her students. He gathered his belongings, stopping Mrs. Perkins before leaving the classroom.
“Could I have one of those worksheets? I’d like to audit this class.”
You may also like Suicidal Math Teacher (The Downs and Downs of Mr. Greenwald)
Check out all my short stories here.
By Sam Jarvis
Dear Wax Figure of Sofia Vergara,
Thank you for taking the time to read this, even though you are made of wax so I assume you are illiterate. It’s still kind of you to maintain aggressive eye contact with this piece of paper as I hold it mere inches in front of your face. You haven’t blinked in several minutes, so I’m pretty sure you’re absorbing the information.
I write to you today, because I want to tell you that I understand everything you’re going through. I can’t imagine how agonizing it would be to know that while you look like the creepy fraternal twin of Sofia, you lack her accent and bubbly personality that is so adored by millions. It can’t be fun to have breasts that are sculpted to perfection, but are missing the bounce and natural movement that make them so iconic. And perhaps worst of all, there is no wax figure of Joe Manganiello. You spend every night alone in this room. Well you aren’t technically alone, you are surrounded by Wax Figure Rihanna and Wax Figure Heidi Klum, but I’ve never heard either of them speak a single word.
Sure, you look a lot like the highest paid actress in television. That’s nice. But those residual checks have no mention of you OR Madame Tussaud. You have to tell people you were made in London, which is wayyy less interesting than Colombia. They speak English in London, did you know that? So boring. I assume you would defend all of this by saying that none of it matters, that your one true happiness in this world is your 24-year-old son Manolo and as long as he’s good, you’re good. But he isn’t your son, he’s Sofia’s. You’re as barren as a chunk of plaster and wax because you ARE a chunk of plaster and wax.
I don’t mean to put you down. I respect everything you do, even though all you do is stand there. Your skin looks just as flawless as it did yesterday when I visited and brought you that nice wedge of brie. You keep a smile literally glued to your face day in and day out, nobody ever stopping to think hey, what if this inanimate object has a complex set of emotions? I’ve thought of these things, but only because I’m currently in an intimate relationship with an ottoman. So I get it, you know?
Anyway, I guess I should let you go. The line behind me is truly horrified that I refuse to put this letter down and walk to the next figure until I am absolutely positive that you’ve gotten to the end of it. I just want you to know that I support you, and also that things aren’t really working out with the ottoman and I wanted to see if you’d like to grab a drink sometime? You know what, let’s hold off on that drink, because at this very moment I’m getting arrested for licking your ear. Wow, everybody in this museum is like, super mad at me right now. I’ll write you from prison!!
You might also enjoy Sorry I Turned Your American Girl Doll Into A Voodoo Doll of Hailey Baldwin
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
By Sam Jarvis
Aquarius
(January 20th-February 18th)
You’ve got a lot on your plate this week, Aquarius. Three Facebook friends are going to get engaged, and you will do squats in your living room while talking on the phone with your mom about how unhappy your cousin Megan must be now that she’s tied down. Remember to relax and remain optimistic about the future.
Pisces
(February 19th-March 20th)
Ruler Neptune will decide a lot of your fate this week, Pisces. Your coworker is going to imply that you must be on your period since you didn’t reply to his email with, “the usual girlie exclamation points.” Your instinct will be to slice his throat from ear to ear, but try to hold back. You know he has a small penis. Let that be enough.
Aries
(March 21st-April 19th)
With Mars as your ruler and fire as your element, things are going to be smooth sailing, Aries. You’ll get a bunch of Tinder matches, but you aren’t in a hurry to respond. This week will be better spent with your lady posse, drinking wine and discussing current events.
Taurus
(April 20th-May 20th)
Watch out, Taurus. You’ll order a green juice and the guy will call you sweetie as he hands it to you. Tell him you are a badass bitch and the next time he demeans a complete stranger he should remember that he is talking to the owner of a company and not one of his sweaty ass food truck peers.
Gemini
(May 21st-June 20th)
Your moon is over Venus this week, twin. Some guy’s gonna ask if you need help carrying that humongous Amazon Prime box full of stemless wine glasses to your third floor walk up. Don’t lose your cool. Say no thank you, carry that heavy ass box up three fucking flights of stairs, and put more money into your 2016 Roth IRA.
Cancer
(June 21st-July 22nd)
With Mercury rising (?), it’s time for a change, Cancer. You’re starting to realize that maybe your boyfriend is a fucking loser. Has he washed his sheets in the last three months? You will hit your breaking point and dump him. Your bestie will respond to the news with a, “You go girl!” gif.
Leo
(July 23rd-August 22nd)
You’ve got the travel bug this week, great lioness. You don’t need an excuse to book a trip or even a spa day, you’re a grown ass woman who earns her own paycheck. Spend the weekend in Palm Springs raging with older gay men. Go to a Korean spa and hang out with very naked Asian women while someone scrubs all your dead skin cells off. It’ll hurt, but in a good way. Treat yo self, girl!
Virgo
(August 23rd-September 22nd)
Don’t be over analytical, Virgo. An old lover from your past will reenter your life, possibly stirring up forgotten feelings. Remember that you are doing so much better at life than they are. I mean for god’s sake, he sells supplements. Be polite, say hello, and keep it moving. It may feel better than you think.
Libra
(September 23rd-October 22nd)
You’ll find balance in your apartment this week, Libra. Rearrange your space without any help from anyone. You don’t need a god damn man to move the couch. You like when your legs feel like noodles and you have two dead arms the next day. That means you did it all by yourself and now the chaise is on the south facing wall!
Scorpio
(October 23rd-November 21st)
Biting your tongue will be your challenge this week, Scorpio. A guy you’re casually dating will bring up the fact that his ex used to cook him chicken pot pies on rainy days. Although you’ll immediately think to say, “Well you can cook your own damn meals with me,” try just giving a long, overdramatic eye roll instead. He’ll get the picture.
Sagittarius
(November 22nd-December 21st)
With ruler Pluto, you’re going to find yourself feeling a little melancholy this week, Sag. You may be craving some male attention, and that’s okay. Flirting is not the same thing as needing someone to open this motherfucking jar of salsa that I’ve been trying to get open for the past three days. Like, is this what my life has come to? Bursting into tears alone in my kitchen eating shitty plain eggs with no chunky medium spice salsa? UGH like seriously, I knew I should’ve bought that little rubber square the last time I was at Bed Bath and Beyond but I was too focused on what I was going to use my 20% off coupon on. As if I have even used that stupid Vitamix a single time in the last three months. What a waste of money.
Capricorn
(December 22nd-January 19th)
Don’t expect the worst this week, you sexy mountain goat. A new job offer or promotion may be extended to you, and it’s a good time to take it. It will come with a significant raise, so be sure to enjoy it. As Rihanna once said, “Bitch better have my money.” Also your DVR’s on the fritz so make sure it records The Bachelor this week. And delete all those episodes of Lockup: Raw. It gives you nightmares.
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
By Sam Jarvis
Decorating your space is important to not only the aesthetic of the room, but also your happiness as an individual. And what better way to add some color (and oxygen!) to your apartment than buying a shit ton of houseplants. But how many is too many? Let’s discuss.
Look around your living room. Take note of any areas that get good light, and also every spare inch of the floor. Can you see the floor? Yeah, that’s no good. Honestly if it doesn’t look like a god damn Rain Forest Cafe in there, you’re going to need more houseplants.
Put shorter plants on countertops, side tables, desks, your cable box. Put taller plants everywhere else. Sooo many tall plants, okay? Put a plant in every drawer of the kitchen. Put fifty in your closet. Just start gluing leaves to the walls. It’s going to really liven up the space.
Now I’ll be honest, 10,000 is probably too many, especially for a one bedroom apartment. But 9,990 is usually about right. Also flowers fucking suck, don’t buy flowers. They’re dead. They’re already. Dead. Houseplants are ALIVE, and you generally want things in your apartment to be living and not dead. Roommates, cats, foliage.
Once you have literally zero space left, sit on your couch and enjoy the beauty around you. See, that was a trick!! There shouldn’t be any space on your couch because you guessed it, houseplants.
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
By Sam Jarvis
Let’s face it, I am an amazing bridesmaid. I’ve got extra bobby pins. I know the right pace to walk down an aisle. I can inform Aunt Georgia that the reception buffet is the wrong place to tell the story of how she walked in on Uncle Bob spooning his tennis student. And as I watch every beautiful bride walk down the aisle, her soon-to-be husband smiling at her in what I’m certain is the most incredible moment of their lives, I will dab a tear from my eye. And then of course hold her bouquet and straighten out her dress.
I’m happy for my friends. Really, I am. But when is it going to be my turn? My time to shine onto a neatly organized surface, illuminating a collection of paper clips near a days-old coffee stain? It’s hard to watch the girls I grew up with get zipped into dresses, one after another, knowing that I may never get the chance to gather dust in a cubicle, a Post-It note saying, “Pay gas bill!” taped to my base.
You can’t force these things. I know that. But if you haven’t turned into a desk lamp by the time you’re 30 or 35, you start to worry that it may never happen. I’ve baked penis-shaped cakes, lunged for bouquets in turquoise chiffon, and scoured social media for anything filtered and cropped that’s missing #TimHeartsSarah. But will I ever be surrounded by a mug full of pens and a half-eaten granola bar that is quickly attracting ants?
The next time someone asks me to be their bridesmaid by sending me an adorable Pinterest-inspired DIY photo frame, I hope that I will be in the position to respectfully decline. I will tell her that I can’t, partly because David’s Bridal doesn’t make dresses small enough for office supplies but also because my Saturdays will be spent sitting silently in an empty, dark office, excitedly awaiting the arrival of a bustling Monday. I will therefore be unable to attend your celebration of love at the Marriot by the airport.
It’s important to have hope, to have patience. I struggle with that sometimes. But tonight, as my head hits the hotel pillow, spinning from the open bar and several rounds of the Horah, I feel at peace. Someday I will be complete. I will be a desk lamp, watching Nate from accounting pick his nose and wipe it under his swivel chair. And I can’t wait.
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
who is sam jarvis 