Let me start by saying that this is the series of texts I received from my best friend Ashley, who lives in Chicago and therefore watched the East Coast feed:
So while I prepped my veggie platter and poured myself a vodka soda, HOURS before it started here in LA, I knew I was in for a real treat.
Night two of this shit show, huh?! If you asked me where my life is going, I’d probably be required to say, “Straight to ABC!” because that is how much dedication it takes to be invested in this fucking Bachelor WORLD, ya know?
We’re in Peru for the fantasy suite dates, where he meets Kendall in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
Hope you don’t have to pee, babe.
Guys, let me break down the scene in my living room. We’ve got regulars Ciara and Jordan. But today we’ve also got Katie, and Jordan’s boyfriend Charlie. We’ve got energy balls, which are depleting rapidly. We’ve got wine! We’ve got SHRMP MOTHERFUCKING COCKTAIL! So why all this pomp and circumstance, you ask? Because this episode is HOMETOWNZ, and last year around this time Rachel was visiting Dean’s dad, and Dean was just writhing around on the floor in a tiny ball while his father served everybody mung beans. It’s a fun episode, okay?! My watch party is big this week.
You know what I said as soon as I pressed PLAY on my DVR last night? “Oh snap, we in Tuscany.” Yes, I’m known to be very observant. (Also, starving all the time.)
So the gal palz are in Italia and their first stop is Pisa, where Lauren B. immediately asks why the leaning tower of Pisa leans. Um, I bet there’s a fucking sign somewhere real close to where you’re standing that could answer that for ya. You know those museum plaques that are boring and have all the info? Check those.
Before I can get to the real nitty gritty of tonight’s dry shampoo-fueled circus, let me start by giving a round of applause to BIP bartender/Sarah Hyland’s boyfriend Wells Adams for appearing in the Puppy Bowl yesterday. (I’m sure you ALL knew that already, since you of COURSE watch the Puppy Bowl every year.)
EH-KNEE-WAY, they’re in Paris and Arie may or may not have a hickey on his Adam’s apple. Well, his Arie’s apple.
Guys, I’m going to be real with you because like Rachel Lindsay would say, I like to “keep it 100.” I missed last week’s recap because I was shooting a really cool project and was going to just recap last week’s here for you today along with the new one, but once you watch a new episode you’re kind of like, emotionally moved on from the previous one? So I’m not fucking recapping last week. Sowwy.
We kick off this week with the girls in Ft. Lauderdale, which Arie describes as, “one of the most beautiful places to fall in love.” Um, I can think of at least 50 places that are more beautiful to fall in love. Paris, Florence, New York, Miami, Berlin, Buenos Aires, Barcelona, Madrid, Tokyo, Costa Rica, Knoxville Tennessee, Savannah, Charleston, Amsterdam, Bali, Indonesia, New Zealand, Australia, Iceland, Machu Pichu, Telluride, Hawaii, Austin, Portugal, Bora Bora, Macau, Ibiza, Milan, Santorini, Cape Town, Istanbul, Rio de Janiero, Havana, Alaska, New Orleans, Maldives, Marrakesh, Rome, Kyoto, Chicago, Santa Barbara, Venice, Playa del Carmen, Oslo, Dubai, Cyprus, Holland, Prague, Bruges, and Gijón.
Brosefs, I get it. This shit is a day late. But aren’t you like, happy to know that I have a real life outside of this and other work obligations? As you’re sitting there refreshing whoissamjarvis.com I bet you’re thinking to yourself, “Wow, I really wish the new recap was up right now, but I’m so proud of Sam for being busy with her other hilarious comedy projects, coming our way in 2018”??? No? K.
When we last left these chicks, Bibiana was still super madsies at Krystal and I’m here to tell you not much has changed in one week. But Chris Harrison shows up to the house to talk about the first group date, and it appears he’s taking a page out of a fictional book I just made up called Mr. Casual: Fashion For The Everyday Man.
IT RAINED IN LA TODAY. I know that’s not a big deal to some of you, but it’s all anybody here’s been talking about for the past twelve hours so I feel like I HAD to mention it.
Week two opens on cool guy Arie riding a cool guy motorcycle next to some super cool rocks. It makes little to no sense.
Becca K. gets the first one on one, and Arie drives her around on this motorcycle. I personally think motorcycles are DANGEROUS and I would not get on one even if a shirtless Jason Momoa was driving it with a satchel full of fucking ice cream strapped to his back.
Well HAPPY FUCKIN’ NEW YEAR, kids!! I’ve missed you all a ton. (Sort of.)
I’m going to be totally honest with you guys, the mere thought of starting off 2018 with a freshie fresh season of The Bachelor is what pushed me through the end of 2017 and the accompanying massive head cold I’m suffering from that’s making everything I eat taste like oven-roasted cardboard.
When I first heard Arie was the next bachelor I was pret-ty bummed, mostly because I firmly believe you should never trust anyone with an added E in their name. Also because the last time he was on the show was 45 years ago and the only reason they picked him to do this was because they were in the 11th hour of negotiations with hot ass Peter Kraus when they realized, “Hey, didn’t that race car driver already fill out all the paperwork for this bullshit? Get him on a plane, he can be on Good Morning America in six hours!!” But I’m a sucker for even a dorky bachelor, so I guess I’m in.
BABYLUVS. WE DID IT. WE ARE AT THE END OF THE LONG, TWISTED, THROW PILLOW LINED ROAD.
The first thing to remember about the end of Nick’s journey is that Chris Harrison pronounces the word finale fin-AH-lee.
He just loves saying it like that. Chris also loves being a grade-A cock tease, because he immediately tells us that some shit is about to go down on After the Final Rose tonight, which leads me to believe maybe there will be a proposal on live television. A girl can dream.
So they’re still in this town in Finland, and I’m starting to wonder if Nick is getting sick of drinking hot chocolate and wearing polar tech socks, but maybe our Wisco boy is into that shit.
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