The Slutever Diaries

Until people stop telling children and elderly people suffering from dementia what to do, nobody is free.

[notbeckyscott]

The Elephant in the Room: Why Is No One Talking about How Hot Jon Ossoff Is?

Everybody is talking about buzzy, young, upstart Jonathan Ossoff. The 30-year-old Democrat narrowly missed winning in a Republican-dominated Atlanta district Wednesday and will take on Republican Karen Handel in a June face-off. But there’s an elephant in the room. A big one. A sexy one. A

[notbeckyscott]

This Weather is Fucking Awesome and I’m Not Sorry

There have been an awful lot of people on the Internet lately denying themselves the unadulterated joy of summer in February so I’m here with a counterpoint: This weather is fucking awesome and I’m not sorry.

A few facts:

1)   It’s 69 degrees.

2)   It’s February.

3)   The human race is finished.

There are those who say 1+2=3 and they’re not “wrong” per se. The human race will probably die out sometime in the next several generations and climate change isn’t the only alt-Disney villain looking to claim credit for the deed. There’s nuclear war, antibiotic resistant bacteria, and, my personal favorite scenario, unaffordable prescription drugs.  

(In which Big Pharma slowly increases prices until healthcare becomes unaffordable for anyone but the 1% so domestic laborers and school teachers and babysitters start to die off from totally curable diseases until the only people left are rich white men and their trophy wives but then the trophy wives start offing themselves because death is preferable to cleaning their own homes and raising their own children so the remaining men try to keep morale up by giving each other halfhearted blowjobs but it’s hard to stay positive amidst the rubble of a world you’ve helped destroy and just when they think they’ll all die from heartbreak – surprise! – Jesus arrives for Judgment Day and casts them all into hell.)

The point is there’s a lot to be afraid of right now and the future is going to be rough.  No more snow days, no more running outside on summer afternoons, no more Miami, FL. The future is dark.

But the present is sunny. So take a deep breath, pack a sandwich in your mini backpack, and go outside. Search for bugs under rocks. Eat one. Why not? Roll around in the grass and the dirt and dip your toes in a natural stream. Walk over a bridge. Run through an open field with your arms flung out. Lie down in the middle of a paved road. Enjoy the weather, enjoy the sun, and enjoy the world while you can.

Because we’re all going to die.    

[notbeckyscott]

The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // Week Eight

Welcome back to The Bachelor, the show where four women risk it all by giving their home address to a near-stranger who might become their husband.This is the hometown episode, and it starts in Hoxie, Arkansas, which I can’t help but suspect is not actually Raven’s hometown or, really, anybo

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // Week Seven

I can now say with near certitude that Rachel Lindsay will debut next season as the franchise’s first black bachelorette. This is good news for obvious historical reasons but mainly because it means dearly beloved Rachel is not destined to spend her life with Slenderma — I mean, Nick. Congratulations, Rachel. We are all, literally, thrilled.

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // Week Six

Welcome back to The Bachelor, one of the last good pieces of theater in a world full of shitty performance art.

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

6 Things Women Who Don’t Like Football Can Do Instead of Pretending to Like Football Tonight

You may not have a PhD in psychology but you probably have an opinion on whether or not your friend Sarah has narcissistic personality disorder. Go ahead — crack open the DSM and see for yourself. Time to diagnose some bitches.

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

5 Reasons Beyoncé’s Pregnancy is Good for America

It gets lonely at the top so Beyoncé announced today that she’s gifting herself with not one but two tiny infants to keep her company alongside Blue Ivy and Jay. Congratulations Beyoncé, but more importantly, congratulations America. Here’s why Beyoncé’s pregnancy will help Americans cope with their crumbling nation-state.

1.     There will be two more rich liberals in the world.

George Soros. 

While Donald Trump’s idea of charity is going down on Melania for her birthday, Beyoncé and Jay-Z put a big chunk of their wealth towards Hurricane Katrina survivors and earthquake victims. Did you know Jay-Z bailed out dozens of Black Lives Matter protestors in Baltimore? Or that Beyoncé donated her entire salary from Cadillac Records to a rehabilitation center for recovering drug addicts? With the advent of these two tiny human beings, both of whom stand to inherit millions of dollars from several world tours, there are likely to be two more rich liberals in the world. And when Trump redirects the entire federal budget to fund Ivanka’s fashion line of gold couture butt plugs, we’re going to need Beyoncé’s twins to pay for Social Security and the DIY space your friend Benja is trying to get up and running in Bushwick. George Soros can’t do it alone!  

2.     The twins won’t grow up to be adult white people.

White people are what got us into this mess and, let’s be honest, they probably won’t be what gets us out. The last thing America needs is more white people right now.

3.     This means Beyoncé and Jay-Z are still having sex.

Fascism isn’t a great backdrop for sexual relations – why do you think there are so few pornography period pieces set in 1930s Germany on xhamster.com??? During times of unique terror, it can start to feel like nobody’s fucking. So there’s something comforting about the knowledge that Jay-Z and Beyoncé are still making time and space to perform their marital duties, especially after the very public tumult of their last year together. It’s almost enough to make you want to get back on Tinder and swipe right on every guy with a dog in his profile picture.  

4.     This pregnancy could lead to another Witch Mountain remake.

Witch Mountain is one of the best movies of the 20th century and in an America where both witches and mountains are at risk, it deserves to be remade with a different set of twins every year. There’s no reason it shouldn’t be remade with these ones.

5.     Maybe Earth can handle one more generation.  

  I trust Beyoncé’s judgment unequivocally and if she thinks the earth will last long enough to support one more generation of life, so do I. This is the permission from God we’ve been waiting for! Go forth and populate the earth with your seed, y’all. From Generation X to Generation Y to the Finale Generation.

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

I wrote this song for everyone out there who has been shamed for not wanting to watch the Olympics with your mom. 

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

“MOM I’M ASKING DAD. LET ME ASK DAD. YOU SAID DON’T INTERRUPT.”

Welcome to this week’s coverage of The Bachelorette, a show about one woman’s journey to find Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers.

On this week’s episode, Jojo pretends to seriously consider her options before making the least dramatic decision in Bachelorette history – Jordan. Robby, the former competitive swimmer who - in case you missed it – professed his love for Joelle in Uruguay, goes home with a broken heart and a participation trophy.

I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?

RIP.

Let’s start at the beginning, when the Earth wasn’t yet the Earth as we know it but rather an uber-charged atom waiting for the go ahead from God to explode into a million billion zillion little pieces of matter that would come together to create a livable environment for a species so abominable – so terrifically soulless – that they would go on to forge a legacy of torture and war and racism and The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

Let me be clear – I don’t know science.

This was a long time ago, by the way, long before the only benevolence of which humans would prove to be capable was bastardized by a man named Mike Fleiss. One sunny morning in the land of Hollywood, Mike Fleiss, a chubby producer unafraid to harness the outsize power available to white men, decided to merge love and capitalism in what would become the saddest, most successful reality show in history. The masses turned him into a very rich man and Mike Fleiss would never be called to answer for his crimes against humanity.  

Except for in November 2014, when he was criminally charged for harassing Bay Watch star David Charvet and his wife, actress Brooke Burke. He did answer for that crime.

Mike Fleiss. 

So here we are now, all of us the victim, all of us the perpetrator, starved for drama and disgusted by the hunger that fuels the exploitation of our peers.

 What does all of it mean?

Anyway, I’d forgotten how classy Jojo’s mother is - and a practical chooser of men to boot! Jojo, who has been methodically eliminating men based on a one to ten “abs, face, booty, legs, hair” scale, doesn’t have the mature sensibility of her mother, Soraya. Soraya is a learned female who chose her partner for his money as much as for his utter lack of universal desirability. A broken home was never in the cards for Soraya, Patron Saint of Elegance. She advises her daughter to remember that if the whole wide world will fall to their knees for a man, he will one day let the world do so. Translation: Jordan is a man of loose morals who will one day leave you for a younger woman named Tamara.

Or something along those lines.

God bless you, Soraya. 

Did anyone else see the wisp of a brunette female sitting at the end of the Fletcher family couch? She spoke not a word and her face didn’t move once. She looked melancholy, as if her short life had come to an abrupt end and she was condemned for eternity to haunt the home of a family who sent their youngest daughter to date former professional athletes in Los Angeles. I’d post a picture but I don’t think she was actually there. 

DM me if you, too, saw this ghost.

After all the men have been returned to their cryogenic chambers, it comes out that Jordan has failed to ask Jojo’s father for permission to marry her, which is a huge no-no in this antiquated performance piece of a regional theater production.

Despite my beauty – or perhaps because of it - it’s doubtful that anyone will ever ask for my hand in marriage. In the unlikely case, however, that a gentleman of marriageable age should express interest, he should expect to direct the request to my sister’s three-year-old Yorkie puppy, Charli. Charli, should she still be alive by the time I walk down the aisle, is the only living thing I trust to give me away properly.

Jojo, understandably (in a sexist way), intends for her human father to give her away, which means Jordan’s failure to ask his permission will have potentially catastrophic consequences for their relationship.

Just kidding. Jordan apologizes and calls up Jojo’s parents from Thailand, demonstrating both the beauty of forgiveness and the miracle of technology.  It’s a non-issue, even though the producers use their tremendous skills of manipulation to convince Jojo that maybe Jordan never loved me, or her, or anyone, or anything, YEAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

To be fair, this is all probably true about Jordan but it should be deduced from his six-year record of never having slept with a girl more than one time rather than from his not having asked the father of a woman with two boyfriends if he can marry her.

I don’t know, you guys. I don’t know how love works. My sister does, though. She’s in a *Facebook Official Relationship* and keeps screaming at the television screen like, “THIS IS SO FAKE, I KNOW SOMEONE WHO WAS ON THIS SHOW AND THEY SAID IT WAS FAKE, OH MY GOD BECKY DO YOU ACTUALLY BELIEVE ANY OF THIS WOW THIS IS BULLSHIT, DID YOU GET ME A PRESENT FOR MY BIRTHDAY, BECKY I’M SERIOUS YOU HAVE TO SPEND AT LEAST TWENTY DOLLARS LIKE I DID ON YOUR BIRTHDAY BECKY BECKY BECKY BECKY.”

For the record, I didn’t get her a birthday present but that’s only because I sent her a Snapchat selfie that said “What do u want 4 ur bday” and she didn’t answer it. I’ll probably order her a Groupon massage later this afternoon.  

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARA. CONSIDER THIS BLOG THE FIRST HALF OF YOUR BDAY GIFT. 

There are a lot of shitty aspects to being the Bachelorette but I think probably the best part is that America has a front row seat to your relaysh drama. You can literally walk up to anyone on the street after the show airs and there’s a solid chance that, not only do they know exactly who you’ve been seeing, there are no limits to the number of opinions they have about you and your boo. I would abuse this privilege to the nth degree, should ABC ever come to their senses and cast me as the Reigning Queen Supreme Triple XXX Diva Bachelorette. 

There was never any question as to how this season would end but I do have a lot of questions about where life goes from here: How will Jordan and Jojo support themselves on the salaries of a fake real estate agent and a former NFL quarterback? How long before Jordan is caught in a Cleveland airport bathroom stall committing sinful acts with a woman who works the register at his favorite airport Starbucks? When will Jojo come to understand her true worth as a woman and move to Portland to start a feminist bookstore? When will Soraya rise up like a Phoenix to bring the rule of men to its inevitable finale? Is the existence of the female orgasm, having no basis in biological evolution, the soundest argument for the parallel existence of an altruistic God? 

It’s been a WILD & CRAZY ride. Thank you all for coming along with me. I’m honored to have been the recipient of your unquestioning faith that I actually watched this show week after week instead of just making shit up, even when I was undeserving of that faith. 

This may be my last blog post ever, as I am starting journalism school on Thursday so I can further perfect my ability to bring The Bachelorette to life on the page. I received a few DMs from some of you recently (thank you!) and I want to encourage anyone who feels compelled to reach out to please do so - especially if you’d like me to reconsider the cessation of this blog! Sometimes, it feels as if I’m shouting into the void about things that don’t matter and it’s refreshing to feel instead as if I am shouting at between twenty and thirty people about things that don’t matter. 

With love,

Becky. 

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

“Think About Your Thoughts Before You Say Them.”

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW has this show had a 31 season run?

I’ve spent the last few months taking a hard look at where this country is heading and I’m scared. Climate change is threatening our cities’ coastlines. Income inequality is shrinking the middle class, consigning millions of people to a life of poverty. Donald Trump is threatening the foundation of American democracy itself. Chipotle’s stock price is at an all-time low.  

And it looks like the next Bachelor is going to be Chase, Luke, or Robby.

CHASE. LUKE. OR ROBBY.

Sit with that for a minute.

I have dedicated the last two years of my life to making sure teenage girls and straight men in their mid-twenties have had access to fair, unbiased coverage of The Bachelor/ette and it devastates me to say that it might be time to put down the metaphorical pen and move on. After having spent a full season documenting in painstaking detail Ben Higgins’s journey to the blondest, whitest, most lobotomized basic female he ever could have loved, I’m not sure I’m the right person to do the same for any of the above men.  Ben ruined me.

He ruined me.

I did my best to provide you with a brief summary of last night’s Men Tell All but the well is dry and the year is 2117. There is no water left. There are no humans to be found. The only proof any of us were ever here is a dirty piece of paper tumbling in the breeze. If there were anyone left to look closely at this piece of paper, they’d have made out  a series of numbers and letters written in red ink. This is Hillary Clinton’s Gmail password.

She was never any good at safeguarding her Internet privacy.

I love you all and good night.

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

“You Were the Most Playful You’ve Ever Been Today.”

Welcome back to my coverage of The Bachelorette, a show that, quite frankly, you should all consider cutting out of your lives. There are hundreds of thousands of better ways to spend your time. Learn to sew boxer briefs. Explore New York City or whatever dumb place you call home. Read a book.

You know who loves to read books? Britney Spears. It’s one of her favorite activities. I know this because she hosted a Tumblr Q+A last night and revealed to her fans a side of herself that we’ve never seen. For example, she loves fudge and the song “Me Too” by Meghan Trainor.  

There was also this exchange:

nickspearsmaisto asked: Can you give us some details about your next [music] video?

There’s lots of female empowerment.  Lol.

Pop stars who came up in the 90s still feel uncomfortable engaging with feminism (Christina Aguilera is the obvious exception to this rule- she single-handedly advanced Women’s Rights by three and a half years with the release of Stripped) but Britney, one of the developed world’s foremost victims of “existing as a woman”, is trying her best and I admire it. Somebody should buy her something by bell hooks to read during intermission at her Vegas residency concerts. Also, somebody should buy me tickets to her Vegas residency concert.

But I digress.

On this episode of The Bachelorette, we pick up where we left off last week – an airport landing strip. Jojo says good-bye to Luke, our Southern vampire, and it looks hard for her! She cries and cries and cries but it might just be sleep deprivation because then they cut to Thailand and she seems fine.

Jojo assures her audience that she’s definitely in love – she just doesn’t know with whom, which is a problem I wish I had because it would mean I’ve met more than one straight man in my lifetime. Straight men for me are kind of like female directors for most people – you could be like “Name five” and I would be like “Give me 48 hours and access to Google, bitch!”  

For those who wonder if active feelings of love aren’t possible unless directed towards one particular warm body, I encourage you to consider how similar the three of these men look and how shallow our Queen is. In a good way!

Jojo’s first date goes to Robby, former competitive swimmer, current competitive Bachelorette contestant. They go to a market in Thailand and talk about the relationship that it’s pretty obvious Robby ended in order to be a reality television star. Robby continually refers to Jojo as “Joelle” during his confessional interviews, which makes me uncomfortable. 

At dinner, Joelle offers Robert the key to the fantasy suite card and Robert is like, I’ve been hard since 8am so, yes. They have sex off-camera and Jojo leaves the next morning wearing a tank over a bralette. Bralettes are the future of feminism.  I love bralettes even though they don’t do a whole lot to conceal the female nipple when the AC is blasting at your office.

Wow, does it sound to anyone else like I’m burning out or is that just me?

Whatever, the next date goes to Jordan.  He and Jojo take a little hike up a mountain to a temple where they’re not allowed to do anything reminiscent of sex. Fitness is an interesting thing. I have a friend who can run ten miles with no socks on but hates climbing uphill in nature. I can complete a fifteen minute workout on the stairstepper machine at the gym without any trouble but consider filing a complaint with the ACLU every time I have to walk up the stairs to my fourth floor apartment.

Jojo is excited to take some time out of her physical ventures with Jordan in order to establish some sort of emotional connection. Unfortunately, it turns out they don’t have anything to say to each other but he IS the hottest, most famous man competing for her heart at the moment so that’s not a total deal breaker.

At dinner, Jojo asks Jordan where his home is and he’s like, I don’t have a home. I mistakenly believe that this conversation will include a nod to Jordan’s current career but they focus solely on geography and not how he will add an income to their future two-person household. Will Jojo have to support whatever family she ends up with like Teresa Giudice did with her cookbook after Joe Giudice’s construction business went under? I don’t want that future for Jojo but it’s looking more and more likely that she’s going to marry a former competitive athlete with a six-pack and almost no purchasing power.

Does she think he’ll look like this forever??????

Feminism has taken It 2 Far. 

Anyway, Jojo and Jordan spend the night in their own Fantasy Suite. We’ll never know what happened between the two of them during this off-camera special but Jordan describes it as “a big step in a really exciting direction” and “everything I thought it would be” so I’m gonna go with anal. 

Chase’s turn!

Chase and Jojo go to a market where Chase kisses a raw fish while the locals look on in horror. Chase loves the monkeys in Thailand. He and Jojo find a monkey that they think wants to hang out with them but we know all along what a pipe dream that is. The monkey disappears. Chase’s spirits remain high.

“We’re in this natural place with monkeys and fisherman,” says Chase and he’s not wrong.

Later, Jojo sets herself up perfectly to receive, for the third straight evening in a row, all-night cunnilingus (with this sort of power dynamic, of course that’s what goes on in the Fantasy Suite) when Chase has to ruin it by confessing his love to her. Remember: Chase comes from a broken home so telling Jojo that he loves her puts him in an ultra-vulnerable position.

And, boy, does Jojo EVER shove that butter knife into his naked, raw flesh! What follows Chase’s admission of love is one of the most painful scenes in Bachelorette history and serves as a reminder of what a cruel show this is when it succeeds at what it aims to do. Because we tend to forget that heartbreak is one of the most excruciating parts of what it means to be human, we ignore that the manufacturing of heartbreak for the capital gain of wealthy producers is not a nice or innocent or family-friendly thing to do. It is, in fact, a really fucked up thing to do. And, although one can argue that it’s impossible to fall in love so quickly or that the people who sign up as contestants are fame-hungry rather than love-starved, Chase’s situation is an example of what happens when this show produces some very real consequences.

Remember when Chase and Jojo did partners hot yoga way back when? And my dad, who was watching in Connecticut because my parents are almost too supportive of my endeavors, texted me, “If this is yoga, I’m Yoda”? Life was simple then. In commemoration of what I know will be Chase’s last hurrah, I’ve been doing yoga and girl push-ups during the commercial breaks. Some people call them knee push-ups but I call them girl push-ups because I’m weak AF and like to blame biology for it.  

I could only do six. 

After Jojo is done triggering some serious divorce memories for Chase, he departs in a van, heartbroken and embarrassed. We think he is gone for good until he shows up unexpectedly at the next day’s rose ceremony to apologize for getting mad that Jojo invited him to have sex with her in the fantasy suite and then changed her mind. I am going to make an early call that the producers put Chase up to this because they are seriously considering him as the next Bachelor and don’t want his final impression to be one of entirely justified anger.

Jojo and Chase forgive one another and then Chase makes his way into the burning hot Thailand sun, followed by none other than the little macaque primate of his dreams. What a great scene. What a great image with which to end this entry.  

Join me tomorrow to find out whether Chad has repaid his blood sins in t-shirts.

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

“She’s Darling, Great Laugh, Loves Dogs, Hates Fish.”

It’s hard to find ways to stay passionate about Jojo’s search for love when God has been raining down gifts upon us in the form of Real Life Drama. In the past week alone, Taylor Swift has been toppled by Kimberly Kardashian’s Snapchat story, Melania Trump’s speechwriter is furrowing his way through a tunnel somewhere in Venezuela, and something else about Hillary’s email. Also, Benghazi! Always Benghazi!  

Sometimes I think I’d rather die than have to spend one single more second of my life watching The Bachelorette but I’d have to go door to door asking my mom’s friends for forgiveness if I took this blog offline and honestly I spent too much money on alcohol this weekend to afford an apology tour. 

So here we are: Week One Billion of Season Eight Hundred. This is the week Jojo is forced to meet four sets of parents and zero sets of famous quarterback Aaron Rodgers. We begin with Chase. Chase hails from Denver, Colorado and his dad is a huge dick and hopefully has a huge dick too because he’s super-hot, am I right ladies? Chase’s parents are divorced, which is usually a no-no on this show but I think the producers saw the vitriol in Chase’s eyes when he talked about his father and knew it would make for great television.

I immediately hate Chase’s dad and America should too. This is a man who abandoned his family for some beautiful, intelligent, compassionate HOMEWRECKING WHORE when Chase was eight years old. Chase refers to his dad’s soulmate as “your wife” which I think is a fun and effective way of communicating to his father that this woman could burn up in a fiery car crash and Chase would feel neutral to mildly positive about her death.

Chase has a lot of these moments with his father. One moment occurs when Jojo says Chase has a big heart and Chase makes eye contact with his father and says “I got it from you, Dad” and maintains eye contact with him for a few beats longer than is generally considered protocol and I can just picture his dad getting into the car with his second wife later that night like “I swear to God, Mindy, that kid is gonna cut my dick off someday” and Mindy will be like “Did ya get Tommy to sign off on your updated will babe” and Chase’s dad will be like “You know I did, babe, I ain’t lettin’ that bitch Tamara get a cent when her loony tunes son offs me” and Mindy will be like “Awww, baaaaaabe, he’s your son too” and they’ll both laugh and then she’ll give him road head.

The point is Chase doesn’t seem to be entirely over his abandonment issues.

When Chase brings Jojo to her mom’s house, it’s very apparent who won family, love, and warmth in the divorce settlement. You can tell Chase harbors no resentment towards his mother because he refers to his stepdad as “my stepdad Brad.” I wouldn’t sleep with My Stepdad Brad and that’s a good thing because I would hate to have to home wreck Chase’s second family. It would really kill me to have to do that.

Jojo flies away from Chase’s family drama t visit If U C Jordan in Chico, California. Jordan takes Jojo to his high school which I think we all kind of knew he would. He went to Pleasant Valley High School where he was primarily known as the quarterback of the Pleasant Valley Vikings and secondarily known as the first fifteen year old boy in his graduating class to last longer than fifteen seconds.

After Jojo and Jordan make out in the stacks, they return to his childhood home to meet his mother and brother but not the famous brother which is an important theme of this date. Jordan’s family spend most of their time talking about how they don’t talk about the famous sibling, who is currently locked up in Olivia Munn’s basement wondering why his family hasn’t filed an official Missing Person case with the Chico, California police station. They do, however, keep two seats conspicuously empty at the head of the table should Aaron Rodgers use his brute force to escape from the calfskin handcuffs that currently encase his tiny wrists.

Besides the Aaron Rodgers drama, the only notable thing about this date is that the third brother, Luke, got violently short shrifted on the hot genes. Also, I wouldn’t fuck Aaron Rodgers dad. He’s 95 years old and it’s jarring.

We’ve made it to Robby! Robby is from Florida which makes sense since he kisses with his eyes open and knows how to swim. He also has that special plastic quality that only people from Florida seem to possess. Robby has a big family and they all definitely fuck. I would have sex with every member of Robby’s family, including but not limited to his mom. Robby tells his mother that he has had several panic attacks about the fact that Jojo is sleeping with three other men and his mother takes it upon herself to trigger one more by telling him that everyone in Florida thinks he only broke up with his ex-girlfriend so he could take his shirt off on national television.

Which is probably true but he denies it to Jojo despite her tearful plea for the truth so I guess he’ll live to see another day.

Robby’s Dad. 

Ok so there’s Luke. He lives in Texas and is either beloved or afraid of being alone with the voices in his head since he introduces Jojo to fifty of his closest friends and family. Jojo and Luke play corn hole and hang out with a newborn baby. I would not have sex with Luke’s father.

So then Jojo leaves and two days later all the men are transported to a helicopter pad where Jojo appears in a boobful dress all prepared to give Luke the boot until Luke is like “I love you, don’t” and the producers are like “To Be Continued.”  

Tune in next week to see whose emotional break is more impressive, mine or Jojo’s. 

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

“I’m Watching Him Stroke This Animal.”

Welcome back to my coverage of “The Bachelorette”!  This week’s episode was a little bit raunchy so if you have little children reading over your shoulder, take a moment to get them out of the room, out of the house, out of the public school system, and safely to Denmark or Norway before this country burns to the ground.  

I’d like to start this week’s “Reporting of the Facts” with a moment of silence for Wells.

Thank you. 

This week, Jojo and her men head to the Argentinian countryside. Alexander, the five foot three war hero (not to be confused with Luke, the six foot three war veteran), gets to ride in the car with Jojo while the rest of the men are relegated to the short bus. The men take advantage of this time away from their least favorite military spy to write a hurtful song about how his height makes him inherently inferior to the rest of them. Congratulations, Jojo, you sure have a crackerjack group of guys here.

Not that Alexander is any better. Jojo takes him to a horse ranch where she asks him to complete one simple task: Become a true Argentinian gaucho. A gaucho is someone whose best friend is a horse, otherwise known as “a cowboy of the South American pampas.” Urban Dictionary also describes a gaucho thusly: “an uncomfortable friend who has questionable taste, bad manners, exposes you before your friends and undermines your social position. You won’t get rid of him, dumping him near the freeway, because of course you’re so fucking gay and you are banging him (or he is banging you). After a Steely Dan song, but then again, who the hell knows what they really meant?”

There’s no way to be sure which definition is correct.

One of the gauchos who has been asked to turn this American gringo into an authentic South American cowboy tells Jojo that “you can’t be made a gaucho, you have to be born one” but this is legally all the opinion he is allowed to offer up re: how fucked up this show is re: cultural appropriation. So Alex still has to rise to the challenge and become a gaucho.  

Alex is fine at riding a horse but his insistence on providing a backdrop of running commentary (“My horse really likes your horse”, “I just realized how cool this [riding horses with Jojo] is”, and “I’m with you [Jojo] right now”) detracts from his gaucho efforts. This is thrown into especially high relief when Jojo and Alex watch a born-and-bred gaucho coax a wild horse to the ground using nothing but their telepathic connection. Once the horse has been subdued, he invites Jojo and Alex to lay with the horse and make out over its snout and I’m over here like, PETA WHERE YOU AT.

Honestly, it’s funny to me where PETA chooses to be and when. Like, PETA was there when Khloe Kardashian needed to be naked and they were also there when chickens needed somebody to defend their right to be considered human beings but they’re conspicuously absent at a time when an innocent horse needs these white people to not be making out right next to his head. It’s whatever, like, I don’t really care, it’s just interesting is all.  

While Jojo and Alex are committing crimes against God’s animals, Jordan is being a picky-ass eater at a roadside grill that one of the men describes as “sketchy”. Pro-tip: When somebody describes a place or neighborhood as “sketchy”, what they’re really saying is “I’m a little bit racist.” Another pro-tip: If you self-identify as a picky eater, Jordan, women are going to assume you are unwilling to perform one important little marital duty and you will never find love. Also, whenever anyone says they’re a picky eater, I think of an old friend who refused to eat any food that her father had not pre-dyed pink during a brief period of her child and then I think “NOPE.”

By the end of the date, Alex has failed to become a true Argentinian gaucho so Jojo dumps his ass and he is escorted to the airport in a true Argentinian limousine. A sad day but not as sad as that goal Portugal made in the last seven minutes of overtime against the French during Sunday’s Eurocup Final, am I right??? I’m a cool girl, I can hang!!!!!

Jordan gets the second one-on-one date. Jojo takes him to a vineyard where they stomp their rank-ass feet on grapes and then put the grapes in their mouth and then make out in a hot tub and that’s my argument for why people should DEAL WITH IT when I let my dogs kiss me in my mouth.

Then they go to dinner and Jordan tells Jojo that he loves her even though he can’t feel feelings so that’s impossible. There are really no other facts to report on re: this date.

Next up: Robby, James, and Chase’s rainy day threesome date. Apparently, Jojo had some siq activities planned for today but the rain means these men will have to make do with her alternate activites, which include: Jojo making James stick six steak fries into his mouth at once while she watches, Jojo making Robby strip down to his underwear and run through the hallways of the hotel while she watches, and the four of them spooning in a queen size bed with James’ hand strewn casually across Chase’s penis WHILE SHE WATCHES. I fall more in love with Jojo’s brand of feminism every goddamn week.

James tries to stir up some shit by accusing Robby of staring at Argentinian women on the streets as they walk by but his argument is ultimately weakened by the fact that James’ big date moment was sticking six French fries into his mouth and Robby’s big date moment was taking his shirt off to reveal a six-pack that can only be compared to Cristiano Renaldo’s. Robby gets the date rose and the satisfaction of knowing that he was the best looking guy on that date.

Luke has the final one-on-one date and it once again revolves around horses. They play with ponies and shoot things out of the sky and make out on a bench. The date is brief, albeit successful. Jojo describes Luke as “smart” which is definitely an *interesting* way of *seeing things*.  She sends him home after only a few hours to report back to our remaining men that they will be stripped of the opportunity to speak with Jojo for ten minutes this evening before the cocktail ceremony.

That evening, the men line-up for a military-style execu - I’m sorry, for the rose ceremony. Four out of the five of them have a color palette of “Dust Bowl” and this is what we English majors call “foreshadowing”. Jojo has a connection with neither Chase nor James but Chase worked out more before shooting started while James thought he could rely on his “personality” and “ability to play the guitar.” WHAT A LOSER. When will men learn that women don’t care about dumb stuff like that anymore now that the first female president is poised to be elected this November? Serves him/America right, MEN ARE FINISHED.  

Bye, James. If you want to date beautiful women, move to New York City, where your competition will consist of forty sad male stockbrokers and James Franco.

Join me next week to find out if I will ever be able to tell these four remaining men apart. 

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

“I’m Derek. And Derek Isn’t Perfect.”

Last night’s episode took place in Buenos Aires, Argentina, a city that is far from Venezuela financially, geographically, and theatrically (re: Fuerza Bruta). Luke, the Southern valley girl whose cheekbones could slice through butter, can’t think of a single place better suited to fostering long-term relationships than Buenos Aires. This thesis is followed by nary one compelling piece of evidence but I’m happy that Luke’s happy.

This episode is “All About Wells”! He is blessed with the first one-on-one date of the episode and his date card is simply a demand from Jojo to be kissed, thereby confirming to all the men what they had suspected – Wells is a virgin.

Okay, there’s a possibility Wells isn’t a virgin but it’s a definite fact that he has never kissed Jojo. She’s hornier than ever this episode so this could be his chance to make a move. Jojo swings by the hotel to pick up her babe and bitch works the room like never before seen, almost convincing me she’s actually a twenty-five year old real estate maven (but falling just short). Wells, the beautiful weak baby otter pup, is sweating through his eBay leather jacket and I’ve never been more attracted to him than in this moment.

Jojo and Wells walk awkwardly through the streets of Buenos Aires to the sound of a silent clown anthem. They end up at Fuerza Bruta, a “sexy” and “fun” theater show which is interesting because I saw it in New York and recall it more as a claustrophobic torture chamber that made me feel like I was facing imminent death within the confines of a black box. In fact, I had to attend it twice because the first showing I went to was cancelled after ten minutes when one of the performers fell to her near death while performing wall hopping tricks. I returned a week later because I’m a glutton for discomfort, only to discover that my anxiety doesn’t react well to clear pools of water descending upon my head as women smash their half-naked bodies against the glass.

Wells and Jojo seemed to enjoy it, though, and they get to try out some of the wonkier performance art aspects of the show afterwards. Wells is somehow supposed to find a good time to kiss Jojo in between getting fake shot in the chest and propelling his body back and forth through six inches of water. The latter activity reminds me of when I tried contact improv in college. For reference, contact improv shouldn’t be difficult.

This is basically what it looks like. I was very bad at it.

Wells is also bad at whatever he and Jojo are doing in the suspended pool and when they finally share a kiss, it happens in the unlikeliest physical position possible. Their bodies are both lying flat in a pool of water, much like the many bodies left behind by Jojo’s family’s ties to the mafia. Their necks are turned towards each other at a 90 degree angle as Wells puckers up for what will, spoiler alert, be the first and last kiss he ever lays on this goddess. It is difficult to witness, especially when Jojo shrieks “We did it, Wells!” as if she’s a cheerleader who asked a special-needs student to the prom and wants to be rewarded for her efforts.

It is at this point in the date that I become concerned about my own sexual proclivities. Wells is like a seven year old child progressing intellectually at a perfectly average rate compared to his second grade classmates. He’s not in the gifted reading group but he’s definitely moving up to third grade at the end of the year and his teacher consistently describes him as “sweet” and “enthusiastic” at teacher-parent conferences. And yet! I’ve never been more attracted to him as I am in this moment.  I’m worried for myself and I hope you are too. I’ll be setting up a GoFundMe account to which you can donate to help me afford mental health necessities like Reeses’ Puffs, a Soul Cycle membership, and bottomless brunches.

Anyway, Wells gets booted after Jojo decides she can’t be with someone who doesn’t see her as sexual object, a sentiment I respect and admire.

Your time here has meant more to me than you will ever know.

The group date is for all of the rest of the men, minus Derek and Chase, who will be attending a two-on-one tango date later on. Jojo sends them a note that says “Livin La Vida Boca! Love, Jojo.” The date card, to my knowledge, never ends up making sense because she takes her baes on another sports date. Even though James’ wound hasn’t yet healed from his first catastrophic sports date, he is randy to show Jojo how good he is at kicking balls – soccer balls!!!!!!

Soccer and I have always had a strained relationship. I played for about fourteen years in grade school and, although I met some of my favorite people through the sport, most of my teammates were loud and boring with an inexplicable sense of humor. If you walk through a high school parking lot, listen for the groups who laugh the most frequently and with the same manic pizzazz. These are The Athletes. I quit the team at 17 when I got a job offer to teach piano for $20/hour paid under the table in large, circular wads of cash by my dad’s weird friend. I was also very, very bad at the sport, another reason for my retirement.

Later on in life, I joined an outdoor winter recreational soccer team that quite literally stripped me of my will to live. This weekend, I am going to Vermont with friends for the Fourth of July and it has recently come to my attention that they intend to watch one complete soccer game on cable television at three pm every day. Needless to say, I’m in a fragile state re: soccer right now and last night’s date triggered a lot of negative emotions that I did not feel like revisiting.

So, whatever, the men have a little mini-competition where they shoot the ball towards the goal and whoever succeeds in scoring gets to kiss Jojo. James “wins” (I’m certain the producers rigged this “competition”) and squanders his kiss on a frenzied peck aimed roughly in Jojo’s direction.

James is holding on by the tips of his fingers right now. He’s beginning to understand that there’s a method to the madness – Jojo is very, very shallow. I can’t relate to this part of Jojo’s personality but I like it. The world must be so black and white when you are attracted to exactly what our mainstream media and superhero movies say you should be attracted to instead of men who look like they had very infirm childhoods.

One more. 

James decides to take a page out of Alex’s book and tells Jojo that he played Go Fish with “If U C” Jordan Rogers once and they disagreed on what the rules were and Jordan won because James is a little bitch. This is the least dramatic drama with which I have ever had the misfortune of occupying my time but Jojo obviously sees it as a big enough deal that she marches straight to “If U C” Jordan Rogers and says “Wah wah wah wah!” and Jordan is like “Bitch, get off my dick!” and Jojo is like “Ok sweetie baby I see you, I love you, you my boo boo, kisses and hugs, xoxoxo.”

Suffice to say that James loses this one.

The next day (week? Month? Year?) Jojo takes Derek and Chase to a tango bar for some old-fashioned two on one dancing. Derek has pretty eyes and is capable of making easy conversation but Chase is six inches taller and has a better chest which means this two-on-one was never really a competition. Chase, who can barely form a sentence, gets the rose and Derek, whose brain is big enough to understand rejection, cries all the way to the airport.

That night, Jojo must send either Robby, Jordan, James, or Alex home. I’m shocked at how interesting this season is turning out to be, taking into consideration that Jojo is basically moderating an episode of “Hot or Not” every time. It’s painfully obvious that Jordan and Robby, both former professional athletes with rock-hard thighs, will be chosen first and that’s exactly what happens. James and Alex, neither of whom have any real chance of a relationship with Jojo, are both given pity roses because Jojo doesn’t care enough about either to make any sort of meaningful decision about their futures.

Join us next week to find out whether Jordan is still a little redhead bitch. 

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

“Filling the Void of Chad.”

Episode Five opens with the triumphant return of our tiny porcelain soldier, Alex, from the forest. Jojo’ s remaining men celebrate the defeat of Chad by throwing his protein powder over the cabin railing in what is either a destruction of property suit or a mean joke, depending on whether the men have to buy their own protein powder on this show. Little do the men know that, not only is Chad not dead, he is drawing ever nearer to them as day becomes night. Nobody is yet safe.

Chad shows up around dusk and the men make their way into the den in the order of how brave they are. Jordan appears first, Evan last. Jordan attempts to engage in conflict resolution, which does not go over well with Chad, who has been walking through the forest for seven days and seven nights and wants only to end a life before he returns to his post of slanging luxury real estate.  

Chad shakes Jordan’s hand real hard because threatening handshakes are the only non-punishable physical offense contestants are allowed to commit on this show. Once Jordan has freed himself from Chad’s vise-like grip, he accuses Chad of working out in the hot tub multiple times a day and Evan finds the courage to remind Chad that he still owes him a t-shirt. Having pulled out his threatening handshake a bit too early in the game, Chad has no choice but to turn around and head back to Tulsa, Oklahoma via the forest path from whence he came.

If you’d like to help buy Evan a shirt, you may do so here.

That night, Jojo hosts a cocktail party for her baes. A man I have never seen before named James F. reads her a poem he wrote several weeks ago that begins “Her heart is like a treasure.” He will be eliminated later that night, leaving but one James left to compete for Jojo’s heart.

Can you imagine being the Bachelorette? It’s like that one night in college where you got too drunk and made out with three different boys except you have to relive it over and over again for two months and you’re not allowed to text your friends. It’s like if you were Kelly Clarkson in “From Justin to Kelly” except your spring break lasts eight weeks and there are twenty-five Justins and you have to learn full dance numbers with every single one of them. Not a single down moment exists for google imaging Suri Cruise or thinking about how you’ll never get to experience hetero male intimacy or whatever you weirdos spend your free time doing.

This is what Suri Cruise looks like now. 

The worst part, worse than not being able to read books or go to concerts without being pulled up on stage to make out in front of 20,000 people, is that you’re expected to constantly update these people on the state of your emotions. You know those feelings you go to bed with at night but never speak out loud because you’re terrified of rejection or you don’t want to ruin a good thing or you’ve only know this guy for a couple of weeks and need a minute to figure out what all of this means?

BUT NO. If you’re the Bachelorette, get ready to lay it all out on the table for anyone with a six-pack.

On a different note, Wells is being weird tonight. Like, I’d still marry him and remain faithful for the duration of my time on earth but I would rethink converting to Judaism for him if he asked.

Welllllllllllllls. 

Daniel the Overconfident Canadian is still here somehow. Am I the only one who can’t wipe from my mind the image of him getting drunk and naked on his first night here? I used to be into Canadian men until Justin Trudeau assumed the throne and emasculated them all with his perfect chin.  By 2020, 65% of Canadian babies will have been sired by Justin Trudeau. Canadian men will be rendered obsolete and the demography will die out within the next fifteen years. Mark my words.

After Jojo eliminates some heads, she announces that the survivors have won a trip to Punta del Este, Uruguay, a high end beach resort where, we learn, only the most elite South Americans go to party. The first out-of-country-one-on-one goes to Jordan, an unemployed former athlete. His date card says “Let’s seal the date” and I am hoping against all hope we’ll get some close up shots of sea mammals but the seal shots are brief and blurry on their “swimming with the seals” yacht date. The close-ups of Jordan’s rock hard penis are, meanwhile, frequent and very, very sharp.

Someone take me to the aquarium.

Later on, Jojo reveals to Jordan that she’s spoken to an ex-girlfriend of his who says that he’s a monster and Jordan is like, listen babe, I wasn’t ready to not be a monster when I was dating that breezy, and Jojo is like, that makes sense. Then they dance to some mariachi.

Meanwhile, back at the beach mansion, Vinny the Floridian Barber pulls out a copy of US Weekly that he picked up while someone lovingly trimmed his facial hair earlier that day. Inside is a story about how Jojo NEVER LOVED BEN and also how she’s historically shown an interest in men named Chad. It’s a lot of shade for such a small woman and it’s an emotional moment for the men. What to believe? A magazine that thinks Jennifer Aniston has given birth ninety seven times? Or Jojo, a woman who publicly identifies as a twenty-five year old real estate developer?

Congratulations, Jennifer! 

Honestly, it’s a toss-up.

Luckily, Jojo cries white woman tears and the men choose to place the blame at the feet of Chad, Jojo’s piece of shit ex-boyfriend who is somehow still alive despite her prominent links to The Mafia.

The next day, JoJo takes her men sand surfing on a dune. Nothing interesting happens. Evan doesn’t even get a bloody nose. It rains.

The last one-on-one date of Uruguay goes to Robby, a former competitive swimmer. Robby and Jojo go to a beach where they hang out with stray dogs and prance around and jump off rocks into water. Jojo thinks that, because Robby is a former competitive swimmer, he will somehow protect her from smashing her heads on the jagged cliffs below. She is wrong. The only thing Robby’s swimming skills will protect is his right to commit sexual assault with little to no consequences.

BA DUM DUM!

Also, Robby tells Jojo that his best friend drove off a bridge while texting last year which is very sad. Don’t text and drive.

Back at the beach mansion, Alex steps to Derek about receiving the group date rose on that boring-ass sand dune date. It’s obvious that Alex has been cast as the lunatic who believes his only path to Jojo’s heart is by methodically elimating the other men via shit talk. If these are the people protecting our country, I didn’t get drunk enough last Memorial Day and that’s THAT.

Later on, Derek will attempt to remedy the situation by doing the reverse of a gang-up. He corrals Jordan, Alex, and Chase into a corner and tells them to stop being real and start being polite. I am thoroughly on Derek’s side here. All he did was fix those little puppy eyes on Jojo and say “Baby want wose, meow meow meow” and she gave him that shit! The other men are just mad they didn’t think of it first. Alex needs to quit it with the power-hungry theater kid act and stop stepping to the innocents.

Jordan tries to apologize for making others feel emotionally excluded but nobody has time for his bullshit. Even Jojo doesn’t want to hang out with him and cancels the cocktail party because, honestly, she’s over it. She (and we) already knows Grant and Vinny are going home anyway. And they do.

Join us next week to see if Jordan stands by his commitment to start making the other men feel more emotionally included. Love you! Bye! 

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

“Sometimes, Hot Tubs are Too Hot.”

Every season, The Franchise commits the Unforgivable act of airing two episodes in one week. This transgression is why a Trump presidency would be so dangerous – as a former reality television producer, how quickly do you think he would jump to normalize the “two-in-one” format in order to maximize profits for studios? He would probably make it illegal to air just one episode per week and mandate that every episode end with a cliff hanger pointing to imminent violence, like the one with which we were left last night.

Chris Harrison has instructed Chad to explain to everyone why they feel so imminently threatened by him and he tells everyone, please, please, I’ve asked you one hundred times, leave me alone, and Evan is like, you owe me a new shirt and an apology, and Chad is like, cool here’s twenty bucks, and Evan’s like, I will NOT be disrespected as a man, my sperm has created three human beings who could be ANYWHERE right now.

The t-shirt Chad owes Evan

And Wells says something but all I hear is meep meep meep meep because I cannot concentrate on anything that comes out of that beautiful man’s mouth.

So then they all have a pool party and everything is at peace for a glorious five minutes of network television until Evan emerges from the pool with blood pouring out of his nose. Remember the kids who got bloody noses all the time in middle school? And for that reason it took a really long time for anyone to think about them sexually? Even when they were eighteen and had a six-pack or a perfect ass or great tits all you could think about when you saw them was how many times their nose spontaneously emitted rivers of blood in math class six years ago? This phenomenon can be used to explain about 98% of Evan’s personality and 100% of Chad’s reaction to him.

It would be easier to be Team Chad if he didn’t love his body so much. Someone needs to give Chad his own fitness reality show, except it needs to be filmed in a country with lenient food and drug laws so he can prescribe steroids and diet pills to the contestants, whose families will have to sign a contract promising they won’t sue the show if their family member dies while on it. And there should be at least one or two deaths per season BUT the payoff is that one of the contestants will end the show with a rock-hard body and that person will win automatic American citizenship.

For the small price of your life, this body could be yours. 

Someone needs to PAY ME for these ideas.

After everyone gets out of the pool because it’s filled with Evan’s blood, JoJo sends several men home at the rose ceremony. RIP Ali, RIP Horny Santa, RIP Other Guy.

She then takes the men to a cabin in the middle of the woods for the next week of shooting/progressing in their relationship with her. She invites Luke, our mysterious Southern bella, to trek even further into the woods with her to a hot tub in the forest. The hot tub turns out to be too hot so Luke has to stand in the water up to his ankle and cradle JoJo in his arms like a little baby until the forest breeze cools the hot tub down.

That night at dinner, Luke tells JoJo about his Ivy League education at West Point and the insufferable Connecticut suburbanite in me is like “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, West Point isnnnnnnnnn’t –“ but before I can even finish the thought, Luke is like “One of my best friends died in combat while we were defending the United States of America.”

So then I can’t even feel smug or good about finishing that thought so, fine, I won’t. I WON’T. IT’S A GET OUT OF JAIL FREE PASS, LUKE, ENJOY IT, THEY DON’T COME AROUND TOO OFTEN.

Luke. 

The second group date takes place at a football stadium. I like it when my guy friends let me drink beer in their space while football is on television but past that I don’t get a lot of enjoyment out of the game and I don’t know a lot about the people who play it. I do know, because I read it in the tabloids while waiting in line to buy tampons at Duane Reade, that the man hosting this Bachelorette football group date has been twice accused of rape and, let’s be real, probably raped at least one person. So, that’s a thing.

ANYWAY, the men try very hard to get hurt during football drills because they know JoJo will give them a little extra attention and maybe even memorize their name if they’re injured. Evan gets another bloody nose, of course, but he is outshone by James Taylor, who bashes his head in and has to be wrapped in gauze as blood drips down his face. The song bard pulls it together long enough to play a scrimmage with the other men, the winners of which will get to spend extra time with JoJo that night. Jordan plays quarterback for both teams, a move that throws me off since I’m trying hard to understand the already nebulous rules of this sport.

He’s fine. It’s fine.

Evan’s team wins. The blood from his nose was not spilled in vain.

That night, JoJo has a few compelling conversations including one where she tells a man whose name we don’t know “It’s almost like we’re making progress [in our relationship] even though we’ve spent absolutely no time together. Does that make sense?” and the guy is like “Totally.” And then they make out.

She then pulls Jordan aside and is like “I don’t want to force you to tell me you have feelings for me but I can only bring ten of you to Europe next week” and suddenly Jordan thinks he might be falling in love. With JoJo. Or Europe. Definitely one of the two.

The next day, Chad and Alex have a two-on-one date scheduled. Chad’s 24-hr security guard is not invited. Before the date begins, all the men are sitting in horseshoe formation, which they’ve mastered, in the living room. Jordan says something vaguely hostile in Chad’s direction and Chad responds, “Jordan, you do know that I will come find you at your house after this show stops shooting” but all I hear is “IF U C JORDAN (IF U C JORDAN) HE MAKES ME SICK (HE MAKES ME SICK) FUCK U JORDAAAAAAN.”

I wonder if Something Corporate is Something Chad and I have in common.

After tiny Alex puts on a pair of tiny American flag socks like the champion he is, the two men head out to meet JoJo in a big field. She tosses Chad and Alex each a one hundred pound backpack filled with beef jerky and then throws on her own one and a half pound CamelPak and is like “Leeeeeet’s go!” and skips off into the woods like she’s goddamn Gretel looking for her papi.

I mentally calculate what would happen if they got lost. Who would eat who? Who would survive? My guess is that Chad, who has zero percent body fat, would die after about 18 hours without food. His muscles would be impossible to bite into so Chad wouldn’t be a realistic source of food but Alex could use his body as a table when he eats JoJo, who will inevitably be the next to go - that skinny bitch, am I right!!!!!

Luckily, they don’t get lost. They hike to a river, set out a blanket, and engage in stilted conversation about nature until JoJo says “Alex, would you like to find a private wooded area in which we might talk shit about Chad?” and Alex is like “M’lady, there would be no greater honor.” So Alex tells JoJo that Chad plans to find and kill her golden-haired football boyfriend Jordan when there are no producers to protect him and JoJo is like “Oh my gosh, I feel like there’s so much I’m finding out about Chad!” Even though she’s been told several times by many different men but nobody’s perfect.

So she takes Chad aside and is like “Chad, did you threaten to come find Aaron Rogers’ brother?” and Chad sighs and is like, “I didn’t NOT.” And JoJo is like “I need to think hard about whether I can keep progressing in a relationship with you.”

The best part about being the star of a show where you’re pursued by twenty-five gorgeous men is that you actually DON’T have to think that hard about keeping around the one who is making the other twenty-four fear for their lives. I’m not sure if JoJo knows this.

While JoJo is “thinking hard”, Chad returns to the river-side blanket scene and has a conversation with Alex that goes something like this:

“Alex, calm down and stop talking about me. Have a glass of milk, man!”

“I don’t like milk!”

“Well you should, milk is delicious!”

JoJo returns to tell Chad that she can’t see herself spending the rest of her life with a man who listens to Something Corporate. She gives the rose to Alex and they meander away from the scene holding hands, leaving Chad to find his way back to the mansion in the dark. Because Chad has a lot of experience hiding bodies in the woods in the dead of night, he manages just fine.

Tune in two weeks from now (glory be!!!!!) to find out whether I will have to purchase a gun at Wal-Mart if Chad even puts one PINKY FINGER on Wells!!!

[beckysbachelorblog-blog]

“Let’s Not Pretend I’m Hitler.”

This episode of The Bachelorette opens up with a surprising revelation – not only do these men have to compete for the same woman, they’re also expected to develop a chore chart that evenly divides household responsibilities among themselves. The mansion has been torn to pieces by alcohol abuse, violence, and grade-school insecurities brought to life by the same man responsible for leaving not one but many plates of deli meat scattered about the foyer. Now, they must agree on who will take out the trash and who will scrub tiny pieces of ham from the gilt mantle above the fireplace. 

“Chad is a cartoon character,” says Evan as he does poolside squats in turquoise swim trunks. Evan’s seemingly inexplicable malice towards Chad will be a theme we revisit several times tonight and, unfortunately, tomorrow. The good news is that Evan looks damn fine and his credential as an Erectile Dysfunction specialist means you can be SURE that dick works.

Meanwhile, Chad spends almost all of his time maintaining his ropy-veined physique while Daniel the Canadian looks on cloyingly. They are cast as this season’s “Gay Couple” but luckily there is so much violence, perceived and otherwise, that there is little screen time left for the development of their gay relationship and all of the imPLICIT hiLARITY that comes along with male homosexuality according to The Franchise.

The first one-on-one date goes to Chase, a man with whom I would not go to bed. JoJo takes him to a yoga studio or, as my mother put it, “something purporting to be a yoga studio.” I have been known to take a yoga class or two in my time and about 3% of these moves look familiar. They end with a pose called “Yum Yum” (or whatever) which is basically just cowgirl position with a little extra ab work for the man. If your genitals aren’t touching, you’re doing it wrong! JoJo and Chase do it right. They have a Yum Yum make-out session as vaguely Buddhist sounding music swells in the background.

Back at the mansion, Chad and eleven other guys find out they will be attending a twelve-on-one date with the woman of their dreams. Chad has the gall to say “I’d really rather not go on a date with eleven other guys” and the eleven other guys are like “HOW DARE YOU.” This whole scenario harkens back to Jubilee’s poorly received joke about being too scared of helicopters to go on her date with Ben. These contestants are very serious about shaming those who accept JoJo’s crumbs with anything less than ecstasy.

“Today, I’m excited to go on my group date with ten guys, one douchebag, myself, and a beautiful girl,” says Mike in what should be the introduction to some tasteful feminist pornography. The date takes place at a sex show that opens with what initially appears to be a woman choking on a Dorito after a fourteen mile run up a mountain. It turns out she is faking an orgasm.

The men are tasked with sharing their best sex stories on-stage in front of the live audience. This is good – funny sex stories are good – but there are some other stories I’d rather hear first. For example, I want to hear Evan’s sex story but I mostly want to know what he believes were the most formative moments of his childhood.

Conversely, I would like a graphic description of every time Wells has ever been with a woman.

As it turns out, we get to hear about neither Evan’s sex life nor his childhood. He spends his time, instead, warning the audience about the dangers of ingesting steroids. This performance, although later referred to as a “joke, can’t you take a joke man”, is in fact meant to throw Chad into what is almost certainly a steroid-induced rage. I don’t want to victim blame but if there was ever a moment to do so, it would be when Chad grinds Evan’s brain into a fine pulp.

That night, Evan gives JoJo an ultimatum: If Chad stays, Evan goes. JoJo struggles with this because, while Evan is a more compatible match, she hasn’t had sex with Chad’s body yet. She problem-solves by presenting Evan with the group date rose and agreeing to hire a security guard to watch Chad as he sleeps.  Chad is justifiably confused. He lives in a world where little pussy fuckbois stay in their corner but the men here are playing by their own rules.

JoJo chooses James Taylor with the second one-on-one date. They go to a dance hall where they meet a little old lady named Jean who loves to dance. Jean is 92 and living her very best life. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Jean still gets her period – this woman is VIBRANT. As someone who has a 91 year old Nanny still kicking it in her very own Connecticut penthouse (she lives on the top floor of a two story assisted living facility), I *get* women in their 90s better than most and can I tell you there is no demography of humans who just want to have fun like women in their early 90s. My Nanny is social chair of her senior center and simply LOVES 2 LAUGH.

My Nanny on the left. The other woman, believe it or not, is her grand-daughter, not her sister. 

James Taylor turns out to be adorable as hell and the date is going swimmingly until he ruins it by telling JoJo he was made fun of for having big ears when he was little. Guess what, James – you still have massive ears and now they’re the only thing I see when I look at you. Good job fucking up your chance at a relationship with me. Luckily, JoJo isn’t triggered by this revelation and James walks away with the rose.

The next day, JoJo cancels the cocktail party in favor of a pool party because she’s a bad bitch with priorities. All of the men dig out the puka shell necklaces they brought for the occasion and get ready to  rage around the pool but their fun is postponed when Evan tells Chris Harrison that he is genuinely and sincerely afraid that Chad is going to kill him in his sleep, a fear that I’m beginning to think is legitimate.

(For the record, a group of women in their early 90s would NEVER stand for the postponement of their fun.)

Chris Harrison says “Evan, I want you to know how seriously I take these allegations” and then he makes a big show of taking Chad aside to see if he has big plans to kill Evan while they’re here.Chad says he doesn’t but even he must admit that there is only so far a man on non-prescription steroids should be pushed. I guess we’ll learn exactly how far that is tomorrow. 

Join us tomorrow to see if JoJo will have to live the rest of her life with Evan’s blood on her hands.  

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