By Djb
Sick and twisted props to Tracie, who was fundamental in the timely completion of this recap. I would also like to extend a formal apology to her, both for dragging her through this experience with me, and also for the twisted metaphor in which I was a needy welfare mom and she was taking my kids to the circus. I would also like to extend an apology to Child Protective Services for the somewhat remote location of my difficult-to-find house; call off the dogs and rest assured that I am now taking adequate care of my non-existent children.
Hmmm. There must be a recap in here somewhere. Hang on. Let me check my pockets.
Good morning, Angels. Good morning, Chris Harrison! Chris "There'll Be Scary Host Stories And Tales Of The Glories Of Bachelor Shows Long Long Ago" Harrison saunters into the living room at the Ladies' Villa, for once at least satisfied in the knowledge that he's not the only screen presence this week to make the bulk of his salary via his shamelessly obvious product placements for Chess King. He tells the assembled remaining six ladies that he's brought with him some of "Bob's closest friends." And, following behind him into the living room like they're The Disney Electric Light Parade Of The C-List and he's their drum major are:
1. Greg, who is introduced as Bob's "business partner." He is a tall, slender gentleman with a green button-down shirt and jeans who is so weirdly tanned in all the wrong places that he makes my first box of 64-color Crayolas climb out of my parents' basement and go, "Now we understand why there's an umber!" If I storyboarded this episode, that thing would be down to a nub. Thank goodness for the sharpener on the back. But criminy to the fact that those damn sharpeners never worked.
2. Katina, Greg's wife. I kind of liked her when she was with the Waves, but I can't fucking STAND her solo stuff.
3. Jamie, from The Bachelorette, who, you'll recall (recall, I say...RECALL!), seemed to be an early shoo-in to win Trista's heart, until Trista was all, "Those teeth! So bright! Blinded by teeth! Bliiiiiiiiiiiind! [Confused pause] Oh, wait. Those are my teeth. But his teeth are pretty white, too. Whatever we're both doing with our teeth, four out of five dentists agree we could probably lay off the White Strips for a while. Even though they whiten while you sleep!" Then Jamie wasn't on that show anymore.
Chris tells the girls, "They're going to move in with you for a little bit" in a tone so sarcastic and sad that you half-expect him to tack on a rueful, whispered aside of "Wonderful. More mouths to feed." An absolute slave to process, Chris vamps on, recounting the actual rules and format of this show, now in its fifth identical season: "You're all gonna go on a date with Bob. There's [sic] three intimate one-on-one dates and a group date. They're here to decide who gets that one-on-one time." It's no wonder Chris always seems so incredibly tired and blasé about everything this season, what with his second full-time job at The Department Of Inessential Tasks taking up the main bulk of his time. Running a government agency is tiring, V-neck-sweater-wearing work, people. Man. Look in those eyes. Chris has had it with this noise. What an irony that he waited so long to be offered a rose from Trista, and now the first rose he's ever being offered is the one at the end of the metaphor about the bloom being off of it. "Jamie, remember you're here as Bob's friend," Chris volleys, hoping to land some A-material right at the end of his set and make us forget the tiny pencil sketch illustration of Chris Harrison's face to the entry for the entry for "in, phoning it" in the latest edition of the OED. Hands off the ladies, Jamie! You never being able to get laid might be television's most compellingly tragic B-story. Just don't have a panic attack and go tell Caroline Rhea all about it again, or you'll risk becoming television's least compelling C-story. Just don't freak out, man. DON'T FREAK OUT.
We begin with Lee-Ann, first in friend interviews and last in roses this week. As she follows Jamie and the rest out to the lanai, we check in with Bob's partner-in-law Katina, who tells us, "The qualities that Bob needs in a spouse are definitely a strong-willed person, someone that can stand on their own two feet." Let's just rubber-stamp the word "sic" over the number agreement in that entire sentence so that I don't jam my italics feature trying to note each one separately, okay? Thanks. The first question Greg asks of Lee-Ann is, "How do feel about the fact that Bob's been married before?" Because this is Fakeland and a game, Lee-Ann is able to deadpan a response that, when NOT delivered on television would probably sound more like "Yeah, the dude's thirty-two and divorced. And in a band. And lives in Michigan. And I think I'm gonna go on a date with someone else now, thanks." But this is Fakeland, where he's got a book deal and I have...well, none. And in that universe, Lee-Ann responds, "I think that once you've been in a marriage, you kind of know what it takes." We then montage through the tulips, Kelly Jo piling on with her answer to the same question, "Seems like he really learned from the experience." Man. You really gotta give credit to the PR guys down at , because they have managed to make divorce seem like a character-builder worthy of a stint in the armed forces (www.godivorce.gov, where you can be your own, broken, alimony-paying, singles-bar-hopping, past your prime, Army Of None). They could have pulled any sideshow freak onto this show and called him The Bachelor, and just as a result of their media coaching, could have ended up with responses from the girls ranging from "I think that once you've been in prison, you kind of know that killing is wrong" to "I think that once you've been in a mental institution, you kind of know that cooking your grandmother into a pie and serving it at Thanksgiving dinner isn't a stunt that forensic experts and police investigators will deal with lightly." This has been "One to Grow On."
Not that I'm ideologically opposed to divorce. Some of my best parents are divorced. I'm just saying in the real world this shit would never fly. I know a lot of twenty-four-year-olds, and not one of them is dating a thirty-two-year-old divorcee. Well, one. But talk about daddy issues.
Recap. Right.
Greg is getting so close to being the host of The New New New New Newlywed Game that I simply can't believe he hasn't asked any questions making liberal use of the word "whoopee," but he soldiers on bravely, "Who typically wears the pants?" It's just another day at Bachelorville, the esteemed capital of the sovereign nation of Montagetopia, as we rapid-fire through the responses: Brooke thinks that "the man should" wear the pants, but no matter who is and who is not wearing the pants, I can state clearly that nobody in the couple and nobody on the planet should be wearing Brooke's white, mesh 18th-century gay hobo hat. Look at that gay 18th-century hobo thing! She seriously looks like Ebeneezer Scrooge is about to toss a nickel over a balcony and call out on Christmas morning, "You there! Go buy yourself the biggest turkey in the whole market! And a bottle of Shiraz!" Because she's a gay 18th-century hobo, is why.
Estella thinks that "there isn't really anyone wearing the pants." True enough. But you can't live in the hot tub forever.
Meredith says something about wearing "the shorts." Oh, I get it.
I don't get it at all.
Greg -- who will probably be hosting this show by the end of this episode -- defers to Katina for the question: "Sex after marriage, after the third date, or when it feels right?" Lee-Ann whispers a stunned "Oh, man," because she apparently heard the question asked as "Make the sound of having sex after marriage, after the third date, or when it feels right." Estella says, "On the first date...oh I'm sorry, did you say the third date?" Because showing your man's friends what a big whore you are always scores the points. Brooke drops the virgin bomb. Oh, honey, aren't we all? Oh, and has anyone else noticed that Enrique Iglesias's mole apparently decided it wanted to try acting on the small screen, and has permanently taken residence on Brooke's face? That mole is The Mole That Ate The Ottoman That Ate Cleveland. Everything on this show is hungry except those emaciated bitches.
Failing with Trista and then spending the six months playing skinny sidekick to a fat, funny, headliner must really have taken its toll on Jamie, because he's reduced to the singular conversational strategy of "edgewise." He gets in his one sentence of the episode, leaving even linguistic staples such as the subject and the interrogative framing out, just in case he gets cut off and we're forced to forget who Jamie is all over again. He asks, "Ever had a one-night stand?" No, never, never, no, no, never. This montage plays like a patter song from a Sondheim musical. And the chorus of that song is "Bullshit." None of these girls went to college? Everyone's had a one-night stand. Fine. Make me look like whore, why don't you? Katina: "Long engagement or a rush to the altar?" Estella likes it long. Kelly Jo wants Bob to fly her to Vegas immediately. Mary professes her "deep, serious love" for Bob and then, as if not desperate and haggard enough, says she'd like a quick engagement because she wants to have kids. The biological clock is running out of the time. Poor, old, broken Mary. In bed, are you a tiger or a kitten? Everyone says "tiger" except Meredith, who says she's "both." Which would be like answering "both" to the question, "In the fruit bowl, are you the apples or the oranges?"
Mary applies copious hair products, yet it's Bob's partner Greg who looks like he got the bulk of them. His coif not blowing in any wind, he tells us that Mary gets the first individual date, based on the fact that she says she's falling in love with him already. Great. Feed the delusion. They're going to a theme park. En route, they both agree that they want to have a great time, and Mary says that she wants them to be twelve today. "Dog years" joke, anyone? Who's with me? She's OLD! And she hasn't said anything in Spanish in a while. So what else is there to make fun of, am I right?
Champagne and kissing in the car. Sex and booze in a stretch limo. Yeah, my "twelve" looked just like this. Except with more baseball cards and fewer broken dreams.
Back at the ladies' villa, Lee hyphen Ann is sad because none of the other girls likes her. She sits outside on a swing, rocking back and forth on it and thinking, "Hey, they named this thing after my moods!" She's sad that she "does not feel comfortable in this house at all." She's "miserable" that the girls throw spitballs at her in Geometry class and won't let any of the boys take her to the junior prom. So she calls a house meeting to talk about her feelings, sheepishly creeping into the kitchen while everyone else is cooking dinner and asking, "Can I talk to you in the living room?" Why the sudden change of venue? Is she opposed to, like, fighting in front of the cheese? Why not just have it where four people already happen to be assembled? In a confessional, Meredith calls Lee-Ann a drama queen, adding in an accusatory "yech" for good measure. I wish she had said that to Lee-Ann's face, with a sexy girl-fight breaking out soon after, with the shortie pajamas, feather pillows bursting open in slo-mo, jiggling, and what-have-you. Because after I said on TV that I thought Pamela Anderson had hottie breasts, this is what my life has become. Anyway, outside of my résumé and back on the television show, Lee-Ann blubbers and tells everyone she's sorry and wah wah poor me. Right. Not even Brooke's mole is moved. No one gives a crap. Lee-Ann is sad some more, and Kelly Jo pretends to care a little, telling us that she's like "Sybil" and giving Lee-Ann tips on how not to have been totally psycho in the first place.
Back at the Shady Pines field trip to an unnamed amusement park, Mary tells us, "Once we deplaned the private jet..." "DEPLANED"? I've have actually heard that word a total of one other time in my life, ever, in an ancient (though, I have to admit, hilarious) Paula Poundstone HBO special from one billion years ago, in which she discusses the fact that you don't use the word "de-car" and "de-train," so why should "plane" be any different? To which I always answered, "It's not, and no one says it." Except now. At the park, Bob makes Mary close her eyes, then tells her to open them. Such a motor command hardly matters, though, what with the milky cataracts already completely obscuring her remaining vision. All the lights of the amusement park go on at once and OH! So beautiful! There are fountains! So romantic! It's like PARIS! Secretly, Mary just wants to be home with a glass of bitters, watching her stories. But she's pretty game, considering, and she tells us in a voice-over that it seemed at that moment that the only people in the park were "he and I." Sigh. And I thought grammar was such a key component of education in the 1950s. She must have been under her desk in an air raid drill the day they learned what happens in the "predicate." La la lee lee loo. Bob and Mary ride a really scary roller coaster. So scary! Good thing she has a big (though he used to be bigger and now he is skinny), strong man at her side. He wins some basketball game thing and she claps. He feeds her cotton candy. They drink with two straws out of one ice cream soda. They neck. Later? Down by Lover's Leap? There's going to be some serious heavy (though now it is skinnier) petting.
Is there a Guess The Height And Weight booth at this carnival? I guess that Bob used to be fat and now he is skinny. And I guess that we'll have to saw Mary in half and count the rings.
Later, in an extremely well-lit gazebo, they waste no time with the making of the out. The scene, it is set for romance. Multiple glasses of Shiraz litter the table. Talk inevitably turns to Bob's domestic situation, as he lives in a dusty outpost that manifest destiny has not yet reached, and his earlier, hard-line attempts to make people move within a million miles of where he lives now are obviously not paying dividends with this crowd of fame whores looking for TV guest spots and not a life as a mortgage broker's wife in B.F.E., Michigan. Mary tells Bob that she would move for the man she loves, but would miss her family in Florida. So she'd like to be able to see them sometimes, ending that request by asking him, "So how do you feel about that?" He answers, "YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR FAMILY AGAIN, MY PRETTY!!!!!! BWAH HA HA!" No, he totally doesn't. What he actually says is much, much dumber. He says -- no kidding, no lie -- that just now he "realized" that "the majority of people in Michigan who own second homes...own them in Florida." So you know what this means? Well, let's reason it out. Bob is a person in Michigan. Maybe someday he'll own a second home. The majority of people in Michigan who own second homes own them in Florida. This means that BOB TOO can own a second home in Florida! So he can visit Mary when he and his wife Kelly Jo are in town. Or when him and his wife Kelly Jo are in town.
Hey, you know what I just realized? The most commonly consumed sweet in New York is cookies. I'm in New York. I TOO CAN EAT COOKIES! And, interestingly, Tracie and I are about two-thirds of the way through a box of cookies called "Le Petit Ecolier," which is a kind of graham cracker thing, covered on top with dark chocolate, on which is embossed, well, a petit ecolier. Je t'adore, Monsieur Le Petit Ecolier. That means, "I adore you, Mr. The Little Schoolboy." I pity the fool who doesn't love...he.
"Mr. The Little Schoolboy." That made my day.
And...we're still on this date. Mary has her real estate license. Bob holds two giant stuffed animals. Mary confessionalizes that the more time she spends with Bob, the more she loves him. Even though she has no control over the situation, when she looks in his eyes, she can tell that he shares the same feelings, and that gives her hope. Cue doom-infused minor chord. Because sister? You don't have a prayer. End of date.
Bob and Estella are going to Vegas! Bob thinks it's "amazing" that his friends "happened" to choose two women whom he wanted to get to know more. Bob says that Estella is beautiful, and there's something about her that he finds really compelling. Deaf father, maybe? Or pretty, pretty boobies?
Bob feels a connection with Estella. Imagine that. It's awesome. Estella's greatest hope is that she and Bob get so drunk that they run straight to the chapel and get married and don't come back to the show. She can't keep her hands off of him in the limo. Or at Caesar's Palace, where we're enjoying a private dinner. Oh my God, Estella's voice. It was bad always, but drenched in Shiraz, it's literally unbearable. To get the stalker vibe we'd almost lost kicking again, Estella reminds Bob that she thought he was hot when he was on The Bachelorette. Now that she's got him, she's not going to hold back. That's one thing she's learned in life...she shares everything she's feeling in every single moment. Huh. Is that so? She says to Bob, "You never experience life fully if you put up a wall, because you'll never really get the true understanding that you deserve." Wha? Bob acts like she said something deep, but it's only because they're both so drunk. Then they get on with the sloppy smooching. There's more where that came from, I'm sure. She tells him that her father died, and she garbles something that makes him respond, "That was a great decision by you." I adore Love In The Time Of Passive Voice. Also, with that story, Estella officially becomes the seventeenth girl to play a dead relative card in a gambit for a pity rose. Um, like, Bob? My cousin Lou just died. Can I wipe my eyes with your book deal?
Kelly Jo brings the newly arrived Date Box into the house and tells us that she was nervous because she knew that the box was for either a one-on-one date or a group date. You can't put anything past Kelly Jo, that's for sure. Lee-Ann, Meredith and Brooke get the group date. The ladies reason it out and, after a few seconds of breaking up into individual discussion groups and some scribbling on scrap paper, they deduce that Kelly Jo gets the other one-on-one date. Lots of whooping and hollering....until Mary, for some reason, starts to cry. All of the tears this season have really lacked context. Just like when the ladies had to pick who was most and least compatible for Bob, I never had a clue as to why they were crying, ever. Flashback to Mary and Bob kissing. She's sad because she had such a great time on her date with Bob, and the thought of him going out with the other ladies...just...makes...her....so...mad. I'm sorry, but come on. Dust off those bifocals and read the fine print of why you're there. It's emotions borrowed and love on loan. Meredith comforts her. Mary says she feels like a jerk. Jerk.
Meanwhile, back at a suite inside Caesar's Palace, hot fun in the lovertime. Or something. I never knew what those words were. For some reason, Bob and Estella both look down at Bob's pants, and he seductively says to Estella, "Do you like it?" She retorts, "Yeah." Fucking network porn. You never get to see any of the good stuff. Like, for instance, there are no attractive men anywhere in the frame right now. Bob then asks Estella if this date is what she would have hoped for, or if she was wishing for a group setting. This makes Estella upset for some reason, perhaps because of the sick amount of IV-injected alcohol they have managed to consume this evening. Estella slurs in a confessional that she and Bob (her and Bob? Bob and we? Thee and thou?) were having a fantastic time, and then, suddenly, it just got real for her, "and it's hard, and you want to be cool, and you, you want to understand, but I'm a human being, and I have feelings and it, it hurts." She's all like the Elephant Man. I AM NOT AN ANIMAL! Meanwhile, I would LOVE to see the season of The Bachelor as directed by David Lynch. Because he can't do TV and would pour on the dwarves and get this show shitcanned after four episodes.
Estella feels weird. It's "different" for her. Bob thinks she's over-thinking things. He confessionalizes that he can only imagine how difficult it is for the women to go on dates with him when they care about him, because he is also dating their friends. I'm sorry, did he say "I could only imagine"? Was he not in this very same situation, way back when the tables are turned? God, I hope Roy is doing okay.
Bob and Estella watch a fake Vegas volcano through the window, just as her own emotions erupt forth in a blazing moment of honesty (in other words, Estella rambles drunkenly). Bob pretends to be understanding while covertly inching his hands closer to Estella's boobies. Estella isn't feeling well and has to go to the bathroom. Is she gonna hurl? Awesome. I'd really been missing Amber from last season just lately. Bob leads her to the restroom. She is totally freaking him out now. She cries and cries in a confessional, and also in the bathroom of their hotel suite, where she adds scary and nonsensical whispering to her repertoire. Bob confessionalizes that, up to this point, Estella has been perfect. But tonight they had a little "bump in the road." Cue doom-infused minor chord. End of date.
Group date. Bob poses in his Ray-Ban shades in front of a hot air balloon. Wow. That's hot. Lee-Ann, Meredith, and Brooke show up and hop into the balloon. Bob says that he's talked to the balloon...what, drivers? who has confirmed that "they have no way of knowing where the hell we're going." There's no earthly way of knowing...which direction we are going. These girls could learn a great deal from a riverboat trip with Wonka, is all I'm saying. Do I need to regale you with the tale of poor little Augustus Gloop? Because sometimes Bob's complexion makes him look a little covered in caramel.
The hot air balloon travels over mountains and valleys, and ends up in Wonderland, as Bob and the girls play a spirited game of croquet, which was awesome in Heathers and now a little queer. Still, that movie. So great. "Will someone tell me why I keep watching this awful show?" "Because you're an idiot?" "Oh, that's it."
Bob takes Meredith aside for some private time. He asks how things are going in the house, and then tells her how much he likes all of the ladies who are left. Way to romance her, Fatsanova. Meredith says in a confessional, "Bob told me that he doesn't know what he's going to do. He likes everyone. I just find it ridiculous that, you know, he loves or likes everyone the exact same. It's just not normal." They would talk through these knotty issues further, but they've gotta motor or they're going to be totally late for Kurt and Ram's funeral.
Bob talks some more about how much he likes everyone, and how the whole thing is "a convoluted mess." Yep. You said it, freak-diggity. He takes some private time with Brooke, who asks him how he feels about the fact that she didn't get a one-on-one date. He talks some more about how tough it is to be The Bachelor. Oh, poor Bob who likes all the ladies so very much! How can he possibly cope with it all? He even invokes Trista's name. Say it two more times and she appears and grants a wish.
Now it's Lee-Ann's private time. She asks Bob how he's feeling about the rose ceremony. He tells her that he's had some amazing connections, and that he's just "reeling." Hmmm. She doesn't look so pleased about that. She confessionalizes that hearing about his strong connection with other girls "just pierced [her] heart." Like a stake that turned her soulless self to dust. Back to her and Bob. She cries out, "It shouldn't be this hard! Why is it so hard?" Once again, so porn-y! Bob continues to forget, conveniently, that he was once on a show with the exact same pretense (but, y'know with the tables turned and all) and says, "The fact that they're having to hear about me dating their friends...I'd be pissed too." Cue doom-infused minor chord. End of date.
Back to the ladies' villa. Shenanigans in the pool. Lots of supple bodies in bikinis. Bob's friends are leaving. Jamie thinks that the girls are "phenomenally hot." Bye Jamie! And one more thing...LOOK OUT! Just kidding! We love you despite your panic-inducing anxiety disorder.
Now to the date with Kelly Jo, who brings lobsters and flowers to Bob's house. He calls her a "sassy lady." Bob suggestively wardrobes Kelly Jo in an apron as she suggestively wiggles her ass. Ah, the exotic mating rituals of the heteros. As Bob pours the water out of the lobster pot, Kelly Jo says, "Your hands are busy right now -- I can just abuse you!" Bob feeds her bits of lobster claw. She confessionalizes, "It was just so romantic. We're so comfortable...using our hands and feeding each other. It was wonderful." Then she whips out a conveniently located photo album. And guess what? Kelly Jo has a dead father, too. And he taught her so much about how to live. Kelly Jo's dead father would have loved Bob, according to Kelly Jo. Smooching. Bob appreciates that Kelly Jo is willing to share herself. In more ways than one, wacka-wacka.
Kelly Jo disrobes at the pool, and she totally has a hot little bod. She says that Bob is, for her, absolute perfection: "He's everything I've ever wanted in a man." You know what the lesson here is? If you have low expectations, you will never be disappointed. Kelly Jo, too, is falling in love with Bob. She knows that he could make her completely happy. Big-time making out in the hot tub. Soft fade. End of date. Kelly Jo is totally going to win. I don't know where she's from, but they totally have second homes there too, I bet.
"Going into tonight's Rose Ceremony, I still have a lot to think about," Bob confessionalizes going into tonight's Rose Ceremony. Tons of things. Troubled hair care. The skyrocketing price of real estate purchases in Florida. How to keep Nana jokes fresh even as her freshness fades. The whole package. As the ladies file into Bob's Villa, he adds that more than one woman could make him happy for the rest of his life, so "it's difficult" to think about sending two of them home. And the rest of his life is a very long time, so he should probably consider this decision carefully. Someone he'll be with for the rest of his life. Or, if he chooses Mary, the short rest of hers.
The women file in, marching in single file because all they ever really needed to know they learned in kindergarten. Which is why most of them know how to listen and follow directions, but few of them appear to maintain the cognitive skills required for, say, math. I don't know. I'm just guessing. Brooke walks in first, and Bob offers every ounce of the pre-boot disingenuousness he can muster with this: "You look beautiful. As always." Muh-huh. Kelly Jo takes this opportunity to confessionalize, "I love the girls, but that's over right now. It's all about Bob." Yep. That's totally a hell of a strategy, wouldn't you say? Coat yourself in sugary sweetness, but when push comes to shove, become Lee-Ann. I hope that shit is on the reunion special, because it's time to call some people out on their shit is all I'm saying. Oh, wait. I forgot that I kind of like Kelly Jo. In either case, Bob is wearing a silver tie tonight and he looks like Johnny Dangerously.
Bob hugs Mary and she fails to let go. Realizing that she's failed to distinguish herself as the only woman in Bob's life just yet, Mary's desperation seems to have led to her trying to take Bob in through her pores. It's such a sad sight that I feel compelled to write a plaintive song about it. And I have a sneaking suspicion that the refrain won't be complete until it melds the words "osmosis" with "osteoporosis" in a union more ideal than the one Bob and Mary will never end up experiencing.
"Tonight's going to be a weird night for everybody," Bob explains to the ladies, moments later. It's like he just realized that the husk of a perfect coif we used to call Chris Harrison has utterly jumped ship, and he's rushed in to fill the void where the cornerstone of a reality-show host used to be. "It's gonna be good and bad, all at the same time." Oh my god, just like life! From just behind him, Mary saunters in, having run upstairs to check on the rapidly aging portrait of her, stashed away in the attic. Yup. Still old.
Bob and Mary retreat outside and onto the lanai. Bob tells us that "she's a very passionate woman." I deny that! "There's no denying that." Well, never mind, then! That increasingly familiar noise of two smacky faces meeting in the night in front of a microphone positioned sixteen inches from their faces kicks up again, as they're all, "Smack smack, gurgle gurgle." Bob whispers some pillow talk though there are no pillows, but I tend to miss what he says when he's in a profile shot, because that's usually when his sideburns look me right in the eye and then leap through my TV screen and take a swipe. Oh, fine, I'll tell you: "I just wish I had more time to spend with you." After that, Tracie and I spend a long, long time discussing why he called her "Maria." Actually, it started with us divorcing ourselves from the fact that we both thought he said, "I wish I had more time to spend with you, Maureen." Which I believe was a more popular form of nomenclature back in the old country from whence Mary came, though I'll bet it was still a radical departure from the names her peers usually got. I'll bet her sisters names are Gertrude and Dorothy. Or Rose, Blanche, and Sophia. They are out on the lanai, after all. Mary tells Bob that she really wants a rose, adding as a means of dampening the rank smell of opportunism such rose-begging can often give off, "More than I want a rose, I want you." Kiss kiss. Love love. In a confessional, Mary issues this somewhat challenging syntactical exercise. Parse with me! "Each and every time that I get near Bob, my heart confirms what it feels, and that's my love for him." Should we post that in the haiku thread? Because it's six syllables too long. What the hell does that mean? On their way back into the house, Bob is overheard complimenting Mary's dress, as he tells her, "This crimson ensemble looks lovely on you." That is, bar none, the gayest fashion utterance in the history of television by a non-Cojocaro, ever.
Lee-Ann fares thee well with a "ciao, chicas" when she's called to worship at the Altar Of Bob. The Altar Of Bob is also Bob, himself. By the way. As she steps out, the rest of the girls are all, "Ciao to you to, stank," and it takes a crack team of Mary, working around the clock, just to translate Lee-Ann's multilingual parting shot. Well, she gets the second word of it, anyway. The first part, though? Lost to Babel.
Meredith tells it like it is: "I absolutely don't want to see Lee-Ann get a rose tonight." Which is so crazy, seeing as we'd all been laboring under the mistaken notion that Meredith wanted to see Lee-Ann showered in ten million roses, all day all night. As the couple hit the lanai, the action turns inside to find Meredith, Kelly Jo, Estella, and Brooke, not enjoying responsibly, and eavesdropping. Man. Why not just put one of your sixteen empty glasses up to a wall somewhere and you'll be able to hear the whole conversation with crystal clear, Stakeout-gleaned ease?
Outside, Bob tells Lee-Ann that he got a chance to speak with his friends, and Lee-Ann plays defense, volleying, "I'm sure they had nothing but fabulous things to say about me." Lee-Ann tells Bob that she loves his friends, "no matter what happens," and back inside, Meredith mumbles, "I can tell you what's gonna happen." And yet we were surprised when Lee-Ann was booted. We should have just talked to Meredith. Lee-Ann -- and, okay, this really is kind of pathetic -- keeps talking, telling Bob, "All day I was thinking, who would be the two that would go, and I cannot even imagine because everyone's so awesome." Oh, my god. That is so transparently pandering. Pandertown Village, USA. If she were an Australian tree dweller, she's be a Pander Bear. We know you don't like the other girls, and we know they hate you. At this point, own it. Inside, Meredith and Kelly Jo react accordingly, Kelly Jo laughing hysterically and Meredith offering the somewhat less concise "If I could choke myself with this bracelet, uh, this necklace, I would." Good one. Back outside, Bob asks Lee-Ann if she needs to know anything about him ahead of a "decision" she might make later in the evening, and Lee-Ann correctly responds, "I'm not making a decision." She tells Bob that if he offers a rose she's going to take it, quite confusingly adding, "I definitely want you to play my dad in Horse." The first person who can correctly tell me what the hell that means, I will challenge your dad to a rousing game of Horse. And know this: I. Will. Win. Unless you don't have a dad. In which case I'll play your Nana. Lee-Ann reminds us of the ultimatum where he lied to her about giving her a rose this week. "I don't care what anyone thinks. I will get a rose." Uh-huh. Is "saying everything the opposite of the way that it actually happened" one of the rules to "Horse"?
Bob and Kelly Jo lie horizontal on a giant couch (that ate the ottoman that ate the something that swallowed the fly that...oh, never mind), Kelly Jo telling Bob, "My family is my life." She wants to let him know about her fond memories of her father. She wants to let us know that she falls more in love with Bob every time she's with him. I feel that way too, except with Horse rules applying.
You know what makes me a total freakin' tool? I mean, besides my extensive Hummel figurine collection? What makes me a tool is that I know AND I care that this episode is the rare episode where Bob's trip to the Room Of Reckoning isn't its own segment with commercials on either side. I guess this visit to the Room Of Reckoning was so short or so not compelling that they were able to squish it in to the very end of a longer segment. I know that. And it hasn't made me any better a man.
Chris hates -- HATES -- his life. Even the color of his tie is sarcastic. Bob tells him that this has been a "different" kind of night, and Chris snips, "What's different?" Bob responds, "I want to make sure that I make the right decisions, because one of these women could very easily end up being my wife." Chris believes in love, so he leaves Bob alone to watch the video messages. Lee-Ann thanks Bob, and tells him, "Come to my hometown, so my dad can beat you at a game of basketball." Sport after sport after sport! Lee-Ann's father is kind of a sportsman, eh? Not to mention maybe kind of a competitive jerk. Meredith had fun on her one-on-one time. Estella had an amazing time in Vegas. I think she's still loaded. Mary tells him that "it doesn't take a roller coaster to make [her] heart start beating fast." Oh, those weird menopausal flutters. Bob knows so much about them from hearing about them from his own mom, I'll bet. She continues, "Hand me my rose and I can lay a big, fat, wet one on you." Right after pinching his cheeks until they're raw and bloody, and telling him she hasn't seem him since he was thiiiiiiis tall! Brooke wants a rose. No way! Kelly Jo is wearing some serious earrings, and tells Bob that she can imagine "waking up to [him] for the rest of [her] life." But in the end, don't we all sleep alone? I mean, if given the choice between him and alone?
Chris blee blee blam blimmity blam, two girls will leave, blerp.
Bob enters, taking his place to the post of roses, and tells them, "By accepting this rose and opening your hears and your homes to me, I feel greatly appreciative. So thank you." Thank you to the following four:
Kelly Jo, will you accept this rose? Dude, I've gone on business trips just for a free trip home also. Smoothly turned.
Mary, will you accept this rose? Renew your passports, folks. We're going south of the Border, down Mexico way!
Estella, will you accept this rose? Crap, he totally got her confused with Meredith again, didn't he?
Shut up, Chris
Meredith, will you accept this rose? Nana would be so proud! But it would pass after ten or fifteen minutes or so.
I can't stop doing that.
Brooke cries and cries, hugging Bob and leaving graciously. She tells us she'll walk away regretting that she didn't tell him how interested she was in him. We'll regret not having the chance to tell her that it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference if she had.
And then! Fireworks! Drama! Wild, spiteful, howling cries! Right?
Or no. Lee-Ann takes it like a lady, giving Bob a hug and telling him it was nice meeting him. She tells us -- without a tear, mind you -- "I don't know what happened...If one of the girls told Bob something bad about me and he listened to it...then, yuck. Grow up. Grow a freakin' spine and make your own decisions." She adds that she was a "great catch," and that she wishes they had ended up together. Well, we've all wished a lot of things that didn't come true. But seriously, Bob? Look, dude, if you didn't want to play that game of Horse, all you freakin' had to do was say so.