So last night, I came to two conclusions. Well, three actually.
1) Juan Pablo is hot. I think he has a weird itchy sweater and harem pants fetish sometimes, but you throw that guy in a suit, or a wind breaker, or even a t-shirt and harem pants and you’ve got yourself a party.
2) Juan Pablo is slimy. Aside from the fact that he’s already denounced gay people as having the right to a family (not cool), and admitted to Clare that he only gave into the whole ocean sex thing out of pity and because it would make her ‘so happy’, I’m getting more than a little bit sick of hearing him use his daughter as some sort of crutch…right before he shoves his tongue down the throats of a handful of women known as ‘the special ones’.
3) I really want to write about other things. And I’m not talking other reality TV shows. I want to write about things that matter (to me – that’s the thing about having your own blog). Things like my kids, and throw pillows and the importance of girlfriends and motherhood, and womanhood and what the fuck to make for dinner. And stupid shit. And emotional shit. And fun shit. I don’t need to talk about actual shit anymore, because now that my babies aren’t babies, their bowel movements (and the various places they explode out of, end up or recur) are no longer parts of my daily convos. But still…I’m trying to raise my daughter to not be a mean girl, and this blog isn’t exactly setting the example I should be. How am I supposed to answer her if she miraculously learns how to read any time soon? Mommy says some things that are not very nice. But don’t worry sweetie – sarcasm and wit can take you pretty far in life? Let’s embroider that one on a pillow.
My husband joined me for about four seconds last night to watch the show. I knew we had some work to do when he said to me ‘This is John Pablo? Isn’t he black?” Sigh…he suggested to me that rather than writing about the show and complaining about my boredom each week, he would give me a topic, and I would have to write about it. But that no matter what topic he gives me, I have to write about it. I’m sort of curious how this may play out…but if it gets me writing, well, he could be onto something. Thoughts?
It’s not that I don’t love staring at Clare’s ass in leggings because believe me, I do. It gives me something to aspire to. And it’s not that I don’t bawl my friggin’ eyes out every time Renee’s eyes sparkle when she talks about her son. And it’s not that I don’t love searching the far corners of my brain for a reference that resembles how I view Cassandra’s face and emerging triumphantly with Chipette (right?). It’s not even how emotionally invested I get when I see that Andi’s face is looking so swollen to the point where I’m wondering if she’s retaining water and if she’ll make it to episode seven. But the question is, do I care?
Last night’s episode was a sea of nature metaphors. If natural elements had a dating show, I’m pretty sure last night revealed how it would go. If it wasn’t the dark clouds looming over Clare as the plane touched down in New Zealand, or the irony of ‘The Squeeze ‘ presenting an unexpected turn around every corner, it was the bubbling geysers (girls), filling the air with the pungent release of hot gas (desire).
I was so happy that Andi got the one-on-one – if she hadn’t I think we can be sure she would have packed up that one piece and gotten on the first plane out. You could just feel her excitement as she placed her tiny empty suitcase at the door dramatically to signify that she might be going home, when we know full well that wouldn’t even cover the shoes these girls bring on the show. But sadly, once they were alone together for an extended period of time, I really wasn’t feeling them. Were you? Sure, she talked a good game during the interviews – you know the ones where at times she was in full hair and make-up and others where she had no makeup on and straight hair (but in the same casual outfit), but I really wasn’t seeing the progress.
Maybe it was the fact that he took her swimming when there was absolutely not a speck of sun in the sky and you could see her teeth chattering before she even got into the water. Or maybe it was the fact that despite that warm waterfall their adventure climaxed in, giving the film crew the sexy, romantic scene gold that ‘Next week on The Bachelor’ montages were made for, to get there, they had to trudge through some inexplicably disgusting shit. How’s that for a metaphor on relationships? It starts out cold and uncertain, then you have to suck in your stomach, throw on a bathing suit and step in unspeakably gross slime, rubbing up against prickly mildewy walls that just might close in on you. Then finally, you reach the horizon, the void clears and you move forward to the next level, where a hot load is promptly dumped onto your face. Awesome. Love at its best.
Seriously though, once they escaped from Alcatraz and got to the evening portion, it didn’t get that much better. I could barely make out what Juan Pablo was saying half the time – and I never thought I’d hear the phrase ‘the geyser ruined our dinner’ – twice. But what the hell did you think would happen? Who sets up a romantic dinner basically on top of an active volcano? I think that phrase is right up there with ‘I carried a watermelon’ – and yes, I know a Dirty Dancing reference makes it into at least one post every season, but honestly, the only phrase even close to as versatile is ‘lose that job, hey lose that job!’ which I also use on a daily. Literally. A daily. Ask my girls. Juan Pablo does his sweater strip tease to reveal the rose and Andi is safe for one more week. Yay.
Onto the group date, with the totally random but amazingly fun ball situation (still not quite sure why this had to be done in bathing suits but whatever).
I think the best moment of the date for me had to be where as they hiked up the majestic foothills of the glory and beauty that is New Zealand, Chelsie pipes in with ‘this reminds me of Ohio!’ Um, are you kidding me? As mentioned in a previous post, I just drove through Ohio on a drive to and from Florida. And the most majestic thing we found there was the guitar my husband bought off of a guy from one of his guitar nerd forums that we stopped to grab. That and maybe a McDonald’s Playland. That’s about as majestic as Ohio gets.
Is it just me or are these group dates just getting more and more awkward? When they first all settled in to hang out for their pre death-roll picnic, they were just sitting there silently. At least they could entertain themselves by identifying the forms on Cassandra’s see-through ink blot shorts.
I know Juan Pablo loves a laid-back girl in casual clothes, but this whole ball thing took it a bit too far. After bouncing around in that thing every single one of those girls looked like something the cat dragged in. Bruised and beaten with mascara streaming down their faces. I’m surprised someone didn’t lose a tooth!
I will admit, the Hobbitown movie set was pretty amazing. Even the hand job quilts were adorable! Juan Pablo must have gotten caught up in the magic too, because I’m pretty sure he was totally drunk that night. He was fully slurring and if possible, was talking even slower and making less sense than usual.
His one-on-one time with Renee was adorable. Maybe I have a soft spot for her because she’s a mom, but I just love her – she’s so nice she’s actually rooting for other women! Who does that? And I really think they could make each other really happy. He just needs to stop calling her ‘one of my special ones’. Cassandra was one of your special ones too, and you shut her down hard, dude.
The only other standout for me from the date was, of course, Sharleen. I keep promising myself I will fast forward any one on one time they have together because it is so repulsive and uncomfortable and icky, but then it happens and like a car accident, I am just craning my neck so I don’t miss the torturous moment in time every week. I just don’t get her! Aside from the clear language barrier (ie: every single common American phrase Juan Pablo has never heard of), I am just done being inside her head. You can practically hear her lecturing herself internally – telling herself she’s a woman of principles, and she will not get caught up in his web. She starts every one on one time with a gross slow-motion kiss that signifies her battle with herself – as if her tongue wants it but her lips don’t, and then she retreats for eight seconds to attempt an intellectual conversation or to feign ’hard to get’ and then promptly returns for more kisses, assuring herself she held her ground as she makes her way back to the ladies, tail between her legs. Every time. Uch.
Her use of the word ‘organic’ is driving me to insanity. Almost as much as the use of the word organic drives me to insanity on the Baby Bullet infomercial. The friggin’ things promises that ‘now you can make beautiful organic baby food right from your home’ , as if the baby bullet itself contributes to your ability to make the food organic. In actual fact, the only way you can make organic baby food using the Baby Bullet is if you separately go out and purchase organic produce, to make the baby food, which is a completely removed decision from buying the Baby Bullet itself. Sorry but this really annoys me. People are stupid.
I guess JP is stupid too and she ‘had him at organic’, because Shocker – she gets the rose. Really?
I’m not sure how Juan Pablo is going to handle the next bunch of rose ceremonies as they’re just going to get harder. It’s rare that a Bachelor comes back looking for comfort from the group of women hoping to be the last one standing but we knew there wasn’t much chance of Cassandra getting the win. The good news is that with her early departure she can still go home and finish out her semester!
And then there’s Clare. I mean really, what is there to say? I think their connection really is the strongest and I applauded her efforts not to sweep the previous events under the rug for the sake of happy TV. He claimed that the ocean didn’t feel right for him but come on! Unless that was a canoe paddle adrift in the ocean floating past them that night, I’d say it felt just fine. He still skirted around her direct question of what their boundaries are, so she’s still not clear on whether manual or oral stimulation is okay, but at least she asked. Their date is pretty normal and cute and cozy and I would honestly be shocked if Clare doesn’t take it all in the end.
Onto the cocktail party, where Nicki looks like a hooker. I tried to come up with better ways of saying it, but really? The short not-even-cute red dress, the black panty hose. She looks like el prostituta. Normally blondes look great in red but her whole look, H2T had to go. Stat. You know what else had to go? Their conversation. Instead of getting to know each other more, as JP claimed was his intention for the night, they had the weirdest most cryptic conversation that resulted in not knowing each other on a deeper level at all, but instead, having a very well laid out conversion table to showcase the differences between a bit, a little bit, and a lot. Huh?
Again, Renee is a standout for me, partially because of her outfit (shame). I totally teared up just watching him watch her, as I also did with the horrible story Kat told about getting into her sister’s crib to protect her from her drunk Daddy. What a powerful visual L. I actually thought Kat (please don’t ever say journaling again) would stay over Chelsie because I didn’t really feel the connection this week with Chelsie, but maybe next week. Clearly it was the right choice to send Kat packing though. Usually by this point, the departing Bachelorettes have more to say to the Bachelor, but she was gone pretty damn quick. I think if I were ever to get kicked off of the show, I would do my best to not say one friggin’ word on that limo ride. You know those crew members are just sitting across from them reading off their list of questions, to try to get some pathetic footage. “Do you feel like you were A) Kicked in the crotch, B) Thrown down a flight of stairs or C) like you just lost your best friend?”
I didn’t realize that Sharleen was so close to Kat and I’m unclear as to whether she’s crying because her friend left, or because she realizes she shouldn’t be there and Kat should. I don’t know about you, but I am ready for Sharleen to stop playing these mind games with all of us and just pack up her bags and go.
Looks like next week is the week where the claws really come out and JP loses his shit. I’ll get the popcorn! Till next week!