I missed the first 20 minutes. I was reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear to my son. It is infinitely more fascinating. Do you know that a red bird sees a fucking yellow duck!?!
Okay so I’m assuming the rejected Bachelor women are getting their chance to vent about their total lack of judgment. I’m guessing because all I can see is an Olive Garden commercial and it looks very microwavey.
I forget that we began season XCVIIVCV of The Bachelor with 4,502 women. I recognize so few. Host Chris Harrison is attempting to stir the boring shit pot by bringing up the token villain of the show, Tire. Her real name is Tierra, but Tire is better. Brooke(?) gets real: “You’re upset because y’all didn’t also act like assholes and get more airtime,” she paraphrases before fading into further obscurity.
Chris Harrison polls the audience: What do you think about Tire?
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, it responds.
Chris Harrison sticks his hand down his pants and then asks “What’s up with the villain?”
Commercial.
We’re back. Tire is getting coached on the opportune time to show her sparkley vagina. The producers are trying to make us feel the Oz curtain has been lifted and we can see reality, but it still tastes like canned crab.
Now it’s Tire’s time.
And it’s . . . carhorn
I can’t find a better way to describe it. All I know is I’m bored and indifferent.
“And if she didn’t want be your friend, then walk away girls. And you were mean so blah,” bores someone.
“I can’t remember everything,” Tire tires.
“Did you stink eye people,” Chris Harrison asks because he gets quite a bit of money for this stupidity.
“I don’t do stink eye and say ‘Oooh,'” Tire pfftttss.
More banality and the end of the world and middle school ended two decades ago everyone. Congratulations.
This goes on for eons. The Bronze Age becomes the Iron Age. Chlamydia becomes super gonorrhea.
Tire was little Miss Nevada. This is your future, Honey Boo Boo. I’m so fucking sorry.
Tire is engaged to a gremlin. Chris Harrison is aghast that Tire dated it before The Bachelor since The Bachelor is all about twrue lurve. And booooooooooooo.
There’s 58 minutes left. Fucking hell.
Now on to Sarah, of the one arm. She watches as Bland rejects her for too much brains and too little limbs.
“You thought he was the one,” Chris Harrison interjects with a straight face.
“My whole life I’ve been strung along by dickwads and then after the handjobs, they say things aren’t right. Lies like flies, you dig?” she paraphrases.
“How do you move on from this,” Chris Harrison tries to create tension.
Fuck a duck, Chris, she basically says.
Does Splash look like the stupidiest reality concept ever? And I say this after viewing the majority of The Bachelor: The Women Tell All.
Now up is Desiree, the future Bachelorette, and her Bland montage. I’m as bored as the first time.
My recap of this is. . .cream of wheat. Cream of wheat is really blah unless you add something, and there is nothing to add to The Bachelor flavor of Cream of Wheat.
There are 45 fucking minutes left. Is time standing still?
I’m not going to make it. I know Ashley is up next–Ashley of the death stare. And then Bland will be there to bland it up with his blandness. Can we just assume that it will be boring and pointless so I can go to sleep.
Let’s.
Speaker7 