This is, like, stupid almost

Truer words have never been spoken.

Bland looks really red. He is getting ready or red-dy to meet his concubines’ families. Zing! I’m here all week.

AshLee, of the interestingly capitalized name, has been living for this moment or some such nonsense. Yes… “Hey mom and dad! Come meet this man who is also meeting three other sets of moms and dads and revel in the reality! The reality of it all!”

AsHleE thinks Bland is the man “to protect my heart.” I think I should be drunk. Why am I not drunk?

aShlEe’S been thinking about this day “since I was 3 years old.” What the fuck did she just say?

They eat a normal dinner with aShleE’s PaRenTs at a kitchen table stuck awkwardly on the back lawn.

“Bland is, like, making out with other girls and then he, like, makes out with me. And, like, mom, like, do you remember, when I was, like, 4, and you, like, read Peter Rabbit, and I was, like, do you think I’ll ever meet my Mr. MacGregor? And, like, I’m, like, here he is. Like?” ASHLee rambles on at the greatest luncheon she envisioned when she was 5.

AsHleE’s dad looks like a porcupined-version of Cliff Clavin.

We’re now in Seattle with Catherine and her “journey.” Bland catches a fish in the Seattle Fish Market and promptly makes out with it. It’s so spontaneous or incredibly staged.

Bland uses the word “always” a lot to describe how awesome his relationship is with Catherine. “We’re always really boring.” “We’re always suck.” “We’re always contributing to the decline of the universe.”

This is the greatest love story since that commercial I saw about Fiber One granola bars.

Catherine’s sisters exhibit brain function: “You seem like you’re trying to convince yourself that you like him.”

Some “tension.”

Next stop: Linddddsseeeyyy’s hometown in somewhere Missouri. Her dad’s a two-star general so this means something for The Bachelor that I find too boring to try to comprehend.

Bland puts on an army turtleneck while Lindddsseeyy vocal fries orders at him. It makes me wish that a meteor would crash into my face.

On Friday, I watched the movie The Sessions. I highly recommend it. It’s been so long since I’ve watched a movie that made me feel something and made me actually care for the people in the story.

This episode of The Bachelor is the opposite of that feeling.

Lindssseyy’s house has a gun/spice rack. Her mom also vocal fries.


Bland asks for Lindsey’s father’s permission to penetrate his property and *yawn*…story about paratrooping and I’ve gone deaf and sure, here’s your blessing and my lack of caring is like that time I went paratrooping.

There’s an hour left.


I would like your blessing to not watch the second hour.

Thanks for nothing.

Now we’re in Desiree’s sweet hick hometown of LA.

They meet each other in spandex because. . . LA.

Time to meet the fam. An ex-boyfriend shows up instead. He declares his love. “I’ve texted you,” he facebooks. And it feels…LA. Not like this guy is trying to break into acting and shows up at an opportune moment to get his ass-face on TV or anything.

I think I’m going to bed.

But then I will miss why I titled this post the way I did.

Oh it’s a joke. And it’s funny?


Her family shows up. Her mother seems high. Desiree’s brother Nate is the one who sayeth: “This is, like, stupid almost.”

Wrong, bro. It’s, like, all stupid.


  1. Mondays are hard days for most of us to get through, but you have two hours of this, like, idiocy to suffer through, as well. You’re made of stern stuff, Speaker7. Loved the contestant who’s still waiting for her Mr. McGregor!

  2. Commercials are, like, always more romantic than real life. But then again, reality shows are, like, nothing like real life. Thank you for watching so we don’t have to.

  3. Of course commercials are better than real life. Remember the coffee commercials with the dad from “7th Heaven”? Everybody waited to see what would happen next.

    Yes, I have no life.

      1. I just know when I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I get the sensation of being on a cold, cold mountain…

        (Matticus, if you don’t do a commercial-themed post soon, I may have to…)

  4. You poor thing. Why do you continue your self-flagellation and force yourself to endure this gawdawful show? Are you taking one for your readers? Because I just want you to be happy, and well, maybe you could review World War Z or something instead?

    1. Not quite. They haven’t mastered the act of placing the thumb in the stamp pad and then placing it onto the paper. They mainly just hump the paper, which is apparently legal for any documents connected with The Bachelor.

  5. How do they manage to find these moron girls AND moron families willing to go on the show and give up all sense of decency or credibility for 15 seconds of fame? Oh, wait. LA. Spandex. Right. D’oh. We are the greatest country on Earth.

    1. Apparenty Bland is blanding some bland from his bland-shaped mouthhole tonight so there may be even more to read tomorrow or I might knock myself unconscious with a food processor.

  6. EssSevEN, you’ve outdone yourself this time. Not only did I feel warmth as I piddled my pants as I read this, but you also made me feel…something else…for this story of Bland and his harem. I believe the something I feel is nausea. Which is one step up from apathy, so that’s a major improvement.

  7. My favorite part was the gun/spice rack. Where can I get me one of those? Do they have those on Etsy? Would Linddddseeeyyyyy’s father have her taxidermied if she died?

    My favorite line was “We’re always suck.” My mind went weird places with that one.

      1. I am so uninterested in this whole mind-f#@%ing that I cannot bring myself to think about it until I read your recraps. I think you ought to send your thoughts into the station and let them know what you think these idiots ought to do to find real love. Maybe your version would crank out a relationship that would be worthwhile, and not a fame-whoring contest meant to bore the audiences of American to the point of prescription drug abuse and/or self-inflicted gun shot wounds. Just a thought.

  8. How the hell do you get these through these episodes so fast? It takes me several days to get through each one. Partially because I only allow myself to watch if I’m doing something useful at the same time, like ironing. I got through 30 minutes of this episode last night (and two shirts and a pair of pants).

  9. Remaining Parent was saying to me yesterday, “How did you know who left the Bland Show last week when you don’t even watch it?”

    I replied, smugly, “Speaker7”.

    Her: “You and your odd named friends.”


    1. I’m sorry I didn’t know this week’s booted contestant. I learned that it was Desiree7. It’s now down to the three luckiest women–or girls if I’m to speak like Bland–to win Bland’s black dead heart.

  10. Can I pleeeeeeze be the one to tell AshLee that Mr. MacGregor wanted to like catch Peter and like bash his head in with a shovel so he’d like stop eating or making out or like whatever with all the vegetables in his like bland garden?

    1. I would offer the same accolades right back at you because I feel the same. And if you knew of this program, you would see that I’m offering you a rose at the rose ceremony.

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