vocal fry

Shameless7 Speaker7 Plug7

I have a new post up at The Official How To Blog, which is the most official how to blog on the Internet.

prettyofficial

You can read it here.

Aw…don’t cry…sshhh…sshhh…it’s okay. I’m still going to be Speaker7. In fact, I plan to watch the ladies from The Bachelor vocal fry at one another while I bury a corkscrew into my temple, and recrap it all for you tomorrow. It will be…um…

Is pfftttt the right word? Possibly.

This new venture o’ mine is a chance to impart knowledge–albeit possibly bad knowledge–to the world. And if you have a little whatsit whatsit to share, consider writing for The Official How To Blog. You can put it on your resume and people will be like “Shit. This person is, like, super official and shit.”

There might even be an “I blogged for The Official How To Blog and All I Got Was This Stupid Piece of Shit Badge” badge. It will be…um…

Is pfftttt the right word?

More Filler from The Bachelor

I missed the first few minutes of The Bland-lor.

Someone’s crying. Others are wearing bikinis. Bland is shirtless for the 456th time. This might be the entire recrap. It’s riveting, yes?

They are on some island. I believe it’s Molokai, the former leper colony.

The Villain™ gets the date card as per the producers’ instructions. She complains about bugs and dripping makeup and a lack of dignity (I may have made up this last part, but that doesn’t make it less true). One of the 194 women vying for Bland’s gland catfights: “(The Villain™) is the most unhappy person I’ve ever encountered.”

Nope, that would be me.

The crying girl is crying on her date because she confessed to getting married when she was 17. Bland deduces “That’s young.” A real Einstein, that one.

She now feels like she ruined her reality show date where she’s competing with 87 other genitalia and hair extensions to chew on Bland’s face. Bland pretends to not care, but looks like he’s sucking on a lemon while he kisses her.

She screams “I love Bland!” like a 10-year-old at a One Direction concert, and it takes Bland five seconds to realize she’s talking about him.

The Villain™ date. They eat snow cones and ignore the grinding poverty of the island inhabitants. Back at the house, the other bachelorettes bitch about her. “I used a spoon correctly with my grapefruit and she didn’t even congratulate me,” says one. The Villain™ and Bland talk about the “tension” in the house, and I lose consciousness from strangling myself with my computer charger.

The bachelorettes vocal fry at one another about how “bad” “It’s going to be baaaaddddd” “Oh my goddddrrrr, it’s going to be baaaaadddd” “dra-mah-tic” when The Villain™ confronts Child Bride™ about badmouthing her to Bland.

Producers, here’s a little tip from me to you. You’ve got to show not tell. Having drunk women bleat at each other about how tense everything’s going to be, does not create tension.

Group date. Bland storms the castle and wakes them by taking pictures of their makeup-less faces. Bland knows “girls hate being seen without their makeup.” Oh Bland…the many, many things you do know could fill my makeup case. Incidentally I do not have one.

They drive around. The producers show their trip on an animated map and it sucks as much as you would expect. It makes Dora’s adventures look like Indiana Jones’. One of the three datees declares “This is the perfect date.” Oh dear.

Another fucking one-on-one date. Bland blathers more nonsense about “journeys” and “coffee enemas.” Bland’s relationship with nameless is “not where it needs to be,” which is code for “lack of handjob.”

Cheezus christmas, there’s 42 minutes left.

Bland’s sister Blandette shows up. Bland can’t wait to talk about all his feelings, and ends up proposing to his sister. Now that would be a good fucking show.

Ooh. Ooh. The “fight” between The Villain™ and Child Bride™. It’s as exciting as the time my dentist told me I should do a better job brushing the back of my bottom teeth. I gave it right back when I said “Okay.”

Here are the highlights:

“I can’t control my eyebrow.”

“My parents said I had a sparkle. Don’t let the other girls take it away.”

Bland shows up to The Villain™ massaging Vick’s Vapor Rub into her eyes to simulate crying. Bland’s heart or head weighs heavy–probably head–because he’s formulating a thought…The Villain™ appears unstable. He let’s her go. She cries and cries and says “No one will take my sparkle.”

Sparkle on, Sparkle-maker. Sparkle on.

 

Vocal Fry on Parade

Every woman speaks in vocal fry. Every woman trying to win Bland’s rose heart on The Bachelor. Every woman.

“Errrr myyyyyy gawrrdddd. I lurvveeeeee Blandrowrlllllllll. He is errrrrrrrgrowllllllll”

If you don’t know what vocal fry is, go listen to Kim Kardashian speak for three seconds and then hit yourself in the face with a baseball bat. It’s something the young of our kind do, and I would rather rub jalapeno juice in my eyes then listen to it.

But here I am listening to two hours of it–well, one hour and 15 minutes of it, and it’s highly likely I will not make it through the end of the second episode.

After last week’s talentless show, it is now date time. Sarah–she of the one arm–is picked to go on the coveted one-on-one date. The other ladies “awwww” this because they think she poses as much of a threat as a woman pursuing a doctorate in aeronautical engineering. Bland throws her off a building. Her scream sounds like she has a kazoo lodged in her larnyx. She’s actually attached to a harness and then she says “That-growl was soooooo-rrrrrr amazing–gerrrrrrrr?” Bland smiles blandly at her.

The next date card arrives: Jujee. (*Squee!*) Sammy (*Whoo!*) Boo-Boo Child (*Grrrr!*) Booby (*Jiggle!*) Tamayarayra (*Pop-pop!*) KaitlyNn (*WhoMp!*) Lala (*Tinky-Wink!*) Jacket (*pfft*) Vacantie (*…!*) Vaginalflap (*flop!*) Lindsaysey (*drunk!*) Random (*who?*) Token African-American (*Civil Rights!*) and 40 other names are read. Everyone is very excited and/or drunk.

They arrive at a castle. Bland stands blandly on a balcony. The date is a photoshoot for the “greatest romance stuff” Bland says. He might have said something else, but I got distracted by breathing. They will take pictures for the latest box of Grape Nuts Cereal. Some dress up as grapes, some as nuts and even more as the twigs that actually make up a bowl of Grape Nuts. Oh, it is Harlequin romance book covers. My idea is better.

Posey-pose. Grope. Kiss. Oily bodies. Bland.

Some shrieking thing grabs his crotch and says 3,458 times that she is a model. Others say “This is-growllll succcchhhhhh-errrrrrrr and amazzzzzing-errrrrrrrrr stuff?” Bland likes to stare blankly and smile more blankly.

Bland blandly invites them back for a pool party. The pool is full of slighly sour tapioca pudding. The women vocal fry at each other and drink and try to get kissy-face time. There are “connections” and “deep feelings” that one can only get from competing with 25,000 other females for the tongue of a blahville dude.

Another one-on-one date. Some random girl sadly says “It’s myyyyy-errrrr birrrthhhhdayyyy-growl?” so she hopes to get the date. She doesn’t. He asks someone else named ??–let’s call her Void. They go to a garage that has been “transformed” into an “art” “gallery.” See Bland is all about senses of humors, and wants to see if Void has one so “he” sets up a prank in the style of Scare Tactics, which is show I actually enjoy on Syfy. The Bachelor ruins Scare Tactics by designing the lamest prank in the world. A piece of “art” falls, and void gets blamed for it. Bwhhahahhhahahah!!!!

Is this show over yet?

Nope.

More vocal fry. More clenching of buttocks to avoid public farting. More “I hate-rrrrrr herrrrrrrr because-growlll” and then roses are handed out.

Some women don’t get any and that’ssssss—grrrrrrr a bummerrrrrrrrrrgrowl.