ABC didn’t exactly take my advice last night, but there was a subtle shot at the haters in the MNF lead-in.
When I’m watching CBS, I see ads for The Amazing Race with the show hyped as “The Emmy Award winner for Best Reality Series”. I’ve watched the show a few times, and like the concept better than pretty much every other reality show. Still, isn’t being called the best reality series kind of like, in Anthony Michael Hall’s words, being called king of the dorks?
Why isn’t it big news anymore when people swim the English Channel? I remember when I was a kid it seemed like it always made the national news when someone crossed the Channel. I checked and 17 people have completed solo swims of the Channel this year. I haven’t heard a news story about a single one of them. I guess now that the Chunnel exists, no one thinks it’s sexy to swim from France to England anymore?
You know what makes me laugh? The ads for Hungry Man frozen dinners. Those are the ads where one guy brags about how his frozen dinner included an entire side of beef, while another guy talks about some rather dainty food he downed. The healthier eating lad is then either blown away by a gentle breeze or knocked over by a child to demonstrate the lack of substance in his meal. These make me laugh because in an age where we know more about the effects of large portions of food on our overall health, Swanson’s is basically calling anyone who doesn’t throw down 1000 calories in a meal a sissy. “Sure, these meals might give you an instant heart attack or provide enough calories to feed a small nation, but you don’t want to be a wimp do you? Come on, eat it!”
Some people across the street put up their Christmas lights and decorations two weeks ago. They flipped the lights on last weekend. I understand putting the decorations up early. People travel over Thanksgiving weekend and this time of year you can never be sure if you’ll get good weather here in the midwest. It makes sense to string the lights when you have a chance. But is it really necessary to turn them on before Thanksgiving? Can’t we celebrate one holiday before we start with the next? With all that in mind, I’ve already had two Peppermint Mochas from Starbucks this season, so perhaps I’m part of the problem too.
Tag: TV (Page 15 of 17)
It’s clear there’s one big bonus to being unemployed: If Monday Night Football is exciting, I’ll be able to stay up and watch the entire game. At least until the rest of the world changes time, that is. Tonight, though, I persevered and made it through the entire Dallas-Washington game. A pretty amazing ending, if only for the way it got the hopes of Redskins fans up only to be dashed when there were no more timeouts. One of the benefits of following America’s Team is crushing the spirit of Redskins fans, even when the Cowboys suck.
I was pretty fascinated by the work of the sideline cameramen. The Redskins cheerleaders are wearing utterly ridiculous outfits this year, and it became clear throughout the night that some kind of agreement had been made with the ABC crew. The MNF team always does a nice job of showcasing the “talents” of cheerleaders around the league each Monday evening. I think some cash exchanged hands this week, though. Extra long shots. Bordering on criminally long. Cheerleaders striking poses better suited for posters to adorn the walls of auto mechanics rather than network television. It reached the point where I half expect Jerry Falwell to launch a protest against ABC in time for next week’s game.
All of this is yet another reminder of the difficulty in being the father of a girl. Do I want some T&A with my football? Absolutely. What could be more American, save beach volleyball dancers? However, as I stared at the augmented cleavage of woman after woman, I couldn’t help but think she was someone’s daughter. And do I want anyone looking at my daughter that way? Probably not. Only if it becomes cool for the President of the United States to be a woman, a total hottie, and to deliver the State of the Union in a bikini. The moral of the story is that with fatherhood comes guilt. Overwhelming guilt as you attempt to partake in the simple pleasures in life. It’s quite maddening.
If you missed the game, here’s a link you might be interested in. (I found it totally randomly, of course.)
In over two years of traveling for work, I drastically improved my packing skills. I used to be the guy who took three bags for a three day trip. By this time last year, I was almost always traveling with a backpack that could stow away underneath the seat in front of me and a small suitcase that could be put into the overhead storage compartments. I still generally took far too much stuff with me, but at least I wasn’t checking anything.
Trying to pack for a week-long trip that includes two weddings while remembering to bring everything we need for the baby is turning out to be a bit of a challenge. I have visions of us preparing to load up the car tomorrow morning, getting 2/3 of the items we’ve packed in, having no more room, and staring at the car with our hands on our hips wondering where we went so wrong. I’m sure we’ll figure something out. A few other thoughts put together while M. and I sat on the couch watching Barry Bonds go for home run #700 (Or rather while she took a three hour nap on my chest while I took cat naps in between Bonds ABs).
I LOVE the commercials for the ESPN movie Hu$tle about Pete Rose. Everyone looks like Pete always did, about seven years behind the fashion curve. Everyone looks just a little run down, like the actors in the second half of Boogie Nights, which seems perfect for what I imagine his life to be like. Casting and costuming aside, I still think it’s just another sign of how Disney has ruined ESPN by forcing more and more “entertainment” on us rather than focusing on being the best sports broadcaster in the world. We get overly hyped movies a couple times a year, senseless award shows, and far too many hours devoted to things like the X-Games, World’s Strongest Man, etc. rather than real sports. (I throw the X-Games in because it’s utterly ridiculous that ESPN includes highlights and results from the X-Games in Sportscenter and the crawl, yet ignore other extreme sports that ESPN doesn’t broadcast. If the Gravity Games, or whatever else there is out there are putting on almost exactly the same events and they don’t get coverage, that’s proof they are marketing opportunities and not real sports.) And I haven’t even gone on my traditional rant about Sportscenter sucking and the ubiquity of its “personalities”.
I’ve been seeing this commercial for Bank of America that talks about all their efforts to improve the technology on ATMs for several weeks. It always makes me think of the old SNL skit for the bank that provides change. When the BofA guy brags about carving six seconds out of a transaction, it makes me think of the line, “We’re not going to give you 20,000 nickels. Unless you want 20,000 nickels.” Of course, what the BofA guy doesn’t tell you is that by making ATMs do-it-alls, they can drastically cut back on the number of warm blooded individuals they hire, therefore cutting back on expenses. At the same time, they’ll increase user fees to cover the cost of all this R&D and implementation of the super advanced ATMs.
The third commercial that’s caught my attention is the one for the Freedom Tower coins. Have you seen this one? “Silver dollar coins” (that aren’t legal tender) that show the old New York skyline on one side, and the approximation of the NYC skyline after the Freedom Tower is built on the other. Alone, that’s ok. However, the big selling point is that each coin contains a tiny amount of silver that was actually recovered from Ground Zero! That’s right, you can own a piece of one of the world’s biggest mass graveyards! Why don’t they just throw in some dust, clothing scraps, and unidentified body parts also recovered from Ground Zero while they’re at it? I’m all for honoring those who lost their lives that day, but for people to make a buck off a rather ghoulish element of that day is reprehensible.
Via iTunes, I watched the video for Morrissey’s latest single “First of the Gang to Die” over the weekend. It’s not a bad song, although I liked the first single “Irish Blood, English Heart” much more. The video did make me laugh, though. It’s one of those performance videos that mix hundreds of shots taken at a recent Moz concert. I particularly enjoyed the crowd shots, in which it was nearly impossible to find a female face. I just found that interesting, that’s all.
One last note, a week ago Friday I was flipping around and found old Beavis and Butthead episodes on MTV2. Highly entertaining! I’ve become quite a fan of The Family Guy and occasionally watch South Park. It’s amazing how primitive B&B look in relation to those two animated shows. Also, later in the night, The Thanksgiving Orphans episode of Cheers was on TV Land. Always an exciting time in the B. household when I can catch that!
We’re off to KC in the morning. I should have Internet access through the week, so will be posting as time allows. I may have to bust out the phone blog number again, too. We’ll see some of you soon.
I had to call the Indianapolis Star today to update some information on our account. That means I finally got to call the number that’s been making me laugh for over a year: 444-4444. This is only funny if you’ve spent any time in St. Louis and heard how some natives of that fair city pronounce the number 4. It tends to come out more like “far” than “four”, making 40 sound like “farty”. Terrific fun for immature lads like myself. The Star has all kinds of clever ads that always include the phone number being sung in the background. S. and I crack each other up by singing along as if we were St. Louisians, “Far-far-far, farty-far, farty-far.”
M. got to watch her first episode of Jeopardy this evening (I forgot Monday night that new episodes were on again) so she finally got a chance to check out this Ken Jennings guy she’s heard so much about. I must say, it is comforting to see his smug mug back on the screen. My life had been a whirlwind since he left us; now all seems right again. He’s clearly a bit off his game, though, blowing over $21K on Final Jeopardy Monday and missing another final question tonight. He was even looking pissed when he had only a $1000 lead midway through Double Jeopardy. He then went on a patented run to open up a massive lead and proved he’s still got it. He’s like Jordan in 1993 or Tiger in 2000. He punishes his opponents.
I do have a theory about Mr. Jennings. I think he’s a government plant, and quite possibly a robot. He has an absolutely astounding range in his knowledge. He knows exactly when to buzz in so he beats his opponents, yet doesn’t come in too quick and risk being locked out. That ability to sift through massive amounts of trivia and ring in at exactly the right millisecond could be proof that there’s a microprocessor in his skull and not just grey matter like you and I have.
I’m not normally down with the whole conspiracy theory thing. I do think Lee Harvey Oswald had some help. When my favorite teams are losing to their archrivals and the officiating sucks, I tend to believe the fix is in. But in general, I think events take place due to the free will of humans rather than puppet masters pulling the strings from behind a dark curtain. However, in the climate that included the national depression caused by 9/11, the lagging economy, the discord in the run-up to the war in Iraq, and the general contentiousness that exists in this country today, unnamed sources in the halls of power decided it was time for action. It wasn’t done to benefit President Bush, John Kerry, members of Congress, or any other political entity. Ken Jennings was unleashed from a secret government lab to give us all something to believe in once again. I think we need to put his face on the flag, because he damn sure is saving this country. I pledge allegiance to you, Ken Jennings!
Remember where you heard it first. And spread the word in case I disappear in a mysterious accident after posting this information.
I missed Lance Armstrong’s destruction of the Tour de France field today while I was at the dentist getting a filling. There’s not much cooler than catching a world-class racer who had a two-minute head start then beating him handily. The Legend of Lance grows.
While letting the Novocain take effect, though, I did see something very odd on the TV at the dentist’s office. I was staring at the ceiling during a commercial break and heard the most excellent “That Great Love Sound” by the most excellent Raveonettes. Why would such a great song be played on network TV during the Wayne Brady Show? Turns out the Scandinavian duo have sold the rights to their current alterna-hit to K-Mart of all people. I’m not sure how stellar indie rock that recalls the best days of The Jesus and Mary Chain has anything to do with highly discounted goods, but it did get my attention, so I guess it served the intended purpose.
While I hope this means a broader audience for the Raveonettes, more album sales, and greater concert attendance, I’m a little concerned with their choice of sponsorships. What happened to getting a Nike or Coke commercial? Or give Apple a call and do whatever it takes to get into the 4G iPod commercials for crying out loud. Perhaps being from Denmark, they don’t realize how low on the retail totem pole K-Mart falls. Conversely, perhaps this is Danish irony and I just don’t get it. Oh well. Using iTunes, MusicMatch, or whatever legal music service you use, I highly suggest checking out some of the R’s tunes.
By the way, worth noting that all our corporate e-mail and many of our internal applications have been fried for over 24 hours. Not sure if it was a massive hardware failure, the nasty virus that’s been going around, or a combination. I blame the insecurity of the Windows world regardless. Can you imagine, 24 hours without e-mail??? Thank goodness for home accounts!
Happy Monday to you all. Another week, another seven days closer to being a father. I had really reached the point where I was greatly excited about the whole thing and the elements of fear were disappearing. Then we had to invite a coworker of S. over for dinner last night. Jennifer and Jason are proud parents of a three-month-old boy. He’s a total cutie and was well behaved throughout the night. However, there were some issues with his delivery (no long-term issues for him) and his mother being a pediatrician felt obligated to share all sorts of fun details. Funny thing about being married to a physician: they tend to think you want to hear all kinds of medical details. I think it’s part of the Hippocratic Oath, to be honest. “I promise to share complete details of all medical procedures with non-medical people, first in highly technical terms so they’re confused, then in plain language to build on the confusion with disgust and fear.” Or something like that. Anyway, I remain excited about our girl’s arrival, but some of the trepidation about the delivery process has returned. Remind me to pack a flask in my bag for the hospital.
We took a day trip to Bloomington Saturday and I used the occasion as a chance to explore some of my new photo sharing options. I’ll be providing a link to some of the pictures later today.
Friday night, S. was working, so I made a trip to Best Buy then decided to swing by the mall. It was still early, only 6:00 or so, and the mall I went to doesn’t have a theater attached, so I didn’t expect it to be overwhelmed with teenagers. It wasn’t packed, but there were still lots of upper high school and college aged kids cruising about, mostly girls. Here’s the thing: almost without exception, these young ladies were dressed like whores. I realize that may be harsh, but really, isn’t there a point where you’re showing too much skin if you’re not at a pool, in the privacy of your own living space, or “paying your way through law school” at the nearest go-go lounge? I’ll admit, the first 4-5 deeply tanned girls I saw in ridiculously short shorts, stomach baring/cleavage showing t-shirts, I didn’t really mind. But when I realized pretty much every girl in the mall was dressed that way, I started to get a little uncomfortable. I know trends are always changing, times are different, and I’m getting older, but what’s going on now is ridiculous. So I came home and drank to excess to forget that I’m complaining about attractive young women showing off their bodies (meaning I’m old) and the fact I’m about to have a daughter of my own. I’ll tell you right now, no daughter of mine…
I’ve been enjoying VH1’s latest series, I Love the 90s. For obvious reasons, this show hits closer to home than I Love the 70s or 80s. The 90s were our generation’s time to come of age, dominate pop culture, and make our voices heard. Thankfully, we did a few things right, but there’s still plenty to make fun of. Like the Macarena. I remember a female friend asking me if I had done the Macarena in the summer of ’96. I wasn’t sure if I was being propositioned, offered some new designer drug, or what. When I admitted my ignorance, she explained that the Macarena was this great new dance that was “soooooo much fun!” Soon I saw the Macarena in action and I wondered, “What’s so fun about that?” At least YMCA is campy. This was just dumb.
Some shout outs and put-downs for the VH1 crew. First, big props to Media Gadfly Mo Rocca for appearing in a beautiful, blue Rock Chalk Jayhawk t-shirt. I know of no formal connection between Mo and KU, so he probably just has exceptional taste. Either that or the KU alum that is a producer at VH1 slid a freebie over to him. Big thumbs down to Stuart Scott, as always. He’s an idiot. He must come cheap, that’s the only way I can explain his continuing appearances on VH1 programs.
While we’re on the subject of crappy ESPN announcers, Mike Tirico did a great job of making me not want to watch the British Open over the weekend. I first started to hate Tirico back in his late night Sportscenter days. I was neutral towards him until hockey season rolled around. Each night, when it was his turn to start the hockey highlights, without fail he would say, “Now for the night on frozen pond.” When he does golf now, he perpetually refers to the 18th hole as “the last”. Both are completely appropriate terms, why do they annoy me? Because they’re terms that should be used infrequently to mix things up, not at any and every opportunity to make it seem like you’re some great trove of hockey/golf knowledge. Use “the last” once per broadcast and it would be fine. But I heard him use it four times in 90 seconds Saturday. I had this image of Ian Baker Finch, Nick Price, and the other current and former golfers sharing the booth with Tirico rolling their eyes each time he used the term.
By the way, more Windows problems with the work laptop today while the Mac hums along happily. Be watching for pictures here later.
I failed to mention that we watched two outstanding movies over the weekend: In America and Big Fish. I freely admit I cried like a baby at the end of In America. Hey, throw in a story line about a baby being born prematurely with problems and you’re going to get me every time now that I’m a prospective father. I thought it was a charming, heartwarming movie full of outstanding performances. I really liked Big Fish as well. It’s one of those movies that makes you smile throughout, not just because it’s amusing, but because it is so well crafted. The man became his stories, and thus he became immortal. It’s not an idea that’s going to change the world, but it is a wonderful way of looking at how those you’ve loved and lost have made a mark on you, and how you will hopefully make a mark on others over the course of your life.
I caught a rerun of Newlyweds the other night and had to laugh at Nick watching his Bearcats in the NCAA tournament. At one point, while they’re getting absolutely worked by Illinois, he says, “That guy is hitting every effing shot. Somebody guard him.” I believe I’ve shouted that exact same analysis at the TV many times, although I tend to put the effing in front of guard rather than shot. “Someone effing guard him!”
It appears as though I’ll get out of any possibility of doing a draft log tonight as we have dinner plans. Fine with me, the prospective trades floating around are far more interesting than any actual in-draft drama this year. The city of Indianapolis offered its collective yawn towards the process by running a front page story not on potential Pacers trade or draft targets, but on Greg Oden, the local high school junior-to-be who just dominated a national high school camp. Everything I read about the kid is great, from his game to his family to his attitude. Getting this much attention, hype, and expectations at the age of 16 can doom a kid for failure. I hope he has the makeup and support structure to get through the next two years unscathed. Not even LeBron had this much hype at the same stage. Can you imagine people guaranteeing you’ll be the number one pick in the draft before your sophomore season has even ended?
There was some good crime in Indy this week. A couple of punk kids were driving around holding people up for their wallets. One victim phoned 911 and directed police to the house the kids had holed up in. The kids refused to come out when the police arrived, so teargas was tossed in and eventually they gave themselves up. What made it all so good was a shot of the pickup the kids were driving around. In the back window was a large sticker, nearly covering the entire pane, which said “Redneck” and was colored to mirror the Confederate flag. Outstanding, and not very surprising. Next time some older white person says they don’t understand why young black kids like to parade around like gangstas, remind them of how many white kids run around town proudly calling themselves rednecks. I think we’re even and can just move on.
Life’s pleasures: sitting on the deck on a cool June evening, sipping a beer, listening to the soft buzz of summer insects that are just starting to make their presence felt.
Why is it pretty much every PJ Harvey song I’ve ever heard, I’ve liked a lot, but I’ve never had any desire to buy one of her albums?
Be watching this space later today for a truly interactive experience. I found an interesting list of questions that’s worth sharing and getting comments on.
What day is it anyway? I hate it when three day weekends come at the wrong time and totally mess up your routine. I’ve got a trip to Portland scheduled for next week, about a million things going on this week, and I have no idea where time went.
I’m watching the Seinfeld marathon on TBS Wednesday night and saw one of my all time favorite lines. In The Jimmy, Kramer is sharing how Dr. Whatley has turned his dental practice into an adults only office. “When they ripped that molar out, I let the expletives fly!” I’m hearing all about the Manssiere now. They just don’t make them like they used to, back when I was a kid, way back in the 90s.
A greatly edited accounting of Storm Sunday here in Indy. For the third straight summer holiday, we got slammed with bad weather. Last Fourth of July brought tornadoes and severe storms, followed by minor flooding. Labor Day brought 20 inches of rain in some parts of town. Now Memorial Day weekend is full of storms. Couldn’t have happened on a worse day, only like the biggest day ever in Indy or whatever. The World’s Biggest Single Day Sporting Event followed by an NBA playoff game. Instead of listening to the race (since it’s not carried on live television here) and watching the Pacers game, I spent at least four hours glued to the wall-to-wall coverage of the weather. Like the good Kansan I am, of course. We totally lucked out in our neighborhood. Although we could hear the sirens from across the county lines, we had nothing but torrential rains for about an hour. Very little wind, no hail, and no damage. There was supposedly a tornado spotted just five miles from our house, but the sirens never went off so I assume that was a mistaken sighting.
The southern half of the city wasn’t so lucky. As crowds left the Speedway and packed into the fieldhouse, huge storms battered the area from downtown to the south. News copters and traffic cameras showed funnel clouds, showed trees uprooted, a nursing home that had been ripped wide open, and houses that were destroyed. For someone who generally likes storms, seeing homes very similar to mine devastated was a sobering reminder of how quickly life can change. I was contemplating moving the Little Girlfriend’s room down to the basement so she never has to worry about trees crashing through the roof or her ceiling being ripped open.
I’m sad to say there are no weather personalities here that can rival Gary Lezak. He would have been going nuts with six hours of severe weather and a map lit up with warnings like election night results. Sure, we’ve got a weather hottie, but she’s more hot in the attractive mom way than the ridiculousness that can be found on Southern California newscasts. But she was out of action Sunday, and weather geeks were forced to deal with traditional, sober weathermen to guide us through the afternoon and evening.
Monday we visited some friends who had just moved into their new house over the weekend. Natasha’s mother asked if I had gone into the basement when the storms hit. “No,” I answered, “I’m from Kansas. I went outside and watched!” “We’re from Kansas too and we had one foot out the back door and the other down to the basement!” I heard a lot about Hoosier pride this weekend with the race, its surrounding events, and the playoff games. Apparently this is how Kansas pride manifests itself: bragging about being the last one into the basement when the sirens go off.
In other news, we now have diapers in our house. That really is the last step in preparation, isn’t it? Yeah, the changing table doesn’t get here for a few more days, we still have lots of day-to-day things to acquire, but when it comes down to it, once you have a crib, a few clothes, a couple functioning nipples (or stock of formula) and some diapers, you’re pretty much set if the kid decides to show up early.
Speaking of, S had her latest check up Tuesday and all continues to go well. We were really sure about positioning, so she asked her OB for a guess. He thought she is head down, although she tends to lay at an angle so her feet are over on the right side of S’s abdomen. Her favorite game now is to kick mommy’s ribs. She thinks it’s great fun! Mommy wishes she would either run out of room to move or just cut it out.
No good baby related conversations to share, although there was this gem from Tuesday that could have been kid influenced. S had been having a bit of a rough day and when ESPN flashed a shot of Tayshaun Prince during the Pacers-Pistons game, she let loose, “I just hate him. He looks like such a whiny little baby all the time. WAAAAAAHHHH!” Wow! This from someone who hadn’t watched much of the series and had probably never seen Prince in her life before the previous week. For my readers not familiar with Prince, he’s Detroit’s 6’8”, 125 small forward. He makes Reggie Miller look buff. He has a rather unfortunate complexion (lots of lingering acne), a spotty beard, and in general just isn’t an attractive cat. But he hits just enough three pointers and plays just enough defense to be a solid NBA player.
You all know I’m a geek, so I don’t mind sharing stories like this. I have recently become fascinated by the birds that entertain us on a daily basis. I’ve got my buddy the cardinal who is always flitting around just outside our kitchen window. Actually, I saw two males out there Wednesday, and saw a female for the first time in a long time as well. As a part of my fascination, I made two realizations: A) My daughter needs to know what the birds are called B) I’m a city kid and can name about five birds. So, using the free points I had accumulated in the book club I’m a member of, I ordered a bird guide. If that wasn’t bad enough, now I’ve totally geeked out and spend hours, well dozens of minutes anyway, staring out the windows trying to identify the birds and take pictures of them. The cardinal(s) are visible each day. Like most of you, we have robins out the ass. Grackles take over our yard each evening. Wednesday, a flock of Chipping Sparrows spent the better part of an hour enjoying our collection of bugs. One of the trees in our front yard has berries on it, so I’m hoping I can catch some more interesting birds there soon. I’m also working on picking just the right kind of bird feeders to put in the backyard so I can keep them coming. Like I said, geek.
Hey, the Palmers live in Indy! We should look them up sometime. “Your son is really amazing. This house is amazing. You were a model, Mrs. Palmer? Amazing!” I’m sure Jessica and Tara were impressed by Indy in the early spring. Bare trees, dead grass, dreary skies. Not quite white sand beaches, is it ladies? I know we don’t see everything on the show, but did they really take the group to Indianapolis’ most famous restaurant, St. Elmo’s Steakhouse, and sit them in the wine cellar for drinks and snacks but no real meal? Stupid. What do you think the conversation between Mr. & Mrs. Palmer after Tara’s visit was like? “I hate her.” “I love her.” “What?!?!”
I read a book during most of the show, so let’s skip ahead since nothing too important happened before the dramatic conclusion.
Jessica. I’ve been a fan all along. I think she’s got her act more together than Tara, and is a classic beauty. Poor choice on the dress and the hair, though. Didn’t look like herself at all. Thumbs down to Jesse for throwing a “but” in his little speech to Jessica. Not cool at all. However, props for not being an idiot and proposing. This boy might have some brains after all. “I’d like to go on a real date with you. Maybe do that for a year, perhaps two, then we’ll see if we belong together.” Some future bachelor needs to make this speech.
Tara. That dress, good lord! That should earn her a spot as the next Bachelorette, so long as she agrees to wear it each week. If not, it should immediately be retired to the dress hall of fame. Someone else (who is free to take credit in the comments) said Jesse should have switched to speech B when he saw the dress. Too bad Jessica went first! I think Tara has all kinds of issues. Not sure why, exactly. I was a little uncomfortable with her drinking beer and ripping on her dad to his face. Seemed like her gripes weren’t sarcastic and loving at all, more based on 23 years of accumulated bitterness. Maybe it’s just me.
We’ve got puking! We’ve got tears! We’ve got a woman refusing to exit the limo! Finally ABC delivers on its promise of The Most Dramatic Rose Ceremony Yet! Why couldn’t host Chris have come over and held her hair back? That would have been a nice touch. Best of all, while she’s having her breakdown, you hear her voice over about how she’s never felt the way she feels about Jesse before. This woman was engaged before, and after the equivalent of 48 hours together, she’s head over heels?
In another side discussion, we’ve wondered what kind of pressure is put on these women off camera. ABC handlers are no doubt rushing around for six weeks telling them, “Isn’t he great?” I’m sorry, “Isn’t he amazing? This is such a great opportunity for you!” Etc. etc. etc. No wonder they’re all messes by the end when there’s no rational reason for them to act like a multi-year relationship is ending. I leaned over to my wife’s stomach and addressed the Little Girlfriend: “You’re never going to act like this over some boy. Boys are going to act like this because of you!” She kicked, so I think the message was received.
Jesse looked thoroughly uncomfortable the entire time he was with Tara, so I guess that bodes well for his future with Jessica. Then again, maybe he was just bored and was busy concentrating on who the Giants would draft and what that meant to his career. Worth further investigation. Tara’s outburst was absolutely priceless, a reality TV classic. Much better than the whole Trish mess, since it was genuine (allegedly). How about just coming out on national TV and making 90% of viewers think Jesse got some Oklahoma style lovin’ on a recent date? Props to Jesse! Bet that was a joy to explain to Jessica. “No, really, nothing happened. She’s just nuts, you know that.” Nervous laughter and a sweaty forehead from Jessie. “So are we going to Home Depot today or what?”
Now the two J’s will live happily ever after, for about six months. Then Jessica’s age or the uncertainty of Jessie’s career will tear them apart. They’ll insist they respect each other, and wish it had worked, but there were just too many issues. Meanwhile, Tara becomes America’s sweetheart and spins away on talk shows so she emerges as the big winner. Trish becomes a Carmelite Nun and moves to Bangladesh in hopes of solving world hunger. Or just continues to sleep with married men, I’m not real clear on this one yet.
Thankfully, another dramatic season of The Bachelor has come to a close. They were running ads for future potential bachelors, so looks like we’ll have the show to kick around again soon. I can think of a certain PhD candidate in St. Louis who would make for extremely entertaining television. In the meantime, we can be totally creeped out by what’s suggested in the promos for The Ultimate Love Test. I’m pretty sure I won’t be watching that one.
I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks that Jesse Palmer uses the word amazing far too often. “What an amazing view, huh?” “You look amazing!” “It’s been an amazing day, hasn’t it?” And that was just with one woman! I think he’s just been watching too much Queer Eye to get his Metrosexual cred in order.
Long time Friend of the Blog Dale S. came up with the genius idea of a Jesse Palmer drinking game. Simple rules: every time he uses the word amazing, take a drink. Like the Century Club, it seems far too simple to have any effect. In practice, though, after an hour, you’ll be nicely toasted. I’ll add one bonus rule: each time Jesse tells a woman he is falling in love with her, but also falling in love with someone else, you have to slam whatever is left in your can/mug/flask. Should make a show that reached new lows of insulting our intelligence last night a little more fun. Props to Dale!