The Bachelorette Recap #2: Twilliding Away A Rose

Let me first begin with: F. U. ABC. Why is this episode as long as the season-opener? And two, will they all be this long? What happened to programming which exists within the acceptable parameters of one half-hour or one hour? FEATURE FILMS are two hours, not faux-love reality television shows.

Oh, and I'm looking at you abc.com, fire your intern: that idiot labeled the episode-order incorrectly.

Once I figure out which part to play first, we get the exact same opening sequence from last week to remind us of our well-earned PhD's from the Brad Womack School of Heartbreak. I have a gut-feeling this stock footage will make an appearance every week; as it should: the Midwestern-mom demographic is well-known for having a sick, sick marijuana addiction, thus shooting the memory all to hell.

And speaking of Midwestern mothers, mine never read the recap I sent her so you get none of her comments. She's so supportive of my writing!

A recap of the first episode shenanigans points out Jeremy (last out of the limo, first to a rose), Jason (hiding-it daddy), and Jesse (loud jacket, louder personality). Dip shit voice overs about the incredible lengths the boys phoned in to get the Deevil's sneer: duck-called and dismissed, the Karate Are You Kidding Me?, and the wet Canadian with a charming backside. Richnerd brags to his old high school football team tormentors about his snatch-chances, and the Deevil makes them cult-chant "Oprah."

...And Tonight!

They actually show a preview of the crap we are ABOUT TO SEE. I guess it's a teaser to keep you coming back after commercials, like the nightly news without any real news bits - again, like the nightly news (or the morning news).

Most important observation of the evening: Paul (her name on his ass) is wearing some kind of golden medallion around his neck. And it might be the aviator wings they hand out to kids and Tom Cruise. Wait, no, it's a cross.

Wait no. A more important observation of the evening: Karate Joe... cannot remember his real name... is also wearing a chunky metal medallion necklace. However, this one intrigues me as it is a HORSE SHOE. Initial reaction: Colts fan! Colts fan! Friend of mine! Cold reality sets in when I figure it is just a good luck thing. I assume he wasn't wearing it when he waltzed into Supercuts for a "just a trim".

Um no. The most important observation of the evening: Ron, the divorced barber, has his sunglasses wrapped around the back of his neck. Thus ends our divorcee-alliance.

Dip shit blathers about the rules - how they have to suffer in a bunker while the rose winners get to shack up in "her" mansion.

Sappy music, a hairy chest, and condescension accompany Ron in his talking head. He's disappointed "the boys" with roses get to have a slumber party with his lady. He suggests something stupid like, "I guess all that first impression stuff matters". And may I remind you, last week he suggested something stupid like, "love finds us." At least his dating bullet points are consistently without reason.

Jesse, who has his white shades wrapped around the front of his tool-cap, Richnerd and Jeremy are welcomed by the Deevil. In her shit-pretty interview, she says the 67th most idiotic sentence of her show biz career: "I do believe this is the best way to find love." Ya got that? Well, I guess I am fucked!

Dip shit shows the boys the way to their mini-mansion, I mean barracks. It actually looks kinda rad, and I guarantee any Berkeley co-op doof would fuckin love it. RON gets another interview. He claims they're in the middle of nowhere and forced to be goat farmers. Isn't that another faux-love reality show? Is that a shameless plug for an ABC affiliate? I attempt a Google search, but fall asleep.

Upon waking, Dee shows the top three to their room. We cut away to see the bunk beds reserved for the losers. Karate Sean reveals he's never been to karate camp, as he's never shared a room with twelve other karate kids, and promises, "I want to get up into the mansion", "mansion" being a euphemism for her vagina.

Cut back to Dee showing off her 4-head shower. She comments her shower has four heads. I assume she's suggesting a group shower...

...of course, she is not. This is only a way the show can explain the cut back to the boys' shower, which is outdoors, has no privacy, and only expels freezing water. WTF? They would never pull this shit on the women. The pixelation of tiny balls must be considerably cheaper than the pixelation of waxed crotches and big chemical balls (tm Larry David).

The "big boys" from the mansion come back to the splendor of poverty where they offer the first date card to the outcasts. A bunch of dudes' names are announced, and Jason offers, talking-head style, that he is elated at his boner-fied outing, as if he has some kind of advantage dating six men.

So the date is promised to be "magical". The Deevil says she's excited, and they hijack a limo to-what looks like-a haunted house, but we're told is an "exclusive" magic club. Considering no one goes to magic clubs, I assume "exclusive" is a fancy way to explain "unoccupied" or "vacant" or "ignored, as it is undeniably boring - even kids loathe it".

There's a bunch of magic shit-filler; then the Deevil leads them into their own private magic suite and a paid Peter Pan starts in with illusions to which I am reminded of the Arrested Development episodes I own and wonder how those are doing.

ABC has really lost it, as this is the worst conceptualized and executed date ever (and I've seen many episodes of Next on MTV). The magician gives Jason the dove, and asks Dee to be his assistant. She gets her pick of a secondary, chooses Jason, and off the bird goes to Ryan. Let me add that Paul is WAY too into this whole charade and it looked like 1) Either Ryan was going to kill the dove in a ritualistic sacrifice to his God or 2) Sean might karate chop its head off as a show of his karate dexterity with even smaller animals than Jesse.

Ala kazam! Ala kazoo! The box shows up empty! Ryan's and Fred's reactions are priceless: mouths agape, worried eyes, wondering if the magician's actually disintegrated the stars of the show. Production is having too much fun editing the montage of doofus reaction shots. There is absolutely no dialogue, only a dove coo.

Cut to intact Dee and Jason, as they enter a private room for some of their own word-magic. Of course, the magician is absent from the proceedings so we get word-vomit instead. Dee obviouses Seattle has rain and Tom Hanks; Michael Jackson used to make hits; she could "drink salsa out of a bowl".

Cut back to the boys wondering if Jason would kiss and tell.

Cut back to the date where Jason doesn't kiss or tell, as he wusses out again on the kid-reveal. However, we do learn that Dee works in real estate, and would like to carry around two kids, like watermelons, "all day long". Talking head Jason justifies his ball-lessness, and we are left pondering why Jennifer Grey got that nose job. It seemed like a real career killer, if ya ask me.

Jay and Dee return to the sweaty waiting room, where Ryan has become a dove whisperer, and tells us that Jason is lucky to have smelled Dee's salsa breath up close. Then they all laugh and laugh and laugh at what a mockery they've all made of their own lives and the idea of true love itself.

Back at the bunker, the next date box is opened. Graham gets to be judged by her first. His reaction borders on happiness and sheer terror; I couldn't really tell, his dumb rubber band bracelet was blocking his face. Chris picks his ear in response and Graham deems this action as a show of "jealousy". How could they be jealous? They have a pool table!

Back at magic camp, Sean gets picked for the next one-on-one. Him and Dee enter a room, at which point Sean explains to America the science behind a "love seat". Did you guys know they were built for two people to sit on? The scene dissolves into awesome when the phantom-played piano mocks him at every syllable he utters. He gets P I S S E D. It would have been even more awesome if he would have done a spin kick to the keys, but he composes himself instead. All the while the Deevil is giggling like a witch. I love you, piano! My boyfriend plays again when Sean is trying to explain to the camera how he has something more interesting to say. (Seriously, the piano stole that whole scene. Considering its talent and range, can we get it its own show?)

Ugh, still more magic to endure. Of course, the rose is worked into the show. Amateur-hour commences, and Dee deems the tricks "little". Then Twilly makes a goddamn fool of himself. He weaves a lengthy yarn, using Greek mythology, mindless chatter, and that weirdo mouth of his. The audience falls asleep, and Twilly slays them all with his sword!

Richnerd and Dee rise from the ashes, and he gets to know her better through origami. She "aws" at him like he's mentally retarded.

Uh oh, the real mental giants discuss Dee's absence and someone, I missed who, actually says, "this is quite a process, but it is the best way to find true love." Dude, take stock: a camera crew is with you, you're in a magic club, sitting in a room with five other dudes and not a single chick, and you're not gay - exactly how is THIS scenario the best way? Then the finger-pointing starts. Twilly, trying to avoid looking desperate, offers he's just along for the ride. Ryan smarms at Twilly some shit about him not being all about winning her black heart. All I think is: Ryan looks HAMMERED. Twilly defends his honorable intentions, and I have to believe this whole show - since season one - has been entirely scripted or is the best fucking real-life-looking animation ever produced.

Then Ryan gets one-on-one time with the Boss Lady. Creepily, he catalogues his virtues: no spitting, no cumming, no cussing, no over-eating, no crossing against the light, no more looking up old ladies' skirts, no pick-pocketing, no lake-polluting, no leaving the lights on when he's not at home, no forwarding annoying emails, no yelling at his grandma to "wake up and get over yourself already", no fun, etc. She looks... scared, really. He thinks his life-rules set him apart, I think I finally get why the general public loathes Christianity. Sinners, Paul and Fred rescue her from confession and they go to a topless bar.

Fred sweetly offers he admires her for going through this hell and "putting herself out there again." She, in all of her self-aggrandizing swagger, agrees she's the strongest person ever born, and then further grosses how love is all about her fucking needs. Realizing she's made it all about her AGAIN, she attempts to find depth in Paulie. He sing-songs, "I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me." He interviews her, "where do you see yourself in five years?". She replies she'll do her damnedest to contribute to overpopulation, and gets out another memo about her mother passing when she was young. Fred gets absolutely NO face time, which causes me to love him even more. Evidently, he doesn't say any camera-friendly, IQ-dropping fallacies about eternal love so the show's editors have no idea how to cut in his illuminating comments regarding the difference between single-malt and double-malt scotches.

Dumber even still... PAUL gets the rose. Come on, she deserves a failed marriage. He's twenty-three and wears a gold rope necklace. His only definable attribute is his Canadian nationality.

Back from commercial, we see the riveting "Paulie showers" scene.

Then, the Deevil shows up in a talking-head in which she suggests Graham is like so cute and she can't wait for her date. Cut to the date starting without a bang, when Graham, wearing Umbros, can barley bring himself to touch her cold, cold arm. After some prodding, he does hold her hand, and we get a close-up of his gaudy, over-accessorized wrist. She drives them off in "her" product-placed Mercedes...how class and gender progressive!

Dee says Graham is "unbelievably, smokin' hot!", and he better try to go down on her tonight.

They show up on a beach, at sunset. The gender roles fall into place with a regressive thud when she dumbs, that since he's a man, he should know how to fly a kite. Let me just say that last year I went on a camping trip with a fuck-ton of lesbians, and we flew that kite high and long without the assistance of any man. Granted, they were lesbians, but I'm pretty sure most dudes would still characterize them as women. Hell, I'm no lesbian and my kite soar. So, I know that Dee just said some shit because it was expected of her, but I can't like her when she says something so completely backward and thoughtless.

Anyway, they suck at flying a kite - penis and all - but they had fun with the laughing and the failing all over the coast.

Back at the pool table, another group date is offered. It's a baseball date. Excitement erupts, and the boys seem to genuinely enjoy each others' company. This point of observation is made so much so clearer when we cut back to awkward on the beach.

Graham breathes in the beauty of the ocean, and deems the majesty of the landscape, "nice". Gayley, his body language is suffering. He's like a foot away from her, holding hands with himself, and looking down at his penis - begging it to say somethiiiing... anythiiiing. She looks wounded at his lack of macking. He lets her know he's recently out of a serious relationship, which amounted to two months - and that was in dog years. To Dee's credit, she offers extremely honest conversation about her expectations and fears for this show. He looks at her with a serious disconnect in his eyes. Really, I think she sees it, but for whatever reason (relationship pathology perhaps), she ignores the red flag. I'm as uncomfortable as their asses inevitably are, but the camera keeps on them, hoping to catch a tit-squeeze or somethiiiing... anythiiiiing.

She straight up tells us, she isn't sure if Graham knows what he wants and even compares him to Brad! Proceed with caution, Dee! Graham blah blahs to her some more disconnecting propaganda, but as soon as he begs to feel her up, her caution turns to glee, and I know this bitch is sunk.

Back at the dude ranch, the discussion has turned to sex. Barf. Robert face-swells his sex is important; Ryan hair-gels he's "a virgin, guys". They all congratulate him for being master of his domain, and assume he must be transgendered. His rhetoric is so tired, and he is so far from any kind of awareness of himself or others. There isn't a single likable quality I can find here.

So Graham gets the "Dee is a sucker" rose. She does admit to him her concern, yet roses away all the same. So yah, she deserves a failed marriage; it may be the only thing that rips open her guts and shows her her own emotional ignorance and fear. Anyways, she felt really good about the way the evening ended. I wondered if I had any whiskey left.

Twilly tells us he wants to corner Dee and reveal his psychotic side. Interestingly enough, he asks Jason for his council; I can't deny I am impressed at Jason's obvious concern and graciousness for his friend, Twill the Dillweed. Twilly's gonna go for it. He straps on his blade, paints on his Joker lips, and heads out the door.

The music score matches his menace, and the limo pulls in. Twilly waits and watches, patiently. Graham looks at the pavement for somethiiing... anythiiiing to say, and comes up with zilch. He half-heartily kisses her Greek cheek and runs far, far away.

Dee uncomfortably takes a seat on the bench. Twilly, in his resolute opportunity to shine says, essentially, nada. He spews out some crap about how he's there for her and there's another side to him. She's not feeling the blade he's scraping her arm with, and he just looks like he wants to get back to cut-throat in the billiards hall. Inter cut with Graham returning to the gonad BBQ; cue high-fiving. Twilly uses the word "stinks" and I know his only time to shine has burned out. Graham briefs the troops on the difficulty of winning her over; they're fearful of Don Pappas.

We see so much stock-footage of LA, and move into a stretch limo. Dee says AGAIN how amazing all this free swag is. Oh yah, the bod-squad is there feeling amazed and being amazing.

The group enters Dodger's stadium, Robert brings with him a pink polo and man-boobs. The rest carry their own poop. Tommy Lasorda drags his belly from the stadium accompanied by a stack of disappointment. Although it was Dee's "surprise", Tommy introduces himself to her like they've never had a conversation. Brilliantly, he comments on the shit-options she has for mates, but then drunkenly slurs a motivational speech about them believing in themselves so much so that they could win over a girl no one finds likable. (I'm pretty certain his speech is underscored with the same music from the movie Independence Day...you know, that scene where the President asks them to fly themselves into the bowels of the alien ships to save all of humanity?) Dee wears pink wrist bands.

In true unoriginal Rosie O'Donnell embarrassment, Chris sings the National Anthem - having no idea what the words are or how annoying he's being. Apparently, love has something to do with home-run hitting, so the boys square off in such a competition. This is one use of the home-run metaphor (having to do with sex) that works in a real world way. Robert tells us he wishes the activity were more in his element, aka, la bedroom, and I call my mother to discuss exactly how small Robert's penis must be and whether or not I should mail Dee a replica of my effective vibrator.

Chris, the minor league pitcher, sucks at batting - as pitchers are known to do - and Jeremy wins the jerk-off with six "in the Bachelorette-field parameters" home-runs. Jeremy offers Tommy Lasorda to have a good day, and they enter the dug out.

Jeremy is guarded; he has a familial past. He WAS close to his mom, but... dead. But wait, dad?... dead. She's sorry for asking since she almost doesn't believe him. A post-it changes hands, and we find out Dee's mom's dead too. So many dead parents to connect over; I feel left out.

Over processed antibiotic-filled wieners and wine (who doesn't love hot dogs and wine?), we find out the guys are having a blast, but Erik gets some private time.

Greek, Greek, Greek, Greek, Greek... Greeeek! Greekness, Greeky, Greek, Greek, Greek-ding-ding, Greek makin' copies, Greek, I'm Greek; You're Greek; let's Greek out some Greek babies and call it a day. Greek giggle giggle Greek Greek.

Brian gets coerced into a one-on-one. He rules. He's sincere and lovely to talk to, and she doesn't deserve him. He's a high school football coach; she couldn't possibly understand how committed he is to his team... or even what a wide-receiver does! I hope for him to ditch the fucking mess he's in, and his salt-n-peppa hair comes to find me.

Back to the picnic, rose discussion ensues. We find out nothing we couldn't have deduced on our own.

Back to the bunker, Jason further destroys his son's sense of stability and security when he calls him to get a weather report. Outside, Jason tells those smart-enough-to-use-condoms about his kin; they could give a fuck, and are so thrilled the cutie now has a liability.

Tommy twilight-years that he likes his new team and further wonders when his new season will begin. She breaks it to him that his career is over, and this is just a shitty ploy to fool people into thinking love can work on television. Dee then takes Jeremy away to castrate him. The surgery is a success; since he was such a good boy, he gets a rose popsicle!

In the meta-statement of the season, the resulting end of Dee and Jeremy's convo is telecasted via Jumbo-tron, and my boy Brian wisely yells out, "don't do it DeAnna!". She ignores him. It's weird how internal voyeurs (bachelors) are being voyeurs while being watched by the external voyeurs (us), and the scene ends with Jesse chucking his bat into left field.

Dee shoots fireworks from her ass, and we all sit at wonder of the length of the episode. And Robert (for once) correctly observes that Jeremy is "the front-runner in this competition." Thanks, Rob, for finally saying something that wasn't completely dispicable.

The final rose ceremony commenses -well, kinda- we have to have much hugging and "i don't know"ing from the Deevil (with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress, devil with the blue dress on).

Stupid drama is focused on by production when the conversation squares on Jeremy telling the others, "Welcome to our home". Ron throws a hissy-fit, as hair stylists are want to do. Then, Ryan gets his virginal boxers in a bind over who's penis is the cleanest. Ron calls her ass out on favortism (i.e. the way real dating actually works), yet she defends her position. Yah, Dee! Tell them girlfriend! "If they're feeling threatened by Jeremy, maybe they should step it up a bit."

Anyone want "a case of the Twilly's"? Didn't think so. Yet Twilly wonders if Dee has 'em. So he pulls her aside to infect her. Twilly (who I feel sorry for at this point) nervouses his way through nothing of interest to Dee.

Cut back to the living room where Ron is still holding court. He wonders about Jeremy's intentions. Apparently, Ron's confused about the show. See, Jeremy is ditching his new friends left and right for a chance at true love, and this is a problem. Ron! Check your contract, (whispers) it's what you signed up for.

Rosed and rosed and rosed again Jeremy steals prom-dressed Dee away from the Twillster. It takes like six hours, but the non-Jeremys realize the real Jeremy's taken Dee from Twilly. Make a note: Dee confides in Jeremy her angst about the other dudes being pissed at his status - as if Dee sees Jeremy as a real friend, or they are possibly in a real relationship. Ron and Erik, specifically, get all malignant about Jeremy's cause, talking like catty passive-agressive bitches behind his back.

Richnerd explains to the thick-headed dolts that their relationships with each other are not priority one.

We cut back to a greasy-faced Jeremy, who explains those mystical foreign words he spoke on the first night were about her. Knowing he is about her solidified her feeling that Jeremy was about her. And being all about her is what gets you a fucking rose, man.

Jeremy and the Deevil kiss, a real kiss, and then they head back in to Ron being a dick. Some group discussion ensues ensconsed in jealously toward Jeremy, and then Ryan says something so dirty, so against God's plan, so unacceptable to primetime TV audiences, that his mouth had to be beeped and pixelated. I'm guessing he called a dickhead a dickhead. The music would have you believe this is serious; reality would have you believe no bachelor has a fucking clue as to how lame they are being portrayed.

Ron gets pulled away to justify his stance on secondary marriage (and secondary divorce), and ill-conceivably mentions he wants a herd of kids. In other words, her womb will be working overtime. He's so not right for her! He talks to her like he's her fucking father. No rose! No rose!

Back to the group, somehow a push-up marathon erupts. I am reminded of when my dad challenged me to do ONE, ONE man-style push-up, in order to be rewarded a new Porsche, and I couldn't do it. Thus, I am kind of in awe of anyone who can do a push-up, even a man. Woah, Jesse did 98 push-ups. He "wins" time with the Deevil. There, he reveals his dream is to be a cool parent in Georgia.

Dip shit shows and we know the episiotomy - I mean, the fun, is nearly over. Take that bitch away to make up her fucking mind.

Paul, Graham and Jeremy already have already been sentenced, so the rest will have to forge on and hope for home. Ron accepts; Jesse accepts; Robert accepts; Brian (yay! no! run away to me!) accepts; Jason accepts; Fred (yay! no! run away to me!) accepts; Sean accepts; Richnerd accepts; Twilly is chosen over Greek Erik and Chris and who gives a shit about RYAN. Chris was cool; she's an idiot; duh. Good riddance to the others. Chris nails it when he offers, "she doesn't know what she wants." Ryan has no clue when he creeps, "it's hard when a girl tells you no", then further demonfies himself with "I was voted most friendliest in eighth grade". Oh God, he keeps talking, offering, "there are few women in this world who intrigue me, and DeAnna was one of them." WHAT? In the WORLD? GOODBYE, NO ONE LIKES YOU.

We cut back to the rose-ceremony set, the Deevil has to excuse herself from the execution machinations to CRY. This, is episode two. She's crying over crap already. Sean reassures the peanut-gallery, "she's upset, bro".

Cheers all around! Episode II is over, and George Lucus should be proud of his hours and hours of production.