The Bachelor: Who the fuck is "Jamie"?

Hey! We're in Puerto Rico. Is that a state or what? I can never remember.



We know they speak a different language there, because the first date card arrives and it's in Spanish! No problemo, Emily translates! Is there anything she can't do? She cures diseases! She calls Courtney a bitch! SHE SPEAKS FUCKING SPANISH. CALL ME, EMILY!!!

OK. I'm OK. I'm alright. The first solo date is with Dead Boss Nicki and her big deer eyes. After the obligatory helicopter ride, which is so played now it might as well be a pedicab, we land near some Spanish fort and grab some piraguas, a "shaved ice dessert shaped like a pyramid." Nicki says everything is great and "it's like God smiling down on us" except then it starts pouring fucking rain, prompting the two to go shopping for "authentic clothes." After a brief pit stop at La Bodega De Ropa Auténtica (Emily, quick check - how's that?) they emerge and Ben looks like a Desi Arnaz impersonator and Nicki looks like a tablecloth.


They just happen to come upon a Puerto Rican wedding (NOTE: not a euphemism) and this provides a chance to talk about Nicki's failed marriage. WELL DUH YOU SHOULD LIVE WITH SOMEONE FIRST BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED NICKI. How else are you supposed to find out about his weird bathroom habits or interest in Japanese tentacle porn?

For the night portion, we've switched back to normal person clothes and will have our usual outdoor dinner. Nicki is ready for her "second chance." HEY BITCH HOW ABOUT LETTING SOMEONE ELSE HAVE A FIRST CHANCE HUH? Her marriage only lasted 3 years, so she's not exactly a good bet. She gets the Honesty & Openness Rose and it's time for making out.

For our Group Date, we decamp with a bunch of chix to Roberto Clemente Stadium for some baseball! You know Lindzi's gonna be on this like an anorexic on a LiveJournal. She loves that Guy Stuff. As it turns out, they're gonna play some 5-on-5 and the winning team gets a "romantic beach party" and the losing team can probably still beat the Astros. Ben is the "designated pitcher" and motherfucker is getting LIT FUCKING UP. He gives up 5 runs in the first inning! Who the fuck is he, Barry Zito? BAM. Anyway, this game is only supposed to go 2 innings but they keep tying it up and it goes 5 and Jennifer fucking strikes out to lose it for the Blue Team. THIS IS FORESHADOWING REMEMBER THIS. Jennifer swings at something around her eyes and she is the Aaron Rowand of the Blue Team. OK, I'm all out of insider baseball jokes. The Blue Team is forced into a darkened school bus and taken to a gloomy swamp to be drowned or something.

The "Romantic Beach Party" is mostly a bore. Kacie B. manages to make it through without crying, so that's something. Meanwhile, Courtney the Lizard Queen gets her prey down to the beach and blathers on and on about skinny dipping and if you've seen any promo for this show you know where this is going. It's going to boring is where it's going.

Solo date with Elyse, who we haven't seen much of. They're out on a boat and Elyse is talking about how she's "done everything she wanted to do," like get a Master's and move to Florida. Sheesh, you could set your sights a little higher, Elyse. I bet she has a Master's in Getting Dumped because this date is not setting the world on fire. At our Outdoor Beach Dinner, Elyse lets it slip that she's "sick of being single" and is ready to marry whatever reality show contestant asks her first. Ben is not all that into her and cuts her loose. She is taken away in the Crying Boat and is fucking moaning and weeping and I wonder if she decompensates after every other first date that doesn't go well. Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself, lady. You don't even know this badly-haired dork.

Back at Chick Ranch, the ladeez collectively FREAK OUT when the guy comes to take Elyse's bag away. Courtney opines that "maybe she drank too much and the Jersey Shore came out" and thanks Courtney for dropping every pop culture reference from last year over and over and over again. "Maybe Nyan Cat took her away!" Courtney also says it "blew my panties off," just like anything with an IMDB profile and a gold card.

A plan has formed in Courtney's primitive Lizard Brain. She muses, "I wonder if he's ever skinny dipped with a model before." Like she could get any more repellent. So she camps out by his door and baby voices her way into his room and they go down to the beach and take off their clothes and blah blah blah you've seen the commercial.

OK, cocktail party. B. feels "creepy" about his "intimate moment" with Lizard Queen. You ain't the only one, brother. Oh wait, Blakeley has something "very important" to tell him! Finally, she's going to tell him she used to be just "Blake." Oh, no, wait, she tells him that she writes something down about him every day! Ewww, speaking of creepy! Emily tries to salvage her prior mistake of talking shit about Courtney by TALKING MORE SHIT ABOUT COURTNEY. Jesus, Em, I love you, sweetie, but you've got to shut up about that shit. Seriously, girl. Stick with Spanish and diseases and you'll be fine.

Rose ceremony. Wait, JAMIE gets a rose? Has she been on this show the whole time? Where the fuck has she been hiding? OK, so we're down to Em and Jennifer and JENNIFER STRIKES OUT AGAIN. Yeah, I went there. She is taken away in the Crying Jeep to weep and weep and weep and wonder what she did wrong. LITTLE MORE TIME IN THE BATTING CAGE NEXT TIME, GIRLFRIEND.

Next week, B announces we're "going to the most glamorous city in Central America, PANAMA CITY, PANAMA!" Really? That's like saying we're going to the "Most glamorous store in the Discount Mall, T.J. MAXX!!!!" I don't know, maybe Panama City really is glamorous.



WE'LL SEE.

Urban Etiquette: On the Elevator

In 1853, Elisha Otis installed the first public elevator in a 6-story department store in New York City. I can guarantee you that the first time it was used, some asshole jumped on right before the doors closed and hit "2".



Despite 158 years of practice, it appears that a sizable portion of the population still has problems with Basic Elevator Etiquette. Let's review.

1. People get off first. Then you can get on.

The door opens. There is an elevator with people in it. Do you (a) Try and shove yourself on because goddammit I GOTTA GET ON THIS ELEVATOR NO MATTER WHAT or (b) Wait for the people inside to de-elevator? If you chose (b), you get a Gold Star and you're a cool person. If you chose (a), you're just another asshole, one of the millions.

Seriously, this isn't hard: EVERYONE OUT FIRST, THEN EVERYONE ON.

2. Doors closing? You don't get on.

As soon as the doors begin to close, even if it's just the slightest fraction of an inch, that elevator is now closed to new passengers. We do not (a) thrust our hand between the doors to make them open again, (b) frantically push the button, or (c) Say "Hold that elevator!" No. Once the doors start to close, that elevator's dance card is full. You are not on it. There will be another elevator soon. If it's an emergency and the building is on fire, you shouldn't be taking the elevator anyway.

3. The Two-Floor Down Rule

If you get on an elevator that is located anywhere near the stairs and take it down one or two floors and you are physically capable of descending a flight of stairs, you are a lazy bag of lard and you need to get some exercise, fatty.

4. No hold and talk

I can't believe I even have to say this, and I wouldn't believe it happens if I hadn't seen it myself, but you do not hold the door open so you can continue chatting with your pal or coworker outside the elevator. I mean, Jesus Christ. You cannot be serious with that shit.

Also, if you absolutely HAVE to make a joke about how often the elevator is stopping or some other zany elevator-type humor, go ahead, but just one and also think "Why am I doing this? It's not that funny." But hey, I get that there are Silence Haters who have to fill up every second with the noise of their own blathering and that's fine.

As long as we're talking elevators, two other things: (1) This fascinating New Yorker article about a guy who got trapped on an elevator for a whole weekend and also elevators in general is so worth reading that you're cheating yourself every second of your life that passes without you having read it; and (2) This guy is my hero:

TK's Recipe of the Week

I was going to start this feature a while back and then forgot to. Shit's been super busy and I can't be responsible for that. Anyway, I'm starting it now.

Brunch, as we know, is more than just a meal. It is a Life Requirement on par with oxygen and reality TV. But we can't always go out for brunch. It gets expensive and we can't take our dogs. Instead, tomorrow or Sunday invite some peeps over and make this shit. It is SO FUCKING GOOD that The Wife and The Sister always demand it and I'm all I CAN'T MAKE THIS EVERY TIME YOU BITCHES WANT BRUNCH and they're all SHUT UP AND MAKE THE HASH and then I make the hash.

Sources indicate that this recipe originated with Gordon Ramsay. If that's true, dance in heaven, you foul-mouthed famewhore British son of a bitch, for your gift to us all is immeasurable.

Let's get on with it.

CHORIZO, RED PEPPER, AND FINGERLING POTATO HASH

1 lb. fingerling potatoes
1 large sprig rosemary
Olive oil
8 oz. loose chorizo
1 red bell pepper, diced
Butter
1/2 red onion, finely diced
4 eggs
Sea salt & black pepper
Champagne
Orange juice
Pomegranate juice
Acme Bakery herb slab

Open the champagne. Pour into glass with either orange or pomegranate juice, your choice.

Boil the potatoes in a pot with the sprig of rosemary until they're just cooked, not like super-soft, but enough so a knife slides easily into them. Rinse them in cold water and then get someone to cut them in half or cut them in half yourself, what do I care.

Heat a big pan over medium heat and pour enough olive oil in to coat the bottom. Put in the chorizo and saute it until it begins to release its oil, then throw in the onions and peppers. Take a sip of your drink and saute all that stuff for like 4 or 5 minutes, until the onions start getting soft.

Add the potatoes and a big hunk of butter and mix it all together. Keep stirring it and sauteeing until the potatoes start to get a little crispy, so like 7 to 10 minutes. Salt and pepper the whole thing.

When the potato stuff is almost done, either poach or fry 4 eggs. I like poaching them, but I'm not gonna tell you how to run your life. If you fry them, it's not the goddam end of the world.

Divide up the hash into 4 portions and put an egg on top of each. Serve with the bread and more champagne.

When finished, recline on the couch. Moaning optional, depending on how badly you're hungover.

Serves 4, duh.

The Bachelor: Rise of the Lizard Queen

Tonight it's off to Utah to either cull the herd or marry 'em all. OH NO HE DIDN'T JUST MAKE A POLYGAMY JOKE! You bet I did! BAM!

Anyway, let's start with a solo date with Rachel, the gravelly-voiced "fashion sales rep" from NYC. It's been bugging me who she reminds me of, and then I remembered: she looks like a less-porny version of Miss California contestant Brittany High of Larchmont Village! Uncanny, right? Whatever. Anyway, the news that Rachel is off for a solo date causes Kacie B. to start crying and I now have identified Kacie B. as the Girl Most Likely to Practice Signing "Mrs. Guy's Last Name" and Photoshop Herself and Guy Into Wedding Scenes and she is a little bit crazy.

So Rachel and Ben take the Inevitable Helicopter to some Peaceful Mountain Lake for a canoe trip/picnic. A conoenic, if you will. No, don't. Forget that. Anyway, they paddle around and then sit in awkward silence by the lake drinking champagne and boring each other. For the nighttime portion of the date, we are having dinner inside for a change, preceded by a lengthy voiceover from Ben about what a drag Rachel is. Ben wants to get some Feeling Talk going but Rachel isn't having it. When she finally cops to having communication issues, he gives her the rose. If she had said she was bipolar, she probably would have won the whole thing. Anyway, this segment was boring and I'm not helping.

OK, Group Date. B blathers on and on about how outdoorsy he is and rides up on a horse and they're going horseback riding and it looks just like "True Grit" instead of with dingbats instead of Jeff Bridges. Since life on The Bachelor is apparently inspired by the LL Bean catalog, this horseback riding leads to fly-fishing, or rather leads to a bunch of girls in hip waders throwing polyethylene fishing lines at 6 inches of water. I guarantee you - GUARANTEE YOU - there is someone in America turned on by chicks in hip waders. I'm not even Googling it but I bet you anything there's hip wader porn out there. Kacie B., shockingly, feels that her connection to Ben is getting stronger.

Anyway, Courtney drags Ben off and uses the time-proven seduction technique of talking about his favorite condiments. (Dijon mustard, if you must know). She catches a fish. Kacie feels a connection to it. She and the fish pick up right where they left off every time they see each other. She practices signing "Mrs. Brook Trout" on her 6th period English folder.

Nighttime drinks by the pool. Dental hygienist Nicki wants to talk about how her boss just died a week ago and WAY TO KILL THE MOOD NICKI. Also, what's up with the dental office now? Are you guys just going rogue and gonna keep hygiening without a trained dentist or what? Samantha bitches about being on 3 groups dates and YOINK, OFF WITH HER HEAD. B says she's "highly emotional" and tells her to GTFO. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR BITCHING SAMANTHA. Courtney meanwhile greets B with a cheery "Hello, Jello," not kidding, she really said that and God she is so fucking annoying and she makes up some crap about feeling insecure and gets the I Can't Believe You Fell For That Rose. This obviously sends Kacie into a tailspin. Girl needs to pull her shit together.

Solo date with Jennifer. First stop: THE WELL OF SOULS. It's a hole in the ground that leads to a huge underground cave and seriously, ABC? This is what you consider a "date"? The idea is you put on a bikini and then rappel down into this thing and then probably die. Well, Jennifer's wearing a bikini anyway. I don't really see the point. Oblig outdoor dinner, it rains, blah blah blah, she gets a rose. Then we journey to an outdoor concert by someone named "Clay Walker," at which time member of the audience STARE RELENTLESSLY AT THEM. It is SUPER FUCKING CREEPY.


On to the Cocktail Party and it's TIME FOR DRAMA. Emily decides she's going to drop a dime on Courtney and tell B that bitch is a fake. Whoa, bad move, Em, SNITCHES R BITCHES.



The whole thing kinda backfires and B isn't that psyched to hear about this because he's totally into Courtney the Lizard Queen and Em kind of fucked this up. THEN WE GET SOME MAJOR DRAMS. Em is telling Casey (not Kacie, Casey, BTW) how fucked Lizard Queen is and Casey runs off to tell her and Lizard Queen licks her hard little lips and slurs that she wants to do one of three things to Em:

1. "Rip her head off"
2. "Verbally assault her"
3. "Shave her eyebrows"

RECORD SCRATCHING SOUND. Wait, what? Shave her eyebrows? I guess once you have her head torn from her lifeless bleeding corpse then shaving her eyebrows is the least of her worries. Anyway, Courtney is fucking disturbing and weird with her mouth and how she slurs all her words and her flat affect and it's hard to believe that Ben or any other vertebrate would be into her. AND STOP SAYING "WINNING" ALL THE TIME. IT WASN'T FUNNY WHEN CHARLIE SHEEN SAID IT AND YOU ARE NO CHARLIE SHEEN.

OK, Rose Ceremony. Monica gets cut. In the Crying Limo, she tearily confesses that "I want a marriage. I want kinds. I want it to last and I want it to be right and I'm skeptical that even exists any more." That's right! Ever since the gays started getting married, it's all gone to hell. They made it almost impossible for straight people to get married on national TV to someone they went on 3 dates with being followed by a camera crew.

B says their next stop is Vieques, Puerto Rico. Fucking Lizard Queen pipes up with "I was just there two months ago." You did not just fucking say that. What Ben should say is "WELL, BITCH, I'D HATE TO BORE YOU, SO WE GOT YOU A ROOM IN A TRAVELODGE IN HOBOKEN WHILE WE'RE IN PUERTO RICO" but instead he says "Well, we're going back." But seriously, that girl is not right.

By special request

I had a tiny bit of indie clout until I sold completely out

Then we met an agent from Burbank

Signed a multi-album deal and looked around for songs to steal

Our credibility went in the tank

Played some frat rock for some bros as if we weren't one of those

Our songs are vapid but we didn't care

Sucking at the corporate teat, all the money was a treat

We'll play whatever gets us on the air

We are Train, we are bland

What passes these days for a band

Suburban Moms, we're what you seek

Won't you save us Walnut Creek?

(For reference.)

Your Five

Your Five is a list of five famous people that you can have sex with and not get in trouble with your partner for if you're in a relationship.

(Embarrassingly, this concept seems to have originated on Friends. But pretty much everyone I talk to about this is at least familiar with the concept, so I think it's safe to say that it's penetrated the collective cultural subconscious. Heh heh, "penetrated.")

Now, since this life and it's serious, there have to be Rules. Nothing is fun without Rules. Here are the Rules:

1. The person has to be famous, i.e., be generally well-known. Although this is a somewhat fluid concept, I think it's pretty clear-cut who's famous and who isn't. If he or she regularly appears on national TV or in magazines or even indie films, that person is probably famous. You personally may not have heard of Sabrina Soto of HGTV, but she is unquestionably famous (and would actually be a completely reasonable pick, now that I think about it). "That girl from accounting" is not famous, unless she is Mindy Kaling.

2. You can't put someone on your list for the first time when you see them in person. EXAMPLE: A while back I was talking to Veronica Belmont at a party (true story). I didn't know who she was. I still don't really know who she is, but I've been assured that she is famous. So I could not have said "Excuse me, Veronica," and gone over to The Wife and said "Veronica Belmont is now on my list" and then gone back and tried to hit it. She was with her boyfriend anyway, but you get the point. So if you get a call from your girlfriend at 12:30 a.m. and she sounds a little drunk and says "MARK WAHLBERG IS NOW ON MY LIST" you say "ABSOLUTELY NOT."

3. You can't enter into an ongoing FWB relationship with the Famous Person. It's one and done, people. No every-time-you're-in-LA thing.

4. Your partner can be cold and withdrawn for a day or two following your Famous Hookup, but then they have to let it go. That's the deal.

OK, so with that out of the way, here's mine:

1. Minka Kelly

We were first introduced on FNL. She is on some next-level shit. Nothing really to say except duh. No longer engaged to Derek Jeter, I understand, so that's good.



Also, born "Minka Dumont Dufay," be still my heart.

2. Mila Kunis

Too predictable? Who gives a fuck? Super hot and she also seems cool, for some reason.

3. Lohan

Love ya, girl!

Yeah, she looking a little haggard these days, but I want the full doors-blown-off 48 straight hours of partying experience. She can go back on the wagon on Monday. She is clearly fucking insane and you can't put a price on that.

4. Elisha Cuthbert


She also seems like she could throw down. I mean, this is your shot, you don't want someone who's boring. I bet she can out-drink me. She's fucking CANADIAN. In the morning, we will pull the empty Labatt's bottles out of the hot tub together.

5. Elle Macpherson

I felt like I had to choose someone at least roughly age-appropriate, and girlfriend is older than me and still radiantly hot.

POSTSCRIPT: Charlize Theron is crazy hot, like not even the same species as us hot, but it would be pointless to put her on the list because if we were ever in the same physical space I would just babble nonsensically or literally melt into a formless puddle of organic material and Charlize would be all "Eww, oh God, what is that pile of undifferentiated organic material? Somebody clean that the fuck up please." There is no sense having her take up a spot that someone I could look at without exploding can take.

In the interests of Gender Fairness, here's The Wife's list (all comments hers, not mine, obvs.):

1. John Cusack- OG. Grandfathered in even though his politics are crazy and he doesn’t spell very well.

2. George Clooney- because, you know, CLOONEY!! You’d have to. As I said, any man in the world would have to concede that in the case of Clooney you’d gladly hand over your partner and the better man would have won.

3. Ryan Gosling – avoided it for as long as I could, but that guy’s definitely fuckable. (I’m basing this mostly on his abs and sexiness in “Crazy, Stupid, Love”.)

4. Timothy Olyphant – but as Raylan Givens, not as the family guy who’s been married to his college girlfriend for 20+ years because I’m not a ho.

5. Zac Efron – WHAT? No, as it happens I wouldn’t feel skeevy and old at all just because he’s a zygote and adorable.

So there you have it. Who's on your list?

This Fucking Old House

My life right now is kinda consumed with working on this new place we're moving into but I'm not really a fan of home makeover blogs and so I'm not really psyched to document how we hung up a vintage map of the Transcontinental Railroad and then have my comments section fill up with "So cute!" comments. Instead, here's an askew picture of our new living room, taken from our new dining room, and featuring my sister's dog:

The place has potential but it's trashed right now. There have been tenants in there for like 10 consecutive years and it shows. We have to pull up all the carpets and paint the whole interior and also do some work in the kitchen. There's crazy sound transmission between the first floor (where my sister is living) and the top floor (see above), so we have to put down soundproofing material. We got 2 bids for this. One wants around $4,000 to do it and the other guy wants $17,500 in cash - no checks or credit card, like hand him stacks of $20s wrapped up in those little paper sleeves. SHAY DEE. Anyway, so yeah, that 13 grand difference kind of takes Guy #2 out of contention. I've never house shit before but is this standard? There's a 400% difference in bids to do the same thing? What the fuck?

This whole thing is going to be fucking expensive and everyone's all "Oh, you should paint the interior yourselves" but fuck that, I'd rather pay someone and have it done right than do it myself.

ANYWAY, this is already a snooze so sorry about that. I'll try and have better content in the near future once this fucking stress bolus has passed through my system.

The Bachelor: Back from the dead!

Guess what? Tonight we're heading to San Francisco, or as every chick irritatingly and repeatedly calls it, "San Fran." Ben says about a million times how much he loves it and how it's his home and blah blah blah we get it. Anyway, the harem is installed at the Fairmont and we're ready for some activities. Hopefully they do some authentic San Francisco stuff like eating a small disc of artisanal something for $62 or doing key bumps in the bathroom at Blow Up!

We begin with a solo date with Emily. Whatever, you guys, I like Emily. She seems cool. They're off to climb the Bay Bridge! Ben and Emily manage to wake up some CalTrans workers long enough to get some climbing gear and then up the cable they go. Laugh all you want, it does look fucking terrifying. And Emily's afraid of heights! Haha. They're going up and she's freaking out and he says "TALK TO ME GOOSE" and I was all "What the fuck?" and The Wife told me it's from Top Gun and now we know that B is the kind of dork who uses Top Gun quotes in conversation. Anyway, they make it to the top and discover the skeletal remains of a family of German tourists who got lost.

[TRUE STORY INTERJECTION: I have a friend who (totally illegally) walked up the cable of the Golden Gate Bridge one time in the 90's. He made it to the top and said he found an empty Budweiser can and a pile of human shit. Then he walked back down and didn't get caught. That would not happen today.]

Night portion of date. They're having an outdoor dinner. At first I was all "Why aren't they shivering and why isn't the food blowing off the plates?" and then I remembered they were filming this during the heat wave last summer. Serendipitous! Anyway, Emily tells some story about dating her older brother or something, I wasn't really paying attention.

Group date. Just your usual everyday bikini skiing on a street in San Francisco. Remember when they were filming this? SF Weekly does! Anyway, it's like extreme sports as conceived of by a 14-year-old boy. I am vicariously embarrassed for everyone. For the nighttime portion of the date, we head to the Tonga Room and start doing some shots. Someone says "I don't think there's going to be any drama tonight." THAT'S FORESHADOWING and means there is going to be a lot of drama tonight. This drama will take the form of Brittney realizing for the first time that SHE IS ON A TV SHOW and this TV show involves COMPETING WITH OTHER WOMEN TO WIN THE AFFECTIONS OF A BADLY-HAIRED MAN. What, did you think you were going on Slutty Jeopardy or something, Brittney? I mean, have you ever watched this show? Do you own a TV or do you just hang out with Grams and go to bingo? FUCK. She cries a lot and says leaving the show was the "hardest decision of her life." Second hardest was trying to decide between General Tso's chicken and moo shoo gai pan the other night at Golden Lotus. Anyway, KMAGYOYO. You are not here for the right reasons. You must take your ugly purple roller bag and get into the Cab of Tears and go back to wherever they grow people like you.

Speaking of B's hair, it is now starting to look almost as bad as Ali's dime-store extensions a few seasons back. Really, ABC, at least give the man some shampoo.



OK, time for a solo date with LINDZI or however the fuck you spell it. I'm not Max Factor or anything, but even I can tell you that girlfriend needs to learn how to put on some makeup. Even a little lipstick might help out. Anyway, they're off for a tour in one of those fake cable cars. They're tooling around and just as they're passing through the fucking CHINATOWN GATE, which is festooned with paper lanterns and Chinese characters and whatnot, Lindzi goes "WHERE ARE WE NOW?"



Well, I don't know, Lindzi! Maybe this is Little Armenia or Frenchtown! Hard to figure out! Maybe there'll be a visual clue of some type. Sigh. So they go to City Hall and Matt Nathanson is playing which is fine, he seems totally inoffensive and whatever and I'm just psyched it's not Third Eye Blind or Smashmouth. Then it's off to Bourbon and Branch to not eat yet another fancy dinner and he's all "Hey, how come you're still single?" and she tells a very sad story about how she was in love once but he had to be put down after he broke his leg in a race.

DUN DUN DUNNNN. MEANHWILE, a dark presence is drawing closer. It's some chick but they're filming it like it's a hired assassin which would be sweet.

OK, Cocktail Party time. B comes in and now his hair looks like the skinned pelt of a diseased squirrel. Jennifer gets some alone time and she could probably blow a .15 at this point, girl is LIT UP and she babbles on about how she likes him and pats him and is getting weird. WEIRD. This leads to some Deep Tongue Exchange. Swear to God, one person in this group has mouth herpes and everyone's got it, 'cause this guy is making the fuck out with everyone.

The Darkness has arrived. Hey, it's Shawntel of the Dead from Brad's season! She has managed to pull herself away from her ghoulish corpse play long enough to try and get back on TV. Meanwhile, B and halibut-eyed Courtney, who is increasingly resembling a lizard with her tiny food slot mouth and dry, hard lips, are up on the roof and Courtney goes on about how'd they'd make "cute babies," and (1) NOT A GREAT STRATEGY, and (2) ugh, some kind of lizard-human hybrid baby with cold clammy luggage skin and that little mouth slit. No thanks.

Shawntel cruises in and upsets the herd. Her mere presence reduces some women to tears, while others are shaking in rage. It is as if we told them the spray-tanning machine is broken or that Katy Perry will not make any more albums. So she has a little chat with B and it comes out that they've "talked before," which is obviously code for "banged after one of those Bachelor parties and then he didn't call because he had moved on to Jennifer Love Hewitt and also the VIP cocktail waitress from a casino in Laughlin" and so they have this awkward convo and she wants to be on the show because she's decided she prefers the company of the living now. Courtney pronounces this whole situation "whack." Too true, Courtney.

OK, this is running long so let's get to the Rose Ceremony and GTFO. They;re all lined up and BOOM! ERIKA GOES DOWN. ERIKA GOES DOWN. WE HAVE A GIRL ON THE FLOOR. All the other chicks immediately start offering advice, like "Breathe in through your nose and out through the mouth" and "Put your head between your legs" and "Begin to rethink your life choices." Anyway, the Medical Staff gets her upright again just in time to show her the door, along with Jaclyn and Shawntel too. Jaclyn flees in tears. Jesus Christ, people.

Spoilers

The line you got in will be the slowest one.

They messed something up in your delivery order.

She's not in love with you.

It's sold out.

They sold out.

It won't look as good when you get it home.

You're going to be in the bathroom when they play the song you wanted to hear.

It's backed up to the Maze.

There's a line at the lunch place.

There's a new meme going around. It involves a dog and text in all caps.

This place will be ruined by hipsters.

Someone is offended by something you don't find offensive at all.

A celebrity will die unexpectedly.

A commenter on the Internet will profess an objectionable opinion.

You spent too much.

Fog in the morning, burning off my midday.

Maybe you'll move to New York.

The Giants won't be able to hit.

That thing with Rob Schneider in it is going to suck.

You can't believe they broke up.

It's a mistake for them to get married.

You will have too much to drink.

The Bachelor: The Crying Game

I got distracted by the BCS Championship Game and missed the first couple of minutes of The Show, which means I probably missed the swooping helicopter shots of the Sonoma Valley and Chris Harrison saying "TONIGHT, ON THE BACHELOR," so instead I tune in right as Ben and "Kacie" (ugh) are embarking on their solo date. Is it just me, or does Kacie look exactly like EVERY OTHER GIRL THAT'S EVER BEEN ON THIS SHOW? There's a factory in Shenzhen China where grossly underpaid workers get RSIs working 18 hour days cranking out Bachelor contestants. Kacie is the apotheosis of their craft. This is the first time "apotheosis" has been used in a Bachelor recap.

BACK TO THE MATTER AT HAND. Ben, as we will be informed repeatedly, LOVES his home, Sonoma, and so he and Kacie take a moonlight stroll through a COMPLETELY DESERTED POST-APOCALYPTIC DOWNTOWN SONOMA, I mean seriously, is this like a "Walking Dead"/Bachelor crossover? WHERE THE FUCK IS EVERYONE? She says "It's like we're the only two people on Earth right now," like NO SHIT KACIE, I'm starting to wonder if we've all been raptured or something. Anyway, they have a dinner at an otherwise-deserted Girl and the Fig and it's time for more Dead Dad talk. FORESHADOWING. She collects her rose and it's off to the Sebastiani Theater for a TOTAL MINDFUCK, get ready for this. They sit down expecting to see the latest creatively bankrupt Jennifer Anniston romcom or something and instead we're treated to Kacie's childhood home movies. Sure, mortifyingly embarrassing, but whatever. But then the producers really turn the screws with Ben's old home vids, featuring prominently, of course, Dead Dad. FUCK. That is some fucked-up shit to be pulling, producers! Love it. Anyway, cry cry cry and then they make out in the post-nuclear Sonoma town square.

Group date with 10 or 12 or whatever of them. I can't be bothered to learn their names yet. That comes later. It seems that they will be performing a play written by a bunch of kids! It's called "Dragon Ball Glen Ross." No, not really. First all the chicks have to audition for the kids. This is almost as demeaning as real auditions. Whoa, one kid asks Nicki to do a "sexy dance." I might have CPS ask around at that kid's house, just saying. So they're putting on this play at the Community Theater and it's called "Prince Pinot of Bachelorville" because you know kids would think of a title like that. I'm bummed it's not "Sir Scotch of Skid Row," but you've got to keep the alcohol references high-class when you're dealing with kids. They're barely old enough to drink wine coolers. All I know is that this play features Blakeley as a Sexy Groundhog or something.



Anyway, this "play" also features Ben in a sheep costume and I can already hear the Furry Message Boards exploding and the whole thing is borderline inappropriate and we're all glad when it's over.

Back at the Sonoma Mission Inn, THERE IS GIRL DRAMA. Everyone hates Blakeley and now it's Samantha's turn to retreat to the bathroom. These chicks hit up the bathroom more than hipsters at Delirium. We segue into a pool party and Ben is fucking making out with everything in sight. Maybe all those bathroom trips! Blakeley "super believes in her kissing skills 100%." Girlfriend is doing something right because she gets a rose. This makes Jennifer cry and cry. Crying and bathroom trips. This is our season.

OK, solo date with fish-eyed "model" Courtney. They're off for a picnic along with Ben's dog "Scotch." Scotch has taught Ben that he wants children! Ben, not Scotch, I mean. Well, maybe Scotch wants children too. He and Ben apparently have a lot of soul-searching late-night convos, so who knows what else Scotch has taught Ben. In the Night Phase of this date, they're off for the obligatory Outdoor Dinner, this one in a vineyard, of course. Ben regales Courtney with tales of his "partying" and his life of excess in the Krazy World of Internet Advertising. Whoa, remember that time we all finished that bottle of Skyy and then ordered room service to someone else's room? That was quite a lollapalooza!!! Crazy days, crazy days. Courtney's dated an actor, she says, but she had to dump him when she found "underwear in the bed." Apparently it's something named "Jesse Metcalfe." Is that an actor? I don't know. She gets a rose. Of course. She's a fucking model.

OK, pre-Rose Ceremony goings-on. Ben makes yet another speech about how much he LOVES Sonoma. WE GET IT ALREADY. He has a little private time with Lindzi or however you spell it and she goes on and on about how she drives a truck and wears dirt for makeup and doesn't know what high heels are and likes to watch wrestling and anything else she can think of to persuade him that she is actually a man. GREAT STRATEGY THERE. Ben's trying to get some face time with all those chicks and Blakeley keeps barging in. This makes everyone hate her and everyone wants to go to the bathroom and cry now.

Oh, here comes Trainwreck Jenna! Being around girls is "very abnormal" for her. I'd say being in any kind of situation without her Seroquel is "very abnormal" for her. Naturally, the stress of interacting with others is too much and she collapses into a crying jag. Jenna is not equipped to handle things like being on national TV or when the vending machine fails to dispense her Sun Chips. Meanwhile, Blakeley sees everyone else's Obvious Bid for Attention and joins in by going off to cry behind the luggage. Ben finds her there on his Fun Trip Around the House collecting the decompensating bags of tears. Quite a crew we've assembled.

Let's get to the cuts. Some chick I've never seen before and Trainwreck Jenna. She responds by stoically accepting her fate and acknowledging that it's not that big a deal. No, I'm shitting you, she totally fucking falls apart and will need years of therapy to deal with this shit. She "can't believe it." Really? Because I can totally fucking believe it. Nobody wants to date an Emotional Plane Crash, and Jenna, you are the Tenerife Airport Disaster of women.

Jenna's psyche, upon learning that Netflix streaming is down.

NEXT WEEK: SF. I wonder if there will be any interaction with cable cars?

Bars of the Inner Richmond: A Limited Survey

Here's some news: We're moving to the Inner Richmond. Long story, but there it is. As it happens, we will be occupying the top floor of a 2-unit building and The Sister is on the bottom floor. This is not the setup for a sitcom, although now that I think about it, it has certain sitcom-ish potential.

ANYWAY on Saturday The Sister and I checked out some of our new neighborhood bars. I've been to all these places, so technically it wasn't a New Bar Night, but it's been years so it sort of was. We were out between roughly 7 and 9 pm, so we probably didn't get the Full Saturday Effect, but that's enough disclaimers now. Here's where we went:

We walked into Buckshot, took one look around, and walked out. It looked like a bunch of kids at a county fair where they happened to serve booze, what with all the skee ball and shuffleboard and picnic tables. I hope someone's checking IDs. (Also, their website says "Be excellent to each other. And... PARTY ON, DUDES! - - - - - - - - poop on a stick!" That probably tells you everything you need to know about Buckshot.)

Next we went to Ireland's 32. I actually kinda like Ireland's 32, as far as Irish bars go, but Saturday night it was in full sports bar mode, with the Saints-Lions playoff game blaring from all 15 or whatever TVs. I'm not opposed to sports bars per se, but it just wasn't what we were looking for. I've been there other nights and had a good time though.

Maintaining the Irish theme, the next stop was the Plough & Stars on Clement. Nice enough place, but The Sister's drink was super-weak which made her more surly than normal. Perhaps sticking with beer here would be advisable. Also, apparently not everyone's drinks were weak, because there was a group of super shitfaced guys careening around the bar. Ah, youth. Maybe it'll be more of a weeknight bar.

Moving down Clement, we came to the Bitter End, which might be a semi-Irish bar. At this point, there is very little to distinguish one place from another. They're all that kind of exposed-wood-pool-table-TV-screen-wooden-booth kind of places. Another way young crowd.

Last stop: the 540 Club. Not an Irish bar, thank God. We actually liked this place a lot. Divey but cool. The bartenders were totally friendly. Also fairly young crowd, but not as college-y as the other places. I guess the Yelp says it gets crowded on weekends? Not when we were there (but, again, this was at like 9 or 9:30 pm). I could see hanging out here.

Then we took a cab to the Tenderloin and some other stuff happened. The end.

Today in Self-Denial News

You know all about Sober January, right? Let's see, I wrote about it in January 2010. It's just like what it sounds like: no booze in January. Kind of a chance to dry out for a bit and get some stuff done and also save some money. You would not BELIEVE how much money you save.

I only made it 9 days in 2009.

Actually, I already know there's a built-in break this year. The Wife had already made plans to attend a "cider tasting" (i.e., alcoholic cider, duh) this Saturday, so in support of her struggle, I might have a couple of drinks on Saturday too. Then we're back on it! I know, that's cheating. MYOB.

Just to make this even more unpleasant, we're also on severe diet restrictions for a while! We're doing a modified "Paleo" diet, which is basically just meat and vegetables and a little bit of fruit. No dairy. No sugar. No wheat, rye, barley, oats, corn, brown rice, soy, peanuts, kidney beans, pinto beans, navy beans and black eyed peas. It's basically supposed to mimic the way our distant ancestors ate, so I'm planning to get the guys together and see if we can run a wooly mammoth off a cliff and then feast on its entrails.

But wait! The Wife is a semi-lapsed Catholic and even no drinking + Paleo isn't enough self-punishment for her, so she's taking up self-flagellation! Not really. She's actually doing a Juice Fast for the next 3 days. Then she'll have to think of some other way to punish herself.

Maybe we'll rent "Jack and Jill." That should take care of self-punishment for a year or so, easy.

The Bachelor: Now with 35% more crazy!

[Previous seasons of this crap here, here, and here. God help you if you read through all that.]

Yes, friends, time to load up the Crazy Cannon and shoot despair and tragedy all over the TV again and, ew, not too happy about that metaphor, let's leave that alone and move on. This season we have simian winemaker/feelings-haver Ben, who is fresh off being dumped at the proposal by Ashley and is now ready to move on and "knows what [he's] looking for." Not Jennifer Love Hewitt, obvi!

We have returned, as we often do, to San Francisco and we have the usual establishing shots (cable cars, etc., etc.) interspersed with shots of Ben gazing out to sea REALLY HARD and now he's on a boat. Let's get on down to the Mansion in Malibu and here's Chris Harrison, who really does not age at all, I mean, that kid looks EXACTLY like he did in Season 1, and after some conversation about how Ashley dumped him and broke his heart, LET'S GO TO THE VIDEOTAPE AND MEET US SOME CHIX!!!!!!

Our first misspelled Lindsay is "Lindzi," who is either into horses or is one herself. Also hailing from the Land of the Curiously Spelled is "Kacie," who "wants this me to be a we," ugh. We then see her either doing an interpretive dance or signaling her Alien Overlords that she has achieved her goal of penetrating America's Most Sacred Institution and will now send reports form the inside.



Courtney claims to be a model, maybe for the National Fetal Alcohol Syndrome Foundation. Jamie has a sad story! She had "no Dad" and her mother had "dependency issues" and she had to raise her siblings and she is going to cry a lot, I can tell. Our second misspelled Lindsay is "Lyndsie," who is an "Internet entrepreneur" with a fake-sounding British accent that she can't even keep straight and has the annoying in-your-face personality of someone who wasn't hugged enough as a child.

Jenna is a "blogger" who lives in NYC and does Sex and the City stuff like sitting at an outdoor cafe with her glass of red wine and typing something on her laptop and then looking off wistfully into the distance. She is a handsome woman, I'll give her that! Nicki is 26 and divorced and can't figure out why her marriage at age 21 didn't work out. You're fine, Nicki! Jesus, stop talking about it already. We're all damaged goods at this point, babes.

More Chris interview with Ben. Feelings feelings feelings blah blah blah whatever. Chris wants to know if Dead Dad will be with him and Ben says "pieces of his father" are with him. Gross.

Alright, enough of this foolishness. Let's get these crazy bitches out of the limos and into our hearts. Here they come! Erika is a law student and tells Ben "You are guilty of being sexy." Jesus, who writes this shit? Ben's mouth says "That was funny" but his face betrays a different emotion.



Then they start coming in too fast. It's kind of a blur. Some chick says her nickname is the "Baconator." Not sure that's a detail I'd be broadcasting but whatever. Jenna seems to think that Long Awkward Pauses are the way to a man's heart. She didn't get the memo that Ben's not autistic. Much. Emily is in school studying "the transmission of disease," so she's in the right place! OH SNAP!! That was too easy, don't laugh at that.

Here come some more. Amber is wearing some kind of banana yellow window treatment as a dress and has a pronounced head tilt, like when you speak Spanish to a dog. You know you do that! Shira is an actress from LA and looks like an anorexic insect of some kind. I don't want to be too mean to Blakeley, but did anyone else find her a bit....manly? Lyndsie arrives. If they play that faux-British music every time she's on screen I will...I will continue to watch the show quietly or something. One chick sends out her grandma, whose occupation, disappointingly, is not "VIP Cocktail Waitress."

OK, time for the party. All these chicks seem about half-lit, except for the few that are full lit. There's the usual cattiness and all the bitches HATE the chick who brought grandma, but this is window dressing for the 2 main events:

1. Jenna must have apartments in Antarctica AND the Arctic, because bitch is BI-POLAR!!!! GET IT???? Ugh. Anyway, she's crazier than a shithouse rat and begins decompensating directly after her third glass of Korbel. Here she is tearing Monica a new one because Monica isn't in love with Ben yet. Monica wants to patch things up, so Jenna thoughtfully offers that "maybe we can share a tampon sometime." I didn't make that up. That's what she said. Do girls really talk like that? Anyway, Jenna is clearly insane and they should at least do some kind of basic mental health screening before putting these people on TV. She ends the episode with a good crying jag in the bathroom. That's how I end most episodes too!

2. Speaking of Monica, she and Blakeley have a serious cuddle puddle on the couch and she's playing with her hair and telling her how beautiful she looks and the whole scene is straight out of the Chill Room at a rave in 1996 and it really does look like they're about to make out and all we're missing is The Orb on the soundtrack. I mean, what the fucking fuck is going on this season. Decompensating Jenna! Sapphic Love on the Couch! Crazy intense Courtney with the eyes on the side of her head like a salmon! It's too much.

Let's just get to the Rose Ceremony and put this unpleasantness behind us. Ben starts with a boring speech. I'm sure he's a nice enough guy but I've met cacti that had more engaging personalities. Who are we keeping? Damaged Jamie and Post-op Blakeley and her Cuddle Buddy Monica with the Hate Eyes and Disease Transmitter Emily and I think every variant of "Casey" and THANK GOD YOU KNEW IT WAS COMING, at the producers' insistence, Trainwreck Jenna! Yay! Yay!

UPDATE: I'm not on Facebook (as I will pompously advise anyone who asks, like I'm so superior), but am advised that this post has been flagged on FB for being "abusive or spammy." I can't imagine how it's spammy, so it must be "abusive." I don't know how to not be abusive about the Bachelor, but in an effort to patch things up:

1. I'm sorry I said Lindzi might be a horse.
2. I'm sorry I can't string together more than 150 words without saying "fuck" or "Jesus."
3. I'm sorry I implied that Courtney looks like she has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome even though she totally does.
4. I don't have any PERSONAL information that Emily is disease-spreading walking petri dish and you should hand sanitize every time you touch her.
5. Jenna really did say the tampon thing, so I'm not apologizing for that.

Can we be friends again? We cool here?