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.