The Bachelorette: Woooooooooooo!*
New Bachelorette drinking game: you drink every time Ali goes “Woooo!” She gets one more person to join in, you drink again. If she can get three or more people to join in, you finish your drink. Considering these shows are still so lousy with guys who think they might stand a chance of marrying Ali, or at least of getting to second base, that they need to be two hours long, we’ll meet at the emergency room, okay? First one there’s a lightweight.
Drink. Drank. Drunk. I’m not going to tell you to watch the show; it’s hardly news that the Bachelor(ette) series make prodigious use of alcohol and its magical talents for social lubrication/boredom abatement/drama production, but in a way, you really should have seen this one. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an episode where so many people were so obviously blasted or well on their way to blasted.
From here on in, you should assume that everything I recount to you as having happened on that show was being experienced firsthand by people who were at least two sheets to the wind already, and doing all the things that half-drunk people do to communicate enjoyment or feign comprehension of the situation they occupy.
Ali’s first one-on-one date, with ChiFrank, was a perfectly earnest, though only comparably sober affair, some portion of which was spent trespassing under the HOLLYWOOD sign, drinking. Funny how the presence of a camera crew makes that alright. Frank’s been designated as a quirky one in this group, what with his having no direction in his life, and she seems to like him just fine for it. “There’s nothing normal about you,” she tells him at one point and they both laugh knowingly; he would actually have to be pretty normal to get picked for this show.
But normal’s such a odd word to use in the Bachelorette context. What’s normal, after all, about going on dates with camera crews tagging along, where all the people who are out and about start mobbing your date? What’s normal about having a key to the lock to the gate in the fence that keeps vagrants from drinking under the Hollywood sign?
What’s normal about flying to Las Vegas in a private jet and spending your time there driving a Ferrari around from empty bar to empty bar?
And what the hell is normal about going on a date with twelve other people, and showing up for that date already half-blasted because you live in a house with 16 other guys who are all participating in a televised competition to fall in love with some girl you all saw on TV, and there’s apparently nothing to do in that beautiful house but drink until you’re feeling belligerent and antagonistic toward the other guys?**
Though figuratively speaking, the Bachelorette is always screwing normal, the point here is, the bachelorette should quite literally (excepting the use of the vernacular) screw normal. Ali, please. If, at the end of the season, you’re going to run off with Roberto to raise your very own little infield brood, sleep with Frank before you cut him loose, okay? There, I said it, we can move on.
And so, moving on, what the hell is with all the sookybabies in that house of men? Because the Weatherman is the most obvious example here and I picked him last week as a nutcase to watch for, we’ll first take a look at him.
If it is the case that we don’t choose our nicknames so much as our nicknames choose us, what does it say of the Weatherman that he so easily acquires the label of a terrorist? We saw it here first, folks. When one day he becomes a news story and the neighbours are all remarking about how bland and unremarkable he was, WE can answer, “Well, if you think about it a little, he was pretty tightly wound. And he was a bit of a tattletale, too, which became especially passive aggressive/liar liar pants on fire when he wouldn’t own up to it when asked directly. And with all that ‘I’m here for Ali, it’s all about Ali,’ business, he seemed a little on the obsessive side. And we couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying when he was drunk.”
Dude got a rose this week, but not thanks to anything he did or didn’t do. Craig M was poisonous, and that other guy and that other other guy who also got cut couldn’t even muster as much presence as even Casey or Craig R, whose strategies for capturing the ladies’ hearts appear to be to stand there and very quietly seethe over anyone who talks to the ladies that they’re interested in. And get drunk. You survived this week, Weatherman, because there just happened to be enough roses to justify the expenditure. So don’t look so freakin’ pleased with yourself, creepshow.
*Ever seen Ali and Ric Flair in the same room at the same time?
**This offhand reference to Craig M comes with one small note, that during the psychological evaluation my wife and I gave him over the course of the episode, we concluded that he would be belligerent and antagonistic even without the liquor.