The Bachelor: This Show is SO DUMB ... and yet, SO DUMB ... I mean, So Good

Ye Ole Nose to Nose.

Obviously I love The Bachelor and clearly I have no problem with my wife putting it on every Monday night (even when the BCS National Championship game is on) but I must say, it is without a doubt, THE DUMBEST SHOW IN THE HISTORY OF TELEVISION.

I would say that I spend roughly 90% of my Monday nights curled up in the corner of the couch, cringing while watching the twenty girls fight over Brad. There will be at least three or four times during every episode where I legitimately yell at the television. Everything is so dramatic and SO SERIOUS and so dumb and I truly, truly hate myself for watching it. But I'm so invested. I'm SO invested. And I can't wait for next week's episode. God I hate myself. Everyone on the show acts SO DUMB. Like that one chick last night, she was acting so dumb! And that other chick, just freaking out and crying and acting so dumb? She was so dumb! This show is so stupid! I freaking love it! I also loved Oregon's neon socks last night! And their helmets! And what in the world does War Eagle mean?!?!

Neon Socks: Very Andre Agassi-ish.

Some thoughts on last night's ep:

The dentist lady who went on the carnival one-on-one date and claims she's from Philly isn't really from Philly. She's from Maine. She's currently studying dentistry at Penn and so the show lists her as being from Philly. I guarantee you this drives people from Philly mad and they will make it their personal mission to clear up this confusion. I could see this conversation going on today at business meetings across the country:

Bob: Hey, how ya doing? My name's Bob.

Fred: Hey Bob, I'm Fred. Where ya from, Bob?

Bob: Oh, I'm from Philadelphia.

Fred: Really? Isn't that lady from ...

Bob: No, she's not from Philly. She's from Maine.

Fred: What?

Bob: She's just studying in Philly, she's not actually from there.

Fred: Oh, really? Cause the show lists her as ...

Bob: Look, she's not from Philly, dude. It's Maine. She's from friggin Maine. Look, I printed out this article of her being from Maine. Look at it. Say she's not from Philly. Say it. (Pulls out loaded gun.) Say it mother****er. Say it.

Fred: All right, chill. She's not from Philly. She's not from Philly.

Bob: (looks away, puts gun back in pants) You're goddamn right she's not.

This lady, guy, I honestly have no idea, but he/she can't be happy about The Dentist.

Also, during the carnival scene when the dentist from Maine was slamming the hammer thing, my buddy Law claimed that her nipple totally popped out of her dress. Obviously, I didn't believe him, but Law is an absolute sniper for this stuff and paused his TiVo (and he actually does have TiVo, not DVR, but TiVo) and sent me this picture of her purported nip.

You be the judge. Is that a nip? I think that's a nip.

From the department of male nips, during the scene when Brad and The Dentist (not actually a dentist) were bonding over their lack of fathers, my wife blurted out, "Take your shirt off." It was as if she had no control over her vocal chords or brain. She just blurted it out. When I looked over at her, she simply responded with, "What? Nothing."

The dumbest moment of the night occurred when Brad and Michelle The Crazy Manipulative Weathered Birthday Girl shared this gem of a conversation:

Michelle: What is your biggest fear?

Brad: Honestly? ... I don't wanna end up alone. I know that's cliche, but ...

Michelle: No (takes his hand), that's beautiful.

Really, Michelle? Cause I'm pretty sure that's both cliche and dumb. I once dated this French girl (like an actual French person) who was totally fine (and I mean "fine" as in "fine," not as in "super hot." Like seriously, she was just fine, like a bowl of oatmeal is just fine, like, "Hey, do you want some pancakes? Cause I was about to make pancakes?"  ........ "No, I'm fine with this bowl of oatmeal. It's fine."  ....... "Really? Cause I don't mind making pancakes." ....... "No seriously, this oatmeal is fine. It's fine."  ........ ) ..... That's what this French girl was like. And even though she was French-French, like, actually French, she spoke perfect English, but there was still a bit of a language barrier and she would've been friggin' perfect for The Bachelor because she loved deep conversations. Well, we once had this heart to heart:

French Girl: What is your biggest fear?

Me: What? (oatmeal spilling out of the side of my mouth)

French Girl: Tell me your biggest fear? What scares you the most in this world? Tell me, Evan, tell me.

Me: Uhhhhh, wow. I dunno. Geez, I was just kinda eating oatmeal here. Wow. What a question. Ummm, I dunno, that's a really serious question. What's yours?

French Girl: Snakes.

Me: (eyebrows raised, mouth open ... long pause) Snakes?

French Girl: Yes, snakes.

Me: (absolutely f***ing silent)

French Girl: And AIDS.

Me: (suddenly realizing this relationship is going nowhere) Wow. Well, I guess a snake with AIDS would be the ultimate then, wouldn't it?

Ready for some oatmeal, Cream of Wheat.

Later during the cocktail hour, there was actually a nice moment / sweet conversation when Brad literally couldn't speak when talking with Emily The Absolutely Beautiful and Perfect Southern Belle Except For Her SEVERE Emotional Baggage. Brad told her, "When I talk to you, you make me lose words. I feel like an idiot," which was actually kind of sweet and I totally understand if any of my three male readers just barfed all over the place and vow to no longer read this blog.


Have you ever noticed how The Bachelorette Mansion's driveway is ALWAYS WET?!?! I'm pretty sure it never rains in LA Fitness and yet, the stones are always glistening. Does this add drama? Better cinematography? Look for this next week. They must have a hose somewhere. Who knew a hose was essential to reality TV?

Train?!?!? ... What? ... Train? ... Train? ... They're actually called, Train? ... A real band? ... Man, I hope they're not from Philadelphia ... Train? An actual band ... Train.

I was very pleased that Brad sent home those two nut-job drama queens who were crying ON DAY TWO (or week two, who knows with this show?). I seriously thought Brad might be a bit of a pushover after giving Michelle The Weathered Birthday Girl a rose on her birthday, but no! he sent Melissa and Raichel packing and rightly so! He doesn't need that stuff! Any chick who is crying this early is a blatant red flag. In fact, when Brad called Britt's name last and sent the crazy ones on their way, my wife and I legitimately high-fived. Like turned, extended our hands and had a moment. It was great. We actually shared a mome. Then we shared some oatmeal. Which was fine.

The show really is brilliant. Twenty women, all ready to get married and on the brink of losing their minds, fighting over one very good-looking tattooed man. What a brilliant concept. I'm so upset that I didn't think of it.

Thank Gawd she's gone.

I must say though, Keltie The Rockette's final confession to the camera when she broke down and labeled herself "the worst dater ever," was really sad. Despite the fact that she was terribly annoying, I really felt sorry for her and her realization that she will be alone for the rest of her life. Well, Keltie, if it's any consolation, at least you'll always have total control of your remote. I only saw the second half of the BCS Championship last night.*



* Not seeing the football game had nothing to do with the fact that my wife owns me controls the remote in our household. Even if she had been out, I would've been watching The Bach. Even when the show was over and I had the opportunity to watch the second half of the game, I fell asleep and probably saw a grand total of three plays. I did however see three women completely lose their isht last night on national television on what is clearly the worst greatest show in television history.