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I mean, that COAT. Come on.
Before we start I wrote a hilarious joke. Pretend I am there:
Me: “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
You: “I don’t know.”
Me: “To run back into the factory farm where chicken slaughter was preferable to having to finish watching this season of The Bachelorette.”
Seriously, guys: We’re going to make it through this. I don’t know what life is going to be like on the other side, I don’t know if we’ll be fully capable of experiencing joy as we once did, I don’t know if we’re going to recognize the face in the mirror, if the image of the sad train ride with Dylan will ever leave us entirely, if the mime date disaster will haunt us into the night, awakening us with screams. But we’re going to get through it. Andi’s season WILL come to an end. We don’t get our time back, but we will get to keep whatever wisdom we gain.
Perhaps, at some point, we will be grateful for what we learn during this time.
Tonight’s MVP Marquel.
We’re in the South of France for the sixty-eighth fifth episode of Season 10 of The Bachelorette. Everyone showcases their poor French. (J’aime les fraises, mes amies. J’aime les fraises.)
Unhelpful Therapist™ Chris Harrison asks Andi if she is in love. He asks a few times and she curses and laughs.
So, I guess?
Take your hands off your hips, Andi, I didn’t say “Simon says.”
Another installment of Andy Warhol’s Empire - I mean, Andi’s search for love. I am SO relieved I didn’t have to wait a week to find out what happens, like when I didn’t know what would happen to Jesse Pinkman on Breaking Bad, or five years, as I did with Back to the Future II. I surely would have been driven even further and more desperately into the mouth of madness if yesterday’s Andrew’s-a-scary-douche-related cliffhanger wasn’t to be resolved in twenty-four hours.
Sam Neill as me at 4:00 PM ET today, awaiting the resolution.
We start off this evening in Connecticut – everyone’s favorite late wintertime/early spring destination (especially this year!).
There is so much hooting and hollering as the men arrive at the hotel.
I am heartbroken that this visit does not seem to include any of the Danbury-area hotels at which I am no longer welcome (I am the guest you want at your wedding) or WWE headquarters.
This is NOT an outtake from Bad Grandpa.
It now goes without saying that a cheap-fame soliciting sleaze (or better yet, watch an entire darn season of him saying, “It’s OK”) or two will show up and we will feel collective outrage about it. Tonight and tomorrow night are the episodes covering that range of emotions. Do not fret. The villain will be outed. Andi will cry, and then she will endure. And this dark night of the soul known as episodes 3 and 4 will come to a close.
One-On-One Date: Nick
Andi’s in Santa Barbara. Everyone is traveling TO Andi in SB from the House of Broken Dreams. Nick arrives, and they go on a bike ride. They are both raving about how “chill” and “normal” this date is (including, I am sure, the camera crew, that makes everything totally cool). Back at the house, Andrew and a shirtless Marcus (who looks like what happens if Ryan Gosling could carry Nic Cage’s child to term) offer backhanded compliments about how Nick is a skeptic.
Marcus?
Love amongst the racing form.
There are NINETEEN men left and Andi is adorably convinced they are all there for her. Sure, the pantstrapreneur is there for the right reasons. I know the former baseball player isn’t trying to launch his casino-greeting career. And I know Andrew, whatever it is he does, is totally square. I agree, Andi, smooth sailing ahead.
This is not your mother’s Bachelorette.
There is but one ground rule for this season: I shalt not mock Eric (RIP).
I will mock that this season has been dedicated to him. As with the incredibly uncomfortable “In Memory of Gia” that opened the Sextette that was “The Juan-Pabloing,” the tone-deaf sincerity of this is challenging to make fun of and yet horrifying. The corporate, show-must-go-on heart that is Network Television is in the right place and yet…it’s squirm inducing.
The musical version of Juan Pablo’s season, starring Mae West as JP.
When we last left Andi, she had triumphed over the machine and walked away from JP after calling him on his self-involved, crass pillow talk.
Indeed.
Join me in the event horizon, will you? It’s over tonight, save for the various members of this cast who manage to cling to E-list fame via reality television. Do not think you have seen the last of Juan Pablo. He’ll haunt our dreams.
Just like the Yellow King, from a more compelling television drama.
What can I say about what we have seen during this winter of our discontent? What can I say about how awful JP is at this? It feels like ABC did about half of the background-checking that Mike Fleiss did with Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire? back in ’00.
NEVER FORGET.
Let the merry-making begin.
Pretty soon, we won’t have JP to kick around anymore. But until then, we have the reunion, in which pots will call kettles black and those kettles will respond, “I do not know this phrase, ‘Here for the wrong reasons.’ Okay?” And someone will give little Davy Hutchinson a few pebbles, and others will say it’s not right or fair.
You know what, though? ABC did an atrocious job screening JP as a candidate for this show. And not being able to speak English does not excuse his views on homosexuality, the boorish treatment of several of these women, and, the greatest crime of all, being here not for love, but for fame.
BUT FIRST! We catch up with Sean and Catherine following their wedding and, more importantly, wedding night. It’s a big old spoonful of Ew Gross.
Following this, in a promotion for Muppets: Most Wanted, Chris Harrison catches up with Miss Piggy and Kermit, who are apparently getting married in March. JP shows up. Also, Miss Piggy and Kermit were married in 1984 by Ed Koch, and that’s quite enough already.
This wedding already happened.
Also, the original theatrical poster looks JUST like The Day of the Locust.
There are no cameras in the fantasy suite, so this is a photo from the hometown dates episode I watched LAST NIGHT.
We’re actually in St. Lucia, not Bangkok. But that SONG. Where JP is about to seduce three women, and immediately reject one of them the following day. He tells us that overnights are special because “it’s no cameras, and I can really get to know the girls.”
Stop with your “getting to know” nonsense.
Oh, do tell.
Where it all began.
I am just running out of things with this season.
Nikki, Kansas City, MO: Blind acceptance.
Naturally, she is just so excited. The adjectives fly as they describe each other. They wander around Kansas City, including a stop at the monument where (SPOILER ALERT) Jason Robards dies of radiation poisoning in the television film The Day After.
I am available to attend your party.
Nikki is looking forward to seeing “how cowboy JP is.” Me too. Cue cows and JP’s Bubba-in-Forrest-Gump recitation of the varieties of barbeque. This is followed by a visit to a bull-riding bar.
It’s like this.
This is everything you think it will be.
A super-fun four-way date.
Bienvenidos a Miami and welcome to the limit, bachelorettes. Prepare ye the way for mentions of Scarface.
They too come from a land down under.
In tonight’s installment of the interminable JuanPabloing, we visit Australia New Zealand (you guys, it’s called a bit).
Tonight, to make the time pass, the Bachelor will be played by Eric Bana, proud New Zealander Australian. Close enough. (Actual distance: almost 2,000 miles.)
OH HAI ERIC.
What it boils down to is this: I just. Don’t. Care. How. This. Ends. Up. I am exactly 0% convinced that JP can find lasting love on this television show with these women. Oh, he’ll propose to someone. And they’ll get engaged. And they’ll say a whole bunch of stuff that has been said before, which will include words and phrases like “princess” and “never felt this way before” and “love” and “you’re the one that I want.” It will all be a lie. I feel like JP’s treatment of Clare (“WHORE!” pretty much sums up his treatment of Clare) and his not-even-Fox-News-friendly view on gay men would be dealbreakers for a fortunately large portion of humanity.