August 1, 2011
TOO MUCH. TOO MUCH BACHELORETTE. There have been so many hours of The Bachelorette this week. A thousand? Have there been a thousand hours of The Bachelorette this week? And it’s only Monday? Yes. One thousand hours. That’s how many. And after one thousand long hours, Dr. Tube Socks chose J.P. The end. Are we done here? No?
OK, So since she was forced to go fly all over the country in some random pattern that just didn’t make any sense at all so as to meet a bunch of other people’s families, fair is fair: now the remaining men must meet The Tube Socks family. THIS IS NO MEAN FEAT. (Pun totally intended.) The Tube Socks consist of Laurie, the mysteriously accented mother; Mike, the amiable step-dad; Elliott, the vague brother; and Chrystie, the terrifying, coupony, tattooed, judgy sister. GOOD LUCK, GUYS!
Dr. Tube Socks assures us that not only does her family’s opinions really matter to her; her sister, Kat Von D‘s judgment, specifically, it is important. Which is why it is utterly hilarious when her sister, immediately upon meeting J.P. is all, “Nope.”
It all starts off well enough: J.P. is perfectly lovely with her family, and they with him. But when Tattooed Tube Socks asks Dr. Tube Socks whether or not J.P. makes her laugh and Dr. Tube Socks’ response is, “Uh …,” that’s when things fall completely apart. L.A. Ink explains to her sister that, yes, OK, she’s only spent 15 minutes with J.P., but she can tell that Dr. Tube Socks just isn’t herself when she’s with him. In fact, Dr. Tube Socks was more like the Dr. Tube Socks she knows when Wombat came to visit than with this shaved yahoo. This causes Dr. Tube Socks to pet her bangs and cry and worry that her sister isn’t supporting her, i.e. telling her what she wants to hear. Damn skippy, it’s not.
After crying at poor Brother Elliott that their sideshow sister is being mean again, Dr. Tube Socks sends J.P. into the belly of the beast, and has him confront Michelle Bombshell McGee one-on-one. Lydia the Tattooed Lady explains to J.P. that she doesn’t really care that J.P. says he loves her sister; he’s old, not funny and frankly there’s nothing he can do that can convince her that he’s right for Dr. Tube Socks. J.P. thinks very hard about throwing up, preferably all over this woman’s giant geisha tattoo.
As Dr. Tube Socks escorts J.P. back to the shoreline for some reason (Does he live in the sea? Is he some sort of merman who must return to his sea kingdom before a spell wears off?), she explains that her sister is awful, but neglects to reassure J.P. that she disagrees with her, and/or has her own opinion on this matter that is not hinged upon the judgment of someone who has covered 70 percent of her skin in 1950s-inspired sailor tattoos. He is, understandably, disappointed.
NOTE TO PRODUCERS: PLEASE MAKE SISTER TUBE SOCKS THE NEXT BACHELORETTE. Seriously, this would be television genius.
The next day, it’s Ben the Wine Dude’s turn to impress the family. He does so by talking about how his mother is just like Martha Stewart in that they both drink tea (???) and then demonstrating his “dog voice” which, for clarification, is the voice in which he uses to speak to his dog and not the voice that he uses to narrate what he imagines his dog to be thinking at any particular moment. (Not that anyone would do such a thing, and not that if they did do so, such a voice would involve a heavy lisp.) The family, including Miss Hepatitis C, loves him.
Following the wildly successful meeting with her family, Dr. Tube Socks takes Ben the Wine Dude on their last date. First up, a helicopter ride around the Fiji Islands. Flying in the helicopter, flying in the helicopter, flying in the helicopter.
Eventually, the helicopter deposits them at a “world-famous” mud pit where the two of them smear mud on one another, all the while yammering about how “erotic” it is to “lube” each other up with mud. Just, so, so gross on so many levels, this is.
That night in his hotel room, Ben the Wine Dude finally tells Dr. Tube Socks that he loves her, but no one is really convinced, not really. Still, this doesn’t discourage Dr. Tube Socks and her mosquito-bitten thighs from rolling around in the bed with him, chewing on his face. And I’m beginning to rethink this whole HD TV thing.
The next morning, Dr. Tube Socks and a masterfully designed bikini top, engineered to somehow give her cleavage, meet J.P. on the beach for their date where they … talk? All day? On a patio? There are no helicopters or mud baths or snorkels … just them. Talking. Fun! And, look, not every date has to be a hike into a volcano or bungee jumping from a jumbo jet, but sitting on a patio? Making conversation with Dr. Tube Socks? Without the benefit of a drink or seven? Oof. ANYWAY. They spend their date talking about what a straight-up witch her sister is, and how he’s willing to go wherever is required to be with Dr. Tube Socks (but not really) and eventually gets around to telling her that he loves her. Not that this business of both men saving the big “I love you” moment for the finale was manipulated by the producers; of course not, I don’t know why you would even think that.
It’s suddenly night? And they are in someone’s hotel room, where J.P. presents Dr. Tube Socks with a photo album empty of all but one picture of the two of them on a beach somewhere, and a letter: “Oh, My Dearest Tube Socks, this is the first chapter in the greatest love story ever told…” and that’s when I lost interest, blah blah blah, they can fill the album with pictures of their future together, Signed, Cliché.
So, now, wait. Both men meet with Neil Lane, Jeweler to the
Reality Stars, to choose a ring for Dr. Tube Socks the day of the proposal? Doesn’t this seem like it’s cutting things a little close? It sometimes takes me a day to figure out what to have for lunch; I can’t imagine having to pick out a hugely significant piece of jewelry for someone in 15 minutes, much less AN ENGAGEMENT RING. And, also, why is Neil Lane in Fiji? Is his presence really necessary? Does he add more value to these proceedings, other than nodding occasionally? I promise if they had flown me out to Fiji with that ring case, I would have given the producers much better teevee than this middle-aged dope who merely says “infinity symbol” and “anxious” and then waits for his check to be deposited. CALL ME, ABC.
To prepare for the big moment, Dr. Tube Socks adds a 37th layer of mascara, and straps herself into a — NO LIE — $17,000 dress of ostrich feathers. And for that kind of money, the dress comes with not only a back, but a hem that extends past her crotch. But no sleeves. Don’t be ridiculous.
J.P. explains that no matter what happens, he will be a different person after today, and climbs, shoeless, into the sea plane. Ben the Wine Dude assures us that he has confidence!
And so, out Dr. Tube Socks goes onto the sacrificial platform to await the arrival of the man she is going to dump. Dr. Tube Socks assures us that this is very hard and very emotional and she doesn’t want to break this person’s heart, but no one believes her, not really. And the man off the seaplane heading towards Dumpstown? Ben the Wine Dude. He starts in on some speech about how he is falling deeper in love with her every moment or something, and she half-heartedly tries to stop him, but before you know it, he’s on his knee proposing and she’s all, “Yeah, no. Sorry, bro.” Ben the Wine Dude, to his credit, storms away, not waiting for an explanation, and good for him! No, really, who needs a bunch of mush-mouthed nonsense about how she cares about him but doesn’t love him or whatever. Who needs it? Not Ben the Wine Dude! Dr. Tube Socks weakly attempts to stop him and console him, but he just keeps marching away, down some endless dirt road that leads him back to the beach, where he is loaded up into the Dinghy of Lonliness and putt-putted away to Loserville. Bye, Ben the Wine Dude! Perhaps you’ll be the next Bachelor, but I doubt it! At least you have all that booze to keep you company over the next few months!
Dr. Tube Socks cries for a couple of seconds, and pets her bangs, but then she gets over it and is ready to meet J.P. and get her engagement on.
Chris Harrison leads J.P. to Dr. Tube Socks, where he goes on and on and on about leaps and faith and smiling? and finally he proposes, and she says yes. CUE THE REO SPEEDWAGON’D MONTAGE.
And really, when isn’t REO Speedwagon appropriate? I’ll tell you when: Never. Although, I hadn’t really listened to the lyrics of this song, like really listened to them, until now? And I just have to say: powerful metaphors, Mr. Speedwagon. “It’s time to bring this ship into the shore” is not just evocative, it’s also kinda gross. Well played, sir!
FINAL ROSE CEREMONY, Y’ALL:
Rose #1: J.P.
And then she and J.P. go running around in the water in that $17,000 dress and they will live happily ever after and most certainly get married and it’s all a happy happy perfect fairy tale, the end.
ALRIGHT. LOOK. There was a The Bachelorette: After the Final Rose episode in which Ben the Wine Dude came out and glared at Dr. Tube Socks and Nora Hildebrandt appeared and apologized for being a jerk to her “future brother-in-law,” and Dr. Tube Socks and J.P. showed up and reassured America that they are still, indeed, in love and planning on getting married — one day, eventually, not anytime soon or anything, don’t be crazy — but my DVR decided to be a jerk and not record any of this, so I am going to have to wait until tomorrow when it becomes available online to watch, and/or comment on it. Although, if we are all being honest, I am pretty sure nothing particularly revelatory will be added to what I just wrote above. We’ll see.
And that’s it, my Dot Dot Dots. Dr. Tube Socks has found “true love,” and we have found ourselves at the end of another grueling, be-masked, concussion-filled season. Frankly, I’m still a little woozy and need to go lie down now. I’ll see you next week in the The Bachelor Pad; someone go ice down all the alcohol for me in the meantime.
This post originally appeared on the Hearst site Chron.com.