Week 2, Bachelor Police Blotter

Who's the luckiest dude with two thumbs? Setting aside for a moment the fact that that's really not they way that joke goes (because as the listeners, we are now of course all left wondering who's the luckiest guy with three thumbs? And do we think he's even luckier with his whole extra thumb? Those things are useful!), after the first week of this traveling freak show, I'm not entirely sure it's Chris. I don't know what he told the producers he was looking for ("Doesn't really matter if they're blonde or brunette...I'm just looking for this intangible quality that I'll know when I see. It sort of looks like fall down drunkenness...Does that help?"), but he does seem to be spending a disproportionate amount of time being a good sport rather than having a  good time. Maybe there's a tipping point for craziness and once you get above 18 or 19 women, modesty and rational decision-making just can't be controlled (The antiquated brothel laws in places like Boston that bar more than X-number of women from living together don't seem so Draconian now, do they?); maybe they're being driven wild by the lady catnip that is mild-mannered and utterly normal Chris; hell, maybe it's all of the sitting in bikinis that they've been forced to do so far, but whatever it is, this week's episode seems more deserving of a police blotter than a recap. So that is exactly what you'll get!

10:30 am - 459: Breaking and Entering: So, sure. I suppose you could make the argument that what Jillian and Megan did was less of a crime and more of a very prompt RSVP to the verbally monogrammed invitation with which Chris Harrison kicked off the show - seriously the "Chris lives right down there" and the "there are no rules" just seemed like a recipe for making sure someone waks up to a severed horse head or, at least at a minimum, a non-severed naked lady in his bed - but regardless, it seemed like a pretty major privacy violation. I can picture the manhunt now: "In pursuit of two Caucasian female suspects: one blonde and about 5'2" and the other dark-haired and wearing some sort of blurry black box across he rear."

11:15 am (and, it would seem, all the other times) - 390: Drunk and Disorderly: So, on the one hand, I sort of get Jordan because, for me, alcohol also functions like a slurry truth juice. On the other hand...how does one even go about discovering the precise level of drunk one needs to be to be uninhibited enough to twerk up against a wall like that but not so over-to-top blotto that you wind up concussed on the way down.

6:45 pm - 11-57: Suspicious Person: You really could almost see Chris fighting against his better judgement (in my imagination, said better judgement takes the form of Sam the Eagle from the muppets. Tell me you wouldn't listen to that than the voice of the squeaky soprano of that annoying, judgmental cricket...) when it came to Mackenzie this week. Would America see and understand that he was sending her home because of her rambling monologues about aliens and his (perfectly normal-sized) nose, or would they think he was heartlessly leaving her rose-less because she admitted to having a kid?

 All I can say is Mackenzie is 21...and she is really 21. From her constant giggling to her completely unfocused conversation to even the immature way she introduced the fact that she has a son ("Do you want to know why I haven't dated in a year? Check yes, no, or maybe.") it's pretty clear that she's way too young for Chris. And after her completely over-the-top, unfounded-in-any-kind-of-fact virgin rant (which, seriously. Does Mackenzie only know men from Indonesia and Afghanistan...or time travelers from the book of Deuteronomy? Where is this generalization coming from?), I feel like I can say with some confidence to Chris that we would have understood if he had sent her home.

8:30 pm - 148.5: Filing a False Police Report: First of all, let me just say, that it makes me incredibly happy that this one is a 0.5. The California Penal Code is just like me, you guys! More importantly, though, the ziplines, the creepy, bat-laden caves, the bungee cords swinging precariously in the breeze against whatever hotel the gang has been staying in have all been leading up to this: the day the Bachelor producers finally caused mass hysteria on one of there, er, romantic group dates. It's not actually as misguided as it sounds. After all, there's popular psych research that suggests that the adrenaline caused by exercise or fear can simulate the effects people feel from attraction. But one does have to wonder if a screaming and now inexplicably slightly randy limo full of girls really makes Chris feel the same way. As dumb as this sequence was - because really, wouldn't it be made slightly less terrifying by the presence of the ostensibly calm driver and production team? - it was also almost all worth it just to see Ashley S. ignore the mayhem around her and just placidly try to open the door.

8:43 pm - 245: Assault with a Deadly Weapon: I just want to take a moment to recognize the brave zombies who gave their lives in service of this episode. And also just to apologize them for what seriously has to be one of the worst jobs in the world. I don't care how many free brains they get to eat. Those paintball guns hurt!


10:04 pm - 11357: Possession of a Controlled Substance: I'm actually pretty seriously uncomfortable with what went down with Ashley S. both this week and last. She either has a diagnosed mental illness or, more likely, an equally unfunny drug problem. Either way the Bachelor psychologist should almost certainly lose her license (and by license, I clearly mean "piece of paper you get to certify your completion of Fancy's Florence's Flower Arranging you Feelings Course at the West Hollywood Rec Center" because I have a hard time believing this mental health guru completed any more training that that. Also, I would guess she skipped the "Edelweiss is for Ethics" night with good ole Mrs. F.) for allowing poor Ashley S. to appear on this show.

12:10 am - 242: Battery: So, maybe it's just me, but it seems like there's something a bit off about the kissing this year. Outside of Britt, for whom it seems natural and Kaitlyn, for whose throat Chris just badly seemed to want to ram his tongue down, it seems like a lot of the girls are rushing inorganically into lip-locking scenarios that feel forced and awkward and not exactly like the kind of moment you'd hurry to share with your girlfriends (which is a whole 'nother thing. Why are they doing so much sharing this year? Why!?!). But the worst by far was Ashley I. (who I feel I must henceforth call Kardashley after her claim this week). No matter how it had gone down, it would have been somewhat hard to swallow against the whole difficult-to-believe, never-had-a-boyfriend virgin thing. And the whole wishing on her belly button ring ordeal was certainly not great (especially since it made me super preoccupied with how she and Chris needed to immediately find some rubbing alcohol or Purell - those things get infected so easily!). But this all might have been overlooked has Kardashley not committed full-on facial battery when it came to the actual kiss. I googled the difference between assault ad battery for the purposes of writing this post (because people on the metro don't find me weird enough already), and the charges against her are clear. Kardashley went way beyond intention and did some serious damage with that kiss.

Week 2, The Drama

The Situation: The Nudey Pics

How Dramatic Was It? It was way, way less dramatic than it should have been. Seriously, Andi should have left the show. Look, i'm not exactly the best women's right activist in the world (case in point, I had to google whether it was women's or womens' because I have legitimately never written that combination of words...though that may say more about me as a grammarian...), but this whole scenario was such a disgusting display of objectification of women, that even my lady hackles (they wear stilettos and inhale each new issue of US Weekly...see I'm terrible, guys) were raised.  Leaving aside for the moment the truly terrible fact that they assigned the naked shots to the federal prosecutor and the first grade teacher - the two ladies to whom stripping is the least well-suited - let's just look at the sheer ridiculousness of including a naked Top Model every year. But these girls have jobs (mostly...sort of).  They're not trying to be professional models (you know, at least now right at the moment). They're just trying to date some guy. And they should be allowed to get naked in front of him on their own (or at least on Christ Harrison's fantasy suite invite date card's) terms. 2) It is a Humane Society calendar. I'm a little shaky on my psychology, but since we're talking about dogs, i'm pretty sure Pavlov's famous conditioning experiments involved a bell, saliva, and food. I don't remember anything about boobs and/or the euthanasia of the poor pooches. 3) It's not necessarily worth it just because you save a dog. I get the gall of challenging Kelly on this when she is, in fact, a dog lover by profession, and I do have a rescue dog who I am rather disgustingly fond of; however, there's a cost-benefit analysis to this whole thing that I'm just not sure Kelly necessarily ran. For example, if one of Elise's students turns to a life of prostitution or if one of Andi's convictions murders her in a labia-induced obsessive rage, is it really worth it?  It's a value judgement, to be sure, and I'm only an amateur dog lover by trade (I just don't have the discipline to mkae it on the professional circuit), but I would say probably not.

Naked and Not Complaining:
A Role Model for Young Girls Everywhere

shoot in the first place.  The facts are these: 1) These girls are (mostly) not paid or aspiring models. Look, we all know this scenario is right out of the Tyra Banks Perverse Incentives playbook. I'm pretty sure this same situation literally happens on

Who's to Blame? The Producers. I've already expressed my dissatisfaction with Juan Pablo's reaction to the whole thing, but clearly the Producers had this heinous situation tailor made (by a crazy-eyed, fake-accent-love tailor who parlayed her love of putting girls into these types of situations into a Harvard MBA).


The Situation: Cassandra's Mini Meltdown

How Dramatic Was It? Not dramatic at all. This happens every year where one of the contestant has a bit of a freakout upon realizing that she's risking a whole lot on a bet she's almost certainly not going to win. There's very little excitement to be had when watching someone realize they've miscalculated on their pretty straightforward math problem (you forgot to carry the one, Cassandra!)

Who's to Blame? Cassandra. I just assume that anyone willing to go on a reality show is also willing to watch it. Because seriously, Cassandra, this is pretty much how this show always works.


The Situation: Victoria's Not-so-Mini Meltdown

How Dramatic Was It? The dramatic-est. We've already devoted a lot of time to this, but I'm pretty sure Shonda Rhimes is in the process of writing an episode of Grey's Anatomy featuring this very situation as we speak.

Who's to Blame? Victoria? Society? The French for Inventing such a Delicious Beverage? A woman can't reach such great heights of lunacy without a little help from her friends (I've graduated from mixing metaphors to mixing song lyrics...or maybe I've regressed?). I'm just glad she chose to make friends with a bottle of Andre.


The Situation: Juan Pablo's Commercial with the Yellow M&M

How Dramatic Was It? The commercial itself included very little drama, but the scene when Red found out Yellow was making commercials without him...?  Suffice it to say it will make for a very interesting and very intense spotlight feature on the Women Tell All.

Who's to Blame? It's easy to blame Yellow, but truth be told Red has been very distant recently. Yellow is a living, feeling man M&M! He's got needs!


The Situation: The Final Rose

How Dramatic Was It? So dramatic that I've completely forgot who it went to.

Who's to Blame? I don't know, but I feel like I can't wrap up on blogging for the week without at least commenting on Amy L. interview nonsense. It was the worst.  That is all.

Week 2, The Guy

So, normally, by this point in the show, I like to have a CIA-grade dossier on the season's hapless star just Bachelor), as a matter of responsible blogging, but really, they're still giving us very little to go on when it comes to Juan Pablo. Perhaps it's because I've been irresponsibly skipping the Sunday night specials to do things like "read a book" or "better humanity" (here, defined as staring at a wall while resolutely reaffirming I will not watch any morebut I still am rather hard-pressed to describe him using nay words beyond some amalgamation of "Venezuelan," "Father," and "Soccer," but I did pick up just a few more tidbits in this week's episodes, including:


Juan Pablo has been taught about Active Listening.
  With a capital "a" and a capital "L" because this boy is basically modelling the skill as if he was in a court-mandated conflict resolution session. Seriously, it's almost distracting the way in which he very deliberately nods or interjects an "mmmhmmm" or "I understand" (and I apologize in advance for flagging this because I dare you to watch without noticing this now that I've pointed it out). On the one hand, it's nice not to have to put up with another season of the tragedy boner ("I'll just wait for you outside" are not the words of a man who is thrilled by ladies crying), but on the other hand, it seems very likely that someone took him aside and said, 'Look, Buddy. If you give each woman the same blank stare you favored on Des' season, people are going to suspect you're not really in it to find a wife." (I hope it was Camila because that would be adorable, but, let's face it, it was probably someone much more depressing like Chris Harrison or his best friend of 30 minutes, Sean Lowe).

Juan Pablo is a different kind of Bachelor.
So part of this, I'm sure, is the editor's fault, but so far it seems Juan Pablo is taking the women on slightly different kinds of dates. Mostly, it seems, the key difference is that these dates don't actually seem to feature any kind of food, but it should not be overlooked that he also managed to take poor Kat on a date where it was actually physically difficult to do any kind of talking. Now, I know that there's plenty going on that's happening off screen (because there has to be, right?  Six stilted conversations do not a betrothal make!), but I do really like envisioning Juan Pablo giving some directions on the kind of dates that he would like, saying something along the lines of "Let's skip dinner. And take all that repelling and watching the sunset with a picnic and champagne nonsense off the table. Just get rid of anything that stands in the way of women pressing up against me with their half-naked bodies." (Juan Pablo, let it be known, has a very similar conversational patter to my internal monologue. Clearly.)

Because Juan Pablo is different, I'm different.

Is this the face of a man who needs any additional fodder for creepiness?

Sorry guys. I just wanted to write something even approaching the ludicrousness of Clare saying she's never felt so alive because of a man.  Despite my homage, I really haven't changed. I still enjoy being judgmental, making long-winded and irrelevant asides, and yelling at my husband for never taking me to a wintery wonderland made of fake snow (the fact that we get real snow from time to time doesn't really feel like a valid argument). But I do think that because I have no illusions about pure motives or decent person-hood as I might with, say, Ben or Sean, my capacity for disappointment in Juan Pablo is certainly lower. When he told Andi she didn't have to feel uncomfortable getting naked because it was "for a good cause" and because he would do it too rather than - oh, I don't know - telling her it was no big deal and the shouldn't do anything she felt uncomfortable with, I still yelled at my TV. But I did it with less conviction, less vehemence, less scaring-any-small-children-who-happened-to-be-walking-by-as-I-watched-the-show-into-never-trick-or-treating-at-my-house-itude than I might have done in years past.