May 23, 2011
Look. Ashley Hebert (or Dr. Tube Socks as I affectionately call her because she’s a
dentist dental student who likes to dance around in her bedroom while wearing nothing more than hot pants and tube socks) needs you to know that she was really really seriously really for reals heartbroken when Brad Womack (Wombat) dumped her for that hussy, St. Emily. IT HURT, Y’ALL. SERIOUSLY. SHE WAS HUMILIATED. But back in Philadelphia, Dr. Tube Socks has had a long time to think things over and really consider her part in what went wrong between herself and Wombat. She’s spent that time jogging along the Schuylkill River; running up the steps to the Art Museum all Rocky-style; in the dark, on the side of interstate 76 staring at Boat House Row while trying to get hit by oncoming traffic; and while rolling around like a cat in heat on the stage at the Academy of Music in hot pants (but, alas, tube sockless). All of these experiences have really helped Dr. Tube Socks realize that she held back and didn’t fully open up to Wombat, or something. She has so many regrets. She’s regretful that she didn’t give more of herself to some half-witted reality character, because maybe, if she had, she could have had “true” “love.”
After all, it’s worked out so well for St. Emily.
WHATEVER. WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT HER. It’s Dr. Tube Socks’s turn now, and she is going to move back to Los Angeles and walk around Venice Beach barefoot, and drive around in a loaned Maserati, and date a bunch of dudes whose names she’ll forget within the week FOR TRUE LOVE. Because, FACT: this is how you find true love. Step one: Put on your nicest midriff-baring shirt. Step two: Stand on the balcony of the rented McMansion you have been imprisoned in for the next 8 weeks and stare pensively into the middle distance. Step three: Go on a bunch of carefully choreographed dates with a collection of strangers with whom a group of television producers have decided you will have chemistry. Step four: Fall in love.
That’s not to say it’s going to be easy or that Dr. Tube Socks doesn’t have her share of concerns. For instance: what if her feelings aren’t reciprocated? or if the man she falls in love with isn’t here for the right reason? or if she didnt pack enough midriff-bearing t-shirts? THIS COULD ALL END IN TRAGEDY, Y’ALL.
Chris Harrison emerges to introduce us to the handful of bachelors who the producers actually spent a little time filming and therefore whose names we should actually try to remember this season:
Ryan P. is from Corona del Mar and runs a solar panel business, is super desperate to get married, and makes sincere little hearts with his hands around the sun. Gross.
J.P. is from New York City, and in construction and talks on the phone because he is a very important businessman who does business.
Ames is also from New York City. He went to Yale, and then to Columbia for two masters degrees and then to Harvard for his doctorate which makes him a much more special and important person than you. He’s so special and important, he doesn’t wear socks while riding about in his limousine. “JEEVES, TAKE ME TO THE SOCKS STORE,” he commands. “I’M TOO BUSY FILLING OUT THIS APPLICATION FOR A FOURTH DOCTORATE FROM BROWN TO GO TO MY DRESSER AND FIND CLEAN SOCKS.” Ames would also like you to know that he’s well-traveled and runs in all the marathons and sometimes all the ultra-marathons. He is not a Winklevoss twin, but wishes that he were.
Ben is a lawyer from New Orleans. And look, I have my biases being married to a lawyer who got his degree from a school in New Orleans and all. But this guy: oof. Too much talk about how on the the romantic scale from 1-10, he’s a 15, or maybe a 215? NOPE. Au revoir, mon chere. Vous êtes une douche.
Benjamin is a California wine maker who appears to be missing the better part of his nose to a tragic plastic surgery mishap.
Bentley is a Salt Lake City businessman who has a daughter named Snuggles? Fuzzy? Coozie? and whose big money-making idea is a “family fun center.” He calls it Entertainment 7/20 and it features couches with ceilings.
Anthony is an Italian stereotype from New Jersey.
West is a South Carolina lawyer whose first wife tragically drowned. 😦
William is a cellular phone salesman from Columbus, Ohio who has difficulty in relationships with women which is symbolized by him floundering about with an umbrella. Metaphor win.
Back at the Bachelor quarantine area, Chris Harrison greets a newly brunette Dr. Tube Socks and her sparkle gown. Dr. Tube Socks assures Chris Harrison that she is ready to fall in love, blah blah blah growth, confidence, maturity, openness, blah. BUT. Dr. Tube Socks did receive a mysterious message from
a production assistant “a friend” that one of the contestants, a Bentley, was only participating in the show to promote his business, Entertainment 7/20. THAT BEING SAID, Dr. Tube Socks is going to give this Bentley a shot, because, why not. WAIT, WHAT? NO. NO, THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? ARE THOSE TUBE SOCKS CUTTING OFF THE CIRCULATION TO YOUR BRAIN?
I’m going to need all the red wine for this season, I can tell already.
The limos begin to arrive. But unless you saw one of these men mentioned in a pre-taped package with them staring meaningfully into a sunset, don’t get too attached.
Ryan, Mr. Sunshine, Dr. Tube Socks finds super-cute.
Jon is an E-Commerce Executive from Vancouver, Washington, who picks Dr. Tube Socks and throws her over his shoulder and lugs her around.
NOTE TO ALL MEN WHO ARE READING THIS: As a woman of diminutive stature, I can assuredly say that women do not like this. We do not like being picked up by you and thrown around like a sack of flour. It is not cute, it is not funny, it does not impress us, it just makes us angry. Cut it out. Thank you.
Lucas is an oil guy from Odessa who seems to think Texans are known for being huggy. What?
William, Can You Hear Me Now Guy, loses the power of speech when confronted with Dr. Tube Socks.
Mickey is a chef from Cleveland who lunges at Dr. Tube Socks for an unsuccessful kiss. BACK OFF, DOMINIQUE STRAUSS-KAHN.
Tim is a liquor distributor from Long Island, New York who needs to consider a career change.
Ben C., Pepe Le Peu, Esq., arrives and begins yammering at Dr. Tube Socks in French to her considerable confusion.
Stephen is a hairstylist in Manhattan Beach, CA and clearly wandered onto the set by accident.
Chris D. is a sports marketing coordinator from Chicago who embarrasses everyone with an introductory rap. Way to be, MC Snow.
West presents her with a broken compass. DEEP.
Anthony the Italian does his very best Tony Manero.
Rob is a Technology Executive from Michigan who makes some painful dentist jokes. GET IT? PAINFUL DENTIST JOKES? Yep. True story: That was funnier than the jokes Rob tries to get away with.
Ames, Dr. No Socks, gives Dr. Tube Socks some ballet tickets. (Gag.)
Matt is an office supply salesman who teaches Dr. Tube Socks a dumb handshake.
Jeff, an “entrepeneur,” is wearing a mask. An elaborate, embroidered mask. Something about not wanting appearances to get in the way of knowing the real person, or some other 9th-grade-level platitude. Whatever, Kato. Also, here’s what he really looks like:
Ben, the winemaker, and loser of the “I’ve got your nose!” game, arrives with a bottle of his wine and some glasses. While I don’t approve of the weird lack of noseness, I do appreciate a man who comes bearing alcohol. One point to Ben.
Frank is a college admissions director who picks Dr. Tube Socks up and runs around for a bit. See the note above.
Michael is a technology salesman from San Deigo.
Chris M. is a construction company CEO from Edmonton, Canada who needs subtitles to be understood. None are provided.
Ryan M. also does something or other in construction and takes a bunch of pictures with Dr. Tube Socks for his facebook page, or something, but seems more interested in taking a picture with Chris Harrison.
J.P., the construction dude from New York, is complimentary of Dr. Tube Sock’s sparkly dress.
Nick is a personal trainer/Matthew McConaughey wannabe.
Blake is a fellow dentist from South Carolina and has nothing to say.
Constantine is an Atlanta restauranteur who wraps a piece of floss around her finger so that she will remember him.
Having been reminded by Chris Harrison that she has to give someone the first impression rose, Dr. Tube Socks heads inside, and toasts the men for their hotness, and encourages them to be honest or something.
With good grace, Dr. Tube Socks sits through boring conversations about solar panels and wineries and Sean Connery impersonations and stories about growing up in Lake Charles of all places, and she entertains phone calls to mothers, because SURE. WAY TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION, NORMAN BATES. And some guy throws a guitar into the swimming pool and Weirdo in a Sex Mask is creeping everyone out and when did this whole thing turn into Eyes Wide Shut?
In the meantime, Tim, the liquor distributor, has been drinking heavily to manage the creeping panic that Weirdo in a Sex Mask has been inducing in him, and he becomes terribly drunk and has to be carried away to the Minivan of Tears. Frank, the college admissions director, waxes philosophically about Tim’s premature departure: “If you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the oven.” Which, I’m fairly certain, is not how that expression goes.
Dr. Tube Socks has a meaningful conversation about appearances with Weirdo in a Sex Mask, and a meaningful conversation with Bentley about his intentions on the show and a meaningful conversation with J.P. about cupcakes. HOWEVER, Bentley immediately reveals to the cameras that he’s not particularly attracted to Dr. Tube Socks and! contrary to what he just said to her face! is here, in fact, for all the wrong reasons! KIDS, WE HAVE OUR VILLAIN!
The first impression rose goes to Mr. Sunshine, not that it really matters because Dr. Tube Socks is immediately instructed to go into the closet and look at the men’s glamour shots and figure out who will get the remaining boutonnieres.
Rose #1: Weirdo in a Sex Mask! Because, sure. Who doesn’t want to be wooed by a freak in a terrifying mask who clearly has a collection of dead prostitutes in his basement. That just makes sense.
Rose #2: Constantine
Rose #3: Ben F.
Rose #4: Lucas
Rose #5: Stephen
Rose #6: Matt
Rose #7: Nick
Rose #8: Chris D.
Rose #9: Ryan M.
Rose #10: Blake
Rose #11: Mickey
Rose #12: Pepe Le Pew, Esq. (Ben C.)
Rose #13: West
Rose #14: William
Rose #15: Cupcake (J.P.)
Rose #16: Dr. No Socks (Ames)
Rose #17: The Villain Bentley
Anthony, the Italian Stereotype, takes rejection relatively well, noting that she’s a nice girl who is maybe just not that interested in being with a butcher.
Rob explains that he’s BUMMED, and disappointed that he won’t be able to show his and Dr. Tube Socks’ imaginary grandchildren the video of when they met. This hypothetical event that was never going happen is, indeed, very sad.
But not as sad as Jon, who cries. He cries over a woman he met two hours earlier and with whom he spent maybe 15 minutes at a cocktail party. STOP THAT. STOP CRYING. YOU ARE EMBARRASSING YOUR FAMILY. YOU ARE EMBARRASSING ME. YOU ARE EMBARRASSING HUMANITY. JUST, STOP.
The Bachelorette airs Mondays at 7 p.m. on ABC, and requires copious amounts of red wine to get through.
This post originally appeared on the Hearst site Chron.com.