Dear Tina,
Although it might not be clear based on my writing as of late, I do want to make note that I have not lost my zest for television viewing. Despite the fact that in recent months when I do manage to blow the symbolic dust of the old blog and write a post, I tend to focus more on the personal goings-on in my life, I still devote a good portion of my evening to my most reliable friend, televison. Honestly, I think my palate has only expanded with all this free time on my hands, introducing myself to such gems as Bang For Your Buck on HGTV and I Used to Be Fat on MTV. With regards to the latter, I find I can only really enjoy the episodes chronicling young women as it has come to my attention that while women may stress too much about the fat pouring out of their heads, shoulders, knees, and toes, men like to describe their overweight physique as “out of shape.” Hmmm, yes, out of shape. I always sensed it was your inability to do five push-ups in a row, and not the ten beers you’re currently drinking, that was tipping your BMI into the danger zone. Sorry boys, can’t relate on that one.
Anyway, I love TV. Now and forever. I have even been a consistent, and might I say very patient, viewer of The Bachelor this season. Unless you have been living UNDER A ROCK (!), you know that this season we are getting reacquainted with Texan charmer, Brad Womack. Brad is most famous for already being on this show. Booph. Yes, back in 2007 when Brad was given his first opportunity to date 25 women, he couldn’t manage to pick one and ended up turning down both finalists. Brad quickly became, as Bachelor producers have reminded us more than a dozen times during the current season, the most hated man in America. At least by the women who had enough time and emotional instability to generate hate and anger towards a man they had never met.
I never understood what the big deal was. So he didn’t choose anyone? You know who gets dumped all the time? Women. And men. Yet, when it happens on a reality show that promises happily ever after we feel personally cheated. Lest you forget that in 14 seasons of The Bachelor, not one relationship has lasted. So cheers Brad, for making the most level-headed decision of any of your predecessors.
But now you’re back on the show with the same intentions so…you’re an idiot.
At the start of the season we had Brad reminiscing about his troubled past. Reminiscing while not wearing a shirt and tossing around a football with…himself. What details were hiding in the emotional trenches of his brain causing him to reject all the women handed to him on a platter? After three years of intense therapy, I sense Brad still might not know. But with a hefty paycheck in his hands from ABC, Brad feels ready to date again, ready to get back on the horse and go through the extremely difficult rigmarole of dating two dozen women who were willing to bet when they applied for the show that no matter who the bachelor was, they would be able to fall in love with him. Brad has approached season 15 with a whole new attitude. One that I believe reflects an addendum to his contract stating, whether he likes it or not, he has to pick someone at the finale.
The season has been filled with your typical crazies and duds (I long for Creator Mike Fleiss to produce a season filled with skeptical and sarcastic women who openly mock the bachelor everytime he self-awarely takes his shirt off. A girl can dream.). Michelle was a particular treat and a particular kind of crazy. A hairstylist from Utah with an affinity for earrings larger than her face, she was everything a classic reality star manipulator should be. A woman with the looks to make a man think he wants her, yet whose personality is a teetering balance of sultry pouting and insanity.
My personal favorite contestant still in the running is Emily. A woman who would win this competition any season she chose to participate. Over the years, I haven’t been a consistent Bachelor viewer per se, yet I still feel confident saying that never has a bachelor been so tightly wrapped around a woman’s finger, as Brad is with Emily. While the world around her is chaos created and fed by the jealousies and insecurities of her competition, Emily sits patiently, batting her eyelashes, and treating Brad as if he were simply trying to pick her up at the grocery store. “Sure I’ll go on a date with you,” she thinks, “but I do need to get home and put the milk away first. If you don’t mind.”
How does she do it? Well first of all, she’s stunning. Unlike Michelle, she has the kind of looks that make other women go “Ugh and I bet you’re really nice too.” Second of all, she has the sympathy story to trump all sympathy stories. A single mom of a five year old, who lost her fiancee (and father of the baby) only days before she found out she was pregnant. A story she was reluctant to tell Brad as she didn’t want it to overshadow their courtship. Nor does she want him to use it as an excuse to pay her any special attention. Third of all, she’s an event planner at a children’s hospital. Why don’t you just go knit sweaters for the homeless and coordinate with Mattel on how to improve Barbie’s looks based on your headshot. Oh and I discovered via a blog that most of the clothes she wears on the show are from Target. So she’s thrifty too. Oh Emily, you are a model of flirtatious fun for us all.
Brad is already down to three women. Chantal O., who failed to mention the extreme wealth of her family as well as her extreme tendencies toward crying sponsored by neurotic jealousy. Ashley, the subject of conversation for two women riding the El a couple months ago, stating that Ashley is not a dentist as she is listed, but merely a dental hygenist. You’re not fooling me Ashley. And then Emily, who will only lose if that’s what she so chooses.
Brad has stated several times that he has not made the same mistake twice. That this time, he is without a doubt head over heels in love with his choice. Although, with that being said, maybe he is going with himself again. Ya burnt! I wish him the best, I do. After all, he isn’t the sharpest tool in the box; he needs a woman around to remind him that he has, yet again, left his mouth agape.
Fantasy suites and lots of jungle cats next week. They’re heading to South Africa!
30 Rock Quote of the Day:
Carol: I’m in Lambert, St. Louis. I can see the arch from here. No wait that’s a half burned downed McDonalds.
Dear Tina 