Props to anyone who specifically requested them. And props to Adam, because he requested the nicest.
"Hi," an autopilot Chris Harrison says by way of introduction as he walks up the gentle slope from the base of Lack Of All Human Integrity Mountain to its apex near the entrance of the Bachelor Pad. "I'm Chris Harrison, and welcome to..." Yes? YES? "The Bachelor." Ah. He stares with his cold, dead, robotic, game-show-host eyes directly into the camera as if to say "One of my own kind stares with a single red eye back at me," stifles his robot impulse to run up to the camera, embrace it in the throes of robot love and wail "BROOOOOOTHER!," and instead sticks to the ones and zeroes of the cue cards facing his way in continuing, "Tonight, the journey begins again." He enunciates the "again" with an almost sarcastic relish, telegraphing in that one word that he knows we've heard this script before and he knows there's nothing left that can really surprise us and he knows that "this season there will be some surprises" actually means, "This season will be exactly the same as the others, except for the part where we show you some shots of the girls' pee-pee in containers for no apparent reason." He knows it all to be true. And yet the ChrisBot was trained not to think on his own, not to tell us what he knows.
"America, you asked for him and you got him!" Toyota? Oh, lord. Barely a moment from the opening shot of the season and I've already resorted to a Forget Paris joke. People, I think we're in some serious trouble here. On his continuing journey up Lack Of All Human Integrity Mountain, Chris stops to splash about a bit in the gentle rapids of Excessive Backstory Creek, reminding us through the finely honed art of recapping (which is best left to the professionals, really), "Our newest bachelor, Bob, captured America's attention as he tried to win Trista's heart. But when Trista decided to marry Ryan, women all over the country wanted their shot at Bachelor Bob." Ninety-seven self-effacing fat jokes and sixteen extraneous guys all mysteriously named "Brian" later, a gelled-haired legend and completely unnecessary book deal were born. "Now the tables are turned" -- though we were often reminded that the tables were also turned when Trista was holding the roses, so does this mean that they're turned back? Or that they're turned further? Or that they're physically upside-down? And with all that furniture rearranging going on, how come my chair is still FACING A TELEVISION THAT REQUIRES ME TO WATCH THIS SHOW FOR UPWARDS OF EIGHT HOURS A WEEK? -- "and the roses are in his hand, as twenty-five beautiful women will compete for Bob's love." The perfectly coiffed CompuChris makes a move for the red light and we cut away hastily. Poor Chris. So very, very over it. "For the first time ever," Chris continues, completing his climb up Lack Of All Human Integrity Mountain and gingerly sidestepping the sign reading "You must be at least this tall to climb Lack Of All Human Integrity Mountain -- hey, not so fast, Firestone," as he tells us, "Our bachelorettes already know who the bachelor is. And they all believe that Bob could be the man of their dreams." Yeah, Chris. And there's another word for people who experience delusions that they know someone well enough to marry him just because they saw him on television. They're called stalkers, they're unbalanced and dangerous, and the "limos" that they usually ride around in have a locked metal grate separating the passenger in the back from the arresting officers in the front.
"Since appearing on The Bachelorette, Bob's life has changed dramatically." For one thing, now it exists exclusively in montage form. Cut to a clips package of Not-Skinny- But-Not-Exactly- Fat-Either Bob (as opposed to the current and COMPLETELY reformed Not-Fat-But- Not-Exactly- Skinny-Either Bob) appearing on The Bachelorette, doing that Running Man or Mashed Potato or Roger Rabbit or whatever the kids were doing at The Seventh-Grade Dance right before standing ramrod straight and slowdancing to "Eternal Flame." Bob dancing. Bob dancing more. Bob on a bus on the way to a group date making fun of his own weight. Bob on a beach with Trista, under the cover of stars, telling her that "the only thing I ever worry about is that you think I'm a joker 24/7," when in fact the apparent truth is that Bob's ability to joke seems, what, entirely powered by the sun? He needs tungsten! Tungsten to live! More montage! Bob ruing his use of the words "the only thing I ever worry about" when he should have been far more concerned with the worry that he wouldn't get a rose. Which he doesn't. Bob telling us, "I felt a connection with her. I did. And I would love to maintain my pride and say I didn't, but that would be a lie." Maintaining of pride no longer an option or a concern, then, here he is today.
Hey, it's Meet the Staff. I love Meet the Staff! It's a really good lead-in to Remind the World Who Oprah Is, lest we try and forget. We catch up behind the scenes with co-executive producer Lisa Levenson, who tells us, "Bob only appeared on three episodes of The Bachelorette before Trista sent him home. Everywhere he goes, everybody loves him. Bob is a superstar." Shot of Bob on one of his aforementioned sixty-four appearances on Oprah. Bob at a sporting event. Bob signing an autograph. Bob holding a microphone in Times Square. Bob rescuing a little boy who has fallen past a guardrail and over Niagara Falls. Bob taking the oath of office in assuming the presidency of Liberia from deposed and exiled despot Charles Taylor. Bob inventing radium. Bob hitting a game-winning home run! The Giants (and Bob) win the pennant! The Giants (and Bob) win the pennant! Bob appearing on whatever Caroline Rhea's show is called (The Caroline Rhea Show, 'haps?), though no one bothers to mention that he is accompanied by his ventriloquist dummy sidekick Jamie. Remember him? Maybe no one brought it up because Jamie still has some of those lingering anxiety issues and they didn't want to make him too nervous. So, ssssssh.
And now, let's hear from the man himself. So pipe down, rabid America and the miniscule parts of Canada blessed with the gift of television antennae that have thawed enough to allow for the temporary transmission of the ABC network, god bless their frozen souls. Bob deserves his own confessional now, okay? The man did, after all, invent radium: "I think being on The Bachelorette did a lot of things for me. It definitely allowed me to have an opportunity to connect with some people I might not have been able to connect with otherwise." Like his agent. And his publisher. And Oprah. And Caroline Rhea. Nah, take back the last one. I'm sure anybody who wants to could probably meet Caroline Rhea if they truly put their minds to it. Back at the production offices, co-executive producer Lisa Levenson muses on the matter, quoting verbatim from a memo generated by the network's publicist and sent to "All Concerned" with the subject line "Folksy, Homespun Bob: Talking Points For a Bachelor Like No Other." To wit: "Bob is almost the anti-Bachelor. He doesn't have the smoothness of Alex or the great looks of Aaron or the money of Andrew." Oh, my god, you guys? I don't want to freak anybody out, but I think what they're trying to say and what I'm quickly coming to realize is that Bob is exactly like you or me! I feel this total affinity for him suddenly. Just like me! The talking points! They're working! They're working! They're...hey, how'd all this ooky weird gel get into my hair?
Meet the Staff takes a turn to the upstairs offices, as we find Demon Spawn (oh, I'm sorry...his actual title is "Excutive Producer/Creator," so I guess he's just an honorary demon spawn) Mike Fleiss explaining, "The viewers demanded that Bob be the Bachelor. There was just a groundswell of support that we couldn't deny." Wow, D.S. Fleiss. I wasn't aware that your production entity doubled as a self-sustaining Marxist utopia. "the viewers" want to evenly distribute the advance from his book deal amongst the people who spend the most time watching this show, and then they wouldn't mind if you'd make your staff retract any references to Aaron being so-called "great-looking." Thank you. God, I love socialism.
Scott Jeffress, co-executive producer, believes that "Bob's kind of like Everyman. I mean, everybody's got a buddy like Bob." I have a buddy like Bob, and it's ACTUALLY BOB. Right, Bob? We're best friends, aren't we, Bob? RIGHT? BOB? Oh, hi, officers. Nice "limo" you've got there. Bob walks down a pristine street that I swear I've walked down before, I think on my way to a sitcom taping. This is because it's not a real street. It's a backlot somewhere made up to look like "Main Street USA", and I think it's in Burbank. A suspiciously emotionally engaged group of well-wishers sits at an outdoor café on the corner of "Entertainment Boulevard" and "This Media Stunt Is Totally Staged Street" calling out as Bob passes (and the cameras are just there BY TOTAL COINCIDENCE!), "Good luck, man." Bob waves, thanks them, and moves on. Wow. This soundstage employs some of the nicest paid extras in the business. And what divine providence that they came to the restaurant with body mics on! Scott Jeffress, co-executive producer, finishes us off: "America, you asked for Bob, and now we're gonna give him to you." Fine. Blame us, why don't you? It's all about "us" versus "you." See? This is why bullshit Russia tanked.
Has anything actually happened yet?
Alone, back at the Pad, RoboChris churns on to one lone camera: "When word got out that Bob was the new Bachelor, the response was unprecedented. Thousands of women from all across the country were willing to do anything for the chance to be Mrs. Bob Guiney. Let's take a look." Your call, Stalin. Let's then.
Montage! Montage! Montage! Supervising Producer Sally-Ann Salsano, who reminds me of everyone I went to high school with and who I therefore want to be my best friend, explains over shots of piles of mail, "We got prom pictures. Girls were cutting off their boyfriends' heads and putting in Bob's head. Bob was in family portraits. It was kinda weird." Yeah, kinda. In the Mad Libs entitled "A Visit To Bachelor Bob," under the blank "Woeful Understatement," I would write "kinda." You guys have to see these lunatic cut-and-paste whackjob projects. Seriously. We’re shown a few clips of the audition tapes of nondescript blondes who weren't chosen to be on the show, and if I can't remember the names of the first twenty girls cut from the actual show, I sure don't have time to go into what these losers are doing. A stock footage shot of a plane we're supposed to believe is going to L.A. takes off, supposedly carrying their "favorite candidates." Girls are interviewed and seen making out with Bob cardboard cutouts, giving pee-pee samples, and telling us that they are "already in love." Hey, I think that girl actually ended up on the show. Co-executive producer Jason Carbone wants us to understand, "This is not something that is simple." Psychological exams. Blood tests. And, most importantly, as D.S. Fleiss tells us, "They have to look good in a hot tub." Cue completely excessive fully eightee-second-long (yes, I timed it. Stop looking at me like that) clip package of Girls Gone Wild Fourteen, featuring hot chicks running around, jumping into pools, frolicking and applying tan-enhancing oils on themselves and others. Please note that this stipulation to look good in swimwear was not a factor the last time the tables were turned, or else the guy America fell in love with would never have showed up on television in the first place. Everybody understand the paradox? Good. Now, if anybody's looking for me, I'll be over here, slamming my head against the glass ceiling right along with the rest of the double standards.
Lisa Levenson looks at a big board of Polaroids of chicks and asks a surrounding group, "Which girl do we think is the craziest about Bob?" There are little Post-It notes over some of the girls' faces, and my favorite note, which appears multiple times, reads, "No Passport." That's an odd way to get eliminated. Lindsey King, for some reason, is labeled "Surprise." Is that significant? Nah. Lisa confessionalizes, "Bob really deserves the best, and I think he's going to be really pleased with the women we found." A quick flood of twenty-five rectangular glamshots follows. Which girl do we think is the craziest about Bob? After watching the whole episode, I'm inclined to think the only word Lisa Levenson's colleagues took to heart was "crazy."
"By now," ListlessChris intones, "most of us realize that Bob is just a regular guy. He certainly isn't your typical Bachelor candidate." Yup. I guess "All Concerned" really does mean everybody. "Let's take a look at some things you may not know about Bob." Again? When a news story falls through the cracks, Entertainment is there to catch it for a segment we call "Back in Bob." And here it is: a series of childhood photos of Li'l Bob (which, if these were my family's pictures, would be accompanied by a soundtrack of Paul Anka's "The Times Of Your Life," but then again my family are a bunch of overly sentimental pussies. No, they're not. I'm just kidding. I'd hate to make 'em cry if they read that), with Bob's voice-over: "I was pretty happy about my folks deciding to consummate their marriage and give birth to me. I was obviously extremely cute." The quips! The cracks! The elliptical, Wilde-ian linguistic tricks! Somebody give this man a book deal! And make him captain of the football team and president of his high-school class. Which he was. And which he was. A knee injury ended his promising football career in college, after which he turned back to "his love of performing," forming a band called "Fat Amy" that, according to the Harrison-supplies voice-over, released two CDs." And let that one "Mystery Oldie" clip we just heard of them be the only Fat Amy featured on this show. Seriously. Or I'll call the health officials who collected the urine during the last montage and make them start testing for opportunistic synergy. ["Um, Djb? Definitely do not click on this link." -- Wing Chun] Blah blah graduated from college with a degree in Communications, married his high-school sweetheart, and co-founded a mortgage company. And thus comes to an end the story of the rest of the American middle-class. But for Bob, there was more in store. Like divorce. And chunking up. Bob sits on the ledge of a deck musing, "I still love my ex-wife. I always will. We had an amicable split, which actually allowed me to learn a lot about myself. I became a lot stronger as a result of it." Cue "The More You Know" starfall. You guys? He's just like you and me. Except I can pronounce "amicable" in one try.
Chris's voice-over chip is starting to smoke from overuse: "When the nation first met Bob on The Bachelorette, he was affectionately known as 'Fat Bob.'" Yes. AFFECTIONATELY KNOWN TO HIMSELF. Bob tells us that he was "proud of the fact that I was chosen to be on the show," knowing that it was "because of [his] character, because of [his] personality." And because he didn't require eighteen chick-a-wha-wha seconds looking good in a hot tub, right D.S. Fleiss? Bob makes a fat joke we saw earlier in this episode, and then another one at the mention of "Shamu." Trista didn't choose him, which led to Bob's losing thirty pounds. It's the best thing Trista has ever done for anybody, ever. Bob tells us that all he wants to do is have fun, and that he thinks this experience is going to be "off the hizzy." Is that gang talk? Should we be watching out for this guy? I saw that Detroit movie, with all the rap music and angry thugs. I think you know which one I mean. Bob tells us that even though he has "tremendous friends" and "tremendous family" -- sing it with me if you know the words, people: WAIT, IS THAT A FAT JOKE? -- there's "one piece" missing in his life, that being "someone to share all that with." Bob's sister Dee Dee reports, "I'm a real blonde!" Actually, what she says is: "He was a little concerned that maybe he couldn't be 'that guy' that some of the Bachelors had been. And our advice to him was, 'So don't be that guy. Be you.'" And so he's him, outside on the deck of what I'll guess is his parents' house. He raises a glass of wine and cracks up the faithful with the joke, "I made this wine myself. It's from my vineyard, the Guineystone Vineyard." Now, Bob. There's no love lost between me and Li'l Andy, but you can't go this far out of your way to prove how above it all you are. And lest we forget that Andrew's aged parents were born in Cleveland. Isn't that within several hundred miles of plains and prairie lands from the part of the country only one of you doesn't have the good sense to leave when the money starts a-coming? Back in his confessional, Bob tells us, "It could be a train wreck. I don't know. It probably will be." He then laughs a high-pitched, strident, baby-hyena- demonstrating- the-Doppler-effect cackle, which goes as quickly as it comes and leaves a vein pulsing dully in the very darkest recesses of my brain. That's okay. I'm sure, whatever it was, he has no designs of ever doing it again.
And now, "let's meet our twenty-five bachelorettes." Yes. LET'S.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Greenville (population: ? State: ?), where we find the back of the head of a baldheaded man carrying a disturbing array of helium balloons (what is this fucked-up Fellini Presents Il Bachelore shit going on here?), who knocks on a door and tells an ebullient Lindsay, "I have good news! You're going to be on The Bachelor!" Lindsay is a relatively nondescript twenty-five-year-old from South Carolina (well, that answers one of those questions anyway) from Mauldin (but I thought...oh, never mind) who works in -- sing it with me if you know the words, people...pharmaceutical sales! She tells us, "This is huge and I'm just so excited." She and her friends toast with hearty glasses of wine, her friends excited that the prettiest friend is leaving town for a few weeks and thus will soften the competition of Mauldin's cutthroat bar scene.
Mary is just "an average girl, not a desperate girl." She's from Tampa, the main export of which is reality-dating-show participants. No, really. I learned it from my World Almanac the last time I was playing Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego. Oslo is textiles, Tampa is reality-dating-show participants. Knowing that helped me locate a V.I.L.E. Henchman and everything! And a warrant to arrest Nick Brunch! Anyway, Mary is a sales manager, and she's...oh my stars, she's thirty-five! I thought she said she wasn't a desperate girl. Well, sorry, Grandma, but the numbers don't lie.
Misty, twenty-four, is blonde trash from Dallas. And she's a "Radio Promotions Assistant," so I guess she's the one who hands out the Wacky 97 bumper stickers at the mall when she's not filling in as the sound effects girl on the Morning Zoo With Tommy and Mommy, or whatever shit. Misty does that age-old line about how going on a reality show to find love is "the same as going out to the bar and maybe finding someone." I guess the only real difference is that, unlike seedy singles bars in Texas, when you're seeing random urine around these parts it's because it's being tested.
Darla is twenty-six, and an attorney from Gainesville, Florida. She's "pretty fulfilled" with her life professionally, and we cut to her in her office, leafing through Many Thick Books in an effort to look incredibly pah-fessional.
Karin is a thirty-two-year-old mortgage consultant. She's from Brooklyn (whoo!) Park (where?), Minnesota (oooooh). She is leggy, African-American, and stunning. She tells us, "There is no ring on my finger and, hopefully, if I were to get picked, there would be a ring on my finger." Let's talk after you get picked, though, okay?
Stacey is almost pretty. She's also almost from Cleveland (Massillon?), almost a professional career woman (hair stylist), and almost telling the truth about her age. The only thing she won't almost do is win.
Jenny is thirty, so she's "dated around." Here's her on her: "Four or five long-term relationships and they didn't work out. So I don't know what I'm doing wrong." She's a "director of marketing" from Austin, and if her marketing of herself is any indication of how she directs marketing, her love life and her job and her dye job might all be in some serious trouble.
A production drone carrying balloons walks up to Shea, a firefighter, with an enormous smile, who is from Shreveport, Louisiana. She seems utterly unfazed at having been chosen for the show, but then tells us in confessional that she doesn't want to cry "in front of the guys." She's just a "strong Southern girl working in a man's world." Is that the first line of a Loretta Lynn song? Typical firehouse fodder ensues, including the obligatory contestant-sliding-down-a-fire-pole shot. What kind of season would this be without one of the contestants sliding down a fire pole? I guess it would be Season One, Two, or Four.
Lanah and her blowjob lips are heading west from Poolesville, Maryland.
Heather is a twenty-four-year-old administrative assistant from Cincinnati. She has a birthmark and is no Marilyn Monroe, lemme tell ya. She's modeling a wedding dress even though she's not getting married. Bear in mind that that is a hallmark of psychotic behavior, and we'll check back in with Heather later, m'kay?
Antoinette would be the perfect wife because she wants to "mother." Just as long as this so-called "mothering" doesn't include any so-called "breastfeeding," seeing as it's dangerous to feed babies "saline."
Jenn is tall and long, a spunky-looking twenty-six-year-old teacher from La Jolla. She thinks the fact that the Bachelor is Bob makes things more "competitive." Because he's just like you and me?
Twenty-four-year-old retail buyer from Seattle Lauren tells us: "I've always dreamed of having a summer wedding, having a strapless dress that's kind of tight all the way down and then flares out at the bottom and has a long train in the back. I've always wanted a little tiara with a veil on it." And what about the husband? "The what?"
Poor, poor Christine. Simply adorable. But listen to this: "I will make the best wife for Bob because I will be a servant to him." What? WHAT? Wait, I...WHAT?
The Bachelor Prize Patrol Van pulls up in front of Meredith's house. She's a makeup artist from Portland who gives another balloon-toting guy the fifteenth big ol' girly hug he has absolutely no need for.
Aw, Kristi has cute cheeks!
Brooke's got the Krazy Eyes, people.
Another Lindsay doesn't "like to get involved" with drama. Which is why she lives in a cloistered convent, rather than going on a reality dating show.
Okay, this is super-dumb. Samentha and Leona are twin sisters. This is silly because (a) they travel identically and in step all the time and (b) they wear exactly the same clothes and (c) how are they supposed to marry Bob if they're always busy haunting the hallways of The Overlook Hotel and (d) there's no money in being twin Fairuza Balk imitators, anyway. Why are they being introduced together? Why did the producers think they'd be able to differentiate themselves from one another in so short a span to be able to get chosen? Why are they doing this sequence of the two of them stepping out of dressing rooms, wearing identical clothes? And most importantly, who stole the shooting script to Big Business, and why won't they just give it back already?
Here's what being at a disadvantage literally means, people: being Julie, the second-most attractive African-American women on a reality dating show.
But if Bob marries Shelly the dormouse, who will play the role of the dormouse? Like last season's TinaFab, she's also in pharmaceutical sales and also from an unpronounceable town (Wauwatosa) in Wisconsin. ShellyFab? Doesn't so much sound right.
Common sense and peer pressure combine in a potent cocktail for us all to think excellent things about Estella, a twenty-eight-year-old mortgage broker (and brunette!) from Bev Niner. She says all the right things about why she's doing this (forced by an old roommate) and what she expects to get out of it (making us think she's cool, natch).
Lee-Ann looks less cool by comparison and by reality. Her mother seems to run a Boston Market franchise out of her kitchen. ["I wish Lee-Ann's mother were my mother." -- Wing Chun]
The Prize Patrol van pulls up at the house of Kelly Jo, a bob-haired hayseed from Kalamazoo. Just for making me write the words "bob-haired hayseed from Kalamazoo," she should be punted from the show and, while we've got our punting shoes on, into space, trapped between Lanah and Antoinette inside a pain of glass to float in the great void of space forever and ever.
I'm so fucking tired.
I would suggest we twenty-seven (the bachelors. And me. And Wing) sit together now and break bread with some montage-cakes, but these girls wouldn't touch a carb. That, and Wing is all "cannot attend THAT gathering." ["Much as I hate to turn down any opportunity to hang with Djb...yeah." -- Wing Chun] Anyway, they're leaving their houses, by car, by airplane, by magical pane of glass.
I don't think I'm recapping anything else Chris Harrison says tonight. Except when he tells us that there's only one rose left. Because if he doesn't tell us, how will we know when there is only one rose left?
If they wanted to be really clever about it, why not have this season take place IN Bob's hometown? His family is everything.
I'm losing the recapping thread here.
In L.A. now, Lauren lays out a dress and is "excited." Misty thinks that she'll stand out with Bob because she's "not shy." Not unlike that one other girl named "Drunk Chick On Television" who shows up at the first-night party every so often, angling for attention and thinking she's already won. Oh wait, that's all of them. Estella hopes she doesn’t "trip and fall" when she gets out of the limo. Sally-Ann Salsano -- wait, is Sally-Ann Salsano one of the bachelorettes? Another high-school friend makes good and I FEEL LIKE I ALREADY KNOW HER! -- tells the girls that "tonight is gonna be a crazy night." Kristi Kute Cheeks worries that she won't "measure up" to the other girls. The girls are then sent into hair and makeup and to product-place Pepsis as they fancy up and muse, "In four more house it's time to meet Bob." FOUR MORE HOURS? Meanwhile, Bob enjoys a new, delicious Pepsi Vanilla while looking at his wardrobe for the season, confessionalizing that he's feeling "the calm before the storm." A calm brought on by the cool waves of a Pepsi Vanilla. Pepsi Vanilla! Drink it on TV today! Also available in Diet.
Chris beedle-beedle blee blee bam, and Bob's limo fiiiiiiiiinally pulls up at the house. A portly driver (what is that, a fat joke?) opens the door, and Bob steps out to a dramatic music cue that would actually be dramatic if we hadn't been seeing him every other shot for the sixty hours that have already passed. Chris exhales a friendly "Good to see ya" that comes out a lot more "come hither" than I hope he meant it to sound, and the two of them catch up on old times. Chris: "Filler filler filler filler filler." Bob: "Was that a fat joke?" America: "Sssssssh."
The two walk through the house together, and we rejoin them out on the lanai for cheesecake, cheesecake, cheesecake! Do I make that joke every season? I don't even remember anymore. Chris starts things off fake-combative, asking, "What're you doing here?" Bob smiles, answering, "I have no idea." He then breaks into that selfsame cackle from earlier, and I hear the sound of glass breaking outside my apartment, followed by the wail of several car alarms and the barking of a lone hound in the night. Chris rephrases the question more seriously, and Bob tells him, "It's a great opportunity to meet twenty-five people I may never have met otherwise." Which, ideologically, might run counter to the "I believe there's one right person out there for everyone" filibuster we've been programmed to believe having been brought up by Hallmark cards and Family Ties, but he's Bob so he can say anything he wants and SQUEEEE! Bob! We love you! Bob now believes you can find love on TV, reminding us, "We've seen it with Trista and Ryan. Currently, we've seen it with Jen and Andrew." "Currently"? Sly dig, Count Guineystone. Sly dig, indeed! Chris reminds us again that Bob "is not the prototypical Bachelor," and so he's coming at this from a completely different place in his life than anyone who's come before. Bob takes pains to remind us that he's still very close to his wife. And so, recapping (because that's what we do here, America):
Bob is not your prototypical Bachelor.
Bob is divorced but still very close with his ex-wife.
Bob used to be fat but now he is not fat.
Good show, Chris. Way to bring those razor-sharp interviewing skills to the fore. Why not try another one of your softball questions? Why not just break down completely and ask the dude if he likes softball? Chris continues with the third degree, asking, "What does Mrs. Guiney look like in your mind's eye?" Bob responds, "Y'know, every time you say that, I can't help but think...she looks like my mom." Wow. At least we know that if this season is finally the one that succeeds in making me gouge my own eyes out, it will, for once, comes in its proper Oedipal context. Just kill me dead when I start casually referring to Chris Harrison as "The Oracle." Thanks. I'm glad we had this talk.
If this limo's a-rockin', I can't believe you're still watchin'. As the old Southern saying goes. The first limo pulls up, the women clapping their hands and yelling, "Bob Bob Bob Bob Bob!" And out they step, one by one. Do we have to meet them again? AGAIN? I just DID this! Oh, very well:
First is Jenn who, by the very virtue of stepping out of a car, makes Bob crack up. Somewhere on Long Island, my grandmother's age-old collection of Hummel figurines shakes precariously for a moment and then falls backwards onto the floor, shattering into a billion pieces. Hummel suicide. It's hard on everyone. Jenn's so excited to "finally" meet Bob, and she suggests to him, "I think we should just leave and make it easy for everyone." He laughs again, and my computer monitor develops a hairline crack, my reflection in the screen grabbing its face and screaming in anguish like the end of the opening credits of You Can't Do That On Television gone way, totally wrong.
Everyone knows it's Misty, and Misty is wearing a purple dress. She tells us in a confessional that if she didn't get a rose, she'd be "sad." Well, Misty, we hate to see you sad. But more than that, we hate to see you at all. So we're on the fence about the whole "you getting a rose" phenomenon. But we'll see. I honestly just don't remember.
One of the Lindsays is wearing a black dress, and she's so goth.
Darla "finally" gets to meet Bob, and he's so excited at her out-of-context exuberance that they share a loud laugh together, throwing me out of my chair and Jupiter permanently out of orbit. She tells us in a confessional that her own parents were engaged after knowing each other for six weeks, and they've been married for thirty years. "So there's a whole bachelor/bachelorette story for you, but on a much more subtle scale." So, fewer helium balloons, then? But then how did they know when to be happy?
Julie is happy to "finally" meet Bob.
Limo #2 pulls up, and the five women who are already installed in the house call to Bob to tell the other limos to go home. Don't make him laugh. DON'T MAKE HIM LAUGH.
Lee-Ann is excited to meet Bob, "finally."
Christine is saving herself for marriage. And she wanted YOU to know.
Twins! Twins! Twins! Come and play with us, Bobby. Come and play with us. Better just turn around and ride your Big Wheels right out of there, friend, because I continue not to like where it's going with those two AT ALL.
Stacey Stacey Bo Bacey Banana Fana Fo Facey. Me Mi Mo Macey. Stacey.
Chris actually interrupts the proceedings here to let Chris know that having met ten women means there are fifteen more to go. Yet another pointless missive fired off from the fine folks at The Department Of Inessential Tasks. Check out their website at www.bachelor.gov/departmentofissentialtasks.html. Don't forget to sign the guestbook!
No, actually, I don't remember when The Bachelor became a government agency.
Kelly-Jo requires a hug.
Shelly is vaguely foreign, I think. Dutch or something.
Shea is wearing a pretty red dress. Wait, here's something telling. As she walks past Bob and into the grand ballroom, she gives a thumbs up and smiles. It comes to my attention that many of the girls have gestured excitedly at this point, even before there were enough people in the room to be performing for. It's starting to look like there's someone standing on the side, just to the left of the camera's gaze, holding a sign that's like, "Do something stupid or you won't get a rose!" It's a little stagy. Just something to look out for as we meet all of the girls. Again.
It's something in Lindsay's hair I don't like. She's so glad to finally meet him.
Mary speaks Spanish and waves at the person who tells her to wave. Was Spanish the national language of America when she was first learning to speak? Before all of the big purchases and annexes, I mean?
Lauren has a regimented view of when she should be married, and tells us she'll do "whatever it takes to get a rose." Will she be Estella?
Hi, Estella! She tells Bob she's totally nervous, and then leans provocatively into him to show him how fast her heart is beating. Because you know what the heart is right under, don't you? That's right! The boobies! Estella then walks past Bob and, on her way into the other room, wipes out big-time. Just like she said she would! How utterly coincidental. I have no idea what to do with it. Fortunately for Estella, she bows nicely on the dismount and I manage to find her winning again.
"I'll take one of you with nothing on it!" Oh, pipe down, Kristi. She outlines her life with Bob, telling us that she "sees herself in the future." And she's married to...a robot! No, not that kind of future, I guess. Her fantasy is a little more Harlequin, in which her homemaker life is briefly stirred by the arrival home of Bob, who will make everything better.
Y'know, I like Fiona Apple just as much as the guy (a lot more than the guy, if you want to know the truth of it), but Lanah didn't write "Paper Bag" OR date Paul Thomas Anderson OR look that much like Fiona Apple in the first place, except for one second when she steps out of the limo and seems all haggard and wanting to write a song about the heartlessness of men and the desolation of the soul. She'll have a lot more time to think those concepts over on a limo ride outta town, coming soon. She thinks it's nice to finally meet Bob.
Heather. "I don't know if I would say I feel like I'm in love with him already, but..." Honey, that's all you needed to say.
Another limo. Man, the proms that were supposed to be tonight are bummin'.
Jenny thinks it's nice to finally meet Bob.
Antoinette thinks it's great to finally meet Bob.
Karin thinks it's so nice to finally meet Bob.
Brooke just says "finally."
Meredith thinks she's going to be the last one standing, adding, "Thanks, Trista. She let a good one get away, I think." Trista is just excited that someone on TV still thinks to say her name every one in a while.
The Ambassador from the Department Of Inessential Tasks tells Bob go in and meet the ladies he's just met.
Oh, this is just sick. The pep rally for Team Bob kicks into highest as he ambles into the ballroom. Initial bantering at the entryway, and they raise a glass and Bob wishes a "Cheers, y'all!" Yee-ha! I just done shot my rifle into the air in cel-ee-BRAY-tion!
The bachelorettes ask for the Running Man. So I guess the dance is the Running Man. He tells them it's retired. So then actually it's NOT the Running Man.
And, the play by play is underway: Krazy-Eyes tells us she has not gotten to speak with Bob yet. HouseMouse steals him away from someone, and then Karin runs interference until Lindsay #1 asks for some private time after an indeterminate period. Lee-Ann emailed Bob once, but we never learn how or why because Kristi steals him away. Bob thinks Lee-Ann has a good "attitude," if by "attitude" he means "fake, fake boobies." The twins are in their own creepy dark shadow room just off this dimension from the rest of the show. Bob remembers their names and runs like hell. Bob says that he feels like everyone already knows him, deeming that "cool." THAT. Is terrifying. Some chick asks all seriously, "Why are you doing this? Because that's important to me." Yeah, let's not pretend we have the power position, Girl I've Never Heard Of. Bob tells us that it's "more work" being the Bachelor. And "more responsibility." Like, more paperwork and stuff?
Mary speaks Spanish to Bob, and he asks her if that was a fat joke.
Kelly-Jo steals Bob away to a quiet corner of the lanai, shaking her bob and telling him how nervous she was in the limo. "I don't know if I'm just gonna sit and make out with him, or..." Maybe the sequitur of that statement is buried somewhere in the hyphen of her name, because I'm having some trouble locating it. Then they kiss, which is a bit premature as well. Don't peak too soon!
Stacey judges Kelly-Jo as "aggressive." Stacey says that that's "not the approach" she takes. She takes the approach of "losing."
Misty is mad she had to share her one-on-one time, and then got interrupted by Estella. So that's okay. Estella is from Kansas. Which is near Bob, right? But she lives in L.A. now. Kiss on the cheek. She walks away carefully, because her schtick is "falling." Well, gotta get a gimmick.
Bob banters hilariously as Chris comes in with a glass and a self-serious stare, telling them, "I'm not gonna take Bob to the Deliberation Room yet." Not a speck of irony, folks. More: "There's [sic] gonna be a few surprises this season. I have invited one more guest to tonight's party." Hee. "I have invited." Like he went and sent out the invitation himself, all Mr. Body inviting Lesley Ann Warren to the Bachelor Pad so he could expose all of her lies and then kill her. But instead, this: "I want you ladies to meet a woman who will definitely have a say in who her future daughter-in-law might be." General merriment, and Bob looks all punk'd when his mom enters with the joke, "I thought I was in the neighborhood and in though I'd drop by." Boo-ya! That Guiney humor doesn't skip a generation, does it?
Bob and Mom -- a family of roving palindromes, draped in hilarity, split up for further investigation. Mom finds out that Karin has never been married, Fiona Apple is twenty-seven, some brunette is a makeup artist, Julie is a "wimp in the cold," and Kelly-Jo is "blessed" to have met Bob. Nora (that's Mom) reminds us again that she is "the first Mrs. Robert Guiney." And she's decked out like she's there to snag a man herself. So if you're wondering where Bob's poor father is, well, he's already dead as the Oracle had once foretold. Stay away from the fireplace accessories, Bob, because the eye-gouging officially tolls for thee.
The Virgin tells Bob she's a virgin. He's amused and horrified, masquerading as accepting. "Speaking of wives, what happened with yours?" Antoinette leads off (and when the leadoff spot ends with an out, it actually sucks for the whole team). Bob tells her that he has "scars" that have "made him a lot stronger." They Photoshopped in another blonde, and she's asking the same question. Estella tells Ma Guiney that she's happy to have met her. Milling and wandering. Lee-Ann tries the "you don't look old enough to be a mom" line, which actually totally works on my mom. Bob and Mom make off to compare notes, and Mom tells us, "I really like Kristin." And also Lee-Ann. And Karin. "I would be thrilled with any woman that you picked that cares about you." Uh huh. Bob is afraid of sending home somebody he might "have a wonderful future with." And just like that, Ma Guiney is gone. Jenny "felt pretty good" about the whole thing. I don't know who "Jenny" is. The twins think "rose or no rose" will happen together. Heather thinks she'll get a rose. Lee-Ann thinks she's going home. Bob thinks Christine looks like Ashley Judd. More confusingly mixed banter, and Chris appears again -- this time, to take Bob with him.
Pictures of the twenty-five women meet Bob and Chris in the Room Of Reckoning. Bob frets that he won't make the right decision, talking about how "flattered" he is that people came there just for him and were jumping up and down in the limo, crying out his name. Bob offers the names Lee-Ann, Estella, Julie, Karin, and Shea as people who jumped out at him from Moment One. Chris tells him, "You've already kissed one of them." Bob laughs like he's kind of embarrassed, proclaiming it "a moment." Of sickness and horror. Chris asks if he's worried about "sending Mrs. Guiney home," and Bob gets stuck in one of those joke loops he seems so prone to, responding, "We sent her home earlier tonight." Now we've said it before and we'll say it again: you cannot marry your mom. Chris asks whether Mom gave him any good advice, and Bob tells Chris, "She didn't really give me any advice," even though he explicitly thanked his mother for her great "advice" after she read him the "follow your heart" slip from inside of the Bachelor Fortune Cookies. How come people always get that one? Chris takes his leave to let Bob let his clichés be his guide, and he voices over that he used to be skeptical, but he's hopeful now that "it could happen" for him. He's excited about "what the future might hold." Dude, is that a fat...oh, never mind.
"Good evening," Chris welcomes the ladies. He presents the standard disclaimer that "if Bob is someone you would not consider marrying, you can and should reject his invitation." No one budges. I guess it's my speakers that so affects The Laugh.
Kelly-Jo, will you accept this rose? Whah, mee? Whah, I don't know nothing 'bout no roses or lovin' a man, but...well, suh, if you say so!
Lee-Ann, will you accept this rose? Kelly-Jo seems surprised to discover she hasn't already won.
Misty, will you accept this rose? I don't actually think she received one the first time I watched this episode. Weird.
Lindsay from California, will you accept this rose? Definitely. Good, because he doesn't want to have to ask again. And by that, I mean you will never, ever, ever be asked again.
Kristi, will you accept this rose? She really is pretty. Too bad she ends up with that robot, which...oh, never mind.
Mary, will you accept this rose? Mi Dios! La rosa es una cosa hermosa. Pronto, crecerá vieja, y los pétalos rojos que ahora la adornan son predestinados dar vuelta al negro, descomponerse, y morir. Es como mirar el final de la juventud. En mi cultura, las rosas son el símbolo de la muerte. Por lo tanto, puedo pensar en nada más apropiado que se levantó aceptar esto. Gracias. Bob. Bob responds, "¿Era eso una broma gorda?" ["slow clap." -- Wing Chun]
Jenn, will you accept this rose? I actually have music on in my apartment right now. Loud music.
Karin, will you accept this rose? Wilco's "A.M." thinks you should. It's all right there, in their song "Casino Queen."
Brooke, will you accept this rose? Though it appears in many prisms through the filter of her Krazy Eyes, she lays a head on in and puts a peck on Bob's cheek.
Estella, will you accept this rose? This recap his been nothing more than a list of all of the women appearing on this show this season, three times.
Antoinette, will you accept this rose? She "certainly will." Furtive glances of fear start creeping into some of the women's eyes. Furtive glances outside -- where I have not been for going on twenty-four hours -- creep into mine.
It takes me three listens to figure out the girl's name, which I couldn't remember for the life of me. It's Meredith, and she will accept this rose.
Jenny, will you accept this rose? Did she just get there? She's lovely. She proclaims it "stressful" as she walks across the carpet, and Bob asks her is he should ask her to accept this rose. Everyone laughs. Except for Bob. And I know this because all of the vases are still standing.
Lanah, will you accept this rose? Really?
The Department Of Inessential Tasks fires off a missive that the rose is "the final rose tonight," and I can think of some twins who have some packing to start thinking about.
Lindsay, will you accept this rose? "I thought you'd never ask!" He almost never did!
You know who looks upset? Girl Whose Name I Don't Know. And also Girl Whose Name I Thought Was Also Lindsay. And the girls who died that one cold winter at the Overlook. Man, do they look madder and deader than ever. The ambassador for The Department Of Inessential Tasks tells the ladies to say their goodbyes, and general pitying hugging ensues. Outside, Christine tells us, "I don't think that I was what he was looking for." Gee, what on earth gave you that idea? She proclaims herself "disheartened," but quickly adds with a grace-saving smile, "My life will go on." Anyone wondering after a proper exit, get thee to Christine. Gracious and not spiteful. Shea cries, which is not gonna go over well with the firefighters from Shreveport, we can infer. The reason I know they'll treat her well, though, is because firemen are our nation's heroes.
Heather is a fabulous early meltdown. "I just don't get it," she begins this verbatim retelling of it. "I'm just so disappointed. I thought Bob was so cute. I thought he might be the one for me." And, wailing. "I've never really, truly gotten my heart broken. And to get it heartbroken [sic] on national television, it's just like...why does this have to happen to me?" Head in hands. Racking sobs. "I'm a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, but why?" And I know we've gone over this for three seasons running now, so I don't want to come off as brusque because I realize that heartbreak is a very painful experience, what with the heart and the breaking and the what-have-you. So I won't waste all of our time pointing out that it was one night. With twenty-four other women. And probably too much wine. The phenomenon you are experiencing is called "humiliation," and it feels almost the same. The way you can know it's not heartbreak is when you realize that THERE IS NO OTHER PERSON INVOLVED IN THIS PROCESS BESIDES YOU. I've experienced humiliation hundreds of times. Utter, honest heartbreak twice. Humiliation goes away when the cameras turn away from you. Don't worry. Won't be long now.
A toast to "great beginnings" meets with a hearty cry of "cheers" from the remaining ladies. You stalkers can stalk your TV heartthrob all you want. Me, I'm going with my girl Sally-Ann Salsano.