The Bachelor: London Calling

If romance is defined as a man whispering sweet nothings into the ears of multiple fame whores, then dim the lights, cue the soft music and tune into ABC's most romantic show, The Bachelor

March 20, 2008

By Laura Gosselin
Bodog Nation Contributing Writer

Now let me just put this out there, gentle reader: As a woman myself, it is both disconcerting and creepy when a guy either wolf whistles or plays an unsolicited game of grab-ass. However, there is seriously nothing scarier than when women are all equally excited... in a group. You might be safer exciting a pack of wild saber-toothed tigers. Take the women in Oprah's audience, for example. These bitches are beyond scary, screaming and caterwauling over Oprah's mere mention of Jimmy Choos, Brad Pitt or Dr. Oz.

Worse than how they react to Oprah? How about a hot, single guy? Worse yet? How about a hot single guy they've been told to compete for? Let's hope producers arm this bachelor with pepper spray. 

Arm wrestling for attention.

So Season 12 of The Bachelor started Monday night, and as usual, the sequence where salivating girls were fed booze, then given a few hours to impress the man meat before he eliminated half of them was so painful, I wanted to peel my face off. Yes, desperate chicks were pulling out all the stops, including arm wrestling, singing, playing the clarinet and shoving panties in the bachelor's pocket. It was like a beauty contest for the insane.

This season, host Chris Harrison is giddier than ever. "Why," you ask? Well this season’s bachelor is Majaah! Oiy, pour me a cuppa? Yes, kids – this boy's a Brit! Introducing... drum roll please... "proper English gentleman" Matt Grant. Cue idiot girls squealing, "Talk British to me!" Gah. Kill yourself. Or... read this recap, whatever's easier.

If you missed Monday night's episode, this should help: Have you ever had an awkward moment on a date? Perhaps you said something dumb? Well if you can conjure those feelings, you now know how it feels to watch an episode of The Bachelor. Add to that all the quintessential Bachelor classics: cattiness, violent flirting and a slutty drunk, and you've got the first episode, baby.

So the limos pull up and desperate, prom dress-wearing fame whores pile out screaming to the heavens about fairytales, soul mates and happily-ever-afters. Erin H., a 25-year-old event planner from Seattle, Wash., has a ring on her finger, which she calls a "placeholder" until "he" puts the real thing on. Apparently, Erin thinks guys love to hear about "placeholder" rings on the first date. And she's still single? Get out!

Ashlee is a singer/songwriter from Jacksonville Beach, Fla., (see: unemployed). She blows Matt a kiss in a singer/songwriter kind of way. Michelle P. from Syracuse, N.Y., says that she didn't peek from the limousine, so she and the bachelor saw each other at exactly the same time. No, not creepy at all.

Amanda P. is a law student from Las Vegas, Nev. She brings our bachelor a pink fuzzy die for good luck, which is hilarious because she is eliminated in the first episode. Guess he got lucky, just not with her. Then, there's 25-year-old Carri who is in church marketing, as well as Denise, a former Bush aide from Washington, D.C. For sauce, we have Lorenzo Lamas' daughter, Shayne Lamas, who can't stop talking about coming from a family of actors.

Chelsea from Santa Barbara, Calif., tells the bachelor that she has "a special skill," while Amy from Stockton, Calif., immediately reduces herself to a chunk of meat, spinning in a circle for the bachelor as she approaches. As usual, there is one black contestant, who almost always makes it two rounds before getting the boot. This year, we have Marshana, a 27-year-old fashion designer from Brooklyn, N.Y.

Stacey plans to one day cure something we've never thought of.

Our favorite bachelorette of the night is Stacey, a nutritionist with fake lips and fake boobs who gets hammered and gives the bachelor her panties before passing out face-first on a bed. Before the blackout, Stacey does other embarrassing things, like telling the bachelor that her favorite thing about London is "the ocean." When Matt explains that London is not on the ocean, she switches to "new upbringing cars." She also says that she will use her degree in nutrition to "find a pharmaceutical that will cure something that no one has thought of."

At first, I wondered how someone could cure something no one has thought of, but then I realized, I had never thought of Stacey and I'd just as soon be vaccinated against such retardation. In case you missed it, here's the horror show. In conclusion, Stacey wins.

Our second favorite is Carri, who, when former Bush aide Denise tries to have a political conversation with the bachelor, bites into a beer can, rips off a piece of aluminum and hands it to him. If I were a man, I would propose to Carri then and there. That was hot. The bachelor liked it too. Bush aide is eliminated; Carri stays. 

"Wanna suck on my clarinet?"

The worst of the worst? Singer/songwriter Ashlee tells Matt that she wrote him a song. Aw, that's nice. Too bad we won't - oh no, there's actually a guitar there? She’s going to play it for us?

"You fire away," he tells her, and she’s confused until he is forced to explain that "fire away" means she can begin.

Next, Michelle P., tells the bachelor that she plays the clarinet. Aw, that's nice. Too bad we won't – oh no, there's actually a clarinet there? She's going to play it for us? Do we have... oh yes, she's got the reed in her mouth.

There are also a slew of idiots who ask Matt to "say something" because they are horny for his accent.

After the painful eliminations, Stacey staggers out of the house all, "I didn't want him anyway. He couldn't handle me."

Embarrassing waste of space or evil genius?

So there you have it. Obviously Episode 1 ruled, and I will be tuning in to bring you every painfully embarrassing scene as our British gentleman embarks on his quest for true love. Tune in for next week's installment, when the girls get catty and shit. Yes, there will be romance, catfights and of course, the tastiest of them all, shattered whore dreams.

PHOTOS: All images are courtesy of ABC.