I Know I'm Supposed To Write About The Bach, But I Can't Wait For This Charlie Sheen 20/20 Interview

I'm pretty sure this guy has malaria.

Hoping to get a new Bachelor post up in the next day or nine, but first a quick word on this Charlie Sheen fella. I mean, an exclusive interview on 20/20 to clear the air?! There's no way this goes well. Shouldn't he be going on Intervention? Or at least Diners Drive-Ins and Dives? I imagine a cheeseburger / cocaine combo to be unstoppable. This guy HAS TO BE the next Bachelor.

Regarding The Bach, I was very excited to see ALL THREE of the remaining bachelorettes wearing Daisy Dukes in South Africa. It's a shame they now all have malaria. I mean, if you're a mosquito and you're living in South Africa, that had to be the best week of your life, right? I bet there's a mosquito there right now bragging to his buddies about how awesome his week was. I'm seriously jealous of those mosquitoes. This is truly a new low-point in my life.

TVMWW's Header Picture Contest: And The Winner Is ... Not Unveiled Yet

Thank you so much to the five actual human beings who took time out of their lives to submit pictures for the TV My Wife Watches New Header Picture Contest.

Of the five submissions, three of them came from idiots in my fantasy football league while two came from absolute strangers. That's 40% from absolute strangers. Forty percent. Let's check 'em out.

Artist:  Little Danny Dickdog - Charleston, South Carolina
Best known for trading away Michael Vick to his older brother (and eventual champion) in my fantasy football league. Also once had a ponytail.

Artist:  Gabulous - Illadelph

Renowned blogging commenter and lover of soup. Check out her artsy website here.

Artist:  Law - Illadelph

Gargantuan 6'4'' friend from elementary school who may or may not LOATHE this blog. I showed him the other entries and he CLEARLY thought his was the best. Follow Law on Twitter here.

Artist:  Loaves - Beantown

Middle school buddy who convinced me to quit my 8th grade basketball team so I could set fires with him and two other idiots. Underneath TVMWW it says, "blog blog blog blob blah." Also, Loaves claims that green thing there is a close-up of his couch. Fifth place.

Artist:  Dave - Beantown 

Degenerate sports fan who blogs about obscure Philly athletes on his blog, Where Is Ben Rivera? My wife was flabbergasted that The Facts of Life was left out of his collage.

Anybody have any thoughts before I pick the winner like my name is Moammar Gadhaffi?

Wednesday's Wifey: Gwen Harrison aka Sargent Snooze

Heaven's Rain total box office gross: $48

This week's Wednesday Wifey is Gwen Harrison, trophy wife of Bachelor host, Chris Harrison aka The Least Hardest Working Man In Showbiz.

One would assume that the diminutive host of The Bach would've nabbed his blonde bomber of a wife after his rise to fame, BUT NO, the couple are actually high school sweethearts. Other than that, there is verrrrrry little information out there on Gwen, but after doing some secret sniffing on her Twitter account, I now feel as if I have enough information to write this blog post and/or a feature article for USA Today.

I've been known to do some sniffing from time to time.

Based on Gwen's tweets, it seems as if she lives a total life of luxury, accompanying her husband all over the country to attend movie premieres (G-Force), television tapings (Iron Chef) and dinner parties with white people (The Firestones). She's also a Cowboys fan, reads the Twilight books and does not tweet pictures of her titties and/or thongs on Tuesdays or Thursdays. In other words, she is LAME.

I imagine that Chris Harrison is only with her because of her rock hard right nipple. Picture below.

Zoinks!

The Bachelor: "And This Is My Father, Rick ... Yep, That's a Real Mustache"

C'mon, that's a nice bathing suit.

"Never trust a white guy with a mustache. Or a black dude without one." - Cornelius Brown III, my college roommate.

I don't know if Shawntel's father was directly to blame for her departure last night, but you gotta think that the fact that his mustache almost crawled off of his upper lip played some part in Brad's decision to send her home.  It's a shame, because I liked Shawntel; liked that she had a career, liked how relaxed she was and liked how her legs were as smooth as a man's freshly shaved upper lip. Unfortunately though, she has a crazy father who will now lock her up in his basement and make sure she carries out his legacy of making crap commercials in some town that she clearly wants to escape from.

Much better.

Tough to compare Shawntel's father to Chantal's pop and his purple shirt and giant bank account. My wife feels that Mike (that's his name, Mike) should be the next Bachelor. Clearly Chantal was going to last another week considering her parents ARE THE RICHEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD and have more leather Chaises Lounges than Raymour and Flans. Also, Chantal's mom was SO HOT, a VERY important quality when choosing a mother-in-law. I don't understand how she could look so young and so hot. Yeah, I know, I know, her husband wears purple shirts, but Chantal is 28 years old, I'm 33, but my mother is at least 167 years old. Faithful reader Chris Heis says he's now looking forward to the upcoming season of The Real Housewives of Seattle.

Off to Madawaska, Maine, the hometown of Ashley the Dentist (not really a dentist) and the most incredible looking cheese and gravy fries I've ever seen. I applaud Brad for getting knuckle deep in the poutine only hours before meeting Ashley's family, because if I had eaten that slop, I would've spent the next few hours with my ass glued to a toilet. It's essential in moments like those to carry around Imodium, or take a preemptive pill like my buddy Rev does before tailgating. Seriously, Rev pops an Imodium before sporting events, because after drinking and eating stadium food, there are few things worse than having an explosion in a Lincoln Financial Field bathroom stall. One of those things happens to be Rev's insides because after overdosing on anti-diarrhea medicines for the last fifteen years, Rev now has the small intestine of a marmot.

Jeremiah Trotter knows about popping preemptive Imodium.

Ashley's family was INSANE (partially in a good way and partially in an insane way). As they talked in the living room, they all sat ON THE FLOOR, a ridiculous action that only comes from living in Maine. That being said, I totally want to move to Maine now and eat lobster and wear flannel shirts and shop on the honor system and eat cheese and gravy fries and buy stock in Imodium because that stuff is GOLD.

But all of that mishegas was just the appetizer before Emily's main course, as she served up a dish of fresh, golden child. I mean, how could Brad not be smitten? (Besides the fact that Emily comes with a FIVE-YEAR-OLD CHILD who was sired by her DEAD FIANCE who perished in a PLANE CRASH!) I must say though, I was so ridiculously happy when that goddamn butterfly kite got up in the air and brought a smile to that golden child's face. My non-mustached father once took me to a kite flying contest and we spent an hour and a half trying to get our kite in the air before we realized that a) it wasn't windy enough and b) we were in a strip club. Regardless, Brad couldn't have been happier with how his day with Emily and Ricki went, which brought a warm feeling in my heart, not unlike the feeling I get when I chug an entire bottle of Pepto-Bismol every morning.

Just sitting on the couch waiting for Brad to kiss her. And what does he do? ... NOTHING!

So three remain: 

Chantal - the gigantic breasted, ridiculously wealthy, roller-coaster ride of emotions whose mother will soon be appearing on Bravo with Andy Cohen.

Ashley - the bubbly, annoying, way too energetic Ivy League nutjob who has an overall positive attitude and wonderfully lined stomach.

Emily - the sweetheart southern single mom who has absolutely no negative qualities except for the fact that her emotional baggage would take around seventeen hours to pick up at any airport terminal.

Clearly the choice has to be Emily, although Chantal's cash-filled breasts would be tough to turn down.

Ashley has absolutely no shot. She needs to relax.

Who do you want The Bach to choose? Who do you think he'll choose? Who wants to move to Maine with me? Allons-y!

NBA All Star Weekend: So Apparently Kias Come With a Sunroof

Um, there's a car on a basketball court.

Do you ever have those moments in life where you realize that you have no idea what the hell is going on in the world? Like when you go to the mall and see black dudes wearing skinny jeans? Or when you go to buy a Peppermint Patty and it costs more than a dollar? Or when you actually attempt to communicate with a teenager?

Well, NBA All Star Weekend has officially become one of those "what the hell is going on?" events, because I'm pretty sure that I saw Blake Griffin dunk a basketball by JUMPING OVER A CAR! I also saw Justin Bieber hanging out with Jalen Rose, Kanye West in really tight, red leather pants and a human being BRING A CAR INTO AN ARENA AND JUMP OVER IT to dunk a basketball!  How does someone even practice this dunk?!?!

Blake:  Hey Charlie, can you bring your car in here? I wanna try something.

Charlie the Maintenence Man:  Uhh, sure, just bring my car around the front?

Blake:  No, bring your car in here, to the court.

Charlie:  What?

Blake:  You have a Kia, right? Just bring it in here. Park it right in front of the rim, in the paint.

Charlie:  Uhhh, Blake, this is a basketball gym.

Blake:  Yeah, I know. I'm gonna dunk a basketball while jumping over a car.

Charlie:  (Not talking, just staring at Blake, no idea what he's talking about.)

Blake:  Actually, does your car have a sunroof? Cause I've got another idea. Is Baron Davis still around, or did he leave?

Charlie:  Blake, I had trouble bringing in the ball rack this morning, did you see me? I banged it into the doorway and spilled the balls everywhere. Everybody yelled at me. How am I supposed to fit a car in here?

Blake:  I'm really hungry. I could go for a sandwich.

I guess I liked Blake's car dunk. It was cool and all, I mean, Blake Griffin did jump over a car. And it was really cute when Baron Davis popped his little head out of the sunroof and revealed himself, but I guess I'm just more of a traditionalist and prefer when people dunk basketballs by jumping really high and dunking really hard. Like Shawn Kemp, he would just jump really high, and dunk really hard and that would cause both me and Dikembe Mutombo to completely freak out because Shawn Kemp jumped REALLY HIGH and dunked REALLY HARD. And Dikembe was from The Congo where people LIVE IN HUTS.

No Dikembe, in America we clap our hands to show approval. We don't raise them. Except when we get arrested or listen to The Black Eyed Peas.

The Slam Dunk Contest also featured an African guy dunking while eating a stuffed animal and another guy dunking two basketballs on two different baskets. Also, there was another guy who just tried to dunk basketballs by just dunking basketballs, but he was bounced in the first round. Let's break it down.

Serge Ibaka - This aforementioned African decided it would be a good idea to have a little Asian child come onto the court prior to his second dunk and pretend to have lost his toy. The camera then panned to the hoop which had a small stuffed animal attached to the front of the rim and Ibaka assured the child he would retrieve his "toy." He then leaped into the air and snatched the toy with his mouth and bricked the dunk.

It was okay. I appreciated the creativity and the fact that Ibaka totally snatched the toy with his mouth, but it really bothered me that the commentators kept calling it a "toy." It was a stuffed animal. Like when I was a kid and my mother and older brother always referred to my WWF figurines as my "dolls." They were wrestling figures, not dolls. I wasn't playing with my dolls, I was playing with my wrestling figures! And yes, I also had the wrestling ring and would provide live commentary and would take a red marker and draw blood all over their faces, especially Big John Studd because he was an ASSHOLE. Anyway, I'm not hating on Serge Ibaka, I fully support his stuffed animal dunk (even though it took him two tries to execute).

That is a stuffed animal in his mouth. That he bit with his mouth. That was attached to the rim. During a dunk contest. On Planet Earth.

Nine year old Evster would've gone BONKERS for these figures!

Jevale McGee - McGee's two-ball / two-basket dunk would've been outrageous had it not taken him 37 tries to get it done. Bricked dunks totally deflate the contest (which we already knew after The Birdman and Nate Robinson blew dunk after dunk in previous years), but the judges are apparently perfectly fine with paying more than a buck for Peppermint Patties and were easily influenced by this year's gimmicks.

He missed this dunk. And like, twelve others.

DeMar DeRozan was the only guy who actually just dunked basketballs through a rim (and did so quite well!), although his gimmick of having a lady hold up a sign revealing the names of his dunks was really lame. At LEAST put her in a bikini, DeMar!

Look at BD popping out of that sunroof!  Cutest alley-oop ever.

Blake Griffin was a boss, though. Despite his last gimmick and overall mediocre performance, his 360 two-handed mega-miss on his first dunk was so bonkers that I totally don't fault the other guys for bringing in props and Chinese kids. I really hope next year Blake is challenged by LeBron, Dwight Howard and some sort of robot that dunks with it's feet. 

Jeff Hornacek is rolling over in his grave.

The Three Point Shootout has become the best event of All Star Saturday night, but was tainted this year because for the first time in the contest's history, NO WHITE PEOPLE were involved. This makes no sense to me. Even as a white person who hates white people and doesn't even respect outside shooters that much (I much prefer guys who go to the rack), I always like seeing white guys drain jumpers. In the previous twenty-three contests, THIRTEEN of the winners have been whities. (Whereas in twenty-six dunk contests there has only been one whitey winner, Brent Barry, whose wife recently cheated on him with Tony Parker, a black dude who has never made a three-pointer nor dunked a basketball, but has probably bedded THOUSANDS of women.) White people stroking threes is truly the only thing white people can be proud of these days. I guess you could make an argument that Regis Philbin is pretty cool, but as white people, we really don't have any positive male role models. Without a participant in this year's contest, quarterbacking and running the entire world for the last 30,000 years will have to suffice.

James E. Jones, not Jermaine, not J.J. Redick and not James Gumbel.

This year's shoot-out was won by Heat forward, James Jones, or as Rick Fox called him, "Jermaine Jones." I watched the contest with my wife and our friends, Law and Chicken, and Chickster kept calling him "James Earl Jones," a nickname that I can't believe I never thought of. James Earl is not a good basketball player, but can totally wap a three and based on the fact that the real James Earl Jones is sort-of Gumbel-esque, I think we can safely ingratiate James Jones as an honorary white dude. Also, James Earl was presented his Three-Point Shootout award by Foot Locker CEO, Dick Johnson (and I'm not kidding).

Earlier, Chickster told us that she had never had a B.L.T. before, which led Law and I to make B.L.T's, miss the WNBA shootout thing and question Chicken's upbringing. Later, she also revealed that Law's father always tells her that she looks exactly like Diana Taurasi, which Chickie finds very insulting. I assured her that I've always been VERY attracted to Taurasi and after Law pulled up these pictures of her on the web, Chickie felt a little better about being compared to a six-foot, steroid enhanced, professional women's basketball player who may or may not be a lesbian.

Bowling, anyone?

Nice paper-weight.

The T-Mobile Magenta Carpet Pre-game Show, or as it should here-on be known as,"The Absolute Shittiest Production in the History of Television" was co-hosted by Rick Fox and Maria Menounos aka The Absolute Shittiest Interviewer in magenta carpet history. Every one of her interviews started off with, "This is amazing, right?" and at one point while interviewing Amar'e Stoudemire, Maria asked him, "Is Carmelo Anthony here today?" Amare's response, "Uhhhh, yeah, he's playing for the West." Maria then giggled, showed off her perfectly shaved armpits and sent it back to the guys in the booth. F**K YOU MARIA!

My wife also pointed out that Cheryl and Reggie Miller are NEVER in the same place together, which led to her theory that they're the same person. Think about it, Cheryl came first, dominated women's college basketball and then morphed herself into Reggie and became a prolific three point assassin, unable to create his/her own shot. Plus, they look and act exactly alike and arguing with my wife is POINTLESS.

The All Star Game itself was great. Kobe went bonkers and LeBronski almost stole the MVP with a late game explosion. However, highlights for me included Dwight Howard referring to himself as "Chocolate Shoulders" and Rhianna's halftime performance where she once again proved that her lady-parts are VERY dangerous.

Bieber back to the ole "schwee-schwoop" hairstyle.

I also liked that the entire East starting five threw baby powder into the air with LeBron before the game. I am a HUGE advocate of using baby powder and seriously can't live without it. I rub it all over myself every morning and drive my wife INSANE because our entire changing room is covered in white powder. I'm not kidding, it's EVERYWHERE. But I can't not use it, it totally prevents chubb-rub and nothing else works!

Although, maybe skinny jeans are where it's at? They're certainly working for Bieber as he took home the MVP of the Celebrity Game on Friday night, thanks to his rapid fan base dominating the text messaging voting.

I honestly have no idea what's going on in this world, but I do know that I have to end this post now, because I'm not quite sure how my life has brought me to the point of considering to wear skinny jeans in order to prevent chubb rub and be more like Justin Beebs.

Plus, I need to go food shopping to prepare for our Bachelor viewing party tonight.

HOMETOWNS BABY!

Please kill me.

Little known fact: Rhianna is from the hometown of Bonkersville, Ohio.

I Don't Think You Realize How Excited I Am For NBA All Star Weekend

Who are five people who have never been in my living room, Alex?

This actually happened last night!!

And Justin Beebs won the MVP in the NBA All-Star Celebrity game. And he was on a team with Jalen Rose!!! ... Still to come this weekend:

Saturday night - Skills Competish, Three-Point Contest (no white people this year?!?!) and the Dunk Contest with Blake mothereffing Griffin! ... Please God, if you're out there, PLEASE have Dikembe Mutombo in attendance on the sidelines ... PLEASE?!?!

Sunday evening - Magenta Carpet Show (Kardashtastic!) and the All-Star Game itself (who cares?!)!

I've taken back the remote this weekend, yo! ... Full recap coming Monday (provided my head / boner doesn't explode) .... just drank 24 ounces of coffee, bing bong bing bong bing bong bing!

Mooties!

Hoya-palooza!

TVMWW's New Header Picture Contest!

This French Onion soup could be yours!

Got an email from my friend Schmoopie today suggesting I make a new header picture for this here blog-blog, because the Real Housewives of New Jerz are sooo 2010. I wrote him back saying this header took me five hours to make and that HE should make me a new header. He then responded by saying that he has a child and can't do anything anymore.

AND SO, I hereby announce the first ever TVMWW's New Header Picture Contest!

Send in your submissions to TVMyWifeWatches@gmail.com and I will display any and all pictures. The winner will get a free bowl of soup!

Also, yes, I totally realize that there's ZERO CHANCE that anybody out there will actually make a new header picture, but if you do, FREE BOWL OF SOUP!!! ... ANY SOUP!!! ... my personal favorite is French Onion, but that's just me!

Below are pictures of two other headers that I made that fateful night when I stayed up until 4:00 am concocting this shitbox of a blog.

***Evster's note 2/18:  received a few amazing submissions, thank you to all who submitted ... we'll end this contest on Wednesday and post the winner's new header and all submissions on Thursday. 

Almost went with this one!

I still haven't blogged about the Kardashians ... WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!

Wednesday's Wifey: Coco aka The Most Interesting Woman in the World

Choosing which picture of Coco and Ice-T to use was VERY difficult.

Welcome to a new weekly feature here on TV My Wife Wizzles, "Wednesday's Wifey," where I will be profiling a different wife every Wednesday who may or may not have full control over her husband's remote.

To be honest, I have no idea what "profiling a different wife" means and am not sure what "Wednesday's Wifey" is going to be like, but I was just brainstorming ideas while trimming my eyebrows the other day and this one sounded good.

The inspiration comes from Coco, Ice-T's wife who posts the weekly tweets, "Titty Tuesday" and "Thong Thursday." Amazingly, even though I'm more of a titty man, I actually like "Thong Thursday" more. Possibly because Coco has one of the most bonkers asses you'll ever see. So why not have Coco be TVMWW's first ever Wednesday's Wifey?!?!

That's an interesting move, Coco.

My friend Aubre turned me onto Coco with this tweet of her own:

If you guys don't follow @cocosworld  you're living a f***ing lie. Also missing a lot of pictures of her INSANE ass. Re-evaluate your life!

That pretty much sums it up.

You can follow Coco on Twitter or read her blog, aptly named "The Coco Blog."

Also, here's an old post that Aubre and I wrote together before I truly appreciated Coco and her RIDICULOUS butt. Aubre and The Evster analyze Law and Order: SVU here.  

Westminster Dog Show: Hickory Gets To Have Steak Tonight!

Ghost dog!

A Scottish Deer Hound (or "Ghost Dog" as my wife called it) named Hickory won best in show at last night's Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show at Madison Square Gards.

Instead of rambling about the show, here's a link to The Daily Comet in LaFourche Paris, Louisiana (where else?!) and their write-up on the event. If I were reporting on it (which I guess I am), I'd just say that last night I saw soooooooo many sets of dog balls.

Here are pictures of dogs, courtesy of the New York Times. 

The Bachelor: Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Pictures Online

Yeah, just laying on the beach with three hot chicks, not that big of a deal. Oh, and one of them happens to have her elbow on my crotch.

So my Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue arrived yesterday but there is NO SPREAD of the women from The Bachelor. HOWEVER, there are pictures of the girls on SI.com.

You can view Chantal's pictures here.
Michelle's here.
And Ashley's here.

Chantal is by far the hottest (and most vulnerable which takes her hotness to a whole new level).

Jeopardy! Follow Up: Watson is a Boss

You better crack them knuckles, Jennings. Watson is running this town!

While Wheel of Fortune gears up for day three of "Teen Best Friends Week" (not kidding), Jeopardy! enters the final day of their 3-day "Man vs. Machine" tournament as two humans (not proven) take on IBM's mega-computer, Watson.

So far, after two days, it's been a total whitewash as Watson is destroying Jeopardy!'s all-time champs, Ken Jennings and some other guy. But it's not because Watson's smarter, he's just able to buzz-in quicker! The two human nerds TOTALLY know all the answers too. Not fair!

However, the human race got the last laugh during last night's Final Jeopardy. The category was “U.S. Cities,” and the clue: “Its largest airport is named for a WWII hero. Its second largest for a WWII battle.”

And Watson answered, "Toronto!!"

Toronto's not even in the United States, Watson! At least not until our evil computers take over Canada!

Watson currently leads by over $20,000.

I am terrified of the future.

I am also terrified of "Teen Best Friends." Adolescents are dangerous!

Here's a link to the NYT's articles from today and yesterday.  And a link to my Jeopardy! vs. Wheel of Fortune post here.

The Bachelor: Just Waiting Patiently for my Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue To Arrive ... Not That Big of a Deal, I'm Not Sweating.

Will someone from North Philly please shoot me in the nuts?

So apparently there's a place in this world called Anguilla where mermaids dance and locals prance and people play Dominos allllll day long while listening to Carribean music and ordering Domino's pizza. A place where Coco would be free to have Thong Thursday everyday and where I would get sunburnt in a matter of minutes. A real life Utopia. Anguilla. The same place where I took those six chicks that I was dating that one time and made sure to always wear my bathing suit under my dinner clothes.

I live in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the gun murder capitol of the world. A place where if I saw a mermaid walking down the street, I would totally shoot it in the face. A walking fish would be terrifying! I once went snorkeling in Hawaii and I seriously wanted to harpoon some of those motherf***ing fish. They was crowding me, yo!  And trying to eat my pizza!

But there is no reason for any human being to live in Philadelphia. I lived in Boston for five years and eventually found a pretty decent cheesesteak. It's honestly so stupid that I don't live in Anguilla. DID YOU SEE THAT PLACE?!?! I bet they eat fresh fish on a stick!

Get at me frog!

Not to mention, BANKIE BANX. I just looked him up on Wikipeeds and found out that he's been around since 1963 when he BUILT HIS FIRST GUITAR. A little rude of Brad and Shawntel to go for a dip in the middle of his performance.

Brad:  I mean, this Bankie Banx guy is dope and all, but ....

Shawntel:  There's an ocean right there.

Brad:  There's a giant ocean right there! And it'd be silly not to go for a dip. I mean, I've got my bathing suit on underneath these pants.

Shawntel:  I've got mine on too!

Brad:  I don't think Bankie would mind.

Shawntel:  Why would Bankie mind?!?! He's like 90 years old!

Brad:  Let's go make out in the ocean! ... (runs toward ocean)

Shawntel:  I love you what I didn't say anything, I didn't just say I love you after two dates, I love you, I seriously do, don't make me go back to the house with Michelle, she said she was gonna carve me like a fish, can you even carve a fish? Coming!

When I say "boing," you say "boing." "Boing, _____!"

There was all sorts of lawlessness going on last night: ditching Bankie Banx, topless photo shoots, Brad's blatant inability to follow rules (he promised Emily a rose when he wasn't allowed to)! Where was Chris Harrison to regulate? Shouldn't he have stepped in at some point? I mean, seriously, WHERE WAS Chris Harrison? What does he do the entire time he's in Anguilla besides deliver a couple pieces of mail and keep his hair the EXACT same length the entire time?

Producer:  Hey Chris, we're gonna shoot that scene now where you drop off that envelope and say like, four words, okay?

Chris Harrison  (laying back in a lounge chair, eating a fish on a stick and drinking the same green Ecto Cooler drink that the ladies were drinking on their Grouper):  All right, all right, gimme a sec. 

Producer:  Uh, Chris, we need to shoot this scene now. You've been saying that for like, an hour now and we need the natural sunlight.

Chris Harrison:  Shut up! JUST SHUT UP!! Do you see this green drink?!?! You can't get this isht in LA! It's friggin green! I'm finishing this drink. And then I'm going for a dip. I'm in Anguilla! ... F***king dominos and isht. Domino's pizza, yo. Domino's f***ing pizza. I'm Chris Harrison. Domino's pizza (falls asleep, fish on a stick falls and lands on his giant pile of cash).

While Chris basked in the sun, it seemed as if The Bachelor's other employees were also getting drunk as the editors totally butchered the scene where Brad and Emily picnicked on a deserted island. One second Brad and Emily's hair was dry, the next it was dripping wet. Either way, one thing was clear after Brad and Emily's one-on-one, Chantal has HUGE cans. 

Did you see those things?!?! During the Sports Illustrated swimsuit photo shoot (by the way, "DURING THE SI SWIMSUIT PHOTO SHOOT?!?!" WHO DOES THIS SHOW THINK IT IS?!?!), Chantal O proved to definitely be the hottest chick (even though she's also the dumpiest). And I know, I know, she's not dumpy, she's not dumpy! but for this show, with these other VERY thin women, she's a little dumpy. And I like her dumpiness! I like her dumpiness! Actually, she's not even dumpy! Just dumpy next to anorexic people! That's all! Anyway, the scene where the wet sand dripped into her belly button officially rocketed her to level 9, supreme bonkers status. Between sand sloshing over her navel and Rhianna's twat thrusts last night, my head is officially ready to explode (and honey, if you're reading this, I want the remains of my brains to be sloshed over Chantal's midsection if I do in fact die before you this week ... thank you).

Bankie Banx runs on this stuff.

Britt had no chance from the start; partially because she weighs 60 pounds, but mostly because she has no breasts. Those two negatives may be related, but I honestly have no idea how the female form works, nor do I understand how Britt is a food writer.

Gotta admit, even though she is boobless, I felt a little bad for Britt when she was let go and had to return back to the villa to face the other women.

Ashley:  Oh my God, what happened?

Britt:  I'm going home guys, Brad and I just didn't work together.

Michelle:  Oh my God, let me help you get your things.

Chantal:  Oh my God, I can't believe it, are you really going Britt? Oh my God, make sure you pack your blue sandals.

Michelle:  Yeah, and your bathing suit from earlier is still hanging up in the bathroom, I'll go get it for you. Side compartment of your suitcase?

Ashley:  This is really sad. You should eat something. 

Britt:  I'll be okay guys, I'm just really sad right now ...

Michelle:  Got your suit! It's not quite dry, but that's okay, I'll just jam it in your suitcase. And here's your passport. Now, you better get outta here, those lines at the airport can be brutal!

With Britt gone, Ashley getting a rose, Emily promised one and Shawntel being calm, cool, relaxed and not an emotional wreck like the others, the rose ceremony came down to Michelle and Chantal (and her ridiculously incredible taters).

For as big and wonderful as Chantal's breasts are, she needs to have more faith in them. She can't be crying and freaking out all the time. If it wasn't for that red, netted bikini that SOMEHOW hid her nipple, Brad would've sent her home on the spot, but I'm convinced he spent their entire conversation looking for her nip. Where was that thing? That scene was so tantalizing.

Just gonna put my finger on your thigh here. No big deal. How's your blood pressure?

When The Bach finally sent Michelle packing, my wife and I legitimately screamed out "yessssssss!" and then immediately felt badly when they flashed to Michelle looking like a weathered 30 year old single mother who bangs NBA All Stars. Gotta hand it to her for keeping her isht together though and especially for not taking Brad's hand when he walked her out. I've never been dumped on an island paradise while on a reality TV show, but I imagine I wouldn't want my hand held by my dumper either.

I'll tell ya what I do want though:

THAT SPORTS ILLUSTRATED SWIMSUIT ISSUE TO ARRIVE ALREADY!!

WHERE IS MY MAILMAN?!?!

I seriously want to shoot him in the face!

DOMINO MOTHERF***ER!!

For now, you can check out Chantal's SI pictures here. 

The Grammys: I Now Understand What "Rock 'N Roll Hoochie Koo" Means

Please be the next Bachelorette, please be the next Bachelorette!

My car's radio is stuck on FM, literally unable to flip over to AM stations, because when my mechanic installed my new radiator, he broke my stereo system. It's a real drag because I like to listen to sportstalk, but it's also great for tonight's Grammy post because I totally know who Bruno Mars is. I also know Drake, Nicki Minaj and the words to almost every Rhianna song because she is awesome. For the record, even if my car's radio worked properly I would still know these artists because I spent the last four years teaching middle school I'm an absolute loser. I also like anything by Ludacris including that jawn , "How low can you go?" that he made with Alvin and the Chipmunks. 

So as I settled in to watch the Grammys tonight, I decided to keep a running time-line of the night's event.

Here it is:

5:58 - All right, as I plop down on the couch with my laptop, two hours before showtime, I have a few questions about what this night will entail: How many times will we hear the word Bieber? And just how swoopy will his hair be? I went to Wegmans this weekend and counted Beebs on the cover of thirteen different magazines and I'm not kidding. Also, Wegmans is absolutely bonkers ... I'm also very curious as to what Lady Gaga will wear. And why do I get the feeling that it will somehow include a live fetus? ... Is Arcade Fire good? ... What is Lady Antebellum? ... How long will I be able to sit here with this ridiculously hot computer on my thighs? ... This laptop is seriously BOILING and my legs are sweating so much. Something needs to be done. Gimme a sec.

6:03 - Okay, now I've got a pillow in between my laptop and my thighs and I'm having a hard time balancing my computer on the mushy pillow. This is very challenging. I also just put on E!'s Live From the Red Carpet pregame show and recognize that it's time to change the name of this blog from "TV My Wife Watches" to "Okay, I Admit It, This Is TV that I Watch."

Beebs, just moments before his bonkers handshake / hug with Seacrest.

6:04 - While my wife hops in the shower, Lady Goggs is spotted by Ryan Seacrest and it seems as if she's being carried around in a giant shell. Also, the dudes that are carrying her are wearing gold underwear (and nothing else). I knew this was going to be a great night! (even if I do get testicular cancer from this laptop).

6:15 - Nicki Minaj shows up in a giant leopard print / Lady Frankenstein outfit that makes me all the more thankful that my AM radio is broken. Nicki Minaj is INSANE and sports talk radio is BORING.

6:31 - Lady Gaga arrives in her giant embryonic egg and her agent? hair stylist? Zumba instructor? tells Seacrest that she "won't be born until her performance." She then proceeds to use the word "incubating" four times in the next minute. No, make that five. Meanwhile, Lady Goggs is in the background waving from her gigantic egg. Are we sure this isn't a David Blaine stunt? After Seacrest attempts to put the microphone up to Gogger's egg to ask her a question, Goggy presses her hand up to the egg's surface and AS-I'M-TYPING THIS, I'm realizing that this paragraph needs to end, now.

6:45 - My buddy Law shows up at my house to pick up his keys that he left in my car last night and after I invite him and his wife in to watch, he tells me that he thinks the Grammys are kinda dumb. His wife, Chicken, then asks if I saw Gaga's egg and we both freak out because The Gogger totally came out in a giant egg! Realizing that this blog blog post could break the 40,000 word mark, I'm calling a mandatory time-out considering it's only 45 minutes into the pregame show and this night is ALREADY BONKERS!!!

Been there, done that Gaga!

7:15 - Okay, it is IMPOSSIBLE not to blog about this, because Ricky Martin just showed up in metallic silver tight tight tight pants! (I mean, tight, like, tighter than Russell Brand's pants tight.) Okay, I'm going back in time out. They're seriously so tight though!

7:16 - Wait a minute, my wife just looked over my shoulder and read that last line and said that she had those same exact silver pants in high school. TIME OUT MEANS TIME OUT, EV. Be back at 8:00.

7:36 - After Seacrest asks Russell Brand how he got to LA Fitness so quickly after hosting SNL last night, Russell tells him about the Orville brothers' new invention of a flying train. Minutes later, we have our first Bieber sighting of the evening. Beebs is dressed in an all-white tux and gives Seacrest one of those handshake / high five / back patting / hug type greetings. After the interview, Beebles flashes a peace sign to the camera. Peace Bieber! 

Also, I've recently started following Carolina Panthers' linebacker, Dan Connor (@DanConnor55) on Twitter and he is a VERY funny dude. Here was his post from Friday, the night Bieber's new movie opened. 

Quick question. If I go to the Justin Bieber movie alone tonight, will I have to register as a sex offender before or after the movie starts?

8:02 - And we're off! The show opens with a dedication to Aretha Franklin with Christina Ags and four or five other people that I've never heard of singing "Natural Woman." Christina Ags is freaking out and is the early front runner for the person who most needs to calm the hell down. We're two minutes in and this night is already out of control. I hate the Grammys.

8:15 - Okay, this sentence was just spoken in my living room by a real, live human (my wife), "Gwyneth Paltrow is performing tonight with Cee Lo Green and the Muppets." I love the Grammys!

They couldn't tell Rowlf about this photo shoot? That's messed up.

8:20 - First award of the evening: Best something by a Pop Duo or Group. Glee is nominated. Oh God, please don't let them win. Hmmmm, Train is also nominated, for their song "Hey Soul Sister." We actually like that song!! Now I feel badly about making fun of them on The Bachelor. And holy smokes, they won! The lead singer just thanked Bieber for not being in a duo or group and that's kinda funny! I like these guys! I'm gonna break the record for exclamation points tonight!

8:22 - And here's Ricky Martin in his tight tight silver pants introducing Lady Goggs. This is going to be very dramatic.

Wawa-weewa. The Gogger's shoulders are OUTRAGEOUS as are THE HORNS ON HER HEAD. She just broke out of her embryo and is singing a song called "Born this way." Clearly this will become a gay anthem, which is nice for gay people, but I honestly think Ricky's tight pants are doing more for the gay community. Lady Goggs ends her act by giving "the claw" a la Iron Mike Sharpe.

Blame Canada.

8:32 - CBS runs a commercial for a future episode of CSI that guest stars Bieber. I may have to watch my first ever episode of CSI. Some lady named Miranda Lambert follows up by singing a song about love, or death or something, I dunno. I doubt she can even spell CSI. I can't wait for those Muppets.

8:39 - Lenny Kravitz introduces a performance by Muse leading my wife to say she loves Muse and me to ask who Muse are. Then they start playing some song and I realize that I love Muse too, but just didn't know who Muse was until I heard them singing their Muse song. One guy has a silvery sparkly jacket and another dude has a double neck guitar. Ummmmmm, I'm pretty sure there's guys running around bashing stuff and one of them just got taken away by security. It might've been staged though. I don't know what's going on, but Rock 'N Roll is totally awesome. It's a shame they produce this stupid show and invite people like Miranda Lambert. Turns out those guys bashing stuff were totally staged. I hate Rock 'N Roll and I can't believe how hot my legs are.

8:49 - A guy named B.O.B. is wearing a monocle.

8:50 - B.O.B. has dropped his monocle.

8:51 - I just googled how to properly spell "monocle" and SO MANY people were tweeting about said monocle. I'd write more jokes about monocles and Mr. Peanut or how I'm totally gonna start calling B.O.B. "Bob," but talking about monocles was SO one minute ago. Mr. Peanut is timeless though. So is anyone named Bob.

Everybody in the background of this picture has their hands covered by their sleeves. Is it really that cold there? And if so, why aren't they wearing heavier jackets?

8:58 - A couple white guys come out to present an award and my wife asks if that's Train again. They're presenting the award for female country vocal and that Miranda Lambert lady wins. That's nice for her.

9:05 - It's Bieber time. They start by showing an old clip of him and Usher, who apparently is his mentor. Beebs starts off playing an acoustic guitar while a bunch of thirtyish looking women watch him longingly. One of them may or may not be Miranda Lambert. Okay, the guitar is gone now, that lasted about as long as Bob's monocle. And now there are drumming ninjas on stage.

9:09 - Oh God, Will Smith's son has joined Beebles and he's wearing leopard print pants. This is embarrassing. When did Will Smith become dumb? I mean, I know he's been dumb for a while now, but it's so disappointing, especially because he's originally from Philly. Beanie Sigel would never let his offspring do this.

9:10 - And here's Usher, wearing pants that are really saggy in the crotch which my wife tells me are called "drop crotch pants." I ask her if that's really a thing and she tells me to google it. I do so and find out it IS a thing, but NO ONE is currently tweeting about it.

9:14 - Muse wins the award for Best Rock Album, beating out Neil Young, the first actual respected musician I've seen tonight. Then, some lady's voice announces to "Stay tuned for Barbara Streisand," further proving that I have absolutely no idea what's going on right now.

9:21 - Donnie Wahlbergh???? The inventor of drop crotch pants presents for Best Pop Vocal Album and Lady Gaga beats out Justin Beeblestein and someone else. Oh God, she's definitely gonna talk about her "little monsters."

And she does, giving an over-exaggerated speech where she claims to have channeled her inner Whitney Houston. I gotta say it, I gotta say it (even if it means my wife will desert me), I AM OVER LADY GOGGS! I get it, she's uber uber strange (which is cool) and does some bonkers stuff, but I can't take it when she talks! It's hard to say that any lady who wears fake shoulders and horns on her head takes herself too seriously, but she takes herself way too seriously. I'm putting her in time-out! 

9:25 - Mumford and Sons, The Avett Brothers and Bob Dylan!!!! An awesome triumvirate even though I'm not quite sure who Mumford and Sons and the Avett Brothers are. I do know I like them though and the dude who's currently singing looks like Tim Tebow. I google image the Avett Brothers to see which group Tim Tebow is in and totally can't tell.

I do know that Bob Dylan looks like exactly like Vincent Price these days and wonder why he's singing "Maggie's Farm." I mean, he could've chosen any song to sing. Not that I don't like "Maggie's Farm," I do, but I guess he's got revolution on his mind after this whole Egypt thing. The next eight minutes happen to be the only eight minutes where my wife and I didn't do anything but watch.

9:33 - Text message from Law saying that Bob Dylan shouldn't sing anymore. I disagree! It's just a different sound! That guy can do anything and I'd be okay with it, including getting the Bieber-Swoop hairstyle or collaborating with The Fresh Prince.

Tebow?

9:40 - Clay Matthews? A little under-dressed. He and the girl from Glee introduce Lady Antebellum leading me to now know who Lady Antebellum is (not just a lady)!  I realize I actually like them and that one song they sing about love or death or I dunno, portobellums. Oooooh, they're singing it! "It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need portabellums now!"

9:46 - Jamie Foxx presents Cee-Loo and Gwyneth and THE MUPPETS!!

I WONDER WHAT MUPPETS WE'LL SEE!!!

HOLY GUACAMOLE!!! ... Cee Lo is wearing an absolutely bonkers Mummers-esque outfit and WHO ARE THESE MUPPETS?!?!? Where's the Muppet band? With Animal on drums and Rowlf on piano and that lady with the blonde braids and Asian eyes? I don't even think these are actual Muppets!!! ... THESE ARE LOOK-ALIKE SABRA MUPPETS!!! but that's definitely Gwyneth and that's definitely her cleave, err, chest cavity. Um, Gwyneth is now dancing on a piano.

This picture does not do this outfit justice.

9:57 - We have a Katy Perry sighting! And her breasts are looking bong-bong-tastic! In fact, those bongers single-handedly (or double-handedly) make her infinitely more attractive than Gwyneth. I mean, Gwyneth is pretty, but Katy Perry's bong-a-longas just take her to a whole new level. Also that video for "Teenage Dream" is total porno.

10:02 - Hey, Norah Jones is still alive! She's singing "Jolene" by Dolly Parton while they flash pictures behind her of a young Dolly who looked exactly like Emily from The Bachelor. Norah and John Mayer present the award for Song of the Year and John Mayer looks really drugged out. Good for him.

10:13 - Seth Rogan tells a joke about getting high with Miley Cyrus back stage, which probably secretly makes Miley so happy. He introduces a song by Eminem, Rhianna and Dr. Dre that is sure to be friggin' awesome. 

10:16 - I apologize for using the term "friggin' awesome," but this is friggin' awesome. My wife somehow missed the whole Eminem craze of the last decade so her eyes are bulging out of her skull. I mean, she didn't MISS it, but never reallllly paid attention to the guy. Look, I hate white people, but I still acknowledge that he's the best of all time. He makes me want to rob a bank. 

10:21 - Best New Artist, which is actually a great category with some artists that I like: Beebs, Drake, Mumford and Sons and Florence and the Machine ... and who wins?. ... Esperanza Spalding! who apparently is a woman. My wife likes "her little spoofle sparfles" in her dress. Beebs looks distraught. Drake looks calm as isht.

Kim Kardash won an award for best kneecap. YOU CAN'T DENY IT!

10:34 - 10:50 - Mick Jagger and Barbara Streisand perform (not together). Mick runs around in tight pants (the least surprising occurrence of the evening) and proves that he's still a boss. Barbara just stands there and sings a song that's definitely about love and proves that she too is a boss (in the eyes of every Jewish woman over the age of sixty and one blogger who may or may not currently be growing his hair out in order to rock a Bieber.) 

10:51 - Nominees for Best Rap Album:  Drake, Eminem, Jay-Z, The Roots and Bob. Eminem wins and looks REALLY skinny, not as skinny as Mick Jaggs, but skinny enough to realize he was totally on steroids a few years ago. 

10:59 - Rhianna and Drake give us the moment of the evening (and maybe the greatest moment of my life) as Nanna moves her nanna in a way that I didn't know any woman could (with the exception of Barbara Streisand.) I mean, she seriously gyrated her hips and twatteral area in a corkscrew manner that would make any man's Bieber's head explode. She gets my award for best twat.

Look closely in the background, that's Chris Brown setting his balls on fire.

11:03 - Record of the Year goes to Lady Antebellum which just seems strange considering I just saw a woman grind her va-jay-jay in a way that I've never seen a woman do (since Yentl).

11:22 - Album of the Year: Barbara tells us the nominees are: Arcade Fire, Eminem, Lady Antebellum, Lady Goggs and Katy Perry ... and the winner is ... Arcade Fire? Wow, they seem almost as suprised as we do. Then again, I think my wife might be asleep. Also, it's totally past Bieber's bedtime.

Before I sign off, one last award to the Most Bonkers Moment of the Night. The nominees are: Gaga's embryo, Cee Lo's mummers outfit, the fact that he MADE HIS OWN Muppets, Rhianna's ability to unscrew a Mountain Dew bottle with her yim-yim, and Lady Antebellum and Arcade Fire winning awards that totally should've gone to black people.

And the winner is ...............

Bieber and Seacrest's handshake / hug combo!

Wow! And they weren't even nominated!

Nor was that moment even THAT bonkers, but it was still bonkers enough to win Most Bonkers Moment of the Night as the young Bieber and maturing Seacrest managed to make a routine handshake greeting that's been performed numerous times by white people to look difficult. Congrats Beebcrest!

Otis Day and the Knights, take us outta here with Gramma Lamma Ding Dong! ... audio only, but still awesome.

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