There are few recurring events that bear the gravity and spark the kind of intense conflict than does setting the tone, tenure and tuning of the television set in the evening. Sometimes the decision takes time, other times it is spur of the moment – in both cases, the result is of mammoth consequence. Notoriously indecisive Sophie wouldn’t have even had trouble choosing what to watch last night – its Bachelor season bitches!
The Bachelor producers are smart. To kick off their angsty-mid-career-who-fucking-switches-numbers-to-anything-other-than-69 Kobe season (24 for the sportingly-illiterate amongst you), they picked a Monday evening where the other principal attraction on television was the brain-numbingly boring prospect of seeing the Nuggets duke it out with the Hawks on NBA Center Court. Grumbling boyfriends from loveseat to shining loveseat weren’t missing Monday Night Football and channel-flicking, old-hat-wearing roommates would have quickly discovered that Diners, Drive-ins and Dives (eager to avoid conflict with the Big Bach Wolf no doubt) had been relegated to the 10PM timeslot and Friends probably isn’t even on Netflix anymore. A survey conducted by the Center for Disease Control last year discovered that 79% of non-cord-cutting Americans had only maintained their cable subscriptions to watch The Bachelor before the “Hulu peasants got their filthy mitts on it…” During bachelor season that cable cord is nothing short of umbilical; forget the belly button Mr. Harrison, inject it right into my veins.
Here are some thoughts on the first episode
- Still reeling from last year’s prediction that the sloth would go all the way (she was flicked in the first episode), I was less quick to nail myself to the proverbial cross for any one bachelorette right out of the gate… Sike. To say that Hannah Anne is the proud owner of all my eggs, my basket and my kitchen sink after my performance in her Instagram DMs last night, would fail to capture just how confident I am in her enduring success. She’s already wrapped this thing up. Not even the mascara-filled pyroclastic flow gushing from Hannah B’s eyes will be enough to halt the inexorable rise of my sweet princess. While her painting skills leave a lot to be desired (the landscape scene she gifted Peter with assorted vaginas in the foreground was a little alarming), she has already incited 3+ on-screen incidents of crying, has flawlessly executed 2 Peter-steals in cold blood and currently leads the league in makeouts and first impression roses – how much more evidence do you need for a deep, possible championship run?
- By all accounts, I generally like to take one thing from each Bachelor episode and apply it to my life that upcoming week! This week, it’s that the rule of law is completely obsolete and basically you can do whatever the fuck you want in order to achieve your ultimate goal. Yes, “you-definitely-banged-him-after-a-chance-hotel-lobby-encounter” Kelley, I am talking about your heinous attempt to keep it between the navigational beacons on the otherwise hilarious obstacle course… To my banking friends, insider trade the fuck out of the markets this week; pump and dump like Hannah B post fantasy suites… to my friends still in college, copy those P-sets with a little less fear of repercussion… Me? I might finally pluck up the courage and take the entire box of Halls menthol cough drops from the medicine cabinet at work. Lawlessness breeds lawlessness… You want us to turn into Somalia Kelley? I hope you’re happy now.
- OK, we get it, Pete is an absolute legend between the sheets. He can fly planes, he is a certifiable man-missile, he seems like a genuinely nice guy AND he flashes his sword around windmills with the skill and precision of Don Quixote himself? You shitting me? To us mere mortals, how demoralizing is this entire windmill narrative? Holy shit, if bearing the weight of societal expectations wasn’t already a Sisyphean challenge, the legend of Pilot Pete’s joystick is adding a huge, dick-shaped boulder on top of the existing one we’re pushing up the hill! Will not be surprised in the slightest if Pete jumps over a windmill at some point in this season and runs away from the burden of his own sexual prowess.
- I don’t want to brag here, but in my time I have thrown up a couple of times… Victoria P’s abhorrent attempt to convince the American public that the spinny turbulence machine had driven her vomit made me sick. She was like a middle-schooler trying to convince her parents to keep her home from school so she could miss a science quiz. Hey, good on Pete for giving her a bottle of water at the end but subsequently being hailed as Mother Theresa? If Pete is driving the bar up with his incomparable carnal competence, Victoria P is driving it down when it comes to basic human decency and compassion in the aftermath of a nationally televised stomach pump.
- Madison’s date… What was up with that? While Hannah Anne was giving me Demi flashbacks with her snarky comebacks under cross-examination, the Tenille Arts show was eerily reminiscent of the Caelynn Colton Red Rocks Brett Young scene. Too much, too young, too fast? All three apply to Madison in this instance. It was another example of seaplane pilot Peter’s ability to drop deep emotional anchors into these women (Madison, Hannah Anne and Kelley are all outwardly and unashamedly besotted as well as Hannah B. oh fuck…) – there’s gonna be some serious heartbreak this season and I am licking my lips.
- I have been a big fan of Hannah B for a long time. Maybe she just loves being on TV? Maybe she’s crushing Chris Harrison on the side? I get the drama, but the prospect of her re-entering the house is unpleasant. Especially given the relentless stream of windmill jokes to this point, it sucks the life out of the other developing narratives. We know how they feel about one another, but Hannah can you stop being so selfish and let him date 32 women simultaneously before you confess your undying love for a man you dumped after a 4-pump performance? The guy laid it all on the line for you, let him go and overachieve elsewhere.
Always sad to see a lot of lovely young ladies go home early, especially Kylie, miss you already my love xxx
Til next week…
2 thoughts on “Bachelor Week 1 Recap”
Hemingway, Shakespeare, Twain, Rowling, Danté, Chaucer, Tolstoy, Tolkien, Dickens.
All had a story to tell and the literary genius and unbridled audacity to make it so. Dare I say, with this most recent and unexpected foray into prose, a young Iselin has rapidly ascended the ranks of those who have come before.
Looking forward to what comes next.
Fuckin Rights Ollie
Comments are closed.