It's Bachelorette Time and DP Returns

Well Hello, Readers.  What's new?  I know, I know.  Some Guy has been about as absent as a gay scoutmaster at a Boy Scouts of America rally over the past few months.  Believe me, it hasn't been from a lack of desire to write.  I've been swamped lately with work and that whole getting married thing that I still owe you a post about.  It makes me more uncomfortable than a bastard on Father's Day to leave my pet project sitting this long.  I won't insult your intelligence with an apology; rather, I'll make it up to you in laughs (I hope).   

Enough about me, though.  Let's talk about the upcoming Bachelorette season before I talk more about myself again.  As any good reporter not in the midst of a secret DOJ search of his phone records is apt to do prior to putting fingers to keyboard about such a hard hitting matter as Dez's 25 maybe one day potential fiances, I did my due diligence by scouring the ABC website and viewing the profiles of this season's bunch of Chachis.

 

Yes, that's actually Scott Baio.  We should all have a picture like that taken of us some time in our lives.  I'll see what I can do about getting mine done ASAP.  For those of you too young to appreciate it (Mallory) Scott Baio actually played Chachi Arcola on Happy Days and its eventual spin off, Joanie Loves Chachi.  That's neither here nor there for our purposes today, however.  Back to the subject at hand.

 

I'll have you know that I had grand plans to construct a clever, side-splitting post featuring some of my best insults about all of the men vying for an inevitable showdown with Dez's well-meaning but egregiously unstable brother this season.  Here comes the "however."

HOWEVER, upon scrolling through the Charcuterie of Chumps I couldn't help but be amazed (and yes, that's the appropriate word) by one Chump in particular. 

THIS GUY. 

Hell, he even looks like Chachi.  Who is he and why does he annoy DP, you ask?  Apparently, his name is Nick.  His "deal breakers" in relationships include "high maintenance label whores" and someone who has "no motivation or goals."  When asked if he prefers to be the pursuer or the pursuee in he answered as follows: 

 

"I think a balance of both is very important. The chase is what makes the milk worth the squeeze, and it's important to know that a woman wants to pursue me as well. It's a two-way street."

 

I know what you're saying:  "DP, how can it get any better?"  It's about to get better. 

 

In response to the "what is your favorite television show and why" inquiry, Nick answered, "America's Funniest Home Videos. Besides being on the show a few years back, I laugh out loud the entire show whenever I watch it."

 

I'm not done yet.  But I'll give you all a moment to wipe the drool off of your keyboards, change your underwear, and recover from The Vapors.

 

 

I have indeed saved the best part for last.  I'll share it with your before I break the rest of it down.  Nick is (as many of you have undoubtedly guessed) a Magician.  A freaking Magician.  Let's explore that a bit, shall we? 

First of all, magic--particularly the kind where a full grown man seeks validation after being ostracized in high school by dressing up in a cape, hiring hot, scantily clad women, and performing 'illusions'--pisses me off.  It's hokey, fake, and ridiculous.  It places a very close second behind clowns on my list of things I dislike.

Incidentally, Jake Pavelka would have made that list but after some thought I decided that the word "clown" was broad enough to include him. 

Secondly, raise your hand if you're a female in the audience who is reduced to a stuttering pile of mush at the mention of the word "magician."  I have no way of actually checking but I don't believe a saw any hands go up.  There's a reason that magic and kids' birthday parties go hand in hand:  adults think it's stupid.  Hell, the biggest trick this guy can pull off this season is making himself stick around past whatever stupid coin trick he's going to pull on Dez when he gets out of the limo.  If he has any sense of humor he'll ditch the silver dollar and pull a condom out from behind her ear.  My only hope is that Harrison has some fun with the guy with questions like, "are you planning on making the salami disappear?"  We should all be so lucky. 


Third of all, the guy's profile answers smack of misogyny.  Well, with the exception of the part where he admits that his favorite person in the world is his mother.  "Label whore," "The chase is what makes the milk worth the squeeze"?  Good Lord.  Instead of The Incredibly Magnificent Nick or whatever his rabbit-out-of-a-hat name is, the guy should stick with The Incredibly Sexist Nick.

Look, far be it from me to knock a guy pursuing his passion.  Good for him.  It's not too far from me to make fun of it, however.  Pick a card, any card.  How about the King of Douches, Nick? 

What an idiot.

Third, America's Funniest Videos? Is that show even on TV anymore? I suppose if he's into cats falling off counters and overweight fathers being hit in the groin with Wiffle bats he has a point. I'd rather watch all four Twilight movies in one sitting than suffer through an episode of scripted nonsense featuring home movies taken when Clinton was still in office.  Come to think of it, I'd like to see Robert Patinson get hit in the groin with a Wiffle bat. 

So where does this leave me? 

Subject to and without withdrawing any of my comments above, I'm totally rooting for this guy to magically appear at Dez's family's house so he can dazzle her brother with some sleight of hand. 

Go Nick. 

Well, there it is.  We're off.  I look forward to getting caught up with all of you this season.  Hit me up in the Comment section or on Twitter.  I'll sprinkle in some wedding stuff throughout the season since I've been getting a lot of requests for feedback.  Below is a pic from the Big Day.  Thanks for sticking around.  I look forward to the season.  In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be working on my salami illusions.  DP

 

 

 

 

DP Gets Hitched

Well Folks, it's official.  The SLF is Mrs. SGIA.  As such, we've both been extremely busy over the past couple of weeks and are now enjoying some downtime at a soon-to-be-disclosed location.  I've got  a mountain of material ready for my wedding post, however.  In fact, that mountain is so large it may have to be divided into a mountain range over a few posts.  In the meantime, I wanted to check in with all of you in order to thank those of you who made the effort to post a message on Facebook or to shoot me an email congratulating us on the Big Day.  It was a kickass time.  I'll be back soon (albeit a tad bit slower due to the newly anchored ball and chain around my leg).  That last part was a joke.  There's no way she'll read this post.

I hope you're all well.  We'll talk soon.  In the meantime, enjoy the picture of the groom's cake.  If you need me, I'll be passively nodding in agreement at every word that the SLF utters.

DP

I NEED YOUR HELP!

Hello, Readers!  As usual, DP is traveling for work this week.  Normally, that's a sign that nothing will be posted until I return home.  However, writing in the off-season does not require sitting through a two hour "Journey for Amazing Love" during the most incredible and controversial season ever.  So, let's kick off the off season the right way.  Here's what I need.  

Questions, suggestions, and ideas about a blog post you'd like to see.  I have something special in the form of two posts for the wedding, so I've got that covered.  Stay tuned.  In the meantime, comment, email, or tweet and I'll take that clay and sculpt it into something fun. 

Happy St. Patrick's Day, by the say.  I'd end with my traditional holiday "How do you get a  ---- pregnant" joke, but the "Leprechaun" below looks like she'll likely get that part taken care of in the very near future.  We'll talk soon.  DP

Bachelor Sean: FINALLY, the Big Finale

Hello, Readers. Welcome once again to the end of yet another Bachelor season. With Sean engaged to his best guess after globetrotting in a wine haze for the past two months and the rest of the Bitter Betties squirming to resuscitate their bed-ridden 15 minutes of "fame," I offer you my humble assessment of the goings on.

 

Obviously, I haven't given you my two cents (or is it sense?) regarding the Women Tell All yet. I'm aware of that because some of you were kind enough to "remind" me of it via Twitter (@SomeGuyinAustin). All I can say is that I'm giving it the old college try. Like Lindsay in a math exam, I'm struggling to do my best. I'll mix in my thoughts below.

 

This is also the time of year when I regrettably lose half of my Readers until the next time I play dancing monkey in a bellman's costume in May when the Bachelorette begins. Incidentally, I'm curious how much cash Fleiss is going to shell out to Desiree's brother to keep his tattooed trap shut during the hometowns. I predict an incredible change in attitude, but we'll see how it goes. We will have to wait and see how Des polishes up during Bachelorette School. She's no Eliza Doolittle. Then again, Eliza Doolittle didn't have an as*hole for a brother.

 

In a break from tradition, I won't chronologically walk us through the big finale; rather, I’ll list my thoughts.  Why the break?  Some Guy just spent a few days in New Orleans and, frankly, I’m just now regaining the ability to form a complete thought.  My “notes” were a bit hazy, rendering them about as useless as a left handed glove in Sarah’s apartment.  Let’s get to it. 

 

We begin with redundancies upon redundancies after Harrison and his naked wedding ring finger remind us that only Catherine and Lindsay remain standing.  Then we recap the recap of the previous recaps of the recaps of the other episodes and their recaps.  I felt like I was going to the theater to purchase a ticket for a Kevin Costner’s Waterworld or The Postman:  I knew I’d be there for three hours and that the vast majority of that time would be a redundant, self-indulgent mess.  Was it just me or did everyone utter something to the effect of “enough already?” 

 

A word about Lindsay:  Like Sarah, I know I haven’t always dealt Lindsay a fair hand this season.  Let’s begin with my initial description of her after the head shots were posted and before Episode One.

 

Lindsay—Another favorite—She’s the “party starter” with the best head shot.  Her horrible date story is that she once got set up with “an old man”.  He was totally like almost 40.  She’s hot and fun.  PREDICTION:  Top 5.

 

Man, I’m good.  Unfortunately for Lindsay, I think the last sentence summed it up for Sean as well.  Lindsay was innocent, uncomplicated, and horny.  Those are wonderful qualities for any 24 year old to have; however, they don’t translate into “wife” over the course of a 30 day “relationship.”  Lindsay proved herself to be consistent, fun, and actually did a bang up job on the Meet the Family segment (minus the painful attempts to answer Sean’s creepy Dad’s canned questions).  More about that guy and his vibrant pink undershirt later. 

 

From the “uh, I’m gonna go now,” to the “just stop talking,” and her abrupt and, dare I say, symbolic removal of her high heels prior to crossing that dangerous bridge (also an obvious attempt at symbolism), her departure was epic.  She took it on the chin in a respectable manner and left with her dignity in tact.  She wasn’t bitter and bitchy like that bitter bitch Deanna Pappas after Womack gave her the stiff arm when she thought she’d be donning the Neil Lane on her left ring finger.  Granted, I’m sure that stings like cayenne pepper in the eyeballs, but immediately skipping the Denial stage of the ole Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Grief Model and bee lining full speed into the Anger stage with no intention of hitting the other three stages is not a flattering decision with the cameras planted squarely on your wrinkled face.   

 

To borrow a word from my good friend Lincee Ray (www.ihategreenbeans.com), Sean looked like the Chach in that whole Lindsay scenario.  I think we all felt sorry for her.  She looked freaking great in her silver dress too. Granted, she put a few dings in the aforementioned dignity when she continued to ask “why” on the ATFR segment, but hey, she’s young and she probably couldn’t think of anything else to ask Sean.

 

Speaking of drawing a blank, that’s exactly what I did when Sean followed up “my heart is somewhere else” with “I love you” while simultaneously dropping the guillotine on Lindsay’s (immediate) dreams.  Dude, bad idea.  I once had a college girlfriend tell me the same thing after attempting to explain to me why she felt obliged to cheat on me (six times) by offering “because you weren’t there.”  The words “I love you” weren’t exactly comforting.  In fact, I would have rather have been catheterized.    

 

What’s more is that Sean was moments (in the editing world, of course) from proposing to the olive-skinned, gold clad, love of his life.  How freaking awkward do you think it was in that apartment with the two of them sitting there eating take out watching the finale together when that scene showed up?  Let’s hope they ordered pizza instead of Chinese.  The last thing Sean needed in that moment was for Catherine to be holding a set of pointy chopsticks in her dominant hand when that scene hit the flat screen.

 

In the end, Lindsay (and Catherine) was indeed consistent from start to finish.  She showed up drunk in a wedding dress and continued to be the same from Episode 1 until she got the axe.  She stayed out of the drama, although I suspect that was more out of an inability to compete with the likes of Tierra and the other the Type A’s circling around Sean than a conscious decision to abstain from the pettiness.  That’s six in one, a half dozen in the other, however.  I’ve never been nor do I intend to be the Bachelor but I’d hazard a guess that drama free and consistent stand out like the moon in the desert sky when juxtaposed against irrational and hyper-competitive during this “journey.”  Lindsay will be well on her way to getting back in the saddle before she hits the quarter century mark.    

 

A word about Catherine:  Initial description after head shots and prior to Episode One. 

 

Catherine—My initial reaction upon clicking the forward arrow on my screen and seeing her picture come up was, “she’s cute.”  That’s not a word I use often; however, I think it is the perfect one here.  Pleasant face, pleasant smile.  Rather than going with Oprah (or Adele), Catherine chose the more vague, infinitely inclusive “anyone who can look beyond themselves and unselfishly help others” for her Who do you admire answer.  Presumably combining a trip to her half-homeland with her bucket list, she tells us that she wants to ride an elephant in Thailand.  If she plays her cards correctly, she’ll likely get to ride a beefy albino in Dallas.  Now that’s what I’d call a happy ending.  PREDICTION:  She’s either certifiably crazy or she’ll make it to the Fantasy Date.

 

Man, I’m still good.  Catherine, although a bit more involved in the tussles than Lindsay, also proved to be consistent.  She also appeared to be the only one of the girls who approached the show with some reasonable goals in mind and actually kept her head down (not literally, of course) long enough to earn the big win.  She (understandably) began to crack a bit under the pressure of the waiting game between the final date and the final rose ceremony.  However, I think that’s understandable from someone as obviously competitive as she proved to be.  A slight lack of control is one thing, but zero control for a person cut from that cloth is a lot to manage. 

 

Let me also right a wrong.  All season long I have mistakenly referred to Catherine as Thai.  That’s not a lack of sophistication on my part.  I’m well aware that there are different kinds of “Oriental” people.  Please spare me the politically correct emails clarifying that “people are Asian, rugs are Oriental.”  I get it.  My mistake came from the place in her profile where she referred to riding an elephant in Thailand.  I somehow got it in my head that she was Thai and no Filipino as many of you were kind enough to point out to me.  It’s a damn good thing General MacArthur didn’t make that mistake.  Even Some Guy is not infallible . . . well not all of the time. 

 

For the record, in light of all the brouhaha surrounding Benedict XVI’s big resignation I think it’s worth noting that he papal doctrine of infallibility doesn’t extent indefinitely into every utterance from the Pope’s mouth.  Rather, it is limited to very narrow circumstances and must be “invoked” by the Pope himself.  After all, he’s not Harrison for crying out loud.  I do find it ironic that a German pope chose to surrender his position.  Let’s hope they don’t elect a French guy next time or we’re likely to find ourselves in the same position. 

 

Annnnyyyyhoooo . . .    

 

My guess is that a lot of the chemistry between Sean and Catherine occurred off camera.  There were a lot of allusions to conversations and moments alone on the final show that I didn’t recall seeing during the season.  Catherine played just-hard-enough-to-get right up until decision time and that (I believe) proved to be the difference between Lindsay’s let’s make out until you marry me approach.  I’m not sure she’s the right pick for Sean, but then again, I’m not the one who has to be sure.  Good for her and good for him.  Their future spats will be nothing compared to the fights the 46 chromosomes will have inside Catherine’s fallopian tubes trying to decide which genes will be dominant before splitting indefinitely to create their offspring.  “Nordipino” is probably a term we will hear in about 9 months from now. 

 

A word on Tierra

 

F her.  Yes, I realize that’s a letter plus a word, but it’s difficult to articulate my feelings for her without succumbing to the temptation to elaborate.  God bless that poor bastard who shelled out a hell of a lot more than three month’s salary for that giant rock on her spoiled little ring finger.  God bless him twice if he earns enough in three months to pay for that thing.  He’ll likely be signing documents giving her half of it in the near future.  You could almost feel the envy (and the hatred) steaming off the stage of ex-contestants when she flashed that thing to Harrison while in the hot seat. 

 

Tierra is a classic spoiled brat and she acted like it through the WTA episode.  It’s always someone else’s fault.  She’s a victim.  She’s misunderstood.   It’s not her problem if blah, blah, blah.  Me, me, me, me, me, me, me.  She’s young, but she’s old enough to act like an adult.  Perhaps the figurative weight of that literally heavy ring will teach her that lesson.  My money is on “hell no” but stranger things have happened.  Good riddance.  I feel sorry for her wedding planner. 

 

A word on Sean’s Family

 

Alright, where do I start?  Apparently, there’s a very popular store somewhere close to Kensington and Smith’s giant playhouse in Dallas that specializes in neon clothing.  Electric blue tank tops, bright pink v-necks, vibrant orange blouses, and emerald green shorty shorts were obviously on sale the week before the whole fam damily packed their sh*t for Thailand. 

 

I haven’t even addressed the watch selection.  What in the world was Sean wearing with his blue tank top?  That watched looked like a sweatband.  For a minute, I thought he’d taped his wrists prior to his morning Bowflex workout and just forgot to remove it.  His dad’s watch was gigantic too.  Between him, Sean, and Harrison they probably split the cost of an extra suitcase on Thai Airlines or whatever.  Hellen Keller could have read that watch.  Aww, Phuket. 

 

Sean’s mom was all Dallas:  Done up, reserved with a tinge of poorly hidden judgment, and well-taken care of for a women her age.  She proved to be a good team player, though, and out of the whole family, I liked her the best.  Her concerns were in the right place and she did a nice job voicing them in spite of the three cameras surrounding her and Sean.  Sean clearly respects his mother and that’s a must for any woman in search of a husband to put on her list of must haves.  As I said early in the season, Sean’s a decent guy.  I just found him a bit vanilla. 

 

Sean’s dad was sincere but, man, was he odd and creepy with both Lindsay and Catherine.  I’ll chalk that up to “trying too hard to stay on script and do well on the show” but I’m afraid I can’t do much to rehabilitate his wardrobe choices.  My guess is that Sean’s sister picked them out right after Kensington and Smith’s personal clothier announced that they were packed for Thailand. 

 

Sean’s sister.  Speaking of ALL Dallas.  Look, I know that Dallas is a big town and I have to admit that as a current Austinite who grew up in Houston, I’m not exactly fond of it there.  Sue me.  HOWEVER, if a Dallas stereotype exists, she’s it.  One of you was kind enough to send me her Mommy blog. 

 

For those of you who don’t know what a Mommy blog is, that’s what women with school-aged children and nanny’s who come to “give them a break” from the arduous tasks of everyday motherhood for the non-school aged ones write when they’re not busy boutique shopping, drinking chardonnay at lunch, or working out at the club before hitting the spa and then driving the Range Rover home and ordering dinner for the family.    

 

Look, there’s nothing wrong (at all) with being a stay-at-home mother.  In fact, that’s admirable.  However, there is something wrong with patently rubbing your "wonderful" life in everyone’s faces.  She's the type that updates her Facebook status wtih obnoxious pictures of her kids in some far off Ritz Carlton with a comment about how "blessed" she is.  I’m sure she’s a nice person, but the outfits, the attitude, and the fact that her husband looked like an emasculated chew toy at her beck and call ruffled my usually unruffleable feathers.  Let’s not even mention the f*cking pretension dripping from her children’s names.  Those sound like names of shotguns, not children.  “Honey, I’m going dove hunting next weekend.  Have you seen my 20-gauge Kensington or my 12-gauge Smith in the shed?”   By the way, I know the Texans on this blog will laugh at that joke.  I'm hoping the others will too.   

 

I’ll bet she tries to turn this into her own show about  . . . whatever it is she’s good at.  You know she watches The Pioneer Woman and scoffs at how much better she'd be at it.  It was clear to me who wore the neon shorts in that family.  She also looks a lot like that ex-girlfriend that used to cheat on me too, although I'm certain that has nothing to do with my overt hostility toward her and her upper crust suburban lifestyle.  Mommy blog, my ass. 

 

A Final word on the Season

 

This season was very stressful for me.  Between my professional life and my (not so) private life, I’ve had more going on this year than in the past few years combined.  That’s a good thing, but some things have had to suffer as a result.  I’m afraid I can’t call this season my best work but writing creatively (if that’s what we call this) always provides me with a welcome escape and your feedback is like water into thirsty soil to me.  I hope you found some gems hidden in the dirt pile.

 

I’m not certain what fate lies ahead for the newly minted engagement of Catherine and Sean.  However, I believe the feelings they shared on the last episode were genuine and that always makes me smile a bit.  I honestly wish them and the rest of these folks I’ve been abusing for the past 10 weeks the best of luck in their lives.  Perhaps they’ll look back on this fondly or perhaps they’ll look back and wonder why.  It was good to see some truly decent people on the show this season.  We’ll have to wait until the Bachelor Pad to ferret out the closet sluts.       

 

Finally, I’d like to send a special (and sincere) apology to Sarah.  I have to confess that those jokes probably crossed the decency line; if not in quality then certainly in quantity.  She’s a lovely woman who will eventually find someone to unconditionally love her.  Being a really decent person is impossible to fake and it was clear that she has a lot to offer that certain someone.  The good news is that now that she’s been on the show, her options will exponentially increase.  Let’s just hope that no one approaches her and asks her for her digits.

 

See you in the off season.  I'll be posting about my pending nuptials and the entire process from a male perspective.  It should be interesting.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be washing out my brain with soap.  DP

Fantasy Suites: Time to Thai the Knot

Well hello, Readers.  Yes, Some Guy survived his week-long ordeal.  All I’m allowed to say about it is that we ended up with a great result for the clients.  I’m glad it’s over.  Trial work is a taxing, exhausting experience and the best you can hope for is a favorable resolution to the case.  Fortunately, that happened here.  

 

I appreciate those of you who sent well wishes and encouragement.  Hell, I even appreciate those of you who sent self-interested tweets and emails encouraging me to drop my life and simply post a recap.  It’s good to feel needed, I suppose.  One of you told me to “stop tweeting and come back armed with a recap.”  Brutal.  Poor Sarah got elbowed out weeks ago and you’re still making jokes about it.  Between her and Pistorious it’s been a rough ride over the past few weeks.  If only he’d been unarmed.  I tried to think of a joke but, frankly, I’m stumped.  Annnyyyhoo. . . .

 

Actually, that’s not entirely true.  I have a few Sarah jokes I’ve kept under wraps in anticipation of my return to the blogosphere.  Let me just preface this by saying that her departure was literally the saddest thing I’ve seen on the show.  Ever.  It was impossible not to feel badly for her.  She’s a lovely, attractive woman who’ll find that certain someone eventually.  

 

Ok, here goes.  

 

You know it has to be tough to be single like Sarah and try and build a life.  I know she wants to buy a house and put down roots.  She should really look into an Adjustable Rate Mortgage.  She’d really benefit from an ARM.  I’m going to go out on a limb and say Sarah will be happy one day.  It was difficult to see Sean give her the stiff arm like he did.  Alright, enough with the Sarah jokes.  I doubt she would find any of these jokes the least bit Humerus.    

 

 

With that out of the way, let’s get to Put Out or Get Out Week. 

 

Cut to our forlorn, brooding Bachelor roaming the beaches of Thailand in search of purpose in his turquoise tank top.  He broods in his tank top, broods in a hammock, broods by a fountain, and generally broods around the resort grounds.  Sean tells us that Thailand looks “like something out of a movie.”  We presume he means a movie about Thailand.  Regardless, he broods some more before recapping all of his “relationships” with Catherine, AshLee, and the dimwitted Lindsay.  He was as red as a baboon’s ass, by the way. 

 

 

 

Date Time with Lindsay.

 

As she is accustomed to doing, Lindsay shows up in heat.  Sean is “blown away” (an expression I found apropos for the Fantasy Date) by Lindsay who sports some sort of skirt get-up and immediately begins doing what she does best:  sucking face with Sean.  Frankly, I couldn’t fault her for relying upon what got her to the fantasy round.  She’s dumb but she’s not oblivious.    

 

They go to the local market where Lindsay opines that when she and Sean finally marry their “normal vacations will be just like this.”  Right.  Shopping in open air markets and eating bugs in Thailand.  Bless her heart.  I mean that literally.  Her heart should pump harder in order to feed more oxygenated blood to her brain.  Looking at her is like looking into a flashlight whose batteries are just about to fail.  You can smack her against your palm all you want, it’s not going to make her any brighter.

 

After looking at some Thai knick knacks and whatnots they wander to a cooked bug stand in search of nourishment.  Sean immediately proves what we already know:  Lindsay will try anything.  She eats a bug.  Big deal.  I’m sure that’s not the first time she’s put something in her mouth that she was unsure about in order to impress a guy.  I envisioned her getting some sort of chemical repellent poisoning from the bugs and being forced to have a liver transplant as a result.  Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be a big deal.  After all, there’s no way Lindsay’s body would reject an organ.  Annnyyyhooo . . .     

 

Incidentally, there was a girl I grew up with that was (bless her heart) about as intellectually gifted as Lindsay.  She was a sweetheart and was rather “gifted” between the neck and the belly button, if you know what I mean.  I cannot tell you how many times during our 4 years of high school she fell for the “I’ll bet you a dollar you can’t touch your elbows behind your back” joke.  Teenage boys are horrible.  Back to Lindsay.    

 

Filled with crunchy exoskeletons, they retire to Yong Ling Beach to feed the monkeys; all of whom outsmarted Lindsay.  As I watched a half-naked Lindsay relate to the primates, I finally understood what Sean sees in her.  After all, Dumb and Agreeable looks pretty damn good next to Broken and Controlling or Independent and Asian.  The patent nymphomania is like the (busted) cherry on top of the sundae. 

 

Lindsay tries real hard to find the perfect words to convey her undying love to Sean in time to capture his tri-torn heart.  She confidently offers, “I absolutely have everything open.”  Wow.  That’s up there with Gia’s “you want to eat my salmon?”  I’ll give her credit for trying.  Lindsay doesn’t know the meaning of the word “quit”.  Then again, she doesn’t know the meaning of a lot of words.  I’ve used that joke 3 times in this blog and it keeps getting funnier every time I use it. 

 

Lindsay and Sean enjoy a light dinner and some wine before opening the Harrison-crafted Forgo the Foreplay card inviting them to an all night make out session in the Fantasy Suite.  Of course, Lindsay is in.  Again, I can’t fault her for keeping “absolutely everything open.” I assume that statement included her legs.    

 

A bunch of Thai dancers show up in traditional costumes and perform the local mating dance in anticipation of Lindsay and Sean’s night together.  You know Harrison invited a couple of those Thai chicks back to his suite after having a few pops in the beach bar. 

 

Date with AshLee. 

 

AshLee shows up in her white mesh Wes Hightower shirt and white Daisy Dukes.  She lays it on thick.  Really thick.  They take a voyage in a phallic boat around phallic rocks.  Subtle. 

 

 

 

Sean makes a wonderful decision when he decides to bring the control freak to a undersea cave.  Notwithstanding the giant cave in front of them (again, very subtle), I think we were all understandably distracted by AshLee’s giant fake cans.  Good Lord, those things were like ears on a Mickey Mouse lollipop.  She may have a fear of abandonment, but those things aren’t going to abandon her any time soon.  I felt comforted that if Sean’s raft got punctured in the cave that he and AshLee would both have adequate flotation devices.   

 

After another series of metaphors for life AshLee and Sean reach the secluded beach and talk forever literally about NOTHING.  She also says she won’t put out in the Fantasy Suite.  Booooooo.  Sean pretends he’s fine with her unwillingness to poontang it up in the Suite.  He “wants the time to be alone with no distractions.”  Right, like his pesky erection or those giant fake melons she’s been shoving in his face all day.  Whatever.

 

In perhaps my favorite Bachelor moment ever AshLee drops “I’d like a cushion ring with a band with diamonds all the way around and I’m a size six and a half.”  I actually broke from tradition and rewound that part three times.  For those of you sitting in anticipation of an impending proposal from Mr. Wonderful out there, here’s some free advice from Some Guy.  Don’t do that.  Being confident is one thing but trying to name your ring is like stepping up to the plate and pointing over the right field fence.  It might have worked once (allegedly), but it won’t work for you.  If some dude is going to go out and buy you a diamond, do him a favor and appreciate it, would you?  Sean knows she’s headed home so that little faux pas failed to grab his attention.  Poor AshLee.  We all saw it coming, didn’t we?

 

But first . . . Catherine date. 

 

Sean and Catherine jump on a boat and enter Thailand’s well-known yearly boat race:  The Poon-yatta Regatta.   We try to listen to what she and Sean are discussing but are distracted by the stark contrast in their coloring and nationalities.  I tried to picture sunburned blond Thai kids but couldn’t do it.    

 

True to her competitive Asian spirit Catherine shows off her cans as well.  Granted, they weren’t as impressive as AshLee’s, but they were nothing to shake a Thai stick at.  They make out on the boat and Sean proves that he still needs kissing lessons.   Where’s Arie Loveadyke when you need him?

 

Proving more cautious than the others, Catherine lets us know that she “cares a lot” about Sean.  She implies that she “might” put out in the Suite.  It’s always the one who is the most non-committal that gets chosen.  In the end, Catherine’s smarts and maturity will win out over Lindsay’s well, whatever it is that Lindsay offers.    

 

Catherine again implies that it’s “on” if Sean will sweep her away to the Suite.  We assume she hopes that her fellow countrywomen have washed the Lindsay and AshLee off the sheets prior to her arrival.      

 

Harrison. 

 

Before he can whisk Sean away to the Lair of Seclusion, Harrison pays some ABC bills with an odd Wizard of Oz promo.  The cross-pollination of shows is an annoying trend that I wish would stop.  Come to think of it, cross-pollination is appropriate for the Fantasy Suite episode. 

 

Harrison and Sean meet in the Lair of Seclusion which has taken on a Thai flare beyond having a picture of Catherine in it.  Sean views the Private Video Messages and we all know it’s over for AshLee when we see Sean’s reaction to her video. 

Let me say this about AshLee.  I honestly hope(d) that this experience is a step up instead of a regression back into her obvious childhood issues regarding abandonment.  She seems like a genuinely nice person who was blessed enough to find incredibly decent people to raise her.  I felt like she, more than any contestant I’ve ever seen on this show, really did “put herself out there” (to keep with the standard cliché nomenclature) in an effort to win Sean over.  At some point, she forgot there were two other women competing for Sean.  Sean clearly felt awful about sending her down stream but I think he probably made the correct decision. 

 

Rose Ceremony.   

 

Lindsay

Catherine

 

Gone:  AshLee

 

She looked Pissed Off.  REALLY pissed off.  I found that disheartening in light of my paragraph above.  She looked like Medusa for crying out loud.  I was hopeful when I saw her finally shed some tears in the limo. 
 

 

Let’s hope she’s put that moment in its proper place by the time the Women Tell All episode airs. She’s proven herself capable of trying to get past some pretty serious issues. Let’s hope she goes the rest of the way. On the positive side, she gets to wake up with those boobs every day. Hell, if I had a pair of my own like that, I’d never leave the house. 

Well, there it is.  Next week is the Women Bitch about Everything Episode and the following week is the THREE hour finale—the first two hours and 50 minutes of which is filler.  It’s nice to be back.  Thanks, as always, for continuing to show up here each week.   Take care of yourselves and the people around you.  In the meantime, if you need me I’ll be brooding in my turquoise tank top in search of a cave where I can park my boat.  DP

 

 

Check it Out. DP Checks In

Hello, Readers.  I have a window of time in which to contemplate the vicissitudes of my existence lately.  From what I hear, our mutual friend Sean had a similar opportunity with Harrison last night.  For those of you following me on Twitter, thank you.  It's fun getting feedback (even from those of you gently harassing me from afar) amidst the stresses of my life as a dedicated Doctor of Jurisprudence (that's a fancy way of saying I went to school to chase ambulances). 

Like sands through an hour glass or, more appropriately, sh*t through a goose, my days move from ante to post meridiem faster than I'd like them to lately.  Frankly, my "real" job is making me delirious.  I was watching Fox News on the treadmill during a lunch break the other day and I could have sworn Megyn Kelly winked at me.  Granted, it was subtle, but then again I believe she mouthed "Some Guy in Austin" as she winked.  I'm like some sort of modern day Mark David Chapman, for crying out loud.  I might as well fly to New York and talk to passing strangers in front of The Dakota.  Annnyyyyhooo. ...  

Incidentally, while proof reading this brief hello, I was reminded of a lesson I once learned (and that was forever burned upon the deep recesses of my brain as a child) from a Catholic nun in the first grade (I am no longer Catholic or in the First Grade) when I was berated in front of the class and summarily slapped with a ruler across my delicate and well formed (that is still true) buttocks when I misstated the time as 8 o'clock "Anti Meridian" as opposed to "Ante Meridiem."  I was reminded in no uncertain terms that Ante Meridiem is a Latin expression meaning "after mid-day," while "Anti Meridian" refers to the 180th meridan on the globe--the basis for the International Date Line.  Excuse me, Sister.  Sexual frustration and gender envy have odd ways of manifesting themselves, don't they?  Although I was six years old, I'm certain that question ran through my head as I was being slapped by a fat stranger in a poorly fitting habit.   

 

Up until that day I always thought the International Date Line was something I'd have to cross in order to get a date with a Spanish chick.  Details.  You can see why I went on to earn a degree in and pursue a profession in a field that obsesses about details.  I should sue that nun.  

 

 

 

Remember this movie? 

 

Keeping in line with my stream of consciousness style of writing, the nun reminds me of two jokes that I'm particularly fond of telling.  For your entertainment, I've taken the liberty of sharing them below. 

Joke 1:  A priest is walking down the street and he is propositioned by a Corinthian woman (that's a whore for those of you who were not subjected to Catholic school).  "Hey Father, how about a blowjob for twenty bucks," she asks.  Confused, the priest hurries into his nearby church.  He approaches a nun praying in the front pew.  "Excuse me sister, I have a delicate question I need an answer to, please."  "Certainly, Father," replies the nun.  "What is a blowjob?" he asks.  "Twenty bucks.  Same as downtown," says the nun. 

Joke 2:  What kind of meat can priests eat on Friday? 

        

               Nun. 

You're welcome.  Enjoy the rest of your week and the next.  I'll be back as soon as I can.   In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be comparing prices downtown.  DP

DP Faces the Cold, Hard Truth

Hello, Readers.  As always, welcome back to the modestly named Best Blog in the World.  For the observant ones in the crowd you've undoubtedly noticed that my title does not include the words "Bachelor" or "Sean."  For the non-observant ones, I'll pause a moment so you can look.  

It's true that I haven't posted about Episode 6 and, although I watched intently last night (my Sparkle hurts this morning), I have not yet posted about Episode 7.  The unfortunate truth is that my professional life (the real one that pays the mortgage and keeps me buzzing about town in my fancy German sedan) requires all of my attention and focus at the moment.  

I've alluded over the past few months to one of those all encompassing cases that come along every so often in a trial lawyer's career.  Think A Civil Action with Travolta or The Verdict with Newman.  Despite my best efforts, the case is going to trial very soon and my clients need me to be prepared.

I've often thought about posting a day in the life of a lawyer on this blog.  The truth is that I'm now sorry I've never done that.  Contrary to the usual images of lawyers as cheats, thieves, and liars the vast majority of the people I encounter in this profession are honorable, passionate, unapologetic advocates for their clients.  You see, I believe very strongly in "The System" and there is nothing quite like being tasked with guiding my otherwise helpless client through its corridors in search of a resolution.  (I'll spare you the word "Justice").  

My case is a case involving a horrific death that left a wife without a husband, three kids without a father, and eleven children without a grandfather.  It's contentious, exhausting, and (perish the thought) very personal.  Again, for the observant ones in the bunch, you saw where I was headed with this a few paragraphs ago.  Preparing for a three day trial with a few witnesses and a stack of documents is one thing.  However, preparing for a three week ordeal with 30 witnesses and stacks of boxes filled with documents is another.

Something must give (for a while anyway).  I'm officially going on hiatus for a few weeks.  I hope to be done in time to return for the end of the season.  For now, I'll stick to Twitter and live tweet during the show.  I appreciate those of you who have chosen to follow me.  For those of you who haven't, get on it!  SomeGuyinAustin or just click on the thingy on the right side of this blog.  

Thank you all for choosing to come here and share part of your lives with me on this blog.  I cannot put into words (how's that for irony) how much joy I get out of hitting the "Publish" icon and waiting for all of you to chime in every week.  Take care of yourselves, hug someone you love, have a wonderful Valentine's Day, and check in on me on occasion.  In the meantime, if you need me I'll be polishing my briefs until they Sparkle.   DP