‘The Bachelor’: It’s My Party, and I’ll Manipulate The Bachelor If I Want To

The Bachelor
January 10, 2011

Upon awakening in his Bachelor Roost, Brad Womack Wombat is suddenly overwhelmed with the realness of his decision to go through this nightmare process again. But he will have you know, he’s different now. He wouldn’t go through all these shenanigans with the free kissing and the fondling and the “fantasy suites” if he weren’t COMPLETELY SERIOUS about finding a wife. Seriously, y’all. Also, therapy.

At the Hen House, Chris Harrison explains to the ladies that there will be individual dates, and there will be group dates, and there are rose opportunities at both. If one does not get the coveted rose on the group date, it’s cool, you still have a chance at the Rose Ceremony. HOWEVER. If one is taken on an individual date, and is not given the aforementioned rose: pack your bags, sister. You’re on a one-way trip to Spinsterville.

Thanks to some not-so-subtle editing we can now, two minutes into the episode, make at least a good guess as to one of our bachelorettes who will be eliminated tonight: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MEET MELISSA! Melissa was the sad waitress from Lake Worth, Florida, who, upon leaving the limo at the first introductions, took a running leap into Wombat’s unexpected and unready arms. The premeditation of this act made me have a sad. What makes me sadder? Her interview wherein she explains that once she learned she’d be on this show, she spent a fortune on clothes, and therefore she deserves a date with Wombat. I don’t think that’s how it works, especially since everyone presumably went out and bought new clothes upon learning they’d be on the show, and therefore she’s not particularly special, but persecution complex, whatever.

However, Dentist Tube Socks wins the first individual date. In the background, Sad Ashley is sad.

Wombat, however, is very excited about his first date! He’s going to 1. Have some fun! 2. Put himself out there! 3. Find some new self-help clich├ęs!Wombat picks up Dr. Tube Socks in a car that isn’t his, and begins driving her to a remote location in the woods somewhere which is freaking her out because that’s how all slasher films begin. At some point he makes her get out and walk. In the woods. At night. In heels. AND THERE ARE RACCOONS. Seriously, Oprah had an entire episode about why one mustn’t allow a stranger take you to a second location, which, by the way, Wombat TOTALLY IS. HE’S A STRANGER. But whatever. Eventually, he leads her to an oversized prop cartoon switch which he instructs her to flip. She does, and instead of things becoming magical and romantic, we go full Rob Zombie in here. Seriously, there is a whole House of a Thousand Corpses going on, what with the carnival and the terrifying clowns everywhere, and NO. NOT GOOD. RUN. THERE WILL BE ROB ZOMBIES ROUNDING THE CORNER ANY MINUTE. OR, WORSE, THIS:

However, Dr. Tube Socks insists that this is the best date she’s ever been on, and Wombat is going on and on about feeling like a kid again and how Dr. Tube Socks lives in the moment and cotton candy and vomit-inducing rides for all!

Back at the Hen House, the rest of the ladies waste some time lying about how happy they are for Dr. Tube Socks until an invitation for a group date arrives: “Let’s Share Something from the Heart” suggests the invite to: Keltie, Chantal O., Madison, Melissa, Kimberly, Marissa, Rachiel with an unnecessary “I,” Britt, Meghan, Emily, Stacey, Alli and her ba-donk-a-donk, Shawntel N., Michelle the Villainess, and Lisa. If you can’t count, that’s 15 girls, and there are exactly 15 stank faces at the idea of having to go on a group date with 15 girls.

Michelle the Villainess is, in particular, NOT HAPPY, as tomorrow is her birthday. Her 30th birthday. And I’m sure that will be the last time we hear about that.

Back at the Bad Clown Nightmare Carnival, Wombat and Dr. Tube Socks kiss, and she immediately starts blathering about how she has feelings for him, which is super healthy and not desperate at all, and then she reveals that she’s a little hesitant about a relationship (but not really) thanks to the fact that her mother was abandoned by her father. ALERT! ALERT! RETREAT! DADDY ISSUES! ALERT! Daddy went on to become homeless, but because he doesn’t have a golden voice, Dr. Tube Socks had to solace herself with drilling molars and tube socks. Wombat makes this about him, and therapy, and they bond over their respective daddy issues, and he promises her that he’s serious this time around, he not there to waste anyone’s time, EXCEPT FOR THE OTHER 19 WOMEN TO WHOM HE WILL NOT PROPOSE THIS SEASON, AND WHO, I’M PRETTY SURE, WILL CONSIDER THE TIME THEY SPENT AWAY FROM THEIR JOBS AND FAMILY AN ENORMOUS WASTE IF HE DOESN’T CHOOSE THEM, BUT WHATEVER, WOMBAT. He gives her the rose and she accepts because no duh.

It’s the next morning, which means that it’s Michelle the Villainess’ birthday. Say, Michelle, do you have any thoughts on that? Why in fact, she does! It might surprise you, but she’s unhappy at the thought of spending her 30th birthday on a group date with some other women. Shocking! And I’m sure there’s nothing more to be said on the matter.

In the stretch Hummer limo, Melissa is stressing some more about getting some time alone with Wombat. She always “brings it.” What, exactly, she brings is unclear.

Mrs. RickyBobby Emily wonders if this is a world record for the number of women on a date with one man, because, bless her heart, she’s never heard of harems or the FLDS or Hugh Hefner.

Upon arrival at some anonymous studio, Wombat announces that they will be making public service announcements for the Red Cross, which might be used as national commercials! (No, they will not.) Hey, Michelle the Villainess, how do you feel about this group date? Oh? Annoyed? For any particular reason? WHY, IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY? Who knew!

Mostly this date was chosen because it was an excuse for Wombat to get in some crucial therapy time, i.e., take off his shirt. Again and again.

The ladies are given roles: Madison is dressed in some sort of vinyl fetish outfit, which has SO MUCH to do with blood donation. Lisa is the pregnant woman. And Keltie gets stuck with what is described again and again as “the butch outfit” with the neck and arm braces. Keltie explains that she does not like this, and is convinced that Wombat will mistake her for someone who might not actually be interested in commitmentphobic men who pathologically take their off shirts at the first opportunity. Melissa dresses a cougar. Again, we are reminded that she gave up a lot to be here, her job, her old clothes, her credit score, her pride, and it was all for Wombat, it was totally meant to be because she made some poor life choices. Whatever. Britt lets us know that she’s a competitor because she once did some gymnastics!

Hey Michelle the Villainess, anything to add? 30th Birthday? You should let someone know!

Thanks to the public service announcements Wombat and the ladies make for the Red Cross, here’s what I learned tonight: Giving blood = Chest merkins. Giving blood = slapping the help. Giving blood = the beginning to a well-lit porno. Giving blood = an unimaginative telenovela but in English.

It takes a long time to film this one public service announcement which involves Wombat kissing Emily and Stacey over and over again to Michelle the Villainess’ great annoyance and Melissa’s gathering panic over her credit card debt. Eventually, something snaps inside of Melissa, and she stomps over into the scene and kisses Wombat awkwardly and unexpectedly, ruining the take for the umpteenth time and WOW! Way to get yourself a plane ticket back to Florida in the most spectacular possible way, CrazyPants!

Say, Michelle the Villainess, what do you think? “I JUST DIDN’T FEEL SPECIAL. AT ALL.” Wait, was it your birthday or something?

Then there’s some sort of other skit, involving Rachiel with an unnecessary “I” (Or one of the other brunettes. Who knows/cares?) playing a Southern belle, Keltie in her arm braces, Melissa and her “PLEASE DON’T SEND ME BACK TO FLORIDA FOR THE LOVE OF GOD” cougar desperation outfit, and Madison and her hilarious vampire teeth who end the sketch by shoving Wombat’s face towards her boot and yelling “Lick it!” Which is, indeed, the most effective way to get people to donate blood. I’ve read studies.

Meanwhile, Britt, the chef/food writer is freaking out over her scene which involves a three-way with Wombat and Chantal O. BECAUSE SHE’S TOTALLY NOT LIKE THAT, Y’ALL. But as soon as the cameras start rolling, guess who’s all about feverishly making out with Wombat while the world watches? I’ll give you a hint: her name rhymes with Pritt.

Hey? Michelle the Villainess? Anything to add? “It’s my birthday. It’s not the way I thought I’d be spending my 30th birthday.”

Michelle the Villainess stomps off, and Wombat follows, and she pouts, because of course she does, TEH DRAMAZ. MICHELLE THE VILLAINESS HAZ DEM. Michelle the Villainess yammers about “potential” and “connections” and mission accomplished, Michelle the Villainess, you have got yourself a wombat, hook, line and sinker.

Later, in a separate interview, Michelle the Villainess goes on to talk about how fireworks are going to go off right behind Wombat and herself when they first kiss. She helpfully demonstrates this moment with a fluttering hand over her head, which isn’t weird or delusional at all.

FINALLY, the stupid high school drama club has finished filming their improv sketches, and Wombat announces that they are going to an afterparty in downtown LA. I refuse to acknowledge the final promo that they air, because, gah. Red Cross, you can do better.

So Wombat takes the ladies to the Roosevelt Hotel roof for a little quality bikini time and drinking. There, Wombat takes Melissa aside for a little one-on-one time where she assures him that she’s not a completely crazed stalker and she’s not desperate and she’s not interested in going back to her job at the Lake Worth Waffle House, thank you very much.

Wombat then takes Michelle the Villainess away for some private time. She announces that Wombat has walls up and that she wants to peel his layers. Oh, honey, it’s cute that you try to flatter the Wombat with the suggestion that there is depth there. Do not try to peel back the layers, that’s impossible. Instead, only try to realize the truth: there are no layers.

Hey, Michelle the Villainess what day is it? A special one by any chance?

Melissa then picks a fight with Rachiel with an unnecessary “I,” but I don’t care because one or both of them won’t be around long enough to really matter, so.

Back at the Hen House, Jackie, aka, Rachel from Glee wannabe, receives an invitation for a private date. The other ladies make no effort to hide their raging jealousy, because, what’s the point, really?

At the “after party,” Wombat gives Michelle the Villainess the one group date rose on account of it being her birthday. She promptly begins performing the “I got a roooo-ose, unlike you hoooo-os” dance to the displeasure of the other bikinied ladies.

Wombat picks Jackie up for their Big Pretty Woman date. Which is what he calls it. NOW STOP. Are you calling Jackie a prostitute? Because that’s what this whole date — with the choice of outfits and the pampering and the fancy hotel and the swanky date — that’s what this whole date is recreating: a few scenes from a movie about a millionaire pampering a whore. You producers know that, right? That Julia Roberts was a street walker? Literally? And that it isn’t actually a really adorable love story when you get down to brass tacks? OH WHATEVER. THEY RECREATE PRETTY WOMAN WITH A PRIVATE PERFORMANCE BY TRAIN AT THE ROSE BOWL. Wombat offers her the rose after a moment of hesitation because she’d only had two other boyfriends after deliberately choosing her education over romantic distractions, which, I suppose in the end didn’t really facilitate Wombat’s (the producers’) whole little whore fantasy.

Back at the Hen House, Emily receives a phone call from her daughter RickiBobby Jr. There’s crying.

Cocktail party time! Wombat arrives and is immediately stolen away by Michelle the Villainess to be asked such probing questions as: Starbucks vs. Coffee Bean? What’s in your fridge? SLOW DOWN THERE, CHARLIE ROSE. The other ladies, unhappy that Michelle the Villainess already has a rose and is stealing him away for such nonsense are displeased.

Wombat has a one-on-one with Emily, where he becomes a more inarticulate doofus than usual. So I guess it’s love.

Meanwhile, doomed waitress Melissa picks another fight with Rachiel with an unnecessary “I” over nothing in particular. Y’ALL. You’re distracting yourselves from the true villain who is over there celebrating her 30th + 1 day birthday by harassing Wombat about his coffee preferences! Live together or die alone!

Rachiel with an unnecessary “I” goes off to cry to Sad Ashely about how she’s here to fall in love but Melissa follows her in just to be super crayz. She then accuses Rachiel with an unnecessary “I” of being jealous of her, but FUN FACT: the first person to accuse another of being jealous is, in fact, the jealous one. Think of this as a variation on the “he who smelt it, dealt it” rule.

Melissa corners Wombat and tells him that she’s the “targeted girl” in the house, but this plan is derailed with she starts going on and on about her onion breath and how she just ate four slices of pizza. WOW. TRY TO TONE DOWN YOUR SEXUAL ENERGY, LADY.

Nearby, Rachiel with an unnecessary “I” and her man arms are now also crying, and Wombat kind of pats her half-sympathetically. But not really.

Chris Harrison breaks up the happy party funtimes to arrives to announce that they’ve brought in Ali and Roberto from The Bachelorette to determine whether the ladies are here for the right reasons. Ali and Roberto head into the “interrogation room” to prep the water board. There they ask such probing questions as “How old are you?” “Where are you from?” “Is the game hard so far?” DEEP, YOU GUYS. Melissa arrives and bursts into tears immediately, blubbering that she’s just like Ali and that she’s the “target” etc. Ali and Roberto are unmoved.

Wombat, unimpressed by Melissa’s onion breath, gives the cocktail party rose to Emily. (Fun fact: it smells like vermouth!)

Having consulted with Ali and Roberto for what very little it was worth, Wombat heads off to the Serious Rose Thinking Room. While he’s gone, Chris Harrison warns the ladies that this is Serious Business. Three of them will be going home tonight. (Wait, can he send Melissa home three times? Someone check the rules…) CUE THE PLUCKY GUITAR MUSIC.

Having returned from his meditation and fasting, Wombat assures everyone that in in the past week he made stronger connections than he did in a month the previous time he was on this very reality show “looking for true love.” HOORAY FOR THERAPEEZ!

Having given roses to Ashely H., Jackie, Michelle the Villainess, and Emily, Wombat gives the remaining roses to:

Rose #5 Chantal O.
Rose #6 Sarah
Rose #7 Alli and her ba-donk-a-donk
Rose #8 Kimberly
Rose #9 Shawntel N.
Rose #10 Stacey
Rose #11 Ashley S.
Rose #12 Madison
Rose #13 Lisa
Rose #14 Marissa
Rose #15 Meghan
Rose #16 Lindsey
Rose #17 Britt

SMELL YA LATER, Melissa, Rachiel with an unnecessary “I,” and Keltie!

Keltie is self-deprecating at first, but then becomes completely maudlin and depressed: Love might not be in the cards for her. She’s tried EVERYTHING. There’s so much crying. But you don’t understand, this was her last ditch effort, because she’s, what, 23? Hey, Keltie? Maybe it’s less “The Universe is Out to Get You” and more a combination of your galling lack of self-confidence and that stupid thing in your hair. Just a thought.

Melissa is still certain she’s been targeted. And now she gets to head home to a world of credit card bills and desperation. At least you’ll always have onion pizza, Melissa.

Rachiel with an unnecessary “I” is crying before she even says goodbye to Wombat. She assures us that she deserves better. She certainly deserves a dress that leaves less of her bazoombas to the imagination, but that’s a whole other story.

Goodbye and God speed, ladies!

The Bachelor airs on Mondays at 7 p.m. on ABC. And you should think seriously about getting some therapy.

This post originally appeared on the Hearst site Chron.com.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.