I hear people use the word "sarcastic" to describe
my sense of humor. Au contraire, I say. Sarcastic is saying the opposite of
what you mean, as in "Now that was
smart," meaning, "That was so stupid that saying it was stupid is
stupid itself." I, on the other hand, am irreverent. Irreverent is thinking things that aren't supposed to
be funny are, in fact, funny. And the more important it is to somebody to be
taken seriously while doing something ridiculous, the funnier I'm sure to find it. The Bachelor/ette was made for me. By
those standards, this week's episode was, well, it was too much. More than I
deserved. More than I had any right to.
To set the stage (and for those I understand don't watch the show but just read the blog), we were treated this week to two group dates: Predictably disastrous dodgeball, and predictably forced movie promotion. There one solo date: A bunch of nothing followed by a not-your-fault-this-didn't-go-well pity rose. Although that may not SOUND like material for a promising episode, what really matters can't be caught in a summary. Because it's the seriousness, you see.
Take, for instances, Des's explanation of why she thought it would be awesome to throw the most epic collection of meatheads ever assembled for a Bachelorette season into a violent, high-speed competition to earn the favor of a girl they all want to get their hands on:
"I want to see how the men interact with each other. I
like dating guys in their natural state and seeing guys want to compete and
fight for what they want."
Des is young, and very, very dumb about this. She has not yet pieced together that the very behavior she's encouraging is the one that shows men at their absolute worst. Men who embarrass women are invariably competing about something. Michael G. (federal prosecutor), who seems to have the only intact brain of the bunch, had the wit to say "It's only a matter of time before an ambulance arrives and somebody has a broken face." In fact, it does not take a law degree to know this. I know this. And all I did was work as a summer secretary in a law firm during college. I know that if a bunch of dudes are around each other, and a pair of X chromosomes enters, they are required to show off recklessly and idiotically. Volleyball becomes dangerous. Checkers becomes dangerous. And dodgeball? Now, a girl thinking this is a good idea is funny.
Predictably, there was a hospital trip. (A 12-year-old with a broken finger gets told to take a seat and wait his turn. A grown man with a TV crew? Everybody! Stat! More tubes! More machines! More show!) A cocktail party at which the injured gladiator is missed. But no! The hero returns! This is when I knew we had something special going, and it was time to start taking pictures of the screen:
See how the knee socks, tiny shorts, and odd-necked tank top just get funnier the farther into the hotel he gets? Funnier still when you picture the guys in their collars and jackets upstairs, suave and clean, drinks in one hand, and Des in her dress made out of who-knows-how-many studded dog collars. See how serious he looks? Note, now, how he continued to carry the look, without embarrassment, through the remainder of the evening:
I'm just so, so glad that if somebody had to be injured (and given the parameters of the game, yes, somebody did) it turned out to be the one with the sweet sweat-band mullet. Who doesn't want to make out with Richard Simmons, am I right?
Next on the agenda was the solo date with Kasey, for which Des prepared by sitting on her pretty sofa in front of her pretty bay windows writing in her journal. I'd like to know where this journal will end up. No man, ever, would want the woman in his life saving that journal in drawer somewhere, tied up with a pink ribbon. ("I'm just not sure what I'm feeling about Dirk. When we kiss it's like I'm--") Anyway, Kasey, for his part, prepared for the date by getting on tape the required footage of his own voice saying "Nothing could ruin this day." I think producers must urge everyone to say that before any solo date to make sure they've got one in the can. Just in case. In this case, trouble came in the form of the much-hyped ex-girlfriend (or is she an ex? I sure hope so by now) of, it turned out, Brian. Who's Brian? Ah yes. The one who said in his bio that his favorite movie is The Notebook, which meant going in that he's a pure poser. But even more fun than a liar, he's an egotist. Note that though he argued with the girlfriend about whether they were or weren't together, he didn't deny sleeping with her two nights before the show started taping. Just couldn't deny a conquest, no matter what it cost. So on that, he went home. I was less interested in him, though, than the support staff. Enter my man Pauly:
Pauly was born to bounce. Look at him. I want to know Pauly. I want to understand what his role is on this show. What time does he come to work every day? What does he do between the hours of x and y? How much is he paid? By whom? I was also delighted by the entourage that followed Brian on his walk of shame to pack his bags. Unfortunately for the photo op, they weren't all on screen at once, but scrolled across, one after another, the way clowns just keep coming out of that Volkswagen. First Brian and Pauly:
Then the cameraman:
Then the grip with the sound equipment:
Then some girl with a backpack:
What's she there for? What's in the backpack? Training treats? Snacks for Pauly?
Which left the men to sit around and talk about what just happened. Just a bunch of dudes and their votives:
Finally, we got to the Lone Ranger movie-themed date. Anybody surprised at the winner of the stuntman activity ending up with a movie date that involved a private screening? And what do these private screenings ALWAYS mean? (For supporting data, check Survivor special preview screenings. Gulliver, anyone?) That's right, a terrible movie is coming. Yawn of a date. Or so I thought until this:
Cheryl, watching ahead of me, told me to have an eye on the lower left of the picture. Yes, folks. Juan Pablo's right hand stayed solidly in the bag for the entirety of that makeout session. Passion and popcorn.
Do you see my problem? There was just too much great stuff. I've gone on too long and am reduced to bullets to try to keep from completely skipping it all:
- Drew saying of himself and his game-winning throw during the dodgeball game, "I grab it off the ground and in one fluid motion I swing around and wing it"? I have never in my life--before now--heard someone describe his own action as "one fluid motion." I love this show.
- The bromance web in the house seeming to have gotten Bryden "Bangs" some help with his hair--looking much more natural tonight. Sideswept.
- The pool party replacement for the cocktail not-party, about which I only wondered, "Who's waiting below the edge of the infinity pool to scramble down the hill to get the ball back after those awesome testosterone-fueled overcompensation spikes? Pauly? The girl with the backpack?
- Mikey T "the Shadow," saying of Ben "the Liar," "He deserves a punch in the face. All this conversation doesn't really get anywhere. To hammer your point home, and to say look, this is it, sometimes it has to get physical." And then proceeding to sit down and talk with him. I'm loving Mikey T. His devotion to the man code is so wonderfully serious. What Des? He's there for the dudes. Jill identified him as the kind of guy who says everybody is his best friend. "This is my friend. He's my best friend." Like her sister's seven-year-old does.
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