Weeks 1 and 2 – Because I Missed It (But I Know You Didn’t)

Because I didn’t watch any of these episodes, I will be using Wikipedia (again) to fill myself in. I briefly considered watching all of the episodes on my computer by myself in my bed, but then I realized I didn’t have any ice cream. So, here we are.

Week 1:

Limited Wikipedia entry. Presumably, nothing important happened, but a 72 year-old woman dropped off her granddaughter at the party. Too bad grandma wasn’t the contestant, that would have been pretty interesting.

Side note: How about TB for senior citizens? Old people need love too. Dates would include trips to the doctor, garage sales, or candle-lit dinners at the K&W cafeteria.

Also, a girl named Lindzi C. (classy) rode up on a horse. Probably a smart move right? Because dudes love horses. Better than riding in on your grandma* like that other girl did. To my surprise, she actually won the “first impression rose,” whatever that means. Bachelor Bro is obviously sending them a mesasge. The path to my heart includes farm animals.

*TBFM Assumption.

Bottom line: 7 girls axed. One was named “Lyndsie” so that was probably a logistical necessity on Bachelor Bro’s end. Only room for one trashy mis-spelling around these parts. Probably a pretty big let-down for them all to get kicked off after like an hour of airtime. Rebound action for 7 ex-boyfriends!

Week 2: Bachelor Bro’s House In California

So Bachelor Bro is a winemaker. That’s pretty cool, even if I don’t really like much else about him. Any friend of booze is a friend of mine. At least he doesn’t have to stare at the lifeless white-and-gray-grid-wastland that is Microsoft Excel all day and blog about a women’s TV show to keep himself entertained. That would suck if someone had to do that.

So this week is at his house. Smooth. Nothing like the home court advantage. First date, he takes “Kacie B.” around town, where she apparently shows off her “baton-twirling” skills. I have no idea if this is a euphemism for some sort of bizarre sexual act–Wikipedia doesn’t specify. I’m going to assume it was the lame, non-sexual kind of baton-twirling.

How does one get into baton-twirling anyway? I’ve never seen batons at Dick’s Sporting Goods. Who makes them? Titleist? Maybe something they should get into, if they aren’t already (they should probably consult a certain investment bank for M&A advice). After the baton has been sufficiently twirled, they go to what I assume is a movie theater and watch his home movies. This is probably a good idea for a first date, because there’s nothing that would make a woman love me more than watching unflattering videos of my awkward years (Age 9-present).

Next date. A group date with “Brittney, Rachel, Jennifer, Blakeley, Emily, Jenna, Shawn, Monica, Jamie, Samantha, Nicki and Jaclyn.” Wow, I wouldn’t even know how to attack this situation if I was him. His solution: make them act in a play for the children of town. This, in fact, is ridiculous. Where does this guy live, Pleasantville? Whatever, manipulating women into embarassing themselves for the enjoyment of children seems like a noble undertaking. I’m not sure how you can exactly “win” in a 1-on-12 date, but the winner of this date is “Blakeley.” It appears that “Blakeley” is the “VIP cocktail waitress” from Charlotte. Good for her. Got to give love to my city.

BUT WAIT, UPON FURTHER WIKI-REVIEW, SHE’S OFFICIALLY FROM RUTEHRFORDTON, NC! If you don’t know where Rutherfordton, NC is, don’t worry, nobody else does either. I had to look it up on Google Maps too, and I’m from Charlotte. Rutherfordton is like an hour and a half drive from Charlotte. This kind of mis-labeling isn’t all that unusual to me; a lot of people want to be “from” Charlotte who really aren’t. This is mostly because we have the NASCAR Hall of Fame.

Because “Blakeley” is no longer from Charlotte, she is again irrelevant to me. AND, sadly for her but exciting for me, now I’m free to call her “Blakeley” the “stripper” from “Rutherfordton”. She should really get on Wikipedia and change her hometown to Charlotte if she values her perception on this blog.

Last date for this episode, “Courtney.” All these quotes are really making me self conscious about my punctuation usage, but I will continue to use quotes around their names because they aren’t real people.

“Courtney” and Bachelor Bro take Ben’s dog for a walk around his estate or vineyard or whatever. Pretty simple, not much for me to make fun of, but damnit I’m going to try. Dog’s name is Scotch. Agressive, probably a little douchey of him to go with “Scotch.” But more alcohol references, so I guess you have to give the guy credit for keeping with his life theme of “alcohol.” Unfortunately, it’s a little shit of a dog, and not a retriever OF ANY KIND. I’m over you, Scotch.

“Courtney” tells Ben that she had dated “Jesse Metcalfe” during dinner. My research indicates that this is John Tucker from that movie about murdering John Tucker that I never saw. He was also on soap operas and Desperate Housewives. No doubt this girl has a type, and it’s the “sensitive and emotional, but also on television” type. Interesting side note, this girl is in a commercial for Caesar’s Palace where she sees a stranger in a store and then goes back to his room to have a 1-on-1 date bang the same night, but he forgets his room key because he is so blackout. But it’s cool, she’ll wait. I tried to put in a link, but youtube is blocked at work. If it doesn’t work, look it up your own damn self, I’m not your nanny.


So she gets a rose, probably because Bachelor Bro saw that commercial and knows what’s up. No reason not to at least keep her around for a while. Like I said, stars, role-players, and walk-ons. The walk-ons are being removed, and we’re starting to see who contending for real minutes, and who’s just playing for the trillion (copyright ClubTrillion, the best blog out there other than this one). In a cruel twist for me (blogger/Wall Street slave), the two girls in this episode who were told “you are my worst marriage option out of 18 other people” were…

a blogger and a financial advisor. Sigh.

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