Brad's residual checks have met their inevitable end. RIP, Brad's residual checks, but glory be for the rest of us. I wasn't aware, but we find out this show has been produced in an effort to "heal her broken heart" - as if a television show attempting to put two culture-killers together is a healthy way to do such a thing. One item of interest that I noticed in the recap of the last episode: Ron and Jeremy, Arch Nemeses of Night Time TV Torture, are wearing the exact same anti-cowboy shirt. Plus, ABC considers Dee to be "America's Sweetheart" - a laughable characterization. I know Sandra Bullock, and you, Dee, are no Sandra Bullock.
The build-up to the episode is actually a good twenty seconds light to what we're used to, AND, the episode order on the website is in the correct chronological sequence that they are to be in, thus, I have few complaints from the start. Give me time, ladies and gentlemen, give. me. time. This is like dreading the inevitable shit stain which is the future of rock-n-roll.
Dip Shit hangs with Tweedle Dee, Twilly Dumb, and the Seven Dwarfs to remind the group of how this whole process works; i.e. the rose-winners of yesteryear get to move up into the house on haunted hill: Fred (love), Robert (vom) and Jason (...).
Dip Shit explains the week's dates: a group date, a one-on-one date, and a two-on-one date. He promotes the last date as the kiss of death, as one of these subpar politicians will be going back to his mistress. To earn the one-on-one, the competition starts as soon as his ass leaves the bunker. The challenge? To write and perform an original song for The Deevil. Awesome. AWESOME. AWWWWESOMMMME.
Jesse's reaction is appropriate, as far as Coloradan-snowboarders are concerned. He sucks at art and wants to punch Dip Shit in the teeth.
Cue montage of douche to legal pad. Brian says he loves putting verse on paper, and my lust-roots for him grasp tighter to the soil of the most shallow planter-box. When quizzed by Sean on the status of his love song, Brian responds confidently. This is the editing which reveals he most assuredly will lose this competition. Why reward hard work and passion, REALLY?
Fred hilariously struggles through writing his song, and Jason doesn't know what a refrain is. Incidentally, the workspace Graham writes in includes a table-ornament that closely resembles a grenade.
Dip Shit calls them back to the bunker's living room, in order to embarrass themselves and those they love by performing their musical non-masterpieces before a major network's significant audience-share.
DeAnna, judgiest of the judges, gets to pick at their efforts. She waltzes into the bunker with a "How ya'll doin this mornin?", two Livestrong bracelets--you know she had to wrestle away from Graham, and the ultimate Hollywood accessory: it's-only-a-matter-of-time-until-rehab UGGS.
Fred's up first. In a talking-head, he omigods, "Oh... my... god...". His lyrics are cute, and I'm pretty sure the melody rips from the Dukes of Hazard theme song.
Next is Graham (still in his pajamas), he interviews he'd rather eat glass and that's what he feeds us with his "wine" song. Notably, he predicted his bros would laugh at him to get him through. Absolute silence follows.
DeAnna appears to be sitting in a director's chair. DeAnna, I know Marty Scorsese and you, my dear, are no Marty.
Robert tries to sing, in a way that he thinks he can sing. Dee points out she thinks he thinks he can sing, and all I can think about is that chubbster, Garth Brooks.
Twilly performs some spoken-word-over-producer-scythed-cowboys-duelling-music. Jeremy raps; he raps. Sean Garth Brooks it up; Jason embodies some alien shit with robotic spoken word, which some how alludes to his bastard child. Oh yah, also? He's got Jesse's white sunglasses on.
Jesse's song is in the vein of Woody's "Kelly Kelly Kelly Kelly Kelly Kelly Kelly Kellyyyyy, K E L L Y" (tm Cheers). He one-knees it, and finds his way through her Ugg-fur to grab her hand. She flips her hair HARD in approval.
Big Brian steps it up. His muscular ass settles into the pool table, and it is there he reveals what it's like to live in "The House of [His] Pain." The song blows... yet, she still doesn't deserve it and I'd still be willing to go down on him. Funnily, his self-serious vibe causes his bros to undercover-snicker at his expense. Everyone, it seems, was in shock and awe at his willingness to offer his high school football subordinates hours of snark-time. His performance elicits a standing-O, and a Twilly reenactment akin to a duck, but do you think she'll choose him as the winner?
She fucking picks Jesse, because he touched her. He likens her to perfection. The three rosebuds depart with The Deevil, and my man Brian utters the most listenable sentence of the series, "We're losing our cook, our comic relief, and... Jason." Cue uproarious laughter, as it's warranted.
Proceeding the aftermath of the singsong, the "men" sit around pontificating on Jesse's ill-advised fashion choices for his outing - as men are naturally want to do - then lo and behold, a knock! at the door! An Executive Producer in fear of dispelling the allusion of romance, I mean, DeAnna, has messengered over a suit, courtesy of Men's Warehouse, and they have a group dick-suck over how much coin it must have cost a multi-million network. Jesse's freaking out over the loss of his Peter Pan lifestyle.
Poignantly, Jesse freaks out over the formal-attire required for the date. However, he acknowledges it's not that personality-representing shitty garb of colors and skate shoes in his suitcase, but rather shitty garb like that suit that Dee wants to date.
Dee pops out of her "home" in my prom dress from 1993. She enters, without knocking (RUDE), and beckoning back to memories of their high school proms and first times getting laid, their sixteen-year-old testosterone-drives deduce she looks so hyperventilation-good.
Dee talking-heads, "I'm not trying to change Jesse, BUT gnjwgbnogbrgrbgolgngwronog" aka, YOU'RE TRYING TO CHANGE HIM. Point of interest: Jesse is uber-tiny, like Dee-sized tiny.
The limo arrives at some Hollywood-landmarkian theater. Apparently, Dee's out of control since she put their names on a marquis. He's pooping and farting all over her, and she continues her shtick of shameless giggling.
In a talking-head, The Deevil lies that she feels good that Jesse is delusional enough to think this night is all about him. Side bar: They hug/touch each other a lot. He must be warm. Jesse, the historian, hypothesizes the building is "super old". Him and Dee gaze at the architecture and wonder where the closest Gap is, and then they serendipitously discover a dinner-scenario where the orchestra pit should be.
Nervously, Jesse farts.
At the bunker, the gonad brothers dick over a date card. The group date includes Brian, Twilly, Sean, Jeremy, Graham, and Jason. The message says, "Gentlemen, Start your engines." They all cum at once. Fred and Robert appropriately deduce it is them two for the two-on-one: The chef of sleaze vs the comedian of ease.
Back on the snowboard slopes, The Deevil forces Jesse to sing her song on the stage; several stanzas of awkward later, he finishes, to her personal amusement.
Dee talking-heads that she's seen Jesse's fun side and wonders if he has a serious side - because, really, how could a human have both? It's unimaginable in Dee's world-of-boxes. Back at the dinner table, which looks like it includes steak, Dee asks if Jesse's ever cheated on a woman. Of course, he denies it. In addition, we find out he's stubborn. This is not the opposites-attract-kind-of-world that Paula Abdul intended. Cos, guess what? The Deevil's stubborn too. Jesse remarks that he gets it as she was a total bitch the first night they met. She evilly laughs in recollection at her first-night gaming. Jesse and his locks-o-love pontificate that he was reticent at being able to find love on TV. For a moment, I think this whole illusion will dissolve in front of my very eyes, but then he lies at the realness of it all. BTW, Jerri Lor-Lor previously revealed to me that Jesse was televised on another reality show on MTV, and I know in an instant that Jesse is as much as a fame-whore as The Deevil is, despite his obtuse fashion choices.
Dee acknowledges Jesse's a "real dude" and as much as I want to give her credit since she used the nomenclature "dude", alas, I cannot, because they both suck. Jesse wants to toast to the reality of their relationship. I toast to my own alcoholic death - which will surely precede theirs.
His obsession with getting the rose is overwhelming. He dings the friggin' rose-plate every time he grabs for his Chardonnay. She finally offers him the boutonniere, to his enjoyment. I'm perplexed about the rose-speak. It's not like he's saying, "I want to be here with you cos I like you so so so much." Rather, he's saying, "Gimme the rose, I want the rose. I want to remain in competition with my competition. The Rose! The Rose!". She doesn't catch on, most likely since she's not privy to the talking-heads... that HAS to be it.
Just when I think the singing on this show cannot offend me any further, Natasha "Had to Google Her" Bedingfield shows up on the stage (accompanied by a suicidal-looking guitarist). Jesse looks utterly clueless, his face registering "Is that, like, Barbra Streisand?". It's just a guess, but I'm figuring his musical tastes hover somewhere around old Green Day.
So Jesse felt "swept away" (I'm guessing he means as unto the terror of a tsunami), and The Deevil shamelessly self-promotes (again), "When I'm around Jesse, I feel like I am the only woman in the world." Part of that may have to do with the fact that you are the only woman you've seen Jesse ever interact with in his whole damn life. My opinion: Dee does like Jesse, but we all know their relationship would only work in the context of this bubble. Their social and work commitments would look too entirely different, that conflict would inevitably crop up over and over, eventually overshadowing the fun of their fart contests.
The next peak of sunlight, we see all the men (less Rob and Fred)(oh yah, Dee's there too) board a bus. They're going to a race track to drive, since men love fuckin', and food, and fuckin', and football, and fuckin', and cars. Point of body contact: Dee's doing her best seventh grade interpretation of flirting by rubbing elbows with Graham while looking uninterested. Ah, memories. I haven't touched a boy like that since I saw The Goonies - IN THE THEATER. IN 1985. I WAS NINE.
Thousands of talking-heads later, we discover men like fuckin' cars. And chicks. The Deevil comes swaggering out of the tunnel, camel-toe in full effect. The guys hoot and holler like drunk construction workers, and I'm half-surprised production even gives her a jumpsuit. I mean, the only way a man likes a woman near his car is if she's in a string bikini and heels, rubbing her tits on the hood, while biting into a very meaty burger. I guess Dee's flashy kelly green tank top will have to do. She gets flag duty, too.
Brian can't get it into first gear (we're to believe). Once he does take off, the ripped-off Metalica/PanterA ass-kicking metal kicks in, cos men love fuckin' metal! Driving fast is like moshin' to metal, and then fuckin' to metal records!
"Pedal to the metal", "pushing it to the limit", "for DeAnna, I will go to hell and back.", and "definitely terrified" are all said during this segment. Oh, Sean says, "across the finish line or into the wall" AND "droppin' the hammer, baby". Who wins? Sean.
Sean offers nothing but race car analogies during his "gift" of a one-on-one with Dee. I stop paying attention and start counting the bugs swarming between them.
Some things you didn't know about DeAnna: She lived in Kentucky for six years. Her mom is dead. She's a redneck. She did something to Sean's pole position.
God, Dee so relishes this "I'm tiny and cute and a woman, but I can kick all yall's asses in every thang" role. Between her whining (I'm short!) to her clapping like a two-year-old and baby voice (yaaaay!), she intuits her performance comes off sexy to the men, and their drool confirms it. Quite frankly, it's grossly insulting to any woman who's ever had the distinct disadvantage (however, more rewarding) of having to promote sense of humor, awareness, and intelligence as modicums for attraction, rather than belly button rings and googoo talky talky.
Dee wins. Her prize? Sean will stuff her in his suitcase, and schedule a hymen-reconstruction surgery in an effort to get his bride ready for their nuptials.
Jeremy pulls away "the all-around athlete". He admits he's pushy, and so stupid he would spend his whole life with The Deevil.
The other bologna sandwiches discuss children's stories and their relevance to adult love.
Back on the bus, Jeremy whines he misses Dee. She lies about thinking about him all the time. Just then, Graham interrupts them, and Dee's pants go up in flames. Flames would indicate either she's turned on, or she's bound to come away with some kind of STD after this whole thing is said and done.
Dee proclaims the "most confusing situation anyone could ever be in" is choosing between Jeremy and Graham. It's as if words have no meaning to her whatsoever.
Jason correctly observes to the group that Dee's and Graham's respective nether regions have a magnetic attraction, and it makes him nervous as he's "in the process of falling in love with her." It's as if words have no meaning to him whatsoever.
Graham's a fucking infant. All Dee wants to do it make-out, and instead, he's insisting he won't suck her tongue's sloppy seconds. He's playing jealous boyfriend, which is an absolutely undeserved position to assume. The way he talks to her is so unjustified - as if she's the brain behind the whole bachelor franchise. Dude. You read the contract, you signed up for exactly the experience you're getting. Quit projecting your frustrations with your idiocy in decision-making onto Dee. She should have smacked him.
Back at Fantasy Suites, Rob and Fred check their date-mail. The first card says "who has the recipe for love?". The second is full of lies and a gross misuse of an ellipses. Robert answers the first card's question for us. "I've got lots of recipes for love... smooth, rich, succulent...". The tuna melt begins churning in my gut. He ends with a rapid tongue-flutter. Sexuality minus charisma equals creepy. I know Pepe LePieu, and you Rob, are no Pepe LePieu.
Porn-addict Robert, and my man, Fred, sit around a fire pit in the courtyard. Rob smarms the kiss will determine the Rose. Fred's nervous. He tells us in an interview that he has a recipe for love, and perhaps one for beef stew - that wasn't clear. I wish I had decided to recap a cooking show. I'm a vegetarian and I would kill for some beef stew right now.
At the race track night club (what's with the neon lights?), Dee gives the rose to Sean. Apparently, she assumed he was just a karate geek know-it-all, but today she discovered he's also well-versed in race-car analogies - which she's super in to. She pins him, and he pulls her head so tight into his shoulder, he suffocates her to death. We all get to go home!!
The next day, after the funeral, the guys decide to celebrate with a BBQ. They invite Dee's Ghost and the mansion men. There's talk about how this will be a nice and relaxing atmosphere; we all know from the previews that it most definitely will be no such thing. It most assuredly will resemble something out of a usual afternoon in daycare.
First off, Robert's to cook which he acts like he doesn't like. Plus, there's a kitty table set up for the top three. It's funny, it is, and harmless, and all in good fun. Bobbie no likey and throws a regular fit. He tosses the playful IKEA children's chair into the hillside. People awkwardly laugh, and pee themselves in fear.
So Dee's pouting that she doesn't fit in at the boys' camp. They don't seem to recognize her outside of a strapless gown or a polka-dotted two piece. Sean and Brian throw stuff off a bridge. Bobbie and his teal popped-collar polo hang out by themselves on the hammock. Twilly is "being Twilly". In an effort to gain masculine attention, Dee humbly begs Jason to roll up the sleeves on her new t-shirt. Weird, when I did that to my t-shirts in 1987, I usually was able to accomplish the task on my own. Graham's a total downer, indicting the show's premise once again. His response is to avoid her, which she notices. Outside of a shirtless, grilling Fred, the whole event looks as about as fun as a trip to Auschwitz, during WWII.
Dee discovers Bobbie being a titty-baby indoors, and she marches off to scold him. They have an interesting chat in which he states the obvious about Jeremy and Graham being the front-runners. She strategically avoids answering the issue by only saying, "I've never said that." At this point, Bobbie, your accurate and confrontational reply should have been, "You don't have to SAY it. Anyone with sight knows this to be valid. Can you honestly say that my assertion is wrong?" Instead he completely loses grip of the power he began with, and allows her to manipulate this situation so that she can throw a proper fit, and feel justified in doing so.
They go outside. The menacing drum score tell us shit's about to hit the fan. Allow me to script her monologue in it's entirety. The prose is too self-indulgent to summarize. Here she is, America's Sweetheart, in her own words, DeAnna the Fucking Spoiled Brat: "I'm really really upset right now [begin crying]. Cos right now I should be the happiest person in the world, and ya'll [strong finger point] are breaking my heart. [dramatic pause] K? [dramatic pause] Ya'll feel good about that? [voice crack, tear swipe] I came down here today, to hang out with all y'all. If ya don't want to hang out? Go home. This is not a joke! When I say I know exactly what you've all gone through, I know exactly what you've all gone through! I know how hard this is. I know how hard it is when I'm going on dates with other guys [ticks off a finger], that I'm kissing other guys [ticks off another finger]. I know exactly how you feel. But I'm the one here trying to figure things out and if you guys can't handle it then go home." There's some more, but as a conscientious writer, I can't continue to relay such terribly written dialogue. She storms off in a huff. Can't the universe help me out a bit here? A toe stub? An ankle turn? Rabies?
Jeremy's talking-head correctly deduces their little party totally backfired.
Graham is SOOOOO RIIIIIIIIGHT. That whole cry-baby routine was specifically executed for the manipulation of Graham and Graham, alone. Bobbie, internalizing her speech, kept apologizing and it had not one fucking thing to do with him. Yah, ok, Rob is a dick, but she's a cruel bastard for using him as a pawn to wield her emotional butt-fuck of Graham (with her spooge spraying the rest in her wake).
The next day the camera lingers long, long time on Robert, Fred, and Fred's adorable argyle sweater packing up their suitcases. Bobbie says he's bringing his A-game (thus far, I'm guessing we've seen the D range). Fred says something similar but minus the porn-ish delivery. The limo brings them to another mansion in the Hollywood Hills. Considering they just left a mansion, I'm guessing Dee could really give a fart about this date and is intending on axing them both. Oh, sorry, that last sentence should have been preceded with Spoiler Alert!
They sit down to dinner. Fred poignantly talking-heads he knows his personality can win out over Rob's master-chef routine. Uh, that's leaving a lot up to Dee's ability to recognize a good personality when she sees it. The Deevil asks them to relay the most romantic thing they've ever done for a girl. Robert pulls out every romance cliche in the book, and takes about the length of said book to describe it. I caught Fred snickering at him a few times - especially the whole five-bouquets-worth-of-rose-petals-spelling-out-I-LOVE-YOU trick.
Fred's story is more simple, economical, sweet. Dee seems connected to the sentiment. Robert's dwindling red wine illuminates his entire head.
A voice over from Robert admits it sucks having Fred as his competition since Fred rules. I cannot argue with that logic.
The next part, as much as I enjoyed the awkwardness, reeks of awkwardness. Robbie tries to go in for a kiss. DENIED. His voice over prophesies (unwittingly wrong) that it "could get naughty". In fact, he's doubly unwittingly wrong when he repeats, "it could get naughty". Does he have massive chin acne? Am I just noticing that for the first time?
Dee pulls the oldest cross-examination debate trick in the book, when she sets up his answer for failure with her loaded question. She asks how he handles problems in a relationship, he falls blindly into her trap when he responds with "communication". She goes in for the kill: but he didn't do that at the BBQ today. He back peddles; he didn't want to seem selfish by pulling her away. Her aloof "okay" indicates his ass is grass. And so ends their naughty, naughty exchange on the rented sofa.
Btw, Dee looks great in her white pants.
So Dee and Fred go out to the veranda (?) and sit on one of those outdoor couches. (Do rich people have their illegal immigrant house slaves bring those in when it acid-rains?)
A lot of non-talk about Fred being there for her. She thinks he's sweet. Is competition keeping Fred here? Her looks? He claims she has a good personality, but is he fooling himself? The answer is obviously yes. It seems he's been swept up in this "process" and has ignored, or been hidden from the real-deal of DeAnna. I can't, for the life of me, agree that he actually knows her. He's a catch. He could have someone his equal. It ain't her, buddy. Hell, you may be too nice for me even, and I can't pull off a half-shirt appropriately. However, I'd move to Chicago if you'd have me. And that's a legitimate offer. Well, as legitimate as the idea of Fred reading this blog ever.
Yummers sushi take-out is being had at the bunker, along with pontification over who's coming home tonight. They assume the hammer falls on Robert for his making The Deevil cry all over her shirt cuffs earlier. However, Jeremy intellectualizes Fred's precarious position. He's a great guy, but he may not be the guy for DeAnna. Jesse knucks him in agreement and whispers, "He is totally perfect for this amazing blogger I've heard about named Esmallass." Graham asks Jesse for my URL, but Jesse won't give it up since he's too busy stuffing his face with edamame beans.
Dee and Fred come back to a waiting Robert. The rose looms in the foreground of the shot. Dee blahs some crap about coming out of the closet and then rips Robert's spaghetti from his boiler too soon. His reaction is utter shock, and she walks him out. Now, there be Fred. You can feel the relief pour over him, as he picks up his beer. That fucking bitch.
Robert's wasted in the limo. He can't believe he's misread what he calls "chemistry" and what I call "your dick moves when you've been drinking a ton". Also, he's not used to rejection, meaning he gets laid all the time but it has nothing to do with him being "marriage material". He anchors his defeat with "it will be a long time before I let anyone in again". So, he's giving up gay NSA encounters he finds on Craigslist for like a month, but will continue banging drunk Google-employed chicks he finds in the Mission District.
Dee joins Fred, who's expecting to be rosed, yet instead he's given the old heave-ho. See, Dee realizes he's one of the best guys there but Graham's eight-pack is the eight-pack of her dreams, so no rose for Fred. She acts really distraught - even blatantly comparing Brad's machinations to her avoidances. But fuck her! This whole dismiss-them-both deal was underhanded and dishonest, even for TV. So Fred's hurt, but this is the best for him! You don't want to be entangled in the non-love of reality TV dating, Freddie.
At the bunker, they all freak out when both sets of luggage are whisked away. Graham looks beside himself. Jesse dudes that Fred was "stuck in the friend zone".
In the rent-a-mansion, Dee walks Fred out. She gets how fucking cool he is but she can't see a future with him. God, she's such a fake crier. Fred doesn't cry. He offers he thought fate brought him there (no) and he wants kids one day (no).
RIP, Fred. (P.S. I want you inside me.)
Dee goes back to creepy Jason at the mansion. He "comforts" her. They kiss, she opens her eyes. No way he's making it past the next round.
The requisite rose-ceremony night ushers itself in, and I know the end of the war in Iraq is in sight. Jubilation! The sandwiches make their entrance, and Jeremy finds himself getting alone time with his girlfriend.
Jeremy sells his bros out by pointing out he spent all stalker-Saturday with her when the rest retreated to hammocks. She liked that; she likes Jeremy. Big fat DUR.
Next, she wastes Brian's time. He dies to me when he matches her ignorance of real life-experience and the doubts of absolutes when he puts forth this "one time and one time only" bullshit in the context of marriage. Perhaps he thinks he'll wet her labia with such filth. All I know is mine dried up like a prune in the heat.
The next one-on-one time is spent with Twilly. He likes her, 'nuff said.
Graham gets that Twilly doesn't have a clue. You are correct, sir. Graham joins The Deevil outside. She believes he's trying. I've been there before; sometimes you just wanna fuck a dude and you delude yourself into thinking his shit doesn't stink. Let me tell ya somethin' Dee, Graham's shit stinks, it smells real bad.
The cocktail party turns into a pool party. Abs and ass later, Dip Shit comes in to kill the fun and tells them all to get dressed for the dirge.
Rose ceremony ensues... Jesse and Sean are good to go; Jason gets one; Jeremy gets one; Twilly gets one and Graham gets one. So I've lost two loves tonight, first Fred and now Brian.
Brian barely cares. He bonded with the dudes, and he knew it. He wants kids, but the loins of The Deevil will not produce such spawn. I hope he knows he's better off, cos he is.
The previews look as boring as a poetry reading; let's hope I can cope.
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