The Bachelor: At least one of us had therapy to prepare for this nightmare

I actually wasn’t going to do this season until I realized that (1) it’s coming on during Sober January and because it’s SJ my life resembles that of a Bubble Boy with agoraphobia and there really won’t be much else to write about and (2) I don’t remember what 2 was. So I guess I’m stuck with it.

Chris Harrison tells us this will be the Most Shocking Season Yet! Does that mean they finally found someone normal to be on the show? Oh, no, it doesn’t. They found Brad, who’s been on the show before. That’s how bad it is. The selection of people who want to be debased on national television is so thin that we must resort to subjecting the same poor fucks to this treatment over and over.

Brad apparently “stunned and infuriated” people the last time he was on the show by – NOT MAKING THIS UP – not picking anyone at all. That’s right: America was driven to tears of rage by Brad’s refusal to marry someone he had known for 6 weeks on national TV. HOW COULD YOU FAIL US IN THIS WAY BRAD? The whole experience sent Brad into therapy. He’s better now or something.

Let’s meet some chicks! Dentist, Funeral Director, Nanny with Dead Father Issues, Executive Assistant who Has Live Father Issues and is Divorced, a self-described “Manscaper,” a Faux Vampire/Model/Obvious Child Abuse Survivor, and a Walking Lifetime Movie with a Dead Racecar Husband and a Girl named Rickie. Or Ricki. Or Rikki. This is not made plain. Because Dad was named Rickie. The Wife sums it up: “These are clearly the sociopaths from other seasons who weren’t picked to be on the show.” So mean!

Time for Brad to sit down with Chris Harrison and talk about his therapy. Blah blah blah his Dad was never around and said he was going to pick him up and then never did and then had him come live with him and then kicked him out. Brad, let me help you out:


Oh, here come the chicks he didn’t pick 3 years ago for a Fake Confrontation. They both sit with their massive engagement rocks proudly on display. As it turns out, he did not Ruin Their Lives. Chris Harrison looks a little disappointed. This shit is faker than WWE. He says they have made him a better person. That’s the Zoloft, silly!

OK, let’s meet the psychos. The first chick slaps him because America is Mad at Him and also she has anger issues and sees him as her Distant Father. I think. Nanny Ashley grabs his ass. She is a good influence on her young charges! Then we have some chick in Katy Perry shoes and a stripper dress. Ashley the Dentist flips her hair a lot and screams desperation. Madison has fake – I mean, I think they’re fake – vampire teeth. She is one big Bag of Fucked Up. I kind of love her.


Jackie the Artist wants him to pinky swear that he won’t break her heart. I’m guessing her “art” involves fingerpaints and gluing macaroni to construction paper. Desperita does a fake marriage proposal. That will make someone nervous!

Another round of 15. Jesus, this is a lot. Oh, it’s the Mortician! “I think you can make anyone look good,” Brad says. Especially the recently deceased! Jill leads right off with “I’m ready to get married.” Can’t believe she’s single! “J” says it’s her birthday. She is asking for a full name this year. Then more come. God they keep coming. Like locusts.

OK, time to meet and greet with the Ladeez. He has to explain the Last Show Bullshit over and over and over. SO FUCKING BORING. Oh, first appearance of the phrase “Here for the Right Reasons!” That’s a classic. I think I also heard “Not here to make friends” earlier. The Manscaper does a little Manscaping on his wrist. Thank God that was the extent of it. Horrific details about Male Waxing then follow. Artist Jackie is going to sing. This turns out to be not such a great idea. She is a Strong Candidate to be the Kasey of this season. Alli wants to know if her ass looks fat. Some chick keeps stalking Brad around and “stealing him away” over and over and it gets really creepy and depressing.

Lifetime Movie gets some alone time. She’s not willing to settle. Except for a loser with father issues on national TV, I guess! MADISON TIME!!!! She tries to come off as all normal which is challenging when you look like Count Chocula crossed with a Barely Legal model. She is serious about being here! And being demonstrably damaged.

OK, let’s cull some bitches. Nanny Ashley gets the First Impression Rose and gets to stay. Madison gets the Childhood Trauma Survivor Rose. Lifetime Movie and Manscaper and Dr. Hairflip and Morticia and The Slapper all get to stay. Sorry, if you have a Big Chin you will not be riding this ride. Britnee weeps openly. Believe me, Britnee, this is not the end of the road.

COMING UP THIS SEASON: We travel to exotic destinations to watch desperate crazy people hurl themselves at one another. Way to go, ABC!

(Some of) My personal favorite Twitter posts of the year

I guess I could say "my favorite tweets" but GOD HELP ME I fucking LOATHE the term "tweets." Just saying the word "tweets" cheapens us all.

ANYWAY, in lieu of some bullshit Year in Review crap or something like that, here are some of the Twitter posts I "favorited" (ugh, another awful construction; maybe Twitter is the Nail in the Coffin for the English language) and thought were funny and/or something.



Kate is a must-follow.



Jessica is Internet famous but still talks to me.



The inimitable Molls, with a dieting query.



Molls is pretty much gold 100% of the time.



Renée.





More Renée.





That's a good point.



One more Molls.





I know what you mean.

I could also repost about 15 of Kanye's tweets here, but you've seen them all before. (For the record, cherub imagery and water bottle are my 2 faves.)

Keep up the good work, everyone!

Here's another restaurant review, like you give a shit

No one's reading this. You're all stuck with your parents somewhere trying desperately to get a flight to JFK because you're about to freak out and kill them or you're home waking and baking and watching Maury (SPOILER: In the case of Charmaine, YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER) or you're in Tahoe or God knows what else. You're not at work, which is where you'd be reading this under normal conditions. That's OK. I understand.

Last night was Moms' final night here in SF and she got it in her head that she wanted Burmese food, probably because that sounded like it would make a good story for her friends back in Arizona about Crazy Shit They Eat in SF. So I made a reservation at Mandalay to get our Burmese on.

DIGRESSION #1: Shouldn't it be called "Myanmarese" food now? I guess that's too hard to pronounce and plus we're sticking with "Burma" as a protest against the current junta or something.

DIGRESSION #2: I know you're inwardly screaming "Why didn't you go to Burma Super Star??!?!??," you little food-obsessed foodie snob. I'll tell you why. Last time I went to BSS I waited an hour and a half for what's essentially Thai food with different names. So fuck that. I made reservations at Mandalay that day, no problem. Reservations are an extremely good idea, as we will see.

Mandalay was fine. My impressions are: (1) The food's pretty good. Maybe really good. We had some noodle stuff that was pretty great and also Sizzling Beef which was exactly what it sounds like and also Mango Prawns which I didn't taste. I'm not super-into prawns. (2) Everything took a very long time. (3) It was FUCKING CROWDED, like jam packed.

What is the deal with this town and the fucking Burmese food? There was a crowd standing by the front door looking like they were going to leap on us and rip the fucking Nan Gyi Dok right out of our hands. Clumped together by the door, anxiously staring at the hostess each time she went to the clipboard. Jesus Christ, people, just go to one of the 2,786 Thai restuarants in this town. It's basically the same fucking food. And this is on a Monday night. I mean, really?

So yeah, if you have reservations and happen to be in the area, I guess it's worth going to. But if you're one of those people waiting an hour, took a long hard look at yourself and ask why. "WHYYYYY," ask yourself. "WHYYYY AM I DOING THIS." Then go get some Thai food like a rational human being.

Xmas is over and it's time to bitch

Happy Monday. I hope you had a good Christmas or Chanukah or whatever the fuck you do. I wish I could say I was in a better mood but I've been drinking for like a week straight and I'm tired and cranky now.

Have you seen this ad?



What the fuck. First of all, if you've got robots that are so advanced that they can engage in robot hand-to-hand combat, wouldn't somebody have thought to install a Robot Destroyer Laser? I mean, these fuckers are million-dollar machines fighting with Stone Age technology. It's like having a steam-powered Blu-Ray player. "Hold on, we'll watch the rest of Avatar as soon as I put more coal in the boiler!"

Second thing: Jesus Christ, dude, did you know it's possible to fucking exist for more than 30 seconds without watching TV? It's a subpar sci-fi film, not a fucking dialysis machine. I think you can fucking live without this bullshit for the seconds it takes to make a cup of tea and get to the bedroom. Fuck.

Next: I occasionally listen to "Fresh Air" on NPR because I'm a Coastal Elite and that's how we do. I was just listening to the podcast from 12/23 because I obviously have nothing better to listen to this morning. So we have Music Critic Ken Tucker's list of the Best Albums of 2010 and boy is Ken Tucker wrong as fuck. His best album is by someone called Tracy Thorn. It's horrible. Here's a song from it. See what I mean?

Oh, as it turns out she's the chick from Everything But the Girl. Figures.

He also has Joanna Newsom on his list so you can tell he's showing off for other rock critics. The only people who listen to Joanna Newsom are rock critics and the mentally insane.

(I know this is going to make me sound pretentious as fuck, but I really liked Kanye's album. Also: The Monitor, by Titus Andronicus; This Is Happening, by LCD Soundsystem; Wavves' King of the Beach and a bunch of other stuff I'm not going to get into here because the last thing the world needs is another douchebag pontificating about music.)

It approaches.

Guess who's decided to come back for Christmas this year? MOM.



Now I don't want to say that she's a complete Control Freak or anything, but The Sister is picking her up at the airport at 1 pm on Xmas Eve and she has already informed us that she has quite a few things on the old agenda, viz:

I'm thinking since my flight arrives at 1:20, and my hotel is at Union Square I would enjoy first stopping at nearby Grace Cathedral to see the Bronze Door casts of Ghiberti's "Gates of Paradise." I saw the beautiful originals in Florence at the Basilica. They are depictions in bronze casts of 12 Old Testament bible stories (Adam & Even in the garden, Noah's Ark, Moses and the 10 Commandments, etc.)

Then, just a hop away is the Mark Hopkins. I would enjoy stopping there for a drink at "The Top of the Mark" to have a bit of time with you before joining others.

Jesus Christ, lady, that's a whole vacation you want to fit into an hour and a half. Also, if you saw the originals on your trip to Florence, why do you wanna see some cheap knockoff "Gates of Paradise"? What, the real "Gates of Paradise" didn't do it for you? "Hey, I just saw the Mona Lisa at the Louvre, but I understand this truck stop in Gilroy has a poster of it on the wall in the Ladies Room so I definitely want to see that!!!"

Well, it should be interesting. I'm sure she'll want to know why we didn't hang up that Electronic Dartboard she got us for Christmas 2 years ago and I'll just have to explain that we decided against going with a Dave & Buster's interior decor theme and that's why there's no Pop-A-Shot in the living room either. And then we'll have to hear about all our inheritance money taking fabulous trips to Tuscany and London and the fucking Great Wall of China for all I know.

Your Quick Reference Guide to Celebrity Rehab 4

THE PLAYERS

Jason Davis is a fat guy whose grandfather invented movies or something. He is addicted to heroin and Twix bars, which is understandable because both are delicious. He is enemies with FRANKIE.

Leif Garrett is a guy your Mom used to masturbate to. He is addicted to everything in the world. He is enemies with EVERYONE and is especially annoyed by FRANKIE and with good reason because she is annoying as fuck.

Jeremy London was on Party of Five and was in the news recently because he was kidnapped by space aliens and taken to planet Are You Fucking Kidding Me and forced to take drugs and have fun. He's a little puffy but seems like a nice kid. He has a wife who looks like a RealDoll and is friends with LEIF.

Janice Dickinson is a semi-preserved former supermodel who eats barbituates for fun and gets mad when people don't pay attention to her. She is enemies with RACHEL.

Jason Wahler is a normal guy who happened to walk into the Pasadena Recovery Center by accident one day and was never allowed to leave. On "Celebrity Rehab," he is played by himself, or the other way around or something.

Frankie Lons is the mother of either Keyshia Cole, Keisha Knight Pulliam, or Ke$ha. She enjoys using the word "motherfucker," which is bleeped out with some success by authorities at VH1.

Rachel Uchitel is not the least attractive chick Tiger Woods banged. In fact, she is not in the bottom 10. She is addicted to not wearing enough clothing.

Eric Roberts is a strange pothead. His "Eracism" t-shirt somehow survived the 80's intact.

EPISODE GUIDE

Episode 1: Blah blah blah everyone talks about their boring lives. Jason Davis is a dick.

Episode 2: Everyone freaks out a little when they can't have any more drugs. Jason Davis is a dick.

Episode 3: Jeremy London's wife is wheeled in so everyone can get a look at her construction. Leif Garret is pissed. Jason Davis is a dick.

Episode 4: Everyone goes to the beach! There are no drugs there. Leif Garrett is going to leave. No, he's not now. Eric Roberts cries. Jason Davis is not that bad. Rachel takes a cab to oblivion.

Episode 5: Rachel realizes she must stay on TV to become famous and comes back. Resident Tech Shelley would kill for just one hit of crack.

COMING UP THIS SEASON

Everyone leaves and starts taking drugs again.

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER ON THE SHOW

Resident Tech Shelley. How much fun would it be to go on a weekend-long bender with her? Fuck.

TK's 12 Days of SF Christmas

On the first day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
A bottle of Balvenie.

On the second day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie.



On the third day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the fourth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the fifth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie



On the sixth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the seventh day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the eighth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie



On the ninth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Nine Gettys inheriting
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the tenth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Ten baristas scowling
Nine Gettys inheriting
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Eleven mayors preening
Ten baristas scowling
Nine Gettys inheriting
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Twelve neighbors drumming
Eleven mayors preening
Ten baristas scowling
Nine Gettys inheriting
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie



And with that, I'm out. Looks like I could have picked a better day to drive to Santa Cruz for a Christmas Party, huh? See you on Monday, if we make it.

(Photo credits: Ario/Flickr, viaThe Eastsider LA; some drug website; Anna Conti/Flickr via Muni Diaries (with mad Photoshoppingz by the author); Passive Aggressive Notes.)