I spuddle.

A long time ago, I stumbled across a little gem of information that said that Jake had a girlfriend to whom he was engaged and they tried to get her onto the show but for some reason, the producers thought this was a stupid idea and so Jake and his girlfriend agreed that he should totally be on the show (for a reported $500,000 paycheque) because they were out of money and he would pick the most controversial girl in the house to ensure his popularity with viewers and maybe land him roles on other network TV shows like Dancing With The Reality TV Stars.   The EVIL PLAN!  And it worked!   And now, shockingly to the nation, Jake and Vienna have broken up!   WHAT NEXT?  We find that… gasp! … not everyone was there for the RIGHT REASONS?   I’m calling ABC.   I want my money back!  Oh, but wait, I didn’t pay any money.   Well, I DID buy that US magazine that one time.   OK, fine, twice.   I heard that they had to stay together for a minimum of one year in order for her to keep the ring, so obviously she either a) met someone rich and doesn’t need the cash or b) didn’t read the fine print because it was so teeny and had so many words in it.   I like to be right, so today felt like Christmas to me, except the kind of Christmas where I’m right and my mum is wrong and that makes me sound like a bad person and I swear I’m not, but then you know how bad people are always saying that they aren’t bad people?   But I’m different than that, because I’m a good person.   I recycle and I’m kind to baby animals.  I JUST LIKE TO BE RIGHT.

What was I saying?  Oh, right, we’re meant to be talking about Ali and her quest for “love”.   You know that song “Looking for love in all the wrong places, looking for love in too many faces….”  Sing it with me!   Then, instead of a blog post, we can just have a sing along and then fall about laughing because we’re such bad singers!   And then maybe we’ll go to Iceland!   Except we won’t go to Iceland, who are we kidding?   I’ve heard it’s very expensive and I don’t like to be cold, but on the other hand, they have pixies or gnomes or something that live in the ice and I do totally appreciate a culture that gets behind its imaginary creatures to such an extent.   I notice the Icelandic tourist board did not highlight that in this travel reel, but whatevs.   We all know the elves are there and that’s a much cooler quality than those small swimming Bjorks that Kirk and Ali fed bread to on their date.   Isn’t it bad to feed birds bread?  Doesn’t it bloat their bellies, giving them the illusion that they’re full when really the bread has no food value so it causes them to actually slowly starve to death?   I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m just talking because I’m trying to avoid the part where I have to talk about the love poems.

OK, fine, there are LOVE POEMS, OK?  They are the worst poems penned in the history of the world and being forced to watch them being read out loud was as entertaining as when you’ve cut yourself open horribly by accident with a bagel slicer and have to endure the slow stitching together of your flesh.   Gack!  That sentence made me gag.  MUCH LIKE THE LOVE POEMS.   Seriously, Frank, when writing a love poem to a chick, you don’t include a stanza about how you used to travel the world with your former-girlfriend.   DUH.

So Kirk “wins” the one-on-one, which was Ali’s choice and not at all produced.   Or was it?  I WONDER WHO HAD HELP WITH HIS POEM.   Gee, I don’t know.   Regardless, he won and he used to live in a mouldy house and it made his arm hair fall out which is weird because just the other day, I noticed that my arm hair was decidedly thinning.   Also, he went numb on his left side and WAIT A MINUTE, my left leg is numb right now.   I don’t know what else he said because I stopped listening to the symptom list.  I didn’t need to listen!  HE HAS WHAT I HAVE!   It’s the mould!  This house is killing me!   WE HAVE TO MOVE!   Someone call Mr. Spuddle and tell him!   I felt like Kirk left out most of his story.   There is more to that tale, I’m SURE of it.   An embarrassing part.  Because getting sick from mould spores is not a story you have to feel self-conscious about.   What’s up, really, Kirk?   TELL US.   Oh, never mind, I actually don’t care that much.   Ali likes Kirk and they get matching sweaters after rudely making fun of most of the stock in the store and then they make out and his story makes her want to be a better man, which she totally stole from Jack Nicholson in that movie where Helen Hunt was a waitress and he was a writer and curmudgeon.  Is it possible to write the word “curmudgeon” without thinking about pigeons?   I think not.

Next up, a group date!  Everyone is happy to be on the group date because no one wants to be on the two on one date, cleverly deducing that their odds of getting to travel to another European hotspot are going to be greatly reduced when they have a fifty percent chance of being eliminated.   Captain Obvious and his first lieutenant N.O.Kidding got together and produced this segment, cleverly pitting Rated-R against Krasey.  The psychological warfare that goes on in this segment is the stuff of novels!   Really short, bad novels that no one reads and/or likes!

Moving on.   Some tiny horses have been procured and Ty takes to them like any good Southerner.   No, I don’t know what this means.   Does everyone from the South ride horses?  Because I spent a week in Atlanta once and I never saw a single horse.    He is trying so hard to be helpful that for some reason I hope that his horse turns around and bites him with his big horsey teeth and then he pops like a giant helium balloon and makes that farting noise that they make as he shoots off into the stratosphere.   Chris L also jumps on the sucking-up-to-Ali bandwagon, which actually makes sense because this is the POINT OF THE SHOW, a memo that whoever else is on the date decided to ignore.   The other contestants fade to black and Chris N spends some time mumbling and looking like he’s never seen sunlight before and Frank decides that being sullen is going to be his ticket to ride (off into the sunset with Ali!  Happily Ever After!) and Craig just tries to maintain his dignity after the guide gives him a large, ornery St. Bernard to ride in lieu of an actual pony.

I’ll cut to the chase and just say that going into that subterranean cave looks about as much fun as going through someone’s rat infested crawl space looking for dead bodies amongst the blankets of cobwebs.   After that “exciting adventure”, they are off to a spa!  Of some kind!  Where Ali whips off her survival suit to reveal enough skin that four of the men drop in a dead faint!   She put on a LOT of makeup during the drive over from the cave and I’m interested to see how it holds up in all that steam!  Wow!  It stays on!  Then there is a bunch of steamy making out or something!  I don’t know what!   Because I stopped caring and/or buying into any of this in Season Four!    These people are just hoping to be the next Bachelor themselves!  They are dreading the idea of being the one Ali chooses!   I am overusing exclamation points to make it seem like I am saying something exciting!

Meanwhile, back at the OK Corral, Justin is getting rid of his crutches (uh, Justin, someone could probably have used those, I don’t think that the garbage was the right place for them) in what is meant to be some sort of parallel to Krasey getting a creepy tattoo.   That part was lost on me.   Mostly I was wondering when Justin changed from a guy who seemed sort of sweet to a guy who seemed like a manic, self-promoting, smug wanker.   Then I stopped caring.   Justin and Krasey exchange the clever barbs of stupid people, which is to say blunt barbs that resemble actual barbs in zero ways, and Krasey jabbers on about his heart and Ali’s heart and being a man and then I not only stopped caring but decided to move to Vanu Aatu and get as far away from network TV as possible and disavow ABC.   Then I remembered that I love this craptacular trainwreck of hilarity, so I undisavowed that.   All that disavowing and stuff made me hungry but I’ve gained 7.5 pounds in the last two weeks so instead of eating chocolate coated cookies and a coke float, as per usual, I ate some popcorn.   It wasn’t at all satisfying.   Then I ate the bag, which was more satisfying.   Then I remembered how whenever I try to lose weight, I usually gain weight, and then I got depressed and ate a pound of butter.    Who needs pants anyway?   The fact that none of my pants fit shouldn’t affect my life as I rarely change out of my pyjamas.   Envy me.   THE GLAMOUR.

So Ali takes Krasey and Justin on her helicopter to look at her volcano on her mountain or whatever and then they are standing around in some sort of icy location and Ali mumbles into her scarf in a depressed way that Justin is getting the rose and Krasey kills himself by throwing himself into Eyiefllingsliegiowuekawak which then proceeds to erupt and spew ash so far into the sky that Krasey is sent back to his own planet, Kraseyland, where the aliens walk around with their hands cupped gently around their hearts to protect them from the slings and arrows of normalcy that might otherwise turn them into, you know, NORMAL PEOPLE.   Nothing further happens with Ali and Justin and Ali really really needs a drink because if nothing else, this show has turned her into a girl who needs at least eight glasses of chardonnay to get through a day.

Which brings us to the rose ceremony/cocktail party.   For the love of Hannah, is it over yet?  No?  Yes?  Wait, the awkward has not died because Chris N is about to speak.   He’s going to tell us something about him that no one knows!   Wait for it!   He… likes MEXICAN FOOD!   REALLY A LOT!   Is that code for something?   Because if not, then double-yew, tea, EFF?    Shockingly, he doesn’t get a rose.   Bye Chris N, we hardly knew ye.   Next week, due to a ratings slump, SOMEONE HAS A GIRLFRIEND.   Except it’s so obviously Justin that as a nation of crappy TV viewers, we collectively don’t give a tinker’s damn.

See you next week!

Filed under: The Bachelorette