Live Blogging the Bachelor. Yes, I watch it.
So, I’m not proud of it or anything but uh….I watch The Bachelor. For any of you who thought I was somehow too intelligent or thoughtful to get sucked into reality garbage, I am sorry to disappoint you. Hell, I even did a quick stint in reality dating myself (Elimidate, 2003!). But for those of you who also watch this hypnotically turdy television show, Welcome!
This year’s bachelor is a farmer from Iowa named Chris. He’s big and blonde, and the producers love to film him washing his gloriously hairless chest in his conveniently placed outdoor shower. Farmer Chris–that’s Prince Farming, to you and me– lives in a town with only 450 people in it, so finding a proper woman to tend his hearth and harvest has proven really challenging. The good news is that going on The Bachelor should totally increase his chances of finding a nice girl to bring home to meet his mother and his potatoes. Because that’s just what every budding makeup artist or dance instructor in head-to-toe sequins and fake eyelashes who goes on a reality show aspires to do — move to a farm in Iowa.
photo from abc.com
This was the second episode, so he’s already knocked the group down from 30 to like 20 or 25, or 15 or 7. Honestly, all these girls start looking alike to me, and I can’t keep track of them, and I really can’t believe he actually knows all their names. I continue to imagine an embarrassed PA hiding in the bushes, holding up cue cards with names, ages and professions on them. By the way, did you know that “Sports Fishing Enthusiast” is a job now?
Tonight’s the first group date, so Farmer Chris takes six ladies to race tractors in downtown LA because… he’s a farmer! This is totally what life is like back home in Iowa! Oh! And by the way, the women have to walk through the city streets in bikinis and high heels on the way to mount their tractors. I don’t know much about Iowa or tractors or farm life, but if this is the official audition for becoming a farmer’s wife I just got insulted on six womens’ behalf. I wouldn’t walk down a city street in a bathing suit for a yearly membership to his CSA.
After the tractor race, he chooses to spend some one-on-one time with a gal named Mackenzie. She looks about 12, but she wears overalls and named her son after a vegetable, so she might actually be the best match for a farmer.
Far be it from me to judge, but the girl named her son Kale, for chrissakes. I mean, she’s only 21, so I get that she wanted to go with a trendy vegetable, but I just feel like she’s going to regret that choice down the line. She should have gone with something really classic and masculine like Chive or Fennel. Rutabaga has a nice ring to it.
Anyway, they’re drinking beers in a bar and she tells him she only dates guys with big noses. He’s a little offended that she just told him he has a big shnozz, then she really tries to woo him by talking about aliens. Clearly she’s forgotten some of the basics of adult conversation since having a kid. She gets really fidgety and nervous because she’s going to reveal to Chris that she has a baby, but dagnabbit, he handled it like a gentleman and didn’t flinch or burst out laughing when she told him her kid’s name was Kale. Which is more than I can say for myself.
For the second group date, another group of women join Farmer Chris on a nighttime zombie hunt. When you’re on a voyage to find your life mate, this is the kind of event that really separates the wheat from the chaff. Once all the zombies were dead, the group of 12 popped some champagne while leaning on bales of artfully placed hay. He compliments his eleven girlfriends and says “You guys really killed it today.” That Chris. So punny. And so little body hair.
The losers back home who didn’t get picked for the group dates get drunk and twerk on the bathroom wall while wearing clay masks. One gets completely blitzed and does a monologue mocking all the hair on a fellow contestant’s butt. Now that’s just tacky.
This leads me to wonder: What happens after THE FINAL ROSE in these womens’ professional and personal lives? Won’t every potential suitor think they’re a little warped for going on The Bachelor, and won’t every potential employer youtube the shit out of their episodes before calling them in for an interview? Can they ever be taken seriously again?
photo by abc.com
But tonight, no one cares about all that. Tonight is all about lip gloss and winged hairdos and low-cut evening gowns. And roses–a very finite amount of roses. A girl with Kim Kardashian’s face who’s dressed like she arrived at the mansion via genie bottle or magic carpet just admitted to Mackenzie (Kale’s mother) that she’s a 26-year-old virgin. The jig is clearly up on that front for the young mother, and she admits to being extremely jealous that the cards are now ever in the virgin’s favor because Chris seems like the type of guy who would really prefer his produce organic, so to speak. The next clip shows the virgin making out with Prince Farming with such intensity I’m pretty sure we all just witnessed the nation’s first live tonsillectomy.
Final roses distributed. One girl trips on the carpet. Furious laughter. Now the cut girls are making their exits one by one. Egregious crying. Why do people sign up for this?
My heart is full of emotion. I feel sad for the girls who got sent home, the ones who must now explain their behavior to their bosses and families. I feel concern for the girl from Brooklyn, who I’m fairly certain was floridly psychotic on national TV and is grossly being kept around for entertainment value. And I too find myself jealous of the virgin.
I could never get my ponytail that shiny.