The See's Candy Demystifier

Oh hey it's just post-holiday-season which means every work kitchen has an open box of See's candy leftover from some gift or sent back from some client that didn't leave a forwarding address.  What the fuck is in those, anyway?

1 - Oh good, just normal chocolate OH SHIT SOME KIND OF RASPBERRY GOO JUST SHOT OUT FUCK

2 - Literally a bar of peanuts

3 - Some kind of nougat/uinidentifiable nut thing

4 - Why is the center of this rock hard? Wait, it's pulling apart now but it's lodged in my teeth shit it's gonna pull a tooth out

5 - Dopey Clusters

6 - Just a couple of almonds with a thunk of chocolate loosely holding them together

7 - The only good one.  They move it around and put it in a different place in every box so you'll never find it again.

8 - Looks like the good one but actually has anchovy paste under a thin layer of chocolate.  GOTHA MOTHERFUCKER

9 - Hazelnut paste and broken promises

10 - What, just more chocolate inside chocolate? OK, this one is ok.

11 - They call this one El Diablo.  No one knows why.

12 - Actual maple tree sap, like with bits of bark and ants still in it and shit.

13 - You think it's another peanut bar but hidden inside is deadly fugu fish. You have 8 minutes to live, run don't walk to the nearest Japanese ER.

14 - Swirls of Hate

15 - Some kind of mint thing. It's OK.

16 - Walnuts 'N Roofing Tar

17 - Monkey foot

18 - Just some shit swept up off the factory floor and dropped into a paper sleeve

19 - Macadmia nuts on top, who the fuck knows underneath

20 - The Admiral Akbar

21 - It's a Snickers Fun Size, don't tell anyone

22 - This one's called Chocolate Suicide because Crystal killed herself the first day we made these oh God Crystal I miss you so much

23 - Chocolate so dark it makes Requiem for a Dream look like My Little Pony

24 - Now we're just fucking with you and seeing how many of these cheap-ass Payday knockoff peanut bars we can drop in here without you noticing

25 - I think this is the one made w/ hemp butter but I'm not 100% sure hang out for a while and see if Sheila in Accounting starts talking about the faces of the Buddha

I'm on hiatus

It's that time of year. Time to engage in some uncomfortable air travel and see the relatives and whatever.  I'll be back.

Things that used to be cool or at least tolerable and are now almost certain dbag markers

Audis

Mohawks

Superpremium vodka

Coachella

Private planes

Cologne

MDMA

Working in the technology industry

Burning Man

Being a DJ

SOMA

As predicted, most other State Songs are pretty lame

STATE SONGS 2: THIS TIME IT'S PERSONAL

Remember a couple of days ago when we talked about how California needs a new State Song and then Burrito Justice went on his radio show and talked about it some more?  That was fun.  I said in that last post that we would look at other state's State Songs.  This is me delivering on that admittedly boring promise.

Here's the list.  Of note is the fact that only New Jersey has not seen fit to name a state song, which is cool because everyone knows the Sopranos theme is the New Jersey State Song.

Let's get the winners out of the way first.  #1 is Georgia, whose state song is "Georgia on My Mind," predictably enough, as sung by Ray Charles.




Give you chills.  OK, that's it.  The others are all pretty much crap, except maybe "Tennessee Waltz," which is a pretty great song, and "Do You Realize??" by the Flaming Lips, the Official Rock Song of Oklahoma.  What the fuck Oklahoma.  Oklahoma is so conservative they think Copernicus was a dangerous radical and running away is the only acceptable form of birth control and they let a bunch of acid gobbling freaks write the State Rock Song.  Yes I know the Flaming Lips are from Oklahoma thank you.

Tennessee, not content with just one Official Song, had to go and get fucking 10 Official Songs, including "A Tennessee Bicentennial Rap: 1796-1996," which is performed by an elderly white woman and is not something you would want to listen to willingly.

Most of them are just "State Name" or "My State Name" or "Oh State Name," but once in a while you get an outlier like "Here We Have Idaho," which sounds like someone is going over a map with a customer in a cartography store, trying to convince them to make a purchase by pointing out the completeness of the store's Official USA Map.

During our State Songs discussions yesterday, I learned about the doomed attempt to make "Roadrunner" by the Modern Lovers the Official State Rock Song of Massachusetts.  Massacusetts has taken the, to my mind, fun and inclusive approach of having a variety of State Songs in different genres, such as a State Folk Song ("Massachusetts," by Arlo Guthrie) and, charmingly, a State Polka ("Say Hello to Someone From Massachusetts," Lenny Gomulka virtually commands).

New York has "I Love New York" which has not aged well and sounds like a shampoo commercial from 1978.  Obviously they need to replace it with "Empire State of Mind" like yesterday.

And a final shoutout to Washington state, which has seen fit to have an "Unofficial Rock Song," namely "Louie Louie."  We gotta go.

Modern Nursery Rhymes

Mary had an online troll
Online troll, online troll
Mary had an online troll
Who ruined her Internet

It followed her around online
Round online, round online
It followed her around online
Leaving disturbing threats

~~~~~ ** ~~~~~

Itsy bitsy spider signed up with Instacart

Down came her pay and broke the spider’s heart

Out came the lawyers who sued up and down the line

Now Itsy’s an employee, not a 1099

~~~~~ ** ~~~~~

The New Bay Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down

The New Bay Bridge is falling down

Lack of oversight!

~~~~~ ** ~~~~~

Baa baa No Vaxx Sheep, have you a disease?

Yes sir, yes sir, I have all of these:

Measles, rubella, whooping cough too 

Got a personal exemption; I don’t care about you

~~~~~ ** ~~~~~

Twinkle twinkle little bar

How I wonder where you are

Shelf of bourbon, shelf of rye

I need a drink or I’m gonna die

Twinkle twinkle little bar

Please be open, I’m not far

~~~~~ ** ~~~~~

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man

Make me some edibles as fast as you can

Doctor said pot would cure tinnitus in my ear

But who gives a crap, it’ll be legal next year!

~~~~~ ** ~~~~~

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe

She had rent control so it was only a hundred and two

But the landlord is Ellising her so soon she’ll be out

And the landlord will charge 12 times that amount!

Anatomy of Date Night gone wrong

When you have a kid, Date Night is a big deal because you get to go out with your Life Partner and someone else is taking care of your deal and so you want everything to go right because it doesn't happen that often.

Last night, everything did not go right.

The first part of the plan was to meet up with some friends at a Restaurant That Shall Not Be Named at around 6:30.  This plan was immediately complicated by the existence of April 20, which used to just be the day in April between the 19th and 21st but somehow in the past few years became 420, a big party in Golden Gate Park near our house where a bunch of stoners stand outside and smoke pot inside of sitting in their living room and smoking pot like normal people.  As a result, thousands of brain-damaged youth get someone to cover their shift at Carl's Jr and drive their cars from Concord or Antioch or whatever into a tiny corner of the city where my house is.  A trip of about 10 blocks leaving my house and heading for the Mission took about 15 minutes.  We were going to be very late.

[Not sure why this GG Park thing started.  It didn't happen a few years ago.  I blame Facebook.]

We got to the RTSNBN a little before 7:00, so actually not that bad!  It was very crowded.  Very, very crowded, which seemed odd for a Monday.  But the waitress appeared relatively soon and we got our drink orders in by say 7:00 p.m.

The FIRST INSTANCE OF CREEPING DREAD came when the waitress disappeared for the next 30 minutes.  No drinks, no taking our orders, nothing.  HERE is where I should reveal the rest of Date Night: we were going to see Porchlight, a monthly storytelling series at Verdi Club.  As it happens, one of our friends would be performing.  To make it more interesting, he was going on first, at 8:00 p.m.!  There's no way we wouldn't be done with dinner by 8 if we arrived at a nearby restaurant at 7, right?

Right?

Drinks appeared around 7:20, brought by Someone Who Was Not Our Waitress and in fact did not seem to know the names of the drinks.  We still have not ordered food.

The SECOND INSTANCE OF CREEPING DREAD came when I managed to flag our waitress down like I was a Semaphore Flag Operator in the Navy in 1942 so we could order food.  Now, at this point, I'm thinking, "OK, 7:30, get the food by 7:45, choke it down violently like a wolf eating a dismembered rabbit, and we can still make it by 8:00."  I asked for the check as we ordered to make this impossible dream feasible.

The THIRD INSTANCE OF CREEPING DREAD came when we passed 7:40 with no sign of food, waitress, drinks, anything.  I pulled out my Flare Gun and shot a flare at the ceiling.  It bounced back onto floor and spun crazily, sparks shooting out in every direction.  The waitress somehow saw us.  "We're trying to make an 8:00 show," I said.  "Is there any chance we'll have our food soon?"  She said she would check.

Having already paid, we finally got up to leave at 7:55 p.m.  We never got any food.  There was a manager type at the door.  He explained he knew what was going on, presumably because the waitress who could have been using her time getting us food or drinks was talking to him.  There was some confusion about whether he could just box it up or whatever but I think we concluded he would just credit our cards back.  TO RTSNBN'S GREAT CREDIT, it looks like they completely refunded the whole meal, drinks and everything.

We made it into the Verdi Club right around 8:00.  Saw our friend perform.  He was great.  At 8:15 I walked/jogged in a dizzy low blood sugar daze to the McDonald's on 16th and Potrero and Jose set me up with a Quarter Pounder with Cheese (for me) and a Filet O Fish (for my Date).  We ate them huddled in the corner of the Verdi Club like animals.  It was delicious.  

Last Night a QPC Saved My Life

By then, all the seats were filled and neither one of us felt like hearing any stories.  We watched a little standing in the back of the room and split.

I want to reiterate that RTSNBN did the right thing, maybe even more than the right thing, by totally refunding us.  The 2 free drinks apiece were nice.  But still, man, you gotta get your shit together if you're serving the public.

There will be other Date Nights, but there will never be another QPC that tastes as sweet.

The Bachelor: A-virgin therapy

Christ, I am so fucking sorry for that title.  That is really, really terrible.  Sorry.

Tonight's Special Guests will be a trio of Chris' unnamed sisters, who will interview some of the chixx and decide who gets a Very Special Date with the Farmer.  Hey, beats drinking warm goat milk like last week, I guess.

A bunch of the Ladies are off with C in 2 cars with C driving one and HOLY CRAP THEY'RE LETTING MEGAN THE SIMPLE DRIVE THE OTHER ONE.  I didn't know you could still get that kind of insurance, ABC!  One of the Ashleys comments "For me, if a guy is driving, it's one of the sexiest things he can do."  Whoa girl, your commute must be SEXCITING.  Wait til you see me parallel park!  Holy shit, put your clothes back on!  Anyway, this odd procession makes its way to some sad-looking 34% full reservoir somewhere in Southern Cali and it's not long before bikini parts are flying.  The Widow Kelsey is NOT AT ALL HAPPY about this date and the "muddy water hellhole" that compares unfavorably to the lakes of the Great State of Michigan!  We're in a drought, bitch!  Not our fault!

Back at the house, the Farmer Sisters have concluded their interviews - not before making Carly cry because she's never been loved, Y I K E S - and JADE has been named the new Regional Manager!  I mean, she gets to go on the date or whatever.

Let's head back to Lake Hellhole where there's going to be some camping!  Oh shit, Krazee Ashley is ready to throw down.  What she's "most scared of" is having no music so she starts chanting nonsensical syllables and doing her epileptic seizure dance.  Kraz gets a chance to sit down with C and maybe show him the other night was an aberration and she can be totally normal.

Sad trombone.  As C struggles with this admittedly layered and complex question, Kraz is onto new topics!  "Look at the moon.  It's so weird to me.  And we're sitting here.  Like that's weird to me."  It's pretty clear now that Kraz is either (1) putting on an act trying to get national attention (2) trying a series of powerful hallucinogens for the first time on network TV or (3) actually in a dissociative state and no one is helping her.  Anyway, she closes strong with "I love everything about you" and

Kaitlyn kind of nails it when she says "I don't think Ashley is here for the right reasons because I don't even know if she knows where here is."

VIRGIN TIME!!!!  She decides she's going to spill the beans to C and sneaks into his tent in the middle of the night and thank God they aren't filming in Texas or she would be all kinds of shot.  She jabbers some nonsense about not being experienced and it's like if you're gay and just tell your parents you like musical theater and think "That should about do it!"

I'm gonna really condense the Big Date with Jade because it's essentially just a half hour commercial for some new live-action Cinderella movie like GOD I am so sick of seeing stories about privileged white people overcoming their struggles.  This date mostly consists of them eating dinner alone in a huge room and then dancing alone in another huge room while a movie plays in the background.  It's like an agoraphobic's dream date,  Anyway, they both are essentially personalityless so I assume they will end up together.

Group date starts with a bunch of chicks in wedding dresses getting on a plane.  Hey, Mormons in the Sky!  Next month on FXX.  Anyway, they land at SFO and they're going to run some mud obstacle course to raise awareness for MS or something.  Obvs Jillian is SUPER INTO THIS and everyone else basically quits and Jillian beats that course like a bitch who snitched on her to the bulls.  She is awarded a night dinner which she will CRUSH TO DEATH.

This dinner takes place high atop the Fairmont here in lovely SF.  Jillian has figured out how to put on a dress.  C is babbling non sequitirs.  "Family is really important to me, where do you see yourself in five years?"  He's just reading random First Date Question Cards together. Jillian unleashes a word firehose on hapless C and literally asks him if he'd rather fuck a homeless girl or go celibate for 5 years.  DON'T ANSWER THAT.  Understandably alarmed, he boots her off the show and somehow she doesn't beat the shit out of him.  We'll miss you and your guns, J.

Cocktail Party!  It's Round 2 of Trying to Tell Him I'm a Virgin.  She gets it out and SURPRISE! He "totally respects that" which is what you say anytime you find out an adult woman is a virgin or is paralyzed and can paint with her toes or whatever.  Oh shit, Becca's a virgin too!  Everyone's a virgin now!  Baby Jesuses all around!

Here's who's staying: Baby Voice, iCarly, Megan the Simple, Still Not Sure Who Samantha Is But She Keeps Hanging Around, Virgins I & II, and SparklyBritt.  Finally, Krazee Ashley can get some help.  Also out the door are Chick With Dark Hair I've Never Seen Before and Juelia the Pool Party Ruiner.  Better days, ladies.

UPDATE!!!!!! THE PLOT THICKENS.  According to I'm sure reputable source "The Stir," Krazee Ashley isn't a hairstylist from Brooklyn AT ALL.  No, she's just a boring office drone from Atlanta.  Good luck finding a hairstylist in Brooklyn with no visible tattoos, just like I said.  Her Instagram feed looks like Normal Off the Shelf White Girl America.  So it was an act.  Lame.

This video of a chick taking stuff out of a plastic backback is my daughter's "The Wire"

I'm not sure exactly how she stumbled upon it - it was most likely on one of those YouTube sidebars of "other videos you might like" while she was watching one of her OG Elmo or nursery rhymes videos - but somehow our 22-month-old daughter discovered the below video and it has now become her own personal "Spitter" episode of Seinfeld.  She will watch it again and again.

WARNING: Do not watch it unless you're interested in a pair of hands with complicated nails remove a series of smaller toys from a plastic backpack and then, in turn, open those smaller toys.


Not exactly the last season of Breaking Bad, is it?  I'm not really sure what is so attractive about this to our kid.  I have theorized that there is some kind of child-level ASMR thing going on, and I will admit the sound of the toys going back into the backpack makes a satisfying "klunk" that my daughter and I both find soothing.  (Well, I imagine she does.  She likes to watch the shit out of it but she's never said "Dada, I find this soothing.")  The parents in the article linked below also share my ASMR theory, to my somewhat surprise.

THE PLOT THICKENS.  Turns out the fancy-nailed Dora backpack opener is THE HIGHEST PAID YOUTUBE EARNER IN THE WORLD.

HOLY.  FUCKING.  SHIT.

That's right.  This anonymous chick (and if you read the linked article, she seems pretty vigilant about being anonymous) made FIVE MILLION DOLLARS LAST YEAR opening and assembling Disney toys on camera.  She came in ahead of #2, TAYLOR FUCKING SWIFT.

This fact is so mindblowing to me partly because until some time last year I had no idea there was such a thing as "unboxing" videos and until a few days ago I really didn't know you could make five million dollars a year making them.

(SIDE NOTE: #4 on the YouTube Walk of Fame is Little Baby Bum, which produces a seemingly endless series of animated videos that I assume if you have a kid you're as familiar with as I am.  They are as addictive for toddlers as oxy is for Kentuckians.  I could - and perhaps will - write a whole other thing about the LBB world and its characters.)

Anyway, I'm sure the Dora backpack video will blow over at some point just like other once-favorite videos have been discarded.  It's just one of those Inexplicable Things about kids.

Jim Harbaugh's Twitters are the ravings of a lunatic

Former 49ers coach Jim Harbaugh just took to Twitter and MAN IS HE EXCITED.

"Anything less than a man's best effort cheats himself! Demeans him! Spoils him! Ruins him! Cheapens him! Emerson
— Coach Harbaugh (@CoachJim4UM) January 16, 2015

Emerson! Loved to use! Exclamation points! Didn't he!

His whole Twitter stream is like this.  It's like somebody gave molly to a Labrador.

Attacking this day with Enthusiasm Unknown to Mankind
— Coach Harbaugh (@CoachJim4UM) January 15, 2015

That's a lot of Enthusiasm! But I wonder what kind of Enthusiasm is Unknown to Mankind. ALIEN ENTHUSIASM. Jim Harbaugh is an alien.

Some of the tweets read like someone is holding a gun to his head and forcing him to type them:

Life at Michigan is Great! Great with a capital "G!"
— Coach Harbaugh (@CoachJim4UM) January 14, 2015

YES EVERYTHING IS GREAT. WHY DO YOU ASK. IT'S SO GREAT. SO SO SO GREAT.

Now following Pope Francis @Pontifex. Go Blue!
— Coach Harbaugh (@CoachJim4UM) January 8, 2015

Pope Francis is a Michigan fan? Oh shit, wait til Notre Dame finds out about this. They'll dump Catholicism and become a Greek Orthodox school. Notros Damos.

Also, Jim Harbaugh's dad looks EXACTLY like Jim Harbaugh with old man makeup on:

Have a good weekend!

The Bachelor: Give me your crazy, your drunk, your huddled simpletons yearning to read

Before we can get started on our dates this week there's some garbage time about how Yoga Kimberly who got kicked off last week wants to get back on and OH WHATEVER SHALL WE DO and brows are furrowed and eventually Kimberly is readmitted into the pack and the other chicks look at her like she's Al Sharpton at a Klan rally.  IN ANOTHER BIT OF SHOCKING NEWS we are informed that Farmer Chris's bachleor pad is not on some distant isle but LO, JUST AT THE END OF THE DRIVEWAY.  Whatever.

Group Date with some of them give me a break it's too early to learn all their names yet.  The Scream of Chicks reports to what appears to be a faceless office building in LA but is actually 1010 Wilshire, "a new lifestyle solution for professionals wanting to live, work, and play" which sounds like it could be anything from a nutritional supplement to an app but is actually rental units with you guessed it a rooftop pool.  Based on what I know from the Bachelor, every building in LA is equipped with a rooftop pool and a set of stemless wineglasses.
Meanwhile, back at the Female Farm, the News Producer who has apparently decided to produce herself out of bikini bottoms forcing ABC to black box her private area and Megan the Simple with her Life Helmet on have decided to burgle Chris's quarters.

We return to the Group Date where the next event, inevitably, is Bikini Tractor Racing, which I think Tara does professionally.

Periodic reminder that I love Tara.  Her tagline is "Sport Fishing Enthusiast" which is code for something dirty or illegal but I haven't figured it out yet.  Anyway, the producers have fixed the tractors so they can only go 3 mph to make a sad commentary on the state of the family farm.

Post tractoring C culls Kids Having Kids McKenzie or MacKenzie or whatever from the herd probably to take her for soft serve or to see Frozen.  Oh wait they're going to some bar called "The Escondite" which bills itself on its website as being in "SKIDROWKYO" in case you had the idea that SF had a monopoly on repellent neighborhood monikers.  Anyway, McK is a little crazy and nobody told her you don't bust out with "Do you believe in aliens" on the first date!

Solo date with Megan the Simple.

In the limo she says, no joke, "I just read the word airport" so GRAPE JOB MEGAN!!!!!  You get a treat.  They private jet to Vegas and then take the whirly stick machine up in the sky!  SECOND ACTUAL MEGAN QUOTE: "The butterflies in my stomach are just colorful and smiling and fluttering all over the place."  Jesus fucking Christ.  Anyway, they chopper to the Grand Canyon where Megan reveals that her Dad just had a heart attack and got brain damage but Mom told her to go on the show anyway!  C feels like "there is something here" but it's clearly not crossword puzzle answers or the ability to read a fast food menu.  Megan may be sweet but she is dumber than a roomful of mutes.

ANOTHER FUCKING GROUP DATE  with like 20 of them.  Apparently Zombie Paintball is a thing?  I don't know.  It's some fake movie set and the chix all wander around shooting people who have the Worst Job in America with paintball guns.

OK, we have to talk about Brooklyn Ashley (who I mistakenly said was kicked off last week) because it's very sad.  Either she ate a ton of fucking mushrooms right before this or had a mental break on camera because she spent most of the segment wandering aimlessly around the set and saying things like "Boom, go find your own way, you know, the truth" and "Are we in Mesa Verde?" Then she sat down to talk to the cat.  Seriously, what the fucking fuck.  Some other shit happened I guess but this conflagration of crazy kind of stole the show.  YOU DO YOU BROOKLYN ASHLEY.

Let's jump to the Cocktail Party.  Hopefully Ashley's cocktail is Risperdal and Thorazine.  Some Other Ashley comes out as a virgin to Teen Mom who opines that "Guys like taking your virginity!" in such a disturbingly perky way that makes me think there might be more than one dude who thinks he deflowered McKenzie. Armed with this insider info Ashley the Virgin approaches C and engages in some kind of bizarre belly ring ceremony that ultimately results in them slapping their faces together like fur seals.  Later, Possibly Black Amber also gets in on the face sucking which drives Drunk Jordan into a drunken drunk furor.

I'm loving all the drunks this season!  Anyway, Drunk Jordan advances on C and starts yelling nonsensically at him like they're in a college sports bar and Guns N Roses is blasting.  She is literally just stringing random words together.  LOVE YA JORD.

Let's hand out some roses.  Britt, duh, the Virgin, Who the Fuck Is Trina, the Widow Kelsey, SaMANtha, Surprise Also a Widow Juealia or however it's spelled, Possibly Black Amber, Tracey or Tracy, Jillian, Jade, Nicki or Mickey or something, Becka, Carly, Baby Voice, and YAY KRAZEE ASHLEY!!!!

As much as I long to see Ashley get dosed again, my heart is heavy, for C has excused Team Highball!  Oh man, no, no, NOT TARA!!!!  You did not just cut Tara.  Fuck you, Chris. We're losing Tara AND Jordan?  Me and Don Julio both weep for our bleak future.

If you read this blog for a certain reason

Watch this space tomorrow.

Santacon and a Tale of Two Internets

If you haven't lived in SF long, you may have thought Santacon was always an excuse for Chads and Jens to put on Santa suits and make themselves unpopular all over the city, but the event actually started with the Cacophony Society back in the mid-90's.  (If you're not familiar with the Cacophony Society, they're one of the things that used to make San Francisco great.  Start with the Wiki here.)

Ugh. (Photo via SFWeekly.)

ANYWAY, applying the precepts of the Greater Shitshow Theory, what started out as a cool small event eventually became a horrible public spectacle that people hate.  (In New York it's apparently way worse.)  In fact, the universal level of loathing in my Twitter feed proves that Santacon is one of the few things everyone I follow on Twitter agrees on: it's the Worst Thing in the World.

Destroy #SantaCon
— Brock Keeling (@BrockKeeling) December 13, 2014

The only groups that celebrate SantaCon are white twentysomethings and pubic lice.
— Scott Simpson (@scottsimpson) December 13, 2014

Santacon: WHERE ARE THE RIOT POLICE WITH TEAR GAS AND RUBBER BULLETS WHEN YOU NEED THEM.
— KK (@crazyhate) December 13, 2014

That's just the smallest sample. It was way worse than that.  It's like a group of privileged white people with more money than sense and no moral compass can't get teenager-on-Everclear drunk in the middle of the day and vomit in public while screaming incoherently any more! Boo hoo.

But this total opprobrium made me think: there is nothing that 100% of the people agree on (including, as Hunter S. Thompson sagely noted, "Jesus Christ and pure cocaine"), and those drunk Santas all look like they were doing it voluntarily, so where is the pro-Santacon Internet?  Why aren't I seeing tweets like "Having a great time at Santacon! This is more fun than going to Dartmouth as a legacy and denying that white privilege exists!"

Pretty simple, I guess.  Everyone's Internet is a pretty small slice.  I don't follow any finance bros on Twitter because I don't know any finance bros in real life, I guess.  Sure, I have some hate-follows, and I read certain blogs that make me actually angry every time, but doesn't everyone?  Getting outraged is practically America's national sport.  Baseball has nothing on "WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT VACCINES IS WRONG WRONG WRONG HOPE YOUR KIDS ENJOY AUTISM."  But for our Daily Bread, we follow and read people pretty much like people we know in the meatspace (worst term ever I've been dying to use).  I remember talking to some dude at a party and mentioning something I read on SFist and he said "What's SFist" and the room started to spin and I got dizzy and then I remembered that Everyone Makes Their Own Internet and SFist isn't exactly the New York Times.  It's one of my daily stops (if for no other reason, to hate-read Miles Long's hilariously stupid babycon takes on everything) but most people - even most people in SF - don't know it exists.

So there's a whole universe of pro-Santacon (and pro-everything else awful) Twitter out there, I'm sure.  Just not mine. Which, fine.

Watch me go full Comic Book Guy on this clip from Parenthood

Parenthood is a soap opera for grownups about members of an extended family that supposedly live in the Bay Area.  It's also pretty clearly shot in LA, and because The Wife is now extraordinarily tired of me shouting at the TV "THAT'S NOT SAN FRANCISCO!!!  THOSE PEOPLE JUST PARKED IN FRONT OF THEIR HOUSE LIKE IT WAS NO BIG THING!!! THEY'RE OUTSIDE AT NIGHT IN T-SHIRTS!!!!," I'll have to take it to the Internet again.  *shakes fist*

In the last episode, two of the characters supposedly are going to see a band at the Elbo Room, which is an actual real place in SF (for a little while longer, anyway).  (You can watch the scene here; fast forward to about 27:20.) This is what the actual Elbo Room, which is on Valencia, looks like:

Photo via Pinballnews.com, which is a real thing and had the best picture of the Elbo Rom I could find after looking for 35 seconds

And in the Make Believe Fantasy World of Parenthood, this is what the Elbo Room looks like:

Huh.  Not bad, actually!  They sorta got the sign font right and even included the corner doorway.

But look at this, down the side of the club:

Can you see the Transamerica Pyramid from Sycamore and Valencia?  I don't think you can.  Also, guess what, Sycamore Street?  You are now served by a cable car!  (It's slightly visible lower left, and you can see the tracks there.)  DING DING!  As all establishing shots in San Francisco must begin, a cable car passes through at the beginning of the scene.

Then it goes from merely inaccurate to absurd.  As one of the characters, Crosby, approaches the door, he is searched by a bouncer wearing a headset.

A bouncer wearing a headset.  At Elbo Room.

The bouncer reaches into his jacket and pulls out Crosby's "weed."

The idea that the doorman at Elbo Room would (1) search someone's jacket pockets, (2) pull out a baggie of marijuana, and (3) not let the person enter Elbo Room carrying said marijuana is about as likely as the Elbo Room having a VIP lounge where professional athletes order bottles of Ace of Spades and make it rain.  Any two-bit stoner who can roll a joint has a medical marijuana card.  Plus is weed even illegal any more?

Crosby protests that all he wants to do is "burn a little leaf in the toilet."  We're done here.

A few words about the return of 90 Day Fiance, TV's greatest achievement

90 Day Fiance is a reality show about people who get engaged to foreigners and then the foreigners come here on a special visa and they have 90 days to either get married or GTFO.  Sounds mildly interesting, but the producers are GENIUSES at casting and finding the right couples to follow.  Beth Spotswood did an excellent job breaking down season 1 here.  Now season 2 is upon us and it looks just as good or maybe even better like that's even possible.

Just like a drug addict who sees a Ziploc baggie, I get triggered around some reality shows and start to feel that feeling like I want to recap them.  As you know, I quit doing the Bachelor/ette but I'm thinking about starting up again for this shit.  It is a target-rich environment, let me tell you.

We've got Justin, who lives in Silicon Valley and looks like a techbro but is actually an elementary school teacher and obviously has something wrong with him because he had to find a potential wife in Colombia while he was there for some sports thing and then he brings her to America and we find out it's mostly so she can clean his apartment.  So now Justin has green card AND I.R.S. problems probably.

The first season was all dudes importing foreign chicks, so it was refreshing to see Chelsea, an American girl who went to Nicaragua and hooked up with NICARAGUA'S MOST FAMOUS POP STAR, a tiny person called "Yamir" with occasionally frosted tips and a carefully considered slouch.  I hate to be a cynical bastard but Yamir is using her to get to this country and become American pop star, I promise you.

Nicaragua's biggest pop star (L) and a too-trusting American woman (R)

And then there's Brett, a pasty mid-30's who somehow knocked up a woman and has a daughter and lives with an older lesbian couple and whose best friend looks like Paula Deen.  Brett is all kinds of weird.  He went online shopping for a mate and found Daya in the Phillippines or Philippinnes or however you spell it and this is going to be supes awkward.

I haven't decided yet if I'm going to go full retard and recap every episode, Bachelor-style; it mostly depends on how much I've had to drink by Sunday night at 8, but we'll see.

(There was also a Where Are They Now show about last season and while it was a hoot to see that Mormon missionary/general schlub Alan and Brazilian knockout Kirlyam are still together and appear to be blissfully happy, their segment mostly consisted of a trip to Alan's family reunion which looked more painful than kidney stones because (1) it appeared to by dry, since they're Mormon, duh, and the only thing worse than a family reunion is a DRY family reunion, and (2) no I'm wrong, it gets worse, because it was a THEMED family reunion and the theme was REDNECK.  A redneck themed family reunion in Utah.  With Confederate flag sightings.  If that didn't send Kirlyam screaming to the TAM ticket counter, she can survive anything America can throw at her.  BONUS FACT: once she gets her green card, she can start modeling. Oh no Alan.)

Grover Norquist went to Burning Man and doesn't understand how it works

Ugh, more Burning Man stuff.  Sorry.  Just ignore this if you want.  It's just been bothering me and this is where I let my grumpy-old-man-writing-letters-to-the-editor hang out.

Grover Norquist is a noted ultraconservative and anti-tax crusader who famously declared that "I'm not in favor of abolishing the government. I just want to shrink it down to the size where we can drown it in the bathtub."  Like a puppy you don't want!

Anyway, Grover decided he wanted to go to Burning Man because "There's no government that organizes this. That's what happens when nobody tells you what to do. You just figure it out. So Burning Man is a refutation of the argument that the state has a place in nature."

Right off the bat, Grover has a few misconceptions.  It's not like 60,000 people just materialize in the remote Nevada desert and organize themselves into a semicircle of camps.  While it's not controlled by a "state" per se, the Burning Man organizers most certainly do serve as a "government."  There are SHITLOADS of rules about what you can and can't do.  Here's a whole page of them. No tampons in the Porta Potties.  Never start a fire on the playa.  No audio systems stronger than 300 watts.  All cars must be licensed.  MAN I AM FEELING THE BOOT OF THE GOVERNMENT ON MY THROAT.  Grover's apparent idea that it's rule-free libertarian wonderland is a fantasy.

So he went and wrote about it for the Guardian.  His article has all the usual first-timer wide-eyed crap about naked people and drugs, but a few passages stood out to me.

A community that comes together with a minimum of “rules” demands self-reliance – that everyone clean up after themselves and help thy neighbor. Some day, I want to live 52 weeks a year in a state or city that acts like this. I want to attend a national political convention that advocates the wisdom of Burning Man.

If you want to live in Burning Man for a year, Grover, be my guest.  I have a few questions, though:  Who's going to bring in the food and water you'll need for a year?  After 3 or 4 months, the camp next door is going to get sick of you showing up every day with your plate out.  Who's going to pay for that food?  More importantly, who's going to maintain the roads that whatever vehicles that bring the food will travel on?  Will Burners leave and voluntarily go on road-paving details?  Because government bad.

What about if someone gets sick? If there's a doctor at Year-Long Burning Man, he's going to be working his fucking ass off providing gifted health care to everyone.  Is that fair?  Who's gonna pay for medical supplies?  What if the person who gets sick doesn't have any money or any shiny beads to trade?

What if Year Long Burning Man gets attacked by the Cliven Bundy Ranch Militia?  You can't bring guns to Burning Man, so who's going to defend you and your fellow Free Society lovers?  Certainly not that bad old government.

(Incidentally, I wonder if Grover, the author of "Leave Us Alone: Getting the Government's Hands Off Our Money, Our Guns, Our Lives" knows that he is NOT AT ALL FREE to bring guns to Burning Man.)

Also, the Burning Man political convention is too silly and juvenile an idea to discuss, but it would make for great TV.  I'd fucking love it if Mitt Romney gave a speech about how everyone in the audience had lizard heads with fountains of pure light streaming from them.

Don't get me wrong, a lot of what he says is pretty true, about how you need to be self-reliant at the event and everyone gives of themselves.  I think he's trying to make the point that this kind of attitude and behavior could be writ large in society and we'd all live in a government-free boho paradise, but this is the kind of thinking that most people leave behind when they start high school.  The fact is, Burning Man is a tightly controlled, self-selected community where everyone knows they have to provide for themselves.  When I went, I spent about $2000 to do that.  That money didn't come out of thin air.  In Grover's Burning Man fantasy, what about the people who don't have $2000?  What becomes of them?

Of course Grover Norquist is welcome to go to Burning Man.  Anyone is.  But trying to promote it as some kind of tax-free libertarian fantasyland is ridiculous.

OK, that's it for Burning Man for this year.  Hopefully all years.

Your Outside Lands timeline for today

12:05 Shotgun beer under the Crossover Drive bridge.

12:10 Enter festival grounds. Idly wonder who or what Night Terrors of 1927 is.

12:12 Oh, they're one of those swooping chorus electro pop bands.

1:43 Stop by the "USPS Janis Joplin Tribute." Now even the fucking mail is sponsoring acts at music festivals.

2:15 Run the Jewels. Hey, a black person! On stage, anyway.

3:05 In case your Mom is with you, "Magician Jon Armstrong" at the "Gastro-Magic" stage. Does Magician Jon Armstrong do food magic or something? Maybe he can make monkfish edible.

4:03 Eat mushrooms.

4:15 Attempt to dig up bottle of Fireball you buried last week.  Dig up raccoon skeleton instead.

4:48 Mushrooms beginning to take effect.

4:50 Decide to wear raccoon skull.

6:15 Is Bear Hands real or did Vice make them up? Why are they rotating in space and shooting out plumes of color?

6:28 Ascend to Third Plane of Astral Reality. Disappointingly, no complimentary food on this plane.

6:44 Visit the This Is Fucking Offal food truck, order sheep's gall bladder sliders.

6:56 Vomit up sheep's gall bladder sliders.

7:18 Halfway through Tegan & Sara remember you don't like Tegan & Sara.

7:22 Realize that all 120,000 people here are now heading towards Kanye stage.

8:40 Get to back of Kanye crowd.  I can see him!

9:38 Disjointed crying.  Escorted out by security.

Is this the worst hotel in San Francisco?

During my perambulations about town, I often pass the Red Coach Motor Lodge on the corner of Eddy and Polk.  Perhaps betraying my own internalized prejudices, and because this place happens to be in the Tenderloin, I sometimes think "MAN I bet that place is sketchy as fuck."

The Red Coach, via Street View (I mean, obviously, there isn't "San Fra" painted down the middle of Polk Street)

WRONG!  Based on TripAdvisor reviews, the Red Coach Motor Lodge is actually "good, comfortable, clean and safe value with nice staff."  The rooms are "clean and comfortable and had everything you would need," and "when we left the hotel and realised we had left our passports in their safe gave our children lollipops to make up for the extra travelling we had had to do to go back for them!"  Holy crap, I want to stay there now!  All the reviews concede that the area is a little sketchy but everyone says the place is great and makes up for it.  (Well, not everyone, of course - Mr. "Zona Peligrosa, cuidado" said some mean things I think but they're in Spanish so I'm not 100% sure.)  Anyway, another example of Neighborhood Bias coming into play.

But that got me wondering.  What really is the Worst Hotel in San Francisco?

The Travelodge on Market - you know, behind the Flax Art Supply, across Valencia from Martuni's? - isn't going to win any Hotel of the Year Awards.  TripAdvisor review headlines include "Don't dismiss the bad reviews this place is an abomination," "Stay here at your own peril," and "DO NOT STAY HERE. EVER."  Hmmmm, maybe the "Traveler photos" will help?

OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST MY EYES.  Something about "bed bugs."  Oh fuck now I'm worried because I walked within 100 yards of this place before.  Anyway, don't stay there.

But amazing as this may seem, the Travelodge on Market is NOT the lowest rated San Francisco hotel on TripAdvisor.  It's not even the Sonoma Inn on Bush & Van Ness, which appears to have been burnt out and is boarded up and has a mysterious drainage pipe emerging from the front (Traveler Tip - Room 231 has a water slide/emergency exit!).

The Sonoma Inn. Please enjoy our complimentary 

The lowest rated hotel I could find on TripAdvisor was the apparently incorrectly named Best Hotel, at Taylor and Eddy.

On the bright side, it is next to the Cool Super Discount Market.

On the downside, "TERRIBLE PLACE with mean homeless people doing drugs on doorstep that screamed at us to get lost.... Had to literally push door open past them to get in."  Although, tbh, "Candy L." from Akron, Ohio, you also said you were paying $40 a night and I'm not sure you could even get a room in Akron Ohio for $40 a night.  But then apparently the front desk people are "impolite unfriendly and not very motivated!" so they're not helping much either.

So there you have it.  The Best Hotel.  Quite possibly the Worst Hotel in San Francisco.

Show Report: Foxygen, at The Independent

Everyone knows that in the Celtic calendar, three days after the Blood Moon is motherfucking DATE NIGHT so we left baby Beyonce in The Sister's attentive care and hit the fucking town.

After a stop for some overpriced Mexican food, we found ourselves at the Independent to see Foxygen.  They had one of my favorite albums of 2013, the somewhat embarrassingly named "We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace & Magic," but I had heard some disturbing stories about their live shows - i.e., long breaks in the middle of sets, fighting onstage, and all kinds of other bullshit that bands shouldn't do but I think they're about 15 years old so what do you want out of a kid.  Also, the lead singer fell off the stage once and broke his leg.  The Wife had been exposed to the music just from me constantly playing the album last year but I don't think she expected much.

It was fucking great.  Go see this band if you ever get a chance.

One touchpoint for their sounds is Satanic Majesties Request-era Stones, and the lead singer did his best nouveau Jagger, down to the duckface and the utterly inhibition-free dancing.  Plus, they had three women backup singers.  INDIE BANDS, YOU HAVE BEEN DOING IT WRONG THE WHOLE TIME.  Why stand there glumly when you can have THREE WOMEN BACKUP SINGERS and dance around?

The Wife quickly developed a crush on Backup Singer #1, and no big surprise there, she was sexy as hell.  If you can see the way she's looking at Mini-Jagger, though, it's pretty clear The Wife had no shot with her.

Mini-Jagger's between-song banter was eclectic, to say the least.  "MAKE SOME NOISE IF YOU'RE PREGNANT!" he yelled at one point.  Then, looking almost directly at me (we were right up front), he said, "Who here got a babysitter so they could come to the show tonight?"  IT'S LIKE YOU'RE LOOKING INTO MY SOUL MAN.

Plus a lot of my favorite songs were frontloaded, which was was great because we had to leave at 11:20 because of our dopey baby.  Always stepping on our good time!  I'm just kidding, CPS, put the phone down.  But seriously, it's tough when the headliner doesn't even go on until 10:45.  Man, we are all fucking old.

Goddam it was fun.

The Bachelor: This Just In: Soccer Still Boring

Sorry this is so late.  I was busy!  I had a lot on my plate.  It was misplaced.  This was someone else's job.  It was overtaken by events.  I'll do better next time.

Let us begin at the Girlhaus, where - wait, did Rootsy get her roots adjusted?  It looks like it!  Doglvr wants a one on one date.  Maybe Patches is free!  Oh, with Whan.  Anyway, Chris Harrison shows up for the preflight briefing and it appears the first date tonight will be with the oddly lupine Cassandra!  Hey, ever wonder when Cassandra's last first date was?  Soon we will find out.  OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

Now we are off to Long Beach where Whan is playing with little Camilla and LONG BEACH, REALLY? What, was San Pedro busy? Geez, ABC.  Here comes C, who "hasn't had a first date since [she] was 18 years old" and apparently managed to get knocked up on that one so LOOK OUT WHAN.  Whan puts her in some buggy car thing and they drive into the water and both drown.  I WISH.  No, they float.  It's some kind of car-boat thing.  They drive around in the water and C squeals like a piglet.  Yacht swimming making out blah blah blah you've seen all this before.  Then back to the Bachelor house to MAKE MORE BABIES I guess and C can't stop saying how it's her first date in 3 years.  Jesus Christ lady, we get it already.  She's sweet but doesn't seem like the sharpest tack in the corkboard.  Let's move on to Looking at Kid Pix.  THIS JUST IN: "Trey" is Perez Hilton.

Also, watching other people look at baby pictures is more boring than watching a calculus lecture wrapped in paint drying.  She gets the Please Shut Up About Your First Date in 3 Years Rose.

Then we have a Group Soccer Date at, I shit you not, StubHub Stadium or whatever.  I guess they all had to pay 3 times over face to get in!  I'm kidding, StubHub, I love you.  PLEASE DON'T SHUT ME OUT.  Daddy needs Giants tickets.  Anyway, the chix all play soccer and it's about as interesting as any soccer game which is to say it's boring as fuck.  The only good thing is they appear to be playing without goalies which is actually the best innovation in soccer since hooligans.  Post, there's no rooftop pool? Fuck, ABC.  Between this and Long Beach, you are really cheaping out this episode.  No, nighttime portion is still at StubHub Stadium.  OK, Rootsy gets a hug, makeout with Andi, then The Sharleen takes over.  She's thinking about how "organic" it feels.  Whan clearly doesn't know what "organic" means.  Then they have a VERY WEIRD KISS that looks like he's trying to insert an object into her mouth unsuccessfully.

Whatever.  Free Spirit manages to keep her clothes on, somehow, and Rootsy gets the rose.

One on one date with Chelsie.  Whan plays her some Venezuelan music in the car and she White Girl car dances and they hit up the Venezuelan restaurant for some arepas and tequeno and paco de catillo and maserati or something.  You know what's good after a big meal of unfamiliar cuisine?  TANDEM BUNGEE JUMPING!  Especially when it's conducted by a Guy Fieri impersonator in a visor.  There is an ENDLESS sequence where Chel is wavering about whether to do it and JUST FUCKING JUMP ALREADY OK whew it's over.  

Standard Outdoor Dinner at City Hall.  Chel comes from a family of dentists and is the "black sheep" for becoming a teacher instead.  Holy fuck, if that's black sheep status in her family you'd be the Black 13th Incarnation of the Demon Azeroth for changing the channel when America's Funniest Videos is on.  She gets a rose, of course, and then it's the usual Concert by Mediocre Faux Country Act Who Stole the Guitar Riff in His Song From "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day.  Yuck.

Dawn Breaks at Girlhaus.  Whan arrives to make "Venezuelan breakfast," which I thought was cocaine and a chelada but is apparently some kind of pancake thing.  Whan think "Clare look reely good in piyamas" which I guess so.  Hey, wanna get crazy?  Instead of a cocktail party, let's have a POOL PARTY!  Disrupt the Bachelor!  Fuck.  Anyway, The Sharleen doesn't feel a connection because, you know, SHE'S NORMAL.  Oh, now Clare is freaking out.  Maybe she's normal too!  No, no she is not.  Anyway, Whan does his usual gig and talks everyone down.  He spends a lot of time doing this, actually.

Let's get to the Rose Cer and get the fuck out of Dodge.  Hey, Doglvr's lazy eye is especially sleepy today!

PATIENCE, MY SWEET.  SOON WE WILL SLEEP.  

OK, who's in.  Andy, Mom, Doglvr, Seriousleen, Elisa, Kat, Who the Fuck Is Alison, Insecure Clare, Who the Fuck Is Lauren, and Maybe Black Danielle.  We must bid farewell to Free Spirit and Some Blonde Chick Named Christy who I didn't even know was on this show.  "Every person deserves love," Free Spirit says.  Pack another bowl, baby.  We're moving on.

The Bachelor: It's Victoria O'Clock Somewhere!

This episode will be full of surprising departures.  Beginning with the fucking dog, who has decided to swim to safety and abandon this shitshow.

Swim, dog!  SWIM TO FREEDOM!!!!

Hairstylist Clare gets the first date apparently.  WHAT HAPPENED TO THE DATE CARD.  Getting a little free with the editing, huh ABC?  We need our establishing shit.  Anyway, Whan blindfolds her and puts her in a car.  That's how the Cali Cartel does it too!  This date will apparently end with a burning tire around Clare's neck.  The Abduction Limo delivers W & C to - what, a Christmas tree lot?  A ski resort?  ABC is so completely out of date idea now that anything some PA drunkenly mumbles gets made into a date.  "Winter wonderland! That's a date!" Whatever.  It's no winter wonderland for girlfriend's hair, I'll tell you that much.  MEOW.  Wait, what did he say?  "Looking at her smiling is better than living in a box?"  Oh, a "million bucks."  A ploos on the English Whan. 

Following some ice moving, it's over to the Hot Spring TM spa for some relaxing and WHOA CLARE GOT HER DADDY ISSUES ALL OVER THE SPA. That's gonna leave a stain.  Basically Clare's Dad cured cancer on his way to the Moon carrying an orphan and a puppy on his back and if you can't do that, you will not get far with Clare. After some lightweight kissing ("You taste like snow" she says - CALI CARTEL I'M TELLING YOU) they are treated to some sensitive guitar playing by a fat guy with a beard. HOTT.

OK next up is Kat who is V V V EXCITED.  Kat open mouth laughs a lot and I bet she's a good drunk.  They board a private plane and are whisked to - wait for it - SALT LAKE CITY!!!!  Nothing says fun like Salt Lake City.  I guess Cleveland was busy.  Anyway, K is furnished with a neon raver outfit and they're going to something called the Electric Run which is a real thing?  Oh, it's the "World's Premier Nighttime 5k run/walk experience."  What it looks like is the World's Premier Exercise Rave For Idiots.

Anyway, he gives her a rose onstage and the only thing that would make this bearable is about 3 tabs of X which you probably can't get in Utah anyway.  Utah.

Let's move on.  Group Date!  Hey, guess what? In a first for the Bachelor, Doglvr Kelly has not one but TWO lazy eyes!

Maybe "Science Educator" Chelsie can explain this anomaly once she comes down from whatever the fuck she's on.  Anyway, they are going to some kind of photo shoot when a man with a neon blue beard appears and tells them they have all been dosed with 100 micrograms of blotter acid and to find a buddy quick because the next 8 hours are going to be super intense.  Oh wait, PUPPIES!!!!  It's a "sexy photoshoot with the dogs."  This requires costuming.  Kelly dresses up as What Happens When a Meth Lab Explodes Onto Someone Wearing Blackface.

The 1st Grade Teacher is assigned Getting Naked With a Cardboard Sign but she smartly switches with Free Spirit Lucy, who would get buck for half a Bud Light and a handful of M&Ms.  Lady Lawyer Andi isn't so sure about the naked thing either but Whan talks her down and they pose with Free Spirit who seems to think this is Hustler and not Dog Rescue.

The Afterparty finds us all in sparkly dresses at the Usual Bachelor LA Rooftop Pool.  TIME FOR SOME FUCKING DRINKS.  Former NBA Dancer Cassandra has to come out as a parent.  She has a kid named Trey because of course.  Dad?

OK let's get to my girl Victoria.  Girlfriend is on the champagne like a lab rat on the cocaine switch.  She is dancing around in her bikini and spring breaking all over the rooftop and she is SO ALIVE.  Here she comes creeping on Whan and Pediatric Nurse.

WHOOOOOOO!!!!  SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!!!!!!

Then it's off to the bathroom for a good cry & decompensating.  Mom Renee tries to comfort her as she weeps next to the toilet.  Oh, now she tells Bon Iver she's going home!  ENOUGH OF YOUR SHIT BACHELOR SHOW!!!  So Whan gives the Rooftop Pool Rose to Lazy Eyes, for some reason.  The fuck did she do?  WHY ISN'T VICTORIA GETTING THAT ROSE?

Dawn breaks at the Ladies House.  Everyone is already bikini'd and discussing Vicky Cristina Barfelona.  Oh, she got to stay in a hotel last night!  JP goes to see her and I think she's still drunk and she's all "Sorry about last night" but he fires her and what I want more than anything is for ABC to send out a camera crew to follow Vicks around.  THAT'S THE SHOW I WANT TO SEE.

Pre Rose Cer.  Newshound Amy does a painful faux reporter thing.  HERE'S WHAT WE DO KNOW.  YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT.  Wait, who's coming apart at the seams now?  Cassandra?  What is the fucking problem?  Good thing Mom Renee is here to gently stroke anyone's hair who needs it.  Anyway, now Whan has to talk her down too.  Here's my advice, Whan: pick one of the chicks who doesn't need to be talked off a ledge every 5 minutes.

OK, Rose Cer.  You're right, Whan!  It has been a berry good week.  OK, who's in.  NBA dancer, Brown Roots Nikki, The Lawyer Who Hates Being Naked, Too Smiley Elise, Don't Really Care Opera Singer, Everyone's Mom, Maybe Black Danielle, Free Spirit, Who the Fuck Is Alison, Turned Up to 1000 Chelsie, Somebody Named Lauren I Think and Kristie the Stripper.  Sorry Black Chantel and News Team 7 Amy!  OUR LEAD STORY TONIGHT: YOU ARE DUMPED.