By Djb
Props to Potes and the good folks over at timrice.com.
Sth'Clifford!
We open this week to find Andrew "Tire, Tire, Pants On" Firestone striding alongside a similarly suited "And Introducing Your Center Square" Chris Harrison, the two reaching and climbing a few stairs together from the lanai to the front entryway of the vaunted Housa Bitches. They turn toward each other, and Chris opens his arms widely, recalling the intimacy he felt with Trista and reminding us all that sometimes the bond between Bachelor and Host is stronger than any of us can understand, and, well, Andrew, would you like a hug? No. No, it appears he would not. Left hanging like in so many seasons past, Chris drops his arms and goes in for a totally yeah-this-is- where-my-hands- were-heading- all-along- they-just-took- the-looooong- way-around handshake, asking Andrew, "You ready for this?" Andrew tosses back a spirited "Let's go!" But Chris doesn't feel like he's pumped [clap] Andrew up quite enough, so he repeats the same question quite a bit more loudly, like one of those inspirational sports coaches who says the same thing over and over again in those movies about inspirational sports coaches I'm always scanning past on ESPN Classic when I'm fumbling around the dial looking for a new episode of So Graham Norton. Andrew responds accordingly, yelping, "Let's go!" like the poor-ass scholarship kid who needs to win this game so he can get into college and out of the gang scene, pumping his fist and just failing to produce a gigantic vat of Gatorade for him to pour over his coach after they prove to be the triumphant victors in something called "the big game." Anyway, that's what they look like. They're pumped. Chris offers Andrew a rousing "Here's your first limo," putting one hand on his shoulder and indicating the approaching car with a sweeping and-here's- what's-behind- curtain-number-two gesture before adding topically, "Andrew, let the journey begin." Judges? Journey: 1. Connection: 0. Originality: 29. Our guest judge this week is clearly from Puttin' on the Hits. By the way.
The first limo pulls up -- say, are those Firestone tires you're wearing? -- and we finally get a chance to meet the girls! Er, again!
First out of the car is Tina, who shakes Andrew's hand and offers a simple "Hi" in her simple black dress and simple blondness. We recall a spot of her pre-interview from which we saw clips in last week's non-episode, in which we newly learn why she thinks she would make a great wife: "I would definitely let the guy watch football and have all of his friends over and give him beer and make him food. And then I would leave. With his credit card." And clearly this show has always been where feminism fears to dwell, but that shocking entry in Gilfriend's Guide to Being Your Gender's Biggest Cliché set the woman's movement back literally XXXVII years. That's right, people. Back to the very day the Super Bowl was invented.
up is Liz, wearing a red dress that's got a shoulder's worth of fabric missing from it. I like the color and all, but most of that thing is in the shape of a pageant sash that should read "Miss Off The Rack Sample Sale Of Flawed And Damaged Merchandise 2003." Or, more to the point, "Miss Shapen." It's an ugly dress. She tells us in voice-over, "This is the ultimate matchmaker. Someone out there thinks that I could possibly be perfect for this guy who's incredible." Just remember Liz: it's a little less romantic to be hit by Cupid's arrow when it's shot from the bow of co-executive producer Jason Carbone. He's the "someone out there" to which you're referring. Does this whole thing seem a bit less cosmic and magical yet? Yeah, I thought so.
Elizabeth is wearing a dress made entirely from the chaise lounge on Rose's lanai, I think. Vandal! Giant blue flowers against a slightly bluer background. She takes Andrew's hand brusquely and tells him with an overly animated eye roll that it's a "pleasure to finally meet you," offering that he looks "great." Considering her following interview, I think she means that he looks "rich." And what she says is this: "My dad says that he's a father with beer money, with daughters who have champagne tastes. And I strive to get that champagne." Well, saddle her up and hitch her out west! Elizabeth's diggin' for gold! But first, honey, change the curtains that are your dress.
"I've been in pageants for the past five years," Stephanie reminds us. Stephanie has apparently killed Gwyneth (yay!) and made off with her Shakespeare in Love Oscar dress (boo!). Man, has she got some Crazy Eyes. She hopes against hope: "That's what I'm here for. To get that ring. Hopefully he'll see who I am and what I'm about and he will choose me." So confident is she that she hazards a thumbs-up toward the camera after she parts company with Andrew. She wants that ring! Maybe Carbone's arrow shoots at thee.
Christina is also wearing something off of one shoulder, but hey, when you reach her rapidly-advancing age, you can start dressing crazy and the kids aren't allowed to heckle you on your way to the condo complex's clubhouse. Obviously, I'm kidding. She's only thirty. That's not old, but on this show it's made to look unappealing and almost unmarryable, I think. When, in reality, the only unappealing and unmarryable thing about Christina is her feathery, Farah Fawcett hair.
Sometimes, when Andrew says "nice to meet you" -- which is all he's really said so far -- he sounds like he's intentionally trying to make his voice lower. I think the reason he's perceived by many as "cute" instead of "hot" is because he's "twelve" instead of "legal." Is that the twist that awaits us? If not, is Fox reading my recap and fixing to steal my pitch for a reality show called Barely Legal? 'Cause they'd do it, y'all. Just let them try.
A new limo! Say, are those Firestone tires you're wearing?
Christina from Florida is first out of this one. She both has the same name as the girl who directly preceded her, and she looks identical to all of the blondes who have come before. Christina from Florida is generic, both in her physical makeup and in the way that chicks dig cash. How do I know the latter? Here's how: "I've always had a very comfortable life, so I expect the same for my future and my children." She's wearing a black dress that has a weird stringy webbing on the front of it that would make me want to use it for a rousing game of Cat's Cradle and then not give her a rose.
Virginia introduces herself as "Virginia," but that's not what the press notes say. She shakes Andrew's hand with a hearty "Well, hello, stranger." Shut up, Ginny. You don't have a prayer.
Blondes have more name-brand confusion, as the old saying goes. I'll bet Kirsten probably even confuses herself with Christina sometimes.
I told y'all I thought Amy was a groovy local chick last week, but she shouldn't go strapless like I shouldn't go strapless. Her shoulders kind of pitch forward, as if leading the rest of her body. Toward imminent elimination. She stridently tells us, "Not many guys that I've known are faithful to begin with, and half the time when they're romancing you, they're romancing a hundred other girls anyway. This way, I just know who it is. As opposed to not knowing." Strictly speaking, I have no idea what any of that meant.
Of the ever-increasing coalition of Dyed and Undyed Many Blondes (DUMB), I'll grant that Amber is probably the prettiest. She tells us that she's looking for "the one," noting that she's "sick of the bar scene." She's twenty-three! She's only been allowed to go inside of these bars legally for two years! That's all I'll say to that.
Just as Andrew seems lost in his seemingly neverending continued reverie of DUMB, Chris steps into the place where the comely woman should be (thought you could slip in a kiss under the radar, eh, smartie?) and offers Andrew a break. Chris reminds us that Andrew's just met "the first ten," and asks him if any of them made "an impression." Andrew volleys back, "My last name is Firestone. But we're really into wine now." Actually, he doesn't. But come on. Like he doesn't have enough practice with that turn of phrase. What he actually says is "It's difficult to say right off." That's because he only knows the words "I'm Andrew. It's nice to meet you."
Limo #3! Say, are those Firestone tires you're...oh, never mind.
Audree is still a Mormon.
Brooke is still Eddie Izzard in a Brooke mask. With the rest of the girls, it's "rose or no rose." With Brooke, the choice of "cake or death" is perhaps slightly less clear.
Kerri is "educated" and "family-oriented," but worries about "being herself" because that "gets her into trouble." Whatever. At least she's not blonde.
Angela and her helium voice and crazy, crazy prom hair aren't going to get chosen, so what's the point in wasting all of our time, really?
Amy's choppy hair and simple black dress endear her to me immediately. She tells us, "Within the first five minutes of meeting a guy, I know that I either want to rip off his clothes or just tell him to go on his way." She and Andrew shake hands. He likes her smile. She likes his tie. It's love at first backhanded compliment.
And, finally, to Limo #4. They're fucking Michelin, okay?
Ladies and gentlemen, get a load of Heather. She's DUMB too, but only in an acronym kind of way. And the other way, too, that means not so smart. She and her dress have been attacked by the Bedazzler, I'm sad to report. There's a strand of hair she can't get out from in front of her face. The hair is blond. Though not all of it. Not really at the top.
Courtney shakes Andrew's hand but neglects to climb the all-important step all of the other women remember to climb. It's an awkward moment, and she's six feet taller than Andrew is even before she finally finds her way onto equal footing. No chance.
DUMB Rachel finds no shame in telling us, "I do like Martha Stewart." She tells us exactly what type of wedding ("An evening wedding, with my bridesmaids in simple black dresses with pearls") she wants. But she doesn't mention that it matters who it's to, sadly.
Tina and Andrew have a confusing conversation that goes poorly. Here it is now. Tina: "You have to keep me tonight, because I have a lot of clothes I can't take back, okay?" Andrew: "Take back to where?" Tina: "To any store." She laughs at that a lot louder than he does. In Andrew's family, when clothes don't fit anymore, they just burn them. More than they burn rubber, that's for sure. Because it's all about the wine, actually.
Anne-Michelle is still an actress, she's still from L.A., and she's still not pretty.
And now, what I wrote at this point in my first recap of The Bachelorette: "Oh, my god. Enough. I feel like I'm recapping Meet the Phone Book. How many people has this been? Ack! Another limo!" I know it's the height of narcissism to quote my own self, but you've got to admit it's better than another tire joke, right? RIGHT?
Andrew really likes Kirsten's red dress. She tells us in an interview, "Sometimes I can be a drama queen," adding, "I think drama makes things interesting." And she's the first reality-show contestant ever to think so.
Shannon reminds us that she's competed "in beauty pageants since [she] was eighteen years old." She adds, "Pageants have taught me to go after what I want." She and Andrew compliment each other's eyes, but you can tell from the word go that she's just too lumbering to be his type for the long haul. Beauty school dropout. No graduation day (or rose) for you.
Jen tells us that when you meet the right person, you just know. That one time I fell in love in a Hallmark card, the exact same thing happened to me.
Jennifer has a name that sounds almost exactly like Jen's name.
Because Tiffany is last and because she wasn't given a fair shake by her jury of one, let's listen to her whole spiel, which I have to admit I actually kind of like: "I am the whole package. I cook, I clean, I sing. I'm a vixen in the bedroom. Just kidding. Sorry, Mom." Except I like how she does it. Quickly, humanely, and never in a pageant. My kind of girl.
Andrew stands out front with Chris, pretty much the only person around who wouldn't give everything s/he had to Andrew, mind, body, and spirit. Or maybe he would. I'm not here to judge. Chris and Andrew pace uncomfortably for a second, until Chris blurts out, "What are you waiting for..." and barely suppresses the follow-up that would finally reveal the depths of his emotional longing: "...a hug?"
Andrew saunters into the main room, and the girls all turn around to face him. To my endless fury, many of them actually break into spontaneous applause. What has he done in his life to inspire a standing ovation? From anyone? He clasps his hands together with the weirdest humility I've ever interpreted as phony, bowing slightly in that regal way that tells a room of would-be brides, "My great-grandfather dined with Schwab." He thanks them for coming, eliciting an easy laugh with the line, "I'll have to try all of your names again one more time." Ha ha, they live in a brothel. The women force smiles as they claw each other out of the way for attention. Outside, Elizabeth tells us that "those dimples are to die for," furthering speculation that those youthful features will finally fade once he is no longer, by state standards, a youth. Amy is not the last person to tell us that Andrew has "the coolest eyes," which, as I mentioned on the forums, is a lovely quality, but not one that tends to translate to the thirteen-inch cube that is my recapping television. Andrew feigns interest in Jennifer's "I'm a pharmacist" introduction, wondering why people don't all just have jobs that make them debonair and hugely wealthy. Like, why don't homeless people just open wineries? He made the big career change, so why can't they, right? Stephanie tells us, "He's mah ideal gah." Audree likes him. Tiffany "felt chemistry." Amy asks Andrew, "Why'd you do it," and a bizarre exchange follows in which he tells three of the girls, I think, not to throw rocks at each other. The drama continues seeping out of this episode like so many flattening...wineries.
Okay, weird moment. Girl Whose Name I Don't Know Yet sits with Other Girl Whose Name I Don't Know Yet in front of a roaring fire (totally necessary for Malibu during the months of...never), while Christina from Florida sits to L'il Orphan Andy on the couch. And the only reason I could even remember who Christina from Florida was is because I ran a control-F on the words "cat's cradle," and she and her dress were what helpfully popped up. Anyway, Other Girl Whose Name I Don't Know Yet asks out of seeming nowhere, "Are you a hunter? Do you hunt?" Andy cops to a distinction I don't understand: "I shoot, but I don't hunt." What is that, poorly translated ancient logic from the teachings of Zen-Tsu's The Art of Skeet? Christina takes offense: "No animals?" Andy admits to shooting birds, and Christina frets, "I'm a major animal lover." Dial it down, Judgy the Whale. Let's not forget who the decision rests with here. Regardless, though, Andy hems and haws, admitting in a subsequent (or so we're led to believe) interview, "Numerous times I felt like a bumbling idiot." You? Stop it!
Background noise. Buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz. Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb, peas and carrots, elephant shoes, etc. Somewhere in that cacophony, a rumor is organically planted without the slightest intervention from any producers whatsoever. And this rumor, according to bird enthusiast Christina, speaking by the pool: "The word is so far that he comes from this extremely wealthy family." I think Andy just got a whole lot more appealing to Christina. And this kind-hearted animal lover wouldn't need a mink from her man, when she could just as easily have a coat made entirely of currency. "Love my money coat! Kiss my money coat!" she might say.
But seriously, why be so coy? Andy explains to a gaggle of girls that he splits his time between San Francisco and Santa Barbara, and that they "make wine" in his family. Outside, Amy with the cool, choppy hair guesses that Andrew's a Coppola, maybe, and Amber, looking weirdly less pretty all of a sudden, says that she knows he's important but that she doesn't know who he is. Yet Still Another Girl Whose Name I Don't Know Yet asks him point blank, "Are you a Gallo?" A Gallo? Are they a royal wine family? I bring Gallo wine to shitty parties when I stop at the liquor store on my way to the subway. It costs eight dollars. It would be like one of them becoming totally enamored of a Bachelor who was all, "You may recognize me from the royal winemaking hyphenated family of Turning-Leaf" or "We own a winery on a stretch of unsoiled land known around the world as Boon's Farm." Hating tact for being such a conversational inhibitor (particularly after what seems like several glasses of that smooth Firestone wine!), Brooke dives right in out on the lanai: "So, Andrew, what's your last name?" A moment of oh-Christ-he's-rich passes over the faces of the assemblage after he responds, and we cut inside the house to a mounted black-and-white photograph of Andy's grand-grandpappy sitting around with Edison, Ford, and Schwab. This dude is obsessed with the cachet he assumes the Schwab family name carries, I think. Good thing there was the secondary source material of that photo just coincidentally hanging in the house so that Andrew was better able to illustrate the characters in the dark family history I thought he was working so hard to hide. Say, folks? Question: what's worse than fretting about woman wanting you for your cash when they find out you've been hiding your family's monied legacy? Answer: not being a millionaire. So cram it, Andy.
Inside, at a different moment, Elizabeth asks, "What's your last name?" Andrew offers it up again, and Elizabeth rather humorously responds, "Like the tires...that I have on my car?" He's quick on the defensive: "We make wine now." Outside, Rachel tries it out: "Rachel Leigh Firestone. I don't know. It could work." It won't work.
Andrew tells the camera, "We make wine now." It's really all I can hear anymore. What he really says is, "I've been pleasantly surprised that there are twenty-five girls who are willing to risk it all and see what could potentially come of this." We move onto one-on-one time, during which Andy can sit down with each of the girls for three to five minutes in order to begin scientifically narrowing down which one he's in love with enough to shower love and coats made of money on for the rest of his mortal days. Let's start with Christina from Florida. Again.
They sit outside the house, Christina beginning, "So little time, so many girls to talk to." Andy makes a strange, constipated noise that connotes frustration or constipation, responding, "It could be worse. It could be a lot of time and no girls to talk to." Ah, yes. Guy Sitting in a Room by Himself, the reality television craze that's sweeping the America and the miniscule parts of Canada blessed with the English language, bless their frozen souls. Christina shares with us that she's "confident" that she'll get a rose at the end of the night. I would say something about it being the most shocking ever, but now that the contestants themselves have lampooned that gag in the closing credits shakedown, it's pretty much dead for good. Nevertheless, it will be. The most. Shocking. Rose. Ceremony. Ever.
Audree and Andy sit outside, Andy asking Audree a question merely as a segue to tell a story about himself. He wants to know, "When was the last time you were..." He trails off. "...In a serious relationship?" she finishes. Well, I guess because she got to finish the question, he gets to talk , and Andy tells her, "I missed that." I think he said "missed" it, meaning he hasn't had much experience in serious relationships, and I think Audree thinks he said "miss" it, meaning he was recently in a serious relationship but that he isn't anymore. I think. I'm not sure which is right, but if I'm right, it makes her congressional filibuster on the merits of having somebody there for the "last call of the day" sound kind of invalid. Which is a pretty interesting booze metaphor, coming as it does from someone who drinks only the glory of the Lord, rather than sipping from the cauldron of the devil's poison, whether at last call or during any other time of the day as well.
Y'all know that ubiquitous Sims commercial when the Sims mom catches her Sims daughter playing strip poker with her three friends and takes over the game? The mom's dress, her facial expression, and her plastic, pixelated facial expression are identical to those of Stephanie's as she turns her Crazy Eyes on Andrew. She tells us that they had a great conversation, and that Andy seems like someone she could "really settle down with." Well then, it's just a matter of stealing that big spinning diamond away from the other girls and making sure it keeps floating over her head long enough to get her man to the Sims altar and into a house they build themselves.
Amy is cold, so gallant Andy gives her his jacket in absence of a puddle for him to lay the thing over for her to walk on. I told you she shouldn't have gone strapless.
Andy and Tina bond over beer.
Andy and Liz talk about Chicago and fun, Liz saying without irony, "I live in Chicago! It's all fun!" What she means is, of course, "I live in Chicago! Michigan Avenue is Fifth Avenue with the stores in a different order!"
Andy and Old Christina talk about whether or not he believes in love at first sight, his response evasive enough to belie his true meaning, "I do believe in love at first sight. With somebody besides you."
Oooh, we're through the looking glass now, people. We're inside the house, watching Andrew and Kristen (or, wait, is that Kirsten?) talk to each other while the rest of the women sit inside and cattily judge. One of them notes that they're mirroring the other's body language, which is a good sign for Kristen/Kirsten. However, Andy shifts then to sit with his arms crossed, which they deem "defensive" and a good sign for them. In voice-over, Audree fills us in that things are getting "competitive." Back outside, Tina tells Andy that she's "ready to move to the step." She is vaguely mannish. Angela claims that she's not going to "compete for his attention," and Christina tells us that the whole thing seems kind of "high school-y." Brooke claims that she and Andrew have "chemistry." She'd "definitely like to walk away with a rose." Elizabeth makes the sign of the cross. Stephanie, per Stephanie, "will definitely get a rose tonight." Just then, Chris kills the party completely, clanging his wineglass with a knife and pulling Andrew away. Andy it sitting between two women on the couch, and he shakes his head, afraid, when Chris tries to take him away. Heh. The women bray with laughter, and they exit the room as Andy tells us in an interview, "I certainly hope I don't miss something and make a mistake."
Chris and Andy sit down in their private chamber, Chris asking if this experience has been everything he thought it would be so far, Andy responding that it's been "wild," not stopping to add "I swear it" because this is not "What Have You Done For Me Lately" and he is not Janet Jackson. He's just not tall enough. Chris asks which of the women made Andy's "jaw drop" when she got out of the limos, and at least two of the final four are solidified ninety weeks in advance when Andy tells us that Amber and Kirsten "both were glowing." Audree is "stunning" as well, he adds, and "direct." One of the girls who "didn't make a huge impression" at the beginning was Liz, but that she grew on him as the night went on. Andy promises that paring the list down from twenty-five to fifteen won't be an easy decision. Chris picks up the roses in this weird bamboo carrying case (I totally miss the All of Me bowl featured in Bachelorette seasons of old) and leaves Andy pondering why he's left staring at thirteen pictures of Heather. Or Amber. Or...oh, never mind.
Chris returns to the hallway to find the expectant women waiting...er, expectantly. Chris offers a cordial "good evening," and explains the Law Of The Roses because the people on this show have surely never seen an episode of this show before. Andrew steps out then, The Giant Rug Of Emotional Gulf standing between him and the woman who one day may become his bride until Page Six reports that they got into a boozy fight and threw tequila all over each other at Rehab or Fun and then one of them stormed out, crying. And she was upset, too.
"I don't see this as dismissing ten of you, but rather inviting fifteen of you to get to know me a little bit better. So here goes." Here it goes, indeed:
Kirsten, will you accept this rose? She's surprised, I think, and eyes so suddenly wide on a face so statically narrow creates a geometry so unlikely that math doesn't make sense anymore and the earth plunges in to darkness and chaos. Other than that, she was a pretty good choice for him.
Amber, will you accept this rose? Has staring into the clueless, vacuous, vacant eyes of someone so dumb ever actually made you dumber? If so, I'm Charlie and Algernon ain't never getting his flowers.
Rachel, will you accept this rose? Who?
Liz, will you accept this rose? She thanks Andrew and walks away with a minimum of emotion. She knows she's one rose closer to having to wear that awful wedding gown. Like, in public and stuff.
Tina from Wisconsin, will you accept this rose? Certainly, Andrew from Richland, USA.
Christina from New Jersey, will you accept this rose? Awwww, kindness to old ladies! Giving Christina a rose is akin to helping an old lady across the street. Or across that rug, as the case may be. Andy's gonna qualify for a merit badge for his Cub Scout uniform. When he's old enough, I mean.
Elizabeth, will you accept this rose? She'd be "honored." There's something sassy about her I kind of like. That, or the dress just reminds me so much of my grandmother's plastic-covered couches at her old house in Rockville Center that looking at so much clashing floral print makes me feel like I've gone home again, in a way.
Amy from South Carolina, will you accept this rose? Cool hair, Amy.
Jen from Illinois, will you accept this rose? Also, who in the living hell are you?
Anne-Michelle, will you accept this correspondent position on Extra? I mean, this rose?
Audree, will you accept this rose? Don't smile so much, Audree. He can't marry all of you. Oh, wait. He can! He can marry all of you!
Shannon, will you accept this rose? "Absolutely." This is her last week, folks. Mark your day planners.
Heather, will you accept this rose? "I would love to." And it seems like she may be the only person who'd "love to."
Christina from Florida, will you accept this rose? Look what I made with her dress! The Statue of Liberty! This game is hard!
Chris steps in to note that there is one more rose tonight, because it's in his contract to state the obvious and make himself look stupid. That's some kind of bum contract you've got there, friend.
Tina from Tennessee, will you accept this rose? I like her.
Chris returns to the fray to note, "Ladies, thank you all. But if you did not receive a rose tonight, take a moment and say your goodbyes." Hugs ensue, poor Tiffany from Ohio taking the classy route and giving Andy a hug. Stephanie bemoans the fact that she's usually the "runner-up" if not the winner, noting that she's "disappointed." Ginny worries that this means that she's "not very pretty," and Brooke wonders if she should still go through with her plan to give Andy that DVD copy of Dress to Kill she brought for him in a Tiffany box. She decides "fuck it," and expresses hope that she'll find "true love" one day. Andy, meanwhile, tells us that making the decision was "hard," but remains convinced that his future wife was not thrown out with the bath water. The remaining fifteen women clink champagne glasses with the man who will never become their husband, savoring the fine Firestone vintage and celebrating the foresight of Andy's parents for getting out of the business and preventing them from toasting with tires.