kaitlyn bristowe

Bachelor Recap Week 3

It’s always a sunny day at the Bachelor mansion. The episode starts with the frontrunners single mom with killer ombre hair and small featured Lauren B talking shit about Olivia the Velociraptor. Shocker. Instantly my only concern is where the fuck Lace is.

Lauren B gets the first one on one date and Olivia almost has an annuerism. “The Sky’s The Limit!” reads the date card and my two concerns are; could they at least TRY and make it look like Ben’s writing and not some disgruntled female production assistant’s and do they only plan dates that have correlate with some stupid semi-inspirational saying you may find at the bottom of a substitute teacher’s email signature “If you can think it, you can be it!” Fucking shoot me in the retinas. The women always delight in the romance of it all… negligent to remember they are sleeping in BUNKBEDS all trying to pork the same dude. Love lifts us up where we belong… on the top bunk.

Lauren B and Ben take flight and all I can focus on is that Ben is wearing a bracelet with a metal plate that says “HOPE”… and there goes my lady boner. They park their little jet plane in a super rapey deserted land plot where conveniently an above ground Jacuzzi is waiting for them so Ben can see if Lauren B is an 7 or 8 based on her bikini bod.

Back at the mansion, pretty but overly emotional half-Asian Caila sheds a tear over how hard it is to imagine him on another one on one date. Dear Caila, this is the fucking Bachelor. Stop crying and have a mimosa.

At dinner, Lauren B proclaims she only “likes really simple things”. I appreciate her game strategy and suggest all woman take notes. Being yourself is wonderful. But being full of shit is better. She goes on and on about how much she loves her dad and basically wants to bone him despite paternity. They swap stories of their cookie-cutter, Pastor guided, functional familied lives and bitch gets her rose. And just when things couldn’t get any better, ANOTHER COMPLETELY UNKNOWN MUSICAL ACT!

The group date card arrives and FINALLY Lace gets some screen time while she sits on the end of the coach gnawing at her nails twitching. The ladies are forced to compete for time with Ben which I LOVE because nothing screams girl power more than a bunch of woman pitted against eachother over a ball. That metaphor is not lost on me.

Jubilee is scared Ben doesn’t like black girls and to cover ABC’s ass explains that she is “complicated” and “not his type” so she is concerned. Little does she know Ben appears to be down for the swirl. Get it Jubs!

Queen Lace and Low Budge Mary-Kate are the goalies and something about watching them face dive puts a little spring in my step. “Balls flying at your face is never fun. But if I have to hurt myself, I’ll hurt myself.” Um same. For a moment I was SURE Olivia was going to Tanya Harding the injured girl. The losers cry and go back to the asylum, I mean the mansion.

Olivia is straight up Glenn Close. I hope Ben does not have a bunny. After Glenn steals Ben away to discreetly snip a lock of his hair, the bitches downstairs start talking about her toes and bad breath. Regardless if this is true, she is still significantly better looking than most of you so… have some perspective. “Perfection is so lame.”

Jubilee scores the next one on one date and offends the girls for calling Ben out on being late and saying shes not that excited for their date. Team fucking Jubilee. Also, did a producer slip Lace some sedatives? What the fucking fuck? Jubilee is NOT down with the caviar but very into hot dogs… I like your innuendos boo. Homegirl gets the rose and I am thrilled.

My absolute favorite moment happens at the rose ceremony when Ben somberly tells the ladies that he lost family friends in a plane crash and 2.4 seconds later Olivia consoles Ben by sharing some of her internal struggles… living with cankles. She tries to stay strong but her ankle radius is the real tragedy of the day. Like sorry about your dead friends but like I CAN NEVER WEAR AN ANKLET.

These bitches get their polyblend panties in a bunch when they see Jubilee giving a Ben a massage when she already has a rose. THIS IS A FUCKING COMPETITION YOU DUMBFUCKS, why would she forego time to expedite another girls relationship with Ben? Fuck off Amber. You are acting like an insecure petty asshole.

Then something truly terrible happens… Lace resurrects and says “Bahn… can I talk to yuh?” In her most mentally stable moments yet, Lady Lace explains that she needs to go home and work on herself. Like her tattoo says “You can’t love someone else, unless you truly love yourself.” And she says she doesn’t love herself which absolutely slaughters me because I LOVE HER ENOUGH FOR THE BOTH OF US. LACE, DON’T GO, DON’T LEAVE ME. LIVE, LAUGH, LACE. So now, I need to go take a bath with my blowdryer because I have no reason to live.

Shushanna and Jami (both of whom I could give a fuck about) leave and I am still in a post-Lace coma. Please respect my privacy during this time of need. Because you know I’m all about that Lace, bout that Lace.

 

The Bachelor Recap

Not to seem vapid and lacking any real or impactful hobbies and dreams, but reality television has a very special place in my heart. I know some of you reading this (but like, why the fuck are you reading this?) are rolling your eyes and turning your noses at the previous statement. Reality television is just garbage, unintellectual and for stupid brainless millenials to you. Go fuck a composter or your vegan leather journal made by Indonesian orphans you pretentious hipster fuckhead. Reality television is escapism and keeps my seratonin levels sky highs sans medication.

Reality television is ruining society, it’s people who were never taught the gift of judgement and can’t differentiate between observing others mistakes via television for entertainment value instead of making the mistakes on your own. Who’s intellectual now? The Bachelor for me is not only a sad 2 hour marathon of updos and sad pageant wear gone wrong, but also a real behind the curtain look at female sociology.

Here we have 208 women in a balls deep COMPETITION for a husband. The whole thing is a real mind fuck when you break it down. So you are supposed to be “authentic” while living in a mansion that’s not yours, wearing a gown selected by a wardrobe stylist, going on dates you cannot afford and have zero say in your impending marital bliss. It’s un-fucking-believable.

I can’t decide whether I have more respect for the girls who are actually there solely to find love (semi pathetic) or the one’s who are there solely to make it far enough where they can land a correspondent job on Access Hollywood and try and fuck Chris Harrison. Probably the latter.

The best part of the show are the awkward limo entrances, the bullshit job titles (fucking CHICKEN ENTHUSIAST? I love kabob but can’t put that shit on Linkedin..) and the crying confessionals. Lace is an American hero. She looks like Fiona (Parker Posey) in Josie & The Pussycats after she just poured a warm buttery chardonnay in every orifice of her body and I like it. I also really enjoyed the solemn firecrotch castaway… I hope she gets an SPF 115 endorsement deal. I also like that Rachel kept it 100 and declared herself “unemployed”. I tend to root for the girls who drink the most or are the prettiest. I am not saying that’s right, but it’s the fucking truth.

Now for the ladies I want to drown in the mansion infinity pool. Mandi (with an i) and that fucking rose on her head, needs to get punched in the vagina. When she offered Ben the opportunity to “pollenate” her I considered transitioning genders. Haley & Emily aka Dumb & Fucking Dumber are actually the worst. They are from Las Vegas (shocker) and come as some type of sister wive package deal. Their job title is “Twins”. When they said “how can you beat this?” I jotted down some ways…

  1. Have a brain.
  2. Be someone not trying to fuck the same dude as your sister.
  3. Don’t wear jewelry from fucking Icing.
  4. Or dresses from JC Penney Prom section.
  5. Have a brain?

Stock your fridge with champagne because it’s Bachelor season, the REAL happiest time of the year.

 

 

Bachelorette Recap

If you are emotionally invested in The Bachelorette you must listen to this weeks podcast. I must warn you this is NOT for the easily offended, listen and share with your bitches if you also think Nick’s sweatervest collection is super rapey and Shaun ONLY looks like Ryan Gosling if he had a touch of the downs and only shopped the clearance aisle at Urban Outfitters… Sorry!

Bachelorette Recap: Slut Shaming Edition

One of the many reasons I find solace and guidance whilst watching The Bachelorette is because it sheds light on many serious issues plaguing our country; racism, sexism, questionable body art, rapey menswear (I am talking to you Nick) and slut shaming. I have never been a bitch to shame a slut. In fact, I love sluts. They are like human party favors, everyone should have a slutty friend you can bring to a co-ed party. It’s just polite.

Last night Kaitlyn let her elbow tattoos guide her to penetration town with Nick and consequently got slut shamed by the media and the non-penetrating bachelors. I can’t even begin to tell you how OVER everyone’s grievances towards fill in the blank shaming I am. Body shaming, slut shaming, race shaming, status shaming, gender shaming. Everyone needs to grow the fuck up and just be grateful people even care enough to talk shit about you.

I love that Kaitlyn porked that curly headed little fuck. It makes for amazing television and if you can go out to a West LA bar, have one too many strawberry daiquiris and wake up with your landlord, why the hell can’t Kaitlyn get intimate with a guy she may end up engaged to? It’s hard for me to defend her because she spoiled the winner via snapchat and her outfits are really bothering me but I digress.

I am not someone that gets offended by the terms slut, hoe, hooker, whore or any other term that insinuates I may be a prostitute. Mainly because I have yet to become a prostitute but the day is young bitches. What worries me is how that troll Nick was the first guy to get laid? I bet he looks like a flashy worm in the buff and that gentile jew-do just does nothing for him. Never trust a guy in an ironic bowtie.

The moral of this story is to stay slutty. Don’t let anyone or any stint of Chlamydia keep you from doing you girl. Stay strong Kaitlyn, I hope you and your tattooed elbows fly off into the sunset, trojans in tow. And just remember: slut shaming is only done by people who don’t have the opportunity to be sluts. Think about it.

WHAT THE FUCK KAITLYN?

Don’t worry there are NO SPOILERS IN THIS POST because I am not a heartless monster. This is really hard for me to write considering I am too afraid to utilize Google and get the full story. I am in a fragile emotional state and haven’t been this veklempt since Jake Pavelka’s proposal to Vienna.

Anyone who knows me, knows that my main reason for waking up each day and striving for lavish mediocrity is solely for the right to watch subpar reality television. In particular, any Bravo franchise and The Bachelor/Bachelorette. I have been faithful and loyal to these programs since I was practically a fetus. I don’t watch the news, keep up with any international affairs, keep oblivious views politically and still am entirely unsure if Hawaii is apart of the United States. That shit is too real, give me vapid programming, my soul NEEDS it.

It came to my attention today that Kaitlyn accidentally snapchatted a picture of her with the alleged winner of The Bachelorette. This is basically the equivalent of shooting my entire family and then robbing me of their life insurance policies so I would be forced to prostitute myself to pay for funeral arrangements. Has she NO consideration for the extreme emotional involvement I have for her journey to find love? Has she NO appreciation for my weekly evaluations of which guys like it up the ass and which ones are simply there for free booze and to live somewhere other then their mother’s house? Has she NO brain capacity to understand the life threatening consequences for her actions?

If I was ever on the precipice of a Lexapro prescription, this would push me over the edge. In fact, I am currently writing this out on my balcony and if I saw a red rose on a silver tray or heard Chris Harrison’s voice I may jump to end my own death.

Besides all of THIS, I know have to spend the next 2 months executing top notch self control to preserve my innocence and NOT FIGURE OUT WHO FUCKING WINS. I would also like to use this post as a for warning that if you even ALLUDE to the mystery man in this snapchat photo I will call Kupa and send him over to your house to beat the shit out of you.

Kaitlyn, I will never forgive you for this. Or your weird elbow tattoos. Or keeping JJ around. Or your rapping skills.

Sincerely,

Jackie