Holy fuckballs, its already hometown dates. This both excites me and depresses me. What the hell am I supposed to do on Monday nights once this is over? How will I go on? Do I need a Lexapro prescription? It’s all too emotionally strenuous.
The first hometown is with Amanda in Laguna Beach. I kept fantasizing that Stephen Coletti is secretly her baby daddy and Hilary Duff was going to do an impromptu performance of “Come Clean”. If you don’t get that reference leave this site and never return. They start the date with a playdate on the beach so Ben can meet Ombre’s kids. Full disclosure; I cried like a newborn when she reunited with her spawn. Listen, Amanda’s kids are cute. I was impressed by their gladiator sandals but had to knock them down a few pegs for the pigtails… it’s a bit Sundays at Church basic for me. And when I say they are cute I mean that half-heartedly. Calm down. Not all kids are cute and it’s detrimental to society to imply differently. But despite all of that, I can’t imagine their connection is strong enough for Ben to be an Insta-dad. Finally, they slip the kids some Benadryll PM and Ben assures Manders that her family was “awesome” kk bye.
Next, Ben heads to Portland Oregon to see Lauren B. I like her and think she is an obvious frontrunner but I need her to chill with the flannel and invest in a professional blowdry. They food truck hop and then head to a whiskey museum. My kind of a date! Not having kids is so refreshing. Is Lauren B always cold or drinking too many sulfites? Her nose is always so red and it concerns me. Lauren’s hott sister is clearly skeptical about Ben and Lo’s relationship so in attempts to get more screen time (which I’m assuming gave her a gallery of triple digit like-worthy #TBT instaposts) pulls Ben aside to get the dirt. In the reality TV moment of my dreams, I was praying Lauren’s sister had one too many glasses of Sangria and tried to make a move on Ben. But instead I was jolted back to planet earth as Ben started fucking crying whilst explaining his feelings for Lauren. Just stab me in the ovary. Or give me Ben’s “hope” bracelet and let me hang myself from a Bachelor mansion balcony. Ugh.
Jojo. The bitch that seems too mentally stable to be on the Bachelor. UNTIL she approaches her Dallas condo and finds a dozen red roses (gag). She assumes they are from Ben but once she starts reading the accompanying 86-page letter attached realizes they are from her ex boyfriend. To be honest, I immediately assumed this was a Cher Horowitz moment from Clueless like when she would send herself flowers and chocolates to make gay-boy Christian jealous. Totally something I would bust out on a hometown. Fucking Chad. I could go into details about Jojo’s thirst trap brothers and shit like that but let me cut to the chase. The moment where Jo’s mother swigged that wine straight from the bottle was the realest moment in television history. Especially since at dinner they were sipping from Baccarat. Ben was like Vivian from Pretty Woman navigating their extensive silverware. Jojo’s family is single handedly keeping potpourri and faux floral enterprises afloat. The takeaway is that Jojo’s mom should be cast on Bachelor in Paradise.
Finally, Ben heads somewhere to meet Caila’s fambam. Guys… “My dad is the CEO of a toy company” was so Gretchen Weiners I can’t even. So they awkwardly build a playskool dream house and I’m bored as fuck. I really liked Caila’s family. I desperately wish her mother would’ve opted for effing Invisalign but I digress. Caila assures her family that Ben is the one and wants to tell him she is in love with him. Either the Filipino food that was served kick started some impulsive bowel movements so she needed to find a toilet ASAP OR she totally pussed out because bitch said nothing. Fuck she has great hair though…
Amanda gets sent home (saw that one coming) and I will miss her demure Cinderella nature and severely aggressive ombre hair. Fuck I miss Lace. Until next week bitches!
Without sounding overly dramatic, Vanderpump Rules is kinda the only reason I wake up every morning. It gives me faith, it gives me hope, and it gives me self-esteem. I would give all internal organs to attend every single fucking staff meeting. Obviously I would never wear that heinous shirtdress required because it looks like a sad wet seal clearance shmata BUT I would be happy to sit in a dark corner sipping LVP Sangria and observing all the shenanigans. There are reality stars, there are actual celebrities and then there is the cast of Pump Rules. As I am currently living in London, I had to wait an entire day before I had access to the premiere episode. I don’t want to seem too egotistical, but I have never loved or respected myself more for executing such patience and self-control during those wretched 24 hours. Andy Cohen you owe me $2.99.
Naturally the season starts off in a staff meeting (#dreams). I love that the girls have invested their tip money/minimum wage pay and gotten extensions. Right out of the gate we learn that James is making his mark in the music business. I love that he thinks he is fucking Steve Aoki because he has a “residency” at fucking Pump. He is amazing and I would probably date him if I were single if he upped his 3 series BMW to a 7 series and like got me screeners for the show…
I will say Scheana has finally found her look. The make-up has gone from bad YouTube tutorial to a more natural and fresh look and I am proud of her. Katie’s bull nose ring is giving me anxiety. Jax looks like he joined a Fight Club fan group at a community college. How old is he? And who the fuck is his plastic surgeon? Helen Keller? As a Jew with extensive rhinoplasty knowledge I have never heard of using skin from your ear to patch into your nose.
Next we see James lingering in the infamous back alley at Sur where the cast rolls up in their budget sedans and smoke their cigarettes. James and Kristen have a heated exchange about Carmen or Jax or Tom or fuck I don’t even know. I was more focused on the discreet sneaky cinematography. Can somebody say Golden Globe nomination?
Finally, Kristen rolls up. She has been focusing on her t-shirt line and not acting like a psycho. Samesies. She is really screwing up James Guetta’s DJ vibes, which is fucked cause he has like 50 people who pre-booked on Open Table to impress.
James says he would rather lose his relationship with Kristen than hurt his dj “career”. Then he imparts us with this morsel of wisdom “Girls come and go… Dreams are with you forever”. These are moments that give me more joy than the cry of a newborn or the news of a tax return being deposited into my overdrawn checking account #hustle.
In the next scene we are once again welcomed into Jax’s humble 250 square foot studio and greeted by his censored penis. He then gives him mom his 12 second MTV cribs tour. “Here’s my closet. Here’s my microwave. Here’s my twin bed. Here’s my futon I bought on Craigslist.” God I love this show.
Just a day at the salon with the 2 Toms… cute? Tom (not a Jew) Schwartz decides to get a fucking perm. Mid curl, he decides he is ready to propose to Katie. Nothing sparks a desire for marital bliss like a day at the salon with the boyz.
Scheana is turning 30 so the gang is dressed in garb spanning a decade. Kristen shows up uninvited with nipples and labia in tow. I just want everyone to know that Scheana’s party is in the same venue as Kendall Jenners Sweet 16. You are welcome for that information.
Ariana and her bob have a come to Jesus moment when she doubts the authenticity of her and Scheana’s friendship. It’s really hard to take anybody seriously because of the plethora of synthetic mushroom cuts. James looks like name is Peggy and he buys all his produce at a Wal-Mart circa 1973. Then he starts chugging fireball. I guess that’s what rock stars do… Oh wait.
And so it begins.
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.
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.
So after everyone acknowledges JJ and Clint are back door lovers, Kaitlyn pulls Clint aside and gives his vest-wearing ass the boot. I will say it once, I will say it again – never trust a bitch in a vest. Unless they are making your dirty martinis or are a fucking vampire in hiding. It always amuses me how emotional the Bachelorettes get after like 1.3 days of knowing the guys. Boohoo. When Clint gets cut, JJ goes flaccid and then demands an apology from Clint. What a butt chinned biatch. On the real, their sexual tension is OFF THE CHARTS. Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey got NOTHING on that chemistry. WHY THE FUCK IS JJ CRYING AND WHY DO I WANT TO KICK HIM IN THE THROAT SO BADLY?
The gang heads to New York to find love in the big apple. How adorable. Doug E. Fresh joins the group date and all the white midwestern guys pretend to be huge fans. Super cultural! The rap battle is the most depressing and Arian shit of all time, but lingering in the crowds is virgin Ashley (who looks hott) and creeper Nick. Conveniently, he decides to rear his Jew curl frizzed head once filming starts so he can further delay being a real man with a real career. THIRSTY.
Jared scores the one on one date and he is #STOKED. I am still judging him for wearing bright yellow converse and homeboy needs a Crest white strip in a jiffy but he’s cute in a gerbil-esque way.
ABC busts out a really ominous strange montage of dramatic NYC scenery while we hear a phone call between Kaitlyn and Nick and she still can’t make up her fucking mind. Then Kaitlyn does what any other gal dating 65 guys on national television would do, invites her side bitch to meet only after getting her weave worked by that psychopath Ashley. I am over all these cameos. If the network is looking to spice up the show cant they just hire a transgender Bachelorette? Or shoot the season from a psych ward?
Nick, hot tip: when deciding your romantic fate, don’t dress up like Mr. Rogers in a rapey maroon cardigan. Lucky for him, Kaitlyn lets him and his offensive outerwear stay and join the other guys at the hotel.
Jared is really living up to his Restaurant Manager job title in that tux. Back at the hotel, the rest of the guys bitch about the situation and all I can focus on is Ian’s hair growth situation… Jared busts out a poem Shel Silverstein would shoot himself in the asshole for. Then they get in a helicopter and blah blah blah.
For the group date, Kaitlyn makes the guys audition for a Broadway play and we all learn the dentist is a homosexual, hence the light washed denim. Chris wins the one on one date and I learn in this episode that this Cupcake boy bugs the fuck out of me. They climb up to the New Years Eve ball and he squeals with glee over seeing a big shiny ball in the flesh. Chris loves Broadway and balls. Think about it. Broadway. Balls.
Nick moves in and the rest is to be continued…
Bitches, my highly unanticipated podcast series is finally here. I try not to appear TOO thirsty (although I am parched as fuck) so consider this the ONLY favor I ask of you. Download (it’s FREE, link below) SUBSCRIBE (instant gratification) review (5 stars) and share with your bitches. Below is some feedback I received from family, friends and producers from first pod.
DOWNLOAD ON ITUNES https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-bitch-bible/id966029848
OR LISTEN ON SOUNDCLOUD
There are three things in this big beautiful world I love unconditionally; triple crème brie cheese, my dog (son) Leo and Vanderpump Rules. If you are reading this and don’t know what my third treasure of the heart is, just fucking leave this blog and never come back. I am sure all you “intellects” (my target audience) are rolling your eyes GUFFAWING at me, a seemingly uneducated blonde proclaiming my unwithering and at times challenging love for reality television. Sure the housewives are like family at this point, Patti Stanger similar to a loud cousin I try to sit away from at Yom Kippur, but these kids at Sur have captivated me in a way I am afraid I can’t put into words.
If you ever want to see me come ALIVE in a social setting just ask me about “Style by Stassi” aka the home of sub par statement necklaces and unfortunate layering #goatcheeseballs. Between bringing her own wine to dry restaurants, visits to her mom’s tri-level cabin in Big Bear with uneven drywall or just cruising down Melrose in her Toyota convertible, Princess Stassi never lets me down. True story: my housekeeper Jazmine was over yesterday, she only comes like once every 4 years but I am kind of obsessed with her in an unnatural way. I give her all my old clothes and she feels obligated to wear them when she comes over and it’s both highly unpractical and adorable… Something about sequins and Clorox warms my heart. As I was 3 hours deep into a Vanderpump Rules marathon, Jazmine politely asked “What crazy show are you watching chica?” Has she been living under a tortilla for the past 3 years. “Jazmine… you have never seen Vanderpump Rules? It’s always on Bravo!” Long pause. “What’s Bravo?” I fired her immediately. Not actually but our relationship will never be the same again.
I watch every episode about 34 times. I may not know what the Civil war was about (although I am glad to hear it was civil #recycledjoke), thought Benghazi was a new kabob place in Glendale and am only 64% certain on my lefts and rights … I can tell you anything and everything about those puffy-painted wine glass swigging millennial DISASTERS working at fucking Sur. I figured what better way to bond us bitches than with a really lame yet gratifying quiz to see how well YOU know the rules a la Vanderpump.
CLICK THIS QUIZ THAT TOOK ME 3 HOURS TO MAKE (AND CAN’T FIGURE OUT HOW TO DIRECTLY LINK/ AM TOO EMBARRASSED TO ASK ANYONE FOR HELP) IF THE QUIZ DOESN’T WORK HERE CLICK THIS #desperate : http://imahautemess.polldaddy.com/s/vanderpumprules AND SHARE WITH YOUR FELLOW VANDERBITCHES.
And always remember… people may try and bring you down for being obsessed with Vanderpump Rules, but you are good as gold.
AFTER A FULL WEEK OF ANXIETY RIDDEN ANTICIPATION WE GET TO HEAR THE TAGLINES AND….I haven’t been more underwhelmed since the last Barney’s Warehouse Sale. What the fuck? Like for Melissa I was thinking something like “I’ve denied having a nose job, and I will also deny Tarzan as long as I am shacking up in this rental home.” This was a huge disappointment.
So it’s Christmas time in the old swamp land. Faux J-Lo aka Melissa is not ecstatic about her boujie decorations in her seemingly nice rental home. Antonia isn’t pleased either … things could be worse babycakes… you could be Gia right now. Nicole and Ter-es-uh hang out at their parents house #chic and more offensively wear fucking santa hats and drink out of puffy painted wine glasses. This scenario might actually be my version of hell. Oh wait I spoke to soon, no – my version of hell would be spending 20 minutes at Amber Alert’s house. After only being acquainted with Amber for one week, I can guarantee this much is true. A) Her children are going to need intensive psychiatric assistance B) She definitely has invested in the entire Brighton sterling silver jewelry collection C) I would rather eat my childhood dog for a snack then ever be in a burning building with her. She WOULD have a fucking whistle… she’s like the adolescence nazi.
How does Dina stay zen with all those fucking chatchkies everywhere and Lexi has really come out of her awkward stage with flying colors and a very intriguing highlight situation. Now we head over to the good ol Giudice palace for some good ol kosher fun. Did anyone else see the irony in Tre wearing a shirt that read “OOPS”? Yeah girl…fraud is such whoopsie! I don’t give a shit what anyone says, I love Teresa Giudice and I just don’t care who knows it… you heard me. Haters are gonna hate, but I just LOVE LOVE LOVE.
Nicole and Dina have brunch fit for a cougar in a fedora and then we move on to Hitler with a weave (aka Amber’s) home where she is running fire drills and I need to refill my dirty martini just THINKING about how badly I want to punch her in the ovary (which she would probably appreciate given her blatant disdain for children). I am so loving Melissa and Teresa getting along. Plus I call dibs on Melissa’s youngest son in 18 years because he is a totally hott tot. Too much? Whatever.
Some boring shit happens then we join the Gorgas, Giudices and Wakiles for a cousin Christmas dinner, where they exchange weird ass gifts and pretend Juicy isn’t months away from getting his ass ripped apart in prison. Sounds pretty normal to me. Side note: Why can’t Rosie be a housewife? Until next week bitches…