Every single day is cheat day at my house.
Every single day is cheat day at my house.
Guys. Grab a snack, pour a beverage, and try to pee, because we are about to settle in for a three hour Bachelor event®, which is longer than I attend most real-life events.
We jump right into the morning-after phase of Raven’s overnight date, and if you’re wondering whether or not he gave her the first orgasm of her sad life, she summarizes the night by explaining that, “Nick is pretty good at what he does, so I’m satisfied.”
I immediately hear myself say ew, while my boyfriend goes, “That lacked subtlety,” before standing up and leaving the room for what I assume will be forever.
Let me take this time to thank each and every one of you who heard the VIRAL NEWS that Rachel is going to be the next Bachelorette, and then immediately texted or e-mailed me to congratulate me on being so fucking right. Because who guessed weeks ago that she was going to be the first black Bachelorette? Oh, that’s right-
Damn, it feels good to be a gangster.
We left off last week with Nick crying and crying and crying. He had the most major case of le sads ever, because what if he can’t find his wife on this television show? WHERE, oh where, in the city of Los Angeles will he find someone who shares the same interests as him, such as being on a television show?
HOW BOUT THAT SUPER BOWL, HUH? THEY REALLY THREW THE FUCK OUT OF THAT BALL.
We left off in Bachelorland (Please God aka Chris Harrison, make that a theme park) at THE DINNER, with Taylor showing up after getting some weird healing shit done to her in the god damn swap, now ready to open a can of Diet Whoop Ass on Corinne.
The other girls POW WOW about it, and they are all sitting way too close together on the couch.
I cannot touch arms or thighs with someone sitting on a couch with me. The mere thought of it makes me aggressively crack open another beer to calm my nerves/fuel my growing alcoholism.
I just want you guys to know that so far I have written 6,296 words about this season of the bachelor. Okay, now 6,304. That is roughly 25 pages of a book. I could’ve been TWENTY FIVE PAGES into the next great American novel but noooo, gotta make you noodles laugh and laugh.
ANYWHO, we left off last week with Corinne and Taylor battling it out while snuggling under a shared throw blanket. Taylor tries to explain what Emotional Intelligence is and Corinne is like welp, everybody thinks you’re a bitch. Corinne 1, Taylor 0.
Let me take a second to say how proud I am of all the badass bitches who marched this last weekend. I would tongue kiss you all if I could. I love you. And what better way to celebrate feminism than to go fucking IN on Corinne at this pool party, amiright?!
Everybody is still freaking out about the whole straddle situation, to the point where I’m pretty sure “bouncy house” has turned into 85% of these girls’ trigger word. (None of them will ever be able to go to a child’s birthday without sweating profusely and/or bursting into tears.)
You might’ve spent your MLK Monday picking your nose and Liking videos of goats befriending anteaters or some shit, but The Bachelor takes #NoDaysOff, OKAY?
Since last week was To Be Continued, they have to back this ish up and refresh our memories about LIZ, DUN DUN DUNNN. Remember her? He kicked her to the curb, but she’ll probably still put “MET AND FUCKED NICK VIALL AT JADE AND TANNER’S WEDDING” on her headstone (she’s already purchased the plot next to Nick’s great grandmother).
GUYS! HEY!! HOLY SHIT I MISSED YOU! I’VE BEEN WELL, THANKS. JUST TRUCKING ALONG, WRITING FOR A TELEVISION SHOW AND CONSTANTLY DYING MY HAIR BLONDE. (ALSO EATING TONS OF BREAKFAST BURRITOS!)
Sorry, I had to use a paper towel as a coffee filter this morning so things are just all WACKY on my end. We kick off this season with Nick passionately exclaiming, “I’m Nick and I’m the Bachelor,” in case any of you were sitting at home going, “Hm, I’ve been waiting for this day for four fucking months, but I can’t for the life of me remember who the big show’s all about. Luke? Chase? A newly single and batshit crazy Josh Murray?” LOLZ.
We check out what Nick’s been up to since he dumped Jen’s ass on a beach, and here he is pretending he still has a job:
Nice workbag. It’s probably filled to the brim with head shots and Sugar Bear hair vitamins.
Here I sit, patiently waiting for a new episode with my arms folded neatly in my lap, wondering if Nick and Jen will go the distance even though I already know they don’t. Or if Josh and Amanda’s love can transition out of paradise, even though they’re on the cover of Us Weekly gabbing about how they’re living together now. SIGH. Are there no surprises anymore, guys?? Part of me is also like, remember Chad?
The most exciting thing going on in paradise right now is that apparently Nick got a care package from ol’ Robby that included a pair of Robby’s insane swim trunks.