My Boy Fred Frinks Goes Off On A Mini-Rant About New Bachelorette, Emily Maynard

I've never seen anybody have a stronger grip on a water bottle. 

The following is an email from my friend Fred Frinks after Emily Maynard was announced as the new Bachelorette:


If I wanted to watch some sad sap with emotional baggage hem and haw about commitment and second guess themselves and every decision they made in life, I'd put a webcam in my college roommate's apartment and call it "The Spectacular Turd of College Park, Maryland." 


I'll give you an exclusive pre show recap: 


She'll enter the show with reservations but will eventually concede that she's confident that her husband is "in this room." She'll cut dudes every week even though she thinks they're nice guys, and eventually grow close to two or three of them. They'll be head over heels in love with her and try way too hard to put her at ease as they assure her that they're there for the right reasons and they always wanted a step daughter and they love her for who she is, even with her imperfections and giant Mr. Ed caps. They'll have hometowns and everyone will love her and she'll fit right in and it will seem like she's already part of the family and everyone will have everyone else's blessing. Then she'll take her final 3 to the "most romantic place in the world", Manila, where they'll all be shacked up in thatch huts, and she'll have 3 one-on-one dates where there will be forced conversation and a grand total of 6 meals that won't get eaten (even though everything is "perfect") and 3 keys that open up the private love shacks that will go unused because SHE WON'T F*CK ANYBODY.  She'll pick some dude and by the time after the final rose airs they'll already be splitsville. 

This chick is the worst possible choice for this show. She's the worst type of crazy. She's the annoying, in her head crazy. All the insanity is in her head.  Thats not good TV crazy.  I want Michelle Money crazy. Or that blogger chick crazy. I want a Bachelorette who will either f*ck an NBA all star, stab a bitch, sh*t in a sock, or drink herself into a crying muttering blogging mess every Monday night. That's what I want. It's what we deserve. 

Starcasm.net can take a sh*t.

Evster's note (specifically written to Nooch): The opening line of Fred Frinks's rant was NOT really about his college roommate. I changed it to protect the anonymity of who it was really about. Fred's college roommate actually had (and still has) one of the strongest relationships of anyone I know. I also haven't spoken to him in almost a decade. 


Also, Fred put more time and effort into constructing this email than he has in the last five years of fantasy football.