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. 

Great Moments in Bachelorette History: Ed Wears the Shortest Shorts Ever

Grainiest picture ever? Probably for the best.

After announcing last week that I would be blogging about the Real Housewives of Beverly Clearly every week, a person named Anonymous posted this in TVMWW's comments section:

"Looking forward to the Bach"

Now some bloggers might've taken this to mean, "Hey, love reading your blog. Looking forward to the Bach and reading about it here. Smell ya later."

But I took it to mean, "Hey, I don't care if you write about Welcome Back Kotter, I'm not reading this sham of a website. Looking forward to the Bach in January. Take a shit."

So seeing as this blog gets twice as many hits during Bach season as it does during the off-season, it's time to wrangle those readers back in with Great Moments in Bachelorette History.

Seconds after this picture was taken, this kangaroo blasted Kiptyn right in the tit.

The Season: I dunno, twelve? Does the Bachelorette even have numbered seasons?

The Bachelorette: Jillian. I guess I should've just written, "Season: Jillian."

What Happened?: Ed Wore the Shortest Shorts Ever

Quote Muttered in Front of a TV Somewhere: "Yo, your boy better have brought some extra sunscreen."

Background: This was the season where Wes weaseled his way into the final four -- going on the show FOR THE WRONG REASONS -- and secretly promoted his album the entire time. My wife couldn't stand him, not because he was a jerk, but because she was convinced that he had gotten botox injections in his forehead (and ya gotta admit, this guy had a VERY smooth forehead). After Wes was booted, Jillian was left to choose from Kiptyn, Reid Rosenthal (real name! real Jew!) and Ed who had come back just a week before to see if he and Jillian had "something." It was probably the least shocking return in the history of television, not because it wasn't shocking -- it was -- but because no one really remembered who the hell Ed was.

You see, Ed was never really relevant. He was a bit boring, a bit stiff and was pretty much a total snooze. So when he came back to her, no one thought the big fella had a chance.

Nice jacknife. Kinda looks like he might bash his head on the side of the pool though? Also, how clean is that pool?! 

And then ...

The Moment: He broke out the shorts.

If my memory serves me correctly (and I seriously have NO IDEA), I kinda remember Daddy Long Legs breaking out his shorts on a group date boat ride and just hopping aboard like it ain't no thang. He was showing A LOTTA thigh and his legs looked like two long, smooth sticks of butter. Just two long, oiled up, smooth sticks of butter that someone had dropped into a pile of hair and attached feet to.

And the amazing thing was, no one really called him on it! How did one of the other guys not say, "Yo dude, it's nice to see you and all, and I admire you for not shaving your chest, that's a bold move in itself, but those are the shortest mothereffing shorts I've ever seen. Seriously, no man has worn trunks that short since 19 ought 6. Did you get those from Jim Thorpe? Seriously, check the back of those jawns -- is "Thorpe" written on the tag? Is the tag made of burlap? Did clothes even have tags back then? How much does the burlap itch? Be honest."

Everyone just sort of went with it!

And so did Jillian.

Where is he swinging to? 

I'd give Mark Aguirre a rose. Also, how dirty are Ralph's sneaks?

My wife is convinced that Ed's short shorts were what vaulted him above the other contestants. I mean, here was a man who was confident enough -- so confident in fact -- that he was prancing around like Kermit the Motherfuckin' Frog. And he did it at a time when no one was wearing short shorts. Not even Christiano Ronaldo.

And I gotta admit ... I kinda liked 'em!

You gotta remember that dudes these days grew up during the Fab Five era and baggy shorts are like peanut butter and jellz -- a staple. In fact, some people (like myself) have an actual sickness where we look in the mirror and never feel like our shorts are never baggy enough. It's like we're anorexic for baggy shorts. I even once bought a pair of capris and tried to pretend they were just baggy shorts. And I'm not even yoking! Looking back, I was way ahead of my time. I have no doubt that Christiano Ronaldo has some capris in his wardrobe.

Of course, Ed and Jillian fell in love, got engaged and then broke up. Maybe Jillian got tired of seeing his hairy thighs. Maybe he got sick of showing off his balls. But respect due, big Ed. Respect due.

I bet John Stockton's wife is hot as a mug.

This picture was taken in 2008.

How is this even possible?!?! Total Ram Sergeant. 

Amazing picture on so many levels. Also, how great does Mariah's hair look here?

I'm thinking of replying to some reader emails and comments in a post soon. So send in your thoughts or IT questions to TVMyWifeWatches@gmail.com. Orrrrrrrrrrrrr, check out this ridiculous video of a guy throwing a frisbee into basketball hoops. Orrrrrrrr, read some older posts from Great Momes in Bach History. 

Reader Mailbag - Bachelor Pad, The World's Worst People and High School Chicks

Apparently George The Animal Steele couldn't get an invite?

After posting last week about True Butt, I decided to make a concerted effort to cut down on butt jokes, dick jokes, titty-talk, etc. I’m not sure what the goal of this blog is – I guess it’s to get paid – but I can’t imagine anyone ever hiring me to write about clam-cocks. That being said, leaving out those jokes is REALLY HARD. Well, anyway, here are some emails from people who apparently are into that sort of thing.

Subject: worst show in the world

We've talked about how I soak myself in antiseptic after being made to watch the Kardashians, and how I have to leave the room when Sex and The City is on, but I've recently come home from work during lunch and been subject to a show that made me so mad I couldn't even eat. These goddamn doctors on Grey's Anatomy are making googly eyes at each other in the middle of a fucking spleen surgery. Do your fucking job, doctor!

- Nate, Boston

Thank God my wife doesn’t watch Grey’s Anatomy, ‘cause that would drive me crazy – and when I say crazy, I mean crazy-horny. Seriously, is there anything hotter than a lady with a stethoscope? I’ve never seen the show – and I imagine it’s terrible – but my mother has a story that she likes to tell about inappropriate doctor stuff.

Around twenty years ago, my father was in the hospital for some routine surgery, and after he got zonked out on anesthesia, a nurse came in to check on him and was blown away when she saw the size of his balls. (For the record, my father has enormo-balls). So the nurse excuses herself, and returns minutes later with three other nurses, lifts up my dad’s sheet, and they all giggle like crazy. My mom claims she saw the whole thing and quite frankly, I think she’s actually proud to tell the story, like, “Hey, look at me, I married a dude with ox-balls.”

My wife (unclear how she feels about my scrote) actually watches 90210 when I’m not around, and it’s so frustrating to return home to. First of all, THAT SHOW SUCKS, and secondly, white people claim to watch it because “it’s hilarious!” and “Andrea is a slut!” but they’re lying - they actually like it! My wife gets legitimately angry with me when I make fun of the plotlines, to the point where she’s like, “Would you stop moaning and groaning and calling Andrea “Andrew”?! I don’t make fun of your shows! I don’t complain when Kevin Prince Boateng is friggin’ rolling around on the ground, pretending to be hurt in some soccer match. If you don’t wanna watch this show, then go upstairs and play with your balls that PALE in comparison to your father’s by the by!”

By the by, Kim Kardash is getting married this weekend to a guy whose career scoring average is 5.6 ppg.

If that's not the look of a guy who just jizzed in his pants, then my name's not Stan Furbletales.

Subject: TVMWW Reader Emails

There's going to be 17, high school aged girls on the stage in bathing suits and slutty dresses tomorrow night. Excited?

- Aubre, Illadelph

Aubre is referring to the 2011 Miss Ocean City Pageant that I attended last week (and where my wife was a judge) and let me just say IT WAS INCREDIBLE. Of the seventeen contestants, I’d say 85% of them could beat me in an arm-wrestling match - and not just because I have baloney arms - these ladies were jacked! I feel a little baaaad ripping on high-school girls, so I’ll try not to, but seriously, a couple of them had shoulders like goddamn mules!

One girl (who was possibly from Nebraska) sang the saddest song during the talent competition - Christina Perri’s “Jar of Hearts” – and you could totally feel her pain. It was as if she was singing it to some surfer dude who probably copied her biology homework and ended up hooking up with her best friend. It was so sweet and so sad and so powerful and so melancholy and gave me the absolute biggest erection.

Subject: The Daughter From Real Housewives of NJ

Worst person on television? Or worst person in the world?

King Hippo slut pic?

- Dave, Boston

The socks and sandals is an interesting touch.

Wow, that’s certainly a dude wearing a King Hippo outfit.

You know, ever since I compared Ashley to The Fuhrer earlier this week, I’ve felt a little baaad. Not as baaad as I feel about comparing those pageant girls to livestock, but baaad. And I’ve been thinking, is she reallllly the worst person in the world? Let’s see how she stacks up next to the other worst people on the planet.  

Shawn Bradley - Most embarrassing basketball player ever. I mean, what is even going on in this picture? I hate white people.

Bentley - Is that a Mighty-Mac jacket? What the hell is wrong with Utah?

Chris Wheeler - Phillies broadcaster. Hasn't shut up since 19 ought 6.

Joe Giudice - Sort of shocked he's not wearing all-white sneakers in this picture. May be unfair to include him in this list considering he's probably having loads of trouble adjusting to life following the Mesozoic Era.

Ronnie and Sammi - No mas! 

Nick DiPaolo - Total doucher. Cool denim shirt though.

Andrea - Not pictured: his enormous dong.  

Eh, I think Ashley still takes the crown.  

Subject: The Gratterolis

Dear Guy who watches TV with his wife,

As much as I enjoyed all your posts on The Bachelorette, I take issue with your description of the Gratterolis. I’m pretty sure they're not worried about anyone stealing a rake...they keep their door locked to keep your dad from wandering over, naked, at 2 in the afternoon. Just a hunch.

Sincerely,

- Nicole Frattaroli (your next door neighbor growing up), not to be confused with Nicole Gratteroli

Nicole, those were just yokes! I was yoking! Your mother has always been very kind to me, especially when I got locked out of my house, which was VERY often. I also apologize for my father and his nudity, but can you really blame him? He’s got dumps like a truck truck truck, balls like what what what, all night longgggggggggg … let Nicole see my dad’s thonggggggggggggggg!!

Subject: Out of Boredom

Hello TVMWW,

I have no idea what you are looking for in reader emails so let's just start out on a positive note:

Potentially shops at Lush?

I believe immediately before this picture was taken he was waxing his chest and riding a unicorn.

Also, I have attached a picture my sister took yesterday at the Milwaukee Zoo. I felt it was important to share with you. I also thought it was important to include my boyfriend’s lame comment on the matter, which was "those Rhinos look horny."

Game of Frones?

What about writing about Bachelor Pad so I have something to do on Tuesday and Wednesday (Tuesday for compulsively checking and Wednesday for actual reading). And tell your other friend to be quiet about the "posts being too long". Her job is clearly too stimulating and the rest of us shouldn't have to be punished. I'd have to imagine with the rich content on that show the posts would practically write themselves.

Lastly, I would like to request a review of a product or something women like outside of TV. Because your opinion is funny.

Sincerely,


- KG, NYC

Geez, I kinda wish this email was written from the real KG, not some lady from New York. Imagine that email?

Yo Ev, my wife is tripping, yo. She’s dying to get on that show Basketball Wives, but I can’t let that happen mayn. You seen them ladies?! Ochocinco’s jawn is insane! And Eric Williams? I can’t be forced to go on a double date with that dude – who could eat around him? Help a brother out, yo! Also, can you believe we black people really write like this on email? Lol! :)

Geez, how racist was that email?!?! You think Kevin Garnett really writes emails like that? Actually, have you ever noticed how black people are all about lol’ing? Seriously, follow some black person on FB or Twitter, you’ll see more lol’s than at a Miss Ocean City Pageant. It’s so embarrassing!

That's a good one Becks, that's a good one. I know, my Jewish agent is ALWAYS kvetching!

Back to the other KG’s questions.

I’ve been trying to NOT watch Bach Pad (just needed a little Bach break!), but am recognizing that I totally have to. I mean, just the fact that the guard and protect your heart guy is on it is reason enough … AND he’s in love with Vienna … AND Jake is involved in their love triangle … AND Vienna has a terrible horrible, no good, very bad haircut.

For the life of me, I don’t know why Gia is on this show. Hasn’t she had enough of this shit? Every time I put it on, she’s sobbing about something – and I know, I know, it’s really hard to go through this world with a speech impediment – but c’mon lady, you don’t need to do this! Also, the guard and protect your heart guy is deaf, right? That’s why he talks like that? And did you ever notice that when someone else is speaking to him, he always responds way off topic.

Jake:  Hey man, I just want you to know that I’m really happy for you and Vienna.

Guard and Protect Guy:  Yeah, I fucking love Combos. Not really the cracker kind, but the pretzel and cheese jawns. Those are fantastic.  

That's a normal pose.

As far as lady products, (I did once write about Grogurt) I don’t understand why chicks love that store Lush so much. I swear, my wife has so many lotions and glosses, I haven’t felt or smelled her actual skin in months. (Anddddddd that’s your cue to barf all over yourself. I’m sorry.) Every time I kiss my wife good night, it tastes like lemons. What happened to the good ole days when women smelled like leather and I got boners without having to be smacked in the face? Anyway, what was the question?

Subject: Questions a go-go

Dear TVMWW,

I have a few questions for you:

1. What is your favorite TV show of all time and why? No, for realsies. All. Time.

2. If you could own any Bill Cosby sweater, which one would it be?

2a. How many Jell-O pudding pops can you consume in one sitting?

3. I mean, I know the Jersey Shore is the worst thing that has ever happened to Italian-Americans... but you're Jewish. Why aren't you writing more about Jersey Shore? The posts would practically write themselves. Actually, I guess that's why. That's racist!

4. I want live Tweets from TVMWW. Mainly because I don't watch more than half of these shows, so it would be a way for me to follow along LIVE, baby, LIVE!

5. What do you guys eat while you watch TV? Yes, I am looking for you to plug fwords (my food blog).

Ciao, Francesco Rinaldi!

- Fwords

Geez, that’s a lotta questions. I’m now starting to sort of regret this whole “Heyyy, send me your email questions! I’ll respond to them all” thing. But promises, promises, so here goes.

Favorite TV show is a no-brainer: Wipeout. Granted, I’ve only seen two episodes of it and I’m pretty sure I turned both of them off around half way, but people get absolutely blasted! It’s amazing!

Not really a fan of sweaters in general - they make you sweat too much! - but I appreciate how aptly named they are. I did always like that The Coz wore college sweatshirts though on his show. I also really liked that Kenny kid aka Buddddddd. My big brother says … In fact, to this day I call croutons “krau-tins” because that’s what Kenny said his big brother called ‘em.

Really Ev?!?! That’s so friggin’ interesting dude!

Amazing part in his hair! Pretty sure Cedric Ceballos had the exact same cut. 

Pudding pops? Do they still make those? My wife only lets me eat Skinny Cows anyway, which are surprisingly delicious and ridiculously expensive. Also, that’s a total lie - my wife lets me eat anything I want, I just like to paint an image of her as MEIN FUHRER. 

Jersey Shore? Yeah, yeah, I should probably write about that, but there are only so many hours in the day and my fantasy football team is NOT going to draft itself. I HAVE RESEARCH TO DO lady!

Live tweeting sounds good, I’m always looking for an excuse to tweet more – and I’m not allowed to eat in the living room because my wife is a crazy dictator and I once spilled wing sauce all over her favorite couch. Also, I’m not sure I ever told her that, so Butterscotch, if you’re reading, I’m really really sorry.

Subject: blog

I LOVE your blog, I actually found it while I was googling (that a word? no?) info on Ames. I laughed so hard I peed my pants reading all your posts about The Bachelorette. PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE WATCHING THE BACHELOR PAD!!! Anyway, keep up the good work!

- Jackie N, parts unknown

Wow. Probably the nicest email I’ve ever received. Jackie N, please know that I printed your email out and keep it atop my bedside table and read it whenever I’m feeling low. I also read it while jerking off and fantasizing about you in a doctor’s outfit.

Butterscotch, I’m yoking! I’m yoking! These are yokes!

Jackie N, thanks for reading?





TVMWW is so close to 1,000 Facebork followers! Like TVMWW here!
Orrrrrrrrr, look at these ladies riding a banana boat.

The Bachelorette Finale: Harder to Watch Than That Batman Movie with Danny DeVito

Uhhh, Ben? Your driftwood is about to pierce my chest cavity. 

The most difficult thing to do in this world is carry dry cleaning. There's no easy way to do it. You start by holding the hangers with two fingers, over the shoulder, Giorgio Armani style. This inevitably leads to both finger and elbow pain, so then you switch fingers, hands and/or shoulders, which just causes symmetrical pain, until you decide to drape the clothes across your forearms, which is even more difficult, because all dry cleaning is wrapped in the slipperiest plastic imaginable, and at this point your forearms are sweating profusely, so the clothes constantly slide off your arms, leaving you with shirts even more wrinkled than when you first dropped them off.

THE SECOND MOST DIFFICULT thing to do in this world is watch The Bachelorette Finale - this year's being especially trying because the guy who lost was REALLY in love. It was so painful to watch Ben get down on one knee and propose to a lady who had ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA how to break up with a dude proposing to a lady on national television. How did she let him do that?!?! Ashley allowed Ben to deliver his whole speech - WHICH WAS MUCH BETTER THAN JP's BY THE WAY! - making it much more uncomfortable that it had to be. That scene left me mentally defeated, until I realized that Ben's much better off without Ashley, and is now free to sleep with literally GRILLIONS of women.

Interesting technique, Miley.

So why the freak do we watch The Bachelorette? Why subject ourselves to a finale where we have to witness a human being completely crush another human being (and the one getting crushed is NOT Troy Aikman)?

Simple.

We like a little bit of pain.

Think about it ... hot sauce ... hair pulling / ass slapping ... middle school.

The entire process is painful; we meet all sorts of interesting folks (the Italians call it "Sprezzatura"), weed out the annoying ones (You mean you don't wanna meet my family?), and all so we can watch people have the sexy times at the end. That's the payoff! - which is actually very similar to middle school. I'm not sure what the payoff for having clean, well-pressed clothes is ... what a racket.

At some point in our lifetimes, we're totally going to be able to watch people have sexy times on The Bachelorette. We're already pretty close, as evidenced by Ben and Ashley's mud bath where Ashley rubbed mud all over her own titties. And not just on her own titties, but the inside of her titties! And I don't mean the actual inside, because there's no way that she could rub her actual inner tit, I just mean the part of the tit that's inside the bra. You know, the white part. This of course led to a very brief (but EE-ROT-ICK) dry humping in Ben's room, which made me realize that I don't think I've ever actually seen anyone dry hump before. I mean, I've dry humped, I used to love dry humping (I might still love dry humping), but I don't know if I've ever actually witnessed a dude - who was totally serious - try to grind his dork through a woman's shorts. Which is really incredible cause I've seen NUMEROUS ball-gags, emergency cable TV repairs, milk baths, after-school detentions, Moroccan gang-bangs, but never a dry humping!! Wow, who knew?

If you just stare at this lady's thigh, JUST HER THIGH, it's so freaky.

I really wanted Deputy Dry Humper to dry hump the shit out of Ashley, because he genuinely seemed to love her. Over the past month, Ben has been so calm, so happy, so ready to just dry hump. In every interview he kept saying how at peace he was, how confident he felt. I imagine that's exactly what being on opium is like.

OKAY, HOLY FUCK!! I AM CURRENTLY WRITING THIS POST AT 8:31 ON TUESDAY NIGHT, AND A MOTHERFUCKING BIRD (MAYBE A BAT? PROBABLY A BAT) JUST FUCKING FLEW THREW MY DINING ROOM!

IT WAS FUCKING CRAZY!

I don't know how the fuck that bird (bat, right? had to be a bat!) got in my house, but after it flew by my fucking head, I grabbed a broom and pretty much ducked down in the corner and kept saying, "HOLY FUCK" which coincidentally is the exact same quote my wife kept repeating when I proposed to her. Anyway, after my Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragonballs routine, I opened the back screen and the front door, but never saw that motherfucker fly out. He may still be in the house! So here's the million dollar question, when my wife returns from Zumba in 25 minutes, do I tell her a motherfucking bat just flew by my head (AND MAY BE UPSTAIRS AS WE SPEAK!) or do I pretend it's just a normal Tuesday in TVMWW headquarters?!?!

A few hours later ...

OKAY, IT'S NOW 12:03 am - and major developments have transpired with me and the bat. After settling down and grabbing a snack, the little guy ZIPPED BACK IN THE DINING ROOM and flew right in front of my fucking face, so I grabbed the broom and ducked down (possibly threw my back out) and eventually found the bat chilling in the corner of our kitchen.

So I slowly (and I mean slowwwwwly) creeped up on him, with my broom held up like a Duke lacrosse player, and that dude just chilled there, totally still. I wasn't even sure if it was the bat, because he didn't look like a bat, he looked like one of those square dishes of pudding that come in TV dinners (which are AMAZING by the way). As I inched closer, with the bristles of the broom almost tickling his body, I thought for sure that the little motherfucker would burst out of his bat curl and fly right into my fucking face.

I jabbed him with the broom and he fell to the floor - well, not the floor, but onto a chair that was directly underneath him - but the chair had a bag on it, so I wasn't sure if he fell into the bag, or behind the chair. I heard him chirping a bit (do bats chirp? this dude was straight chirping), so I pulled the chair away and the dude dropped, but now I wasn't sure if he fell onto the floor or into the recycling bin. There was definitely some squirming going on too, and I figured, "Eh, recycling is tomorrow, I might as well pull a double-dipper and take the plastic bottles out AND get this bat outta here," so I carried the blue bin outside, until I realized he wasn't in there. So I put the bin down and hurried back to the kitchen and found him there, squirming on the floor. With a few more jabs, I caught him with my broom and essentially swept him out of the kitchen, onto our back patio and Mario Lemieux'ed that dude into our backyard.

Phew.

Bat gone.

I def prefer bathtime to Batman. 

I closed the front and back doors, got myself a glass of water and calmed the freak down. I felt pretty good about myself. Here I was, a Jewish dude with no prior bat experience, and I was able to jab that motherfucker with a shafty-ass broom and sweep him back into nature without killing him (although I'm pretty sure he was injured and probably eaten by any number of the neighborhood cats). Even though our kitchen was littered with broom bristles and my wife was due home in any moment, my back was now THROBBING (I gotta do more stretching!), so I decided to head upstairs to get some motherfucking Advil.

No big deal, right? Just head upstairs, grab a few pills, slurp 'em down and then WAMMO!

ANOTHER MOTHERFUCKING BAT FLEW RIGHT AT MY FACE!

TWO BATS?!?!

Holy shit!

I ducked like Don Flamenco (might've screamed like a girl), and saw the bat fly out of the bathroom and into our guest bedroom. I ran over, saw that dude buzzing around and SLAMMED the door shut, locking that guy in there.

BRILLIANT MOVE, RIGHT?

This guy could duck and move with the best of 'em. 

Now I knew where that dude was, and even though I had a house infested with motherfucking bats, at least I could breathe for a second and find some God damn Advil. Eventually, I did, and when my wife came home I explained what happened, and after doing some research on bats, we learned that you should NEVER jab a bat. So we called the Delaware County Animal Control people and they told us they'd have someone at the house within the hour.

Now, I'm sure everyone at the Delco Animal Control center are reputable, but in looking at their staff pictures, both my wife and I had a very clear idea of who we wanted to come over to our house.

My wife wanted this dude.

Nice Flowbee. 

I wanted this guy.

Stache perfectly matches his walkie-talkie.

This is who they sent us.

Loves dogs AND calf tattoos!

No disrespect, but she spent an hour in our house, twenty minutes in the room with the bat, AND COULDN'T FIND THE BAT. The good news was, she didn't think our house had a bat infestation, but rather a hole somewhere where bats were slipping in. She thought the bat was probably hiding in a wall somewhere, or escaped out, but to call her if we saw the bat again (OH, THAT'S REASSURING).

So Darrie and I went upstairs (COMPLETELY ZORPED OUT at this point), brushed our teeth and got ready for bed and then

WAMMO!!

A bat (coulda been the same bat? maybe a different bat?) flew right at her motherfucking face! My wife screamed, totally broke our towel rack and darted into the bedroom while I ran downstairs to find the bat.

Now armed with A TOWEL, I watched that dude race around our living room for 20 minutes like Dale Earnhardt Joons, taunting me with every lap. I called the lady back, and after another 20 minutes of thinking about throwing a towel at him, she arrived and caught that dude with a fishing net!

Two bats. One swept into the backyard. The other put in a container of Tupperware. Or, maybe three bats? Is there one still in our other bedroom? And, are there more bats? And if so, can I please get some opium?!?!

Isn't there a popular TV show to discuss?

I'll tell ya who needs some opium ... Ashley's sister! That lady is so bossy! So angry! So hot!

Tattooed Sister:  What's wrong with you, JP? Why aren't you married yet?

JP: What? I dunno, I just ...

Tattooed Sister: ... slaps JP across the face ... Look at me when I'm talking to you! Are you a real man?

JP:  I guess so ...

Tattooed Sister:  Ever killed a bat?

JP:  No, I haven't .. head falls in shame.

Granted, as much as a B as Ashley's sister was, I did pretty much agree with all of her points. JP is a weeny and their relationship is based solely on a nice smile and passionate kissing. Also, both JP and Ashley are totally unstable. I really wanted Ashley to end up picking Ben just so we could see JP travel to Maine, kill Ashley's sister, stop for a lobster roll (those things are fantastic!) and then drive his car - Thelma and Louise style - into the Atlantic Ocean.

Chest like a God damn steamroller. 

The dude Ashley shoulda picked was Neil Lane - the jeweler - an absolute jackhammer who could probably kill a bat while eating a baked potato. That guy is pure manimal. It's ridiculous that ABC failed to show any footage from the lobby of the Fiji hotel where both Neil Lane and Ashley's family were staying.

Neil Lane:  Hey Kid, who's the dame?

Elliot (Ashley's brother):  What?

Neil Lane:  The lady, Kid! The lady with all them tattoos! Who is she?

Elliot:  Oh, that's my sister.

Neil Lane:  Your sister?!?! ... slaps Elliot across the face ... God dammit, Kid, you can't let your sister walk around like that!

Elliot:  stunned from the slap ... I, I, I, I can't?

Neil Lane:  No. Cause guys like me will have sex with her. I'm gonna have sex with her, Kid. You ever had sex, kid?

Elliot:  Yeah, once.

Neil Lane:  slaps Elliot across the face again ... Don't lie to me, Kid!

Elliot:  I'm sorry ... crying a little.

Neil Lane:  You know why you never got laid, Kid? Cause you don't wear a watch. Look at these beauties.

Neil Lane pulls out a briefcase full of watches. 

Elliot:  But I don't need a watch. My cellphone tells time.

Another slap!

Neil Lane:  Shut the hell up, Kid! ... SHUT ... THE HELL ... UP! Ya see that lady over there? The Chinese one?

Elliot:  Yeah.

Neil Lane:  I had sex with her last night. You know why I had sex with her?

Elliot:  now shivering ... Uhh, uhh, cause you wear a watch?

Neil Lane:  No. Cause I paid her. That's a God damn prostitute kid. A God damn prostitute. Real men sometimes have to pay for sex. Now gimme 20 bucks and I'll show you how to eat a baked potato.

Webcam pics add an extra 50% of erotica. FACT.

I think after three months of watching The Bachelorette, it's clear that the two people we want to see have sex are Neil Lane and Ashley's tatted-up, nosey, bitch of a sister. I imagine he's exactly what she needs in a man and she's exactly what he needs on a Tuesday. Plus, considering she wears those tight, white pants that stain very easily, she could benefit from his various Los Angeles connections - specifically those in the dry cleaning biz. In fact, I'm guessing that Neil Lane probably doesn't even have to pick up his own dry cleaning. He probably gets it delivered.

Wait a minute, why isn't there a dry cleaning delivery service? That would make mills.

BING BONG!

Do ya, though? Do ya?

Follow TVMWW on Twitter here and Facebork here. 
Or, check out Manny Ramirez's lifetime stats. That guy was an RBI machine!

The Bachelorette: Ashley's Sister - Can't Resist Her!

Pretty sure this lady made me an iced coff this morn.

So excited to see Ashley's sister tonight!

Also excited to eat some shrimp cocktail!

The Bachelorette: The Dudes Tell All - Except For a Couple Dudes Who Seriously SAID NOTHING

Probably shoulda bought the book, "How Not to Talk a Million Miles an Hour - Because People Will Think You're Either on Cocaine or Joined a Fraternity at Penn State."

Some quick thoughts after watching The Bachelorette: The Dudes Say Basically Nothing, But I Still Watch Because I’m a Sucker Special.

- I can’t believe I spent this entire season watching The Bachelorette without knowing that Ashley’s last name was “Hebert” (pronounced: Ay-Bear). If I had, I would’ve sprinkled in Bobby Hebert jokes INTO EVERY POST. Thank God I didn’t, because there’s NO WAY any of my readers know who Bobby Hebert is.

Also, as I’m typing this, I just dropped a piece of BBQ chicken on my cellphone, and now my cellphone smells amazing. However, the laptop that I’m using (not mine by the way, borrowed it from a friend) has BBQ sauce all over the spacebar and a little on the “G” key.

Same haircut as my mother's cousin Edie!

- Nick was certainly trying to get involved last night! It seems like on every one of these shows, somebody who got ZERO FACE TIME during the actual seez attempts to make some noise, possibly in a last ditch effort to get invited onto Bachelor Pad (which by the way, LOOKS INSANE). I didn’t really watch the last seez of Bach Pad, nor did I plan on watching this one, until I saw the previews of Jake, Vienna and the Guard and Protect Your Heart Guy involved a love triangle. Probably a good time to mention that I’m currently involved in a hate triangle with my BBQ chicken and this plastic knife that can’t cut for shit.

- How about the fact that before going on the show, Ryan admitted to buying three books: 

The Book of Questions to Ask Before You Get Engaged

The Book of Questions to Ask Before You Get Married

and

THE BOOK OF FABULOUS QUESTIONS!

What?!?! 

That’s a book?!?!

THE BOOK OF FABULOUS QUESTIONS!!!

Let's see, what do I need before I go on this show? Hmmm, deodorant? Check. ... Probably should bring a pack of new socks too, that's always good to have, never know when you'll need some fresh tubers ... and let's see, what else? Hmm, maybe a different conversation-starting book? Cause these two that I have are good, but they're missing something, not sure what, but I need some questions that'll REALLY get this party started.


This is what I imagine page 137 looks like:

Would you rather ... ?

A) every time you meet someone for the rest of your life – when he or she goes to shake your hand – you will uncontrollably cluck like a chicken. And I mean, a legit chicken-cluck. And you can't just be like, “sorry, I have this problem where I cluck like a chicken when I meet someone, I can't help it ..." – no, you’d just have to go with it, no acknowledging … 

or 

B) at some point during every day for the rest of your life, you’ll step in dog shit. You won't know when, you won't know where, but at some point during every day for the rest of your life, you're going to be stepping in dog shit. 

Thoughts?

For the record, I’d go with the chicken clucking. 

It's a no-brainer!

Google Image Search: "San Diego Chicken" - probably the best 10 minutes of my day. 

The Bachelorette: I Now Understand Why That Fiji Water Costs Like $2.49

The cameraman ghost from Three Men and a Baby!

After ten weeks, four countries and only one Ames, this season of The Bachelorette came down to three dudes and their overnight dates - or, as I like to call it: a Sex Competition. For Ben and Constantine, two men with very average sized penises relaxed contestants, it was no big deal. For J.P., the Jew anxious one, it was a COUNTDOWN TO CRISIS.

ABC, realizing that they created a situation that GUARANTEED sex, pulled out a few last minute hurdles for the men to climb before the could be admitted to Ashley's deceivingly large vagina fantasy suite.

Before Ben TORE THAT ASS UP had his snugglefest, he had to pass his final challenge: A BOAT RIDE. Now I've probably been on ten boats in my life and I'm pretty sure that I barfed on every one of them. In fact, if I were slated to HAVE SEX with a woman later in the evening, I would not, could not, do anything on a boat. But Ben handled the boat quite well, by not only not barfing all over the place, but by participating in the most erotic suntan-lotion-spreading I've seen this week.

I'll take "Something No Girl Has Ever Enjoyed Doing To Me" for $400 Alex.

Also, how is it possible that NO DUDES on television have moles on their backs? This past weekend, I watched wrestling, swimming and at least twenty-three snuff films and did not see one sign of melanoma. My wife - who loves me unconditionally - still gets skeeved out any time I ask her to grease me up at the beach ... AND WE HAVE A KETUBAH!

Regardless, Ben was feeling so friggin' confident after his lube job that he had the AUDACITY to wear the world's dumbest shirt. What WAS that?!?! It was like a see-through, tucked-in, three-quarter length V-neck. On the front, I was sort-of expecting it to say "Everlast." And yet, he still had sex with a woman. God I wish I wasn't bald.

Constantine's final challenge consisted of GOING SWIMMING WITH HIS SHOES ON - ranked by ESPN's X Games as the third most difficult physical activity in the world - right behind pole vaulting and finding a shoe in your size at D.S.W. The Greek-God Salad-maker passed this test easily, leading me to believe that he has really small feet. Another reason I think he has really small feet is because he TURNED DOWN SEX with a woman.

That being said, Constantine proved to be the most real dude this show has ever had, despite the fact that he kinda talks like a girl. Like, we're going on a helicopter! OMG! Do I have food in my teeth? His relationship with whatsherface progressed like a normal person, and at times he seemed more intelligent than you would expect a Greek ogre with a GIANT cranium to be. For the record, I think he was gay.

My kinda Greek.

What Sex Competition would be complete without a national scare? ABC interrupted Ashley's time in Fiji to broadcast a crazed lunatic, who went by the name of "Ryan," as he attempted to behave more enthusiastically than any human being who has ever lived. I thought Ashley handled Ryan quite well, telling him, "You're a perfect guy on paper, but this isn't paper, this is real life, and you're a real life lunatic."

I guess this is the paragraph where I'm supposed to talk about J.P., but unfortunately there is not much to report considering he spent his entire time in Fiji playing Miss Mary Mack on the beach. I gotta say, he is one of my least favorite contestants ever (AND THAT'S SAYIN' SOMETHIN'). Really, what does he bring to the table besides a dashing smile? I mean, it's a nice smile, but does he have any personality? All he does is complain about Ashley dating other dudes. Okay, yeah, he knows the entire Miss Mary Mack song, but so do I ... with silver buttons, buttons, buttons, all down her moley back, back, back.

So as the Sex Competish comes to a close, I guess we're supposed to care who wins. I much prefer Ben, but then again it's not up to me, it's up to sex. Sex decides everything, and sex will decide this. Based on what we've seen so far, I kinda think J.P. might be better at sex, so even though I want Ben to win, I'm predicting the Jew brings it home for Jerome.

Also, Jews are great at sex.

Hooray for Jews!

And now for the dumbest 39 seconds of your life:




Twitter, Twitter, Twitter, Twitter, Twitter, Twitter, Twitter. 
Eh, Twitter's kinda dumb. Look at this really cool pic of the Mop Tops instead.