(Pop) Culture Shock

It comes in waves

Mouth intercourse: Practice safe smooching!

Posted by emzkbd on August 1, 2012

For me, Tuesdays are the morning after a drunken sexual encounter, where you wake up thinking “I let him stick it where?” But the truth is, once you’ve been there, you’re bound to find your way back, and that, my friends, makes Bachelor Pad my drug of choice. Once you go Bach, you never go back… to other reality dating shows. Except maybe Love in the Wild! It’s like chimps mating in a jungle and competing to visit zoos around the world.

Moving on, last night’s episode starts where last week’s rose ceremony ended. There’s a clear divide between fans and failures favorites, or more specifically, Ericka Rose versus Dave and the twins. Who would have thought Ericka Rose’s whining could be overcast by twins banging heads. And then they cry, and cry, and cry. It’s like watching Jerry Springer! Wait, were they on there?

Their first fight of the night, about something I couldn’t figure out (literally I don’t think the source of conflict was ever named), ended when one turned to the other and apologetically said: “I would have never said that if I was sober.” Nope, pretty sure I would have said it… behind your back!

Lindzi: “Every guy’s fantasy is twins, but I don’t think they’ve met these twins, yet. Except for maybe Chris, who has set the bar pretty low post-marriage.”

Hatchet Face: “GOD THEY’RE DUMB!” Yes, Hatchet Face, and you’re fugly!

Next day, Harry Sonsofbitches arrives to tell the sluts they better be prepared to dance for a dolla.

Sarah: “Out walk these little tiny gymnasts that are doing positions I couldn’t even do in the bedroom if I wanted to, but I’m still going to try.”

In honor of the summer Olympics, the contestants are to perform rhythmic gymnastics in a “not very dude-like” fashion.

Chubster knows she can’t look graceful in this competition. Maybe it was the fact that she tried to high kick in a dress, but instead looked like an epileptic having a seizure. She might as well hop into a potato sack and tumble down the hill.

As the twelve-year-old instructors try to teach the contestants, Stag and the other men embrace their inner ballerina, while the women start tying each other up and doing the “butt roll.” If you’ve seen Ericka Rose’s lard ass roll around once, you know what I’m talking about it.

Sarah says the ribbon twirling is all about the wrist. Of course she’d know that because of all the handies she’s been passing out. Donna thinks she has a “leg up on the girls,” but I didn’t think this was a muff-diving competition. Not to be forgotten, David is whippin’ it because he knows that if he seems like less of a cock block the more likely he’ll be able to stick around. Hear that Ed?!

Once it’s time to perform, the contestants have to squeeze into kid-size unitards, which proves a challenge for some, like Ericka Rose, who wants to take her ribbon, tie it around her neck, and hang herself with it. Something tells me she won’t be hanging for long.

Reid fears his manhood is at stake, so he says, and I quote: “I just have to put that away and forget about it… and then I got excited.”

The women will perform first, and Jamie is confident she will nail it because that’s been her plan all along—to nail it. Likewise, Sarah is checking out all the men’s packages to decide which one she’ll bang first. Clearly, it won’t be Reid.

The judges appear—Ashley and JP and an Olympic medalist. Not Shawn Johnson, so it makes no difference! Donna feels threatened by Blakeley’s pole-dancing abilities athleticism—something Kalon would probably agree with. He’s astonished by every other female’s performance since naturally women are raised to excel at shopping and gymnastics. Well what about you then, Kalon? I bet you’re an expert at building Lego forts and touching your pee-pee.

When the women have concluded running in circles, Mike equates their train-wreck performance to something worse than a pre-school dance recital.  Next up—the nuthuggers gentlemen! “Butterflies and rainbows!” Wait, I didn’t see Chris Harrison flitting around out there.

Donna wants Michael to tie her up with his ribbons and dance around her. Sounds like something a gay man would do at a Renaissance faire… in tights.

Once the results are tallied, and by this I mean Ashley and JP’s votes are void, that gymnast who obviously didn’t qualify for this year’s Olympics decides that Ericka Rose and Ed were the worst and Bllakeley—who can’t wait to go on a date with Chris, who is simultaneously praying aloud to God—and Mike—it will probably take him until Bachelor Pad 6 to realize he really wants to find love with another dude—were the best in show.

Afterward, Donna confesses to Jamie that she is obsessed with Michael, i.e. she has posters of him over her bed. She tries to convince him to take her on the date by deep-throating the horse cock of all bananas.

Ericka Rose—I thought she was planning to commit suicide?—begs the Stag to take her on his date, but apparently he wasn’t wearing his gay BFF hat. He wanted to make a love connection, so he picked the three manliest women he could find— What? You don’t think Donna was once Donald before the sex change?—and then asks if they want to shower with him before they go. Who’s gonna drop the soap first?

Cut to Ericka Rose and her I’m-pissed-at-yet-another-person-for-not-making-me-the-center-of-attention rant. The Stag, his two hookers and Lindzi leave to go to Vegas some po-dunk theater with their names on the marquee. Some musicians are crooning like a Lifehouse cover band as the trannies fight over who gets to sword fight with Mike.

Mike: “Donna’s great, but I want to explore Rachel’s mouth with my tongue.”

Back at the house, the Virgin Harry Ryan makes a cake for his partner and birthday girl Jamie. I guess if you won’t eat her muffin, then you bake her something equally moist. Jamie wasn’t having it, especially after he started vacuuming up that sushi like a wannabe rug-muncher. “Like a Virgin” tells Madonna that Chris wants to stay with Blakeley, to which she responds, “Papa don’t preach//I’m in trouble deep.”

On their group date, Michael spends most of the night making out with Rachel, until Donna decides she’ll do anything to get the rose. I thought for sure we’d see her on her knees, but instead she used her obsessive compulsive disorder to sketch a very lifelike drawing of Michael… or Slimer. You decide!

Because of her artistic abilities, Michael wants to encourage Donna’s infatuation by slamming her against a wall and teasing her lips with Rachel’s herpes.

At the mansion, Chris is sweet-talking Jamie right out of her morals. Jamie: “When you’re my partner, I’ll kiss you all I want.” Five seconds later… mouth intercourse.

At the end of his group date, Michael has to decide which woman brought him back from the gay side. Donna feels like she will die if she gets the rose. Buuuut Rachel gets it and Donna’s still breathing, so I guess that’s not going to happen.

Meanwhile, some whippersnappers are conspiring at the mansion, and by conspiring I’m referring to the shit spewing from Chris’s mouth. Chris: “Obviously Blakeley’s got something for me, or two funthings for me. We just have to solidify the alliance, and by solidify I mean caulk her vortex of doom… with my peen… before it spirals out of control.”

And then this –

Jamie: “I sense that Chris and Blakeley are having difficulties with whatever relationship they have. Chris really wanted to spend the night together, so… {GASP} I sleep on the top bunk above Blakeley, and there is Chris. I’m just going to quietly weep and creepily watch them with envy until someone climaxes like the end of a movie.”

Jamie climbed up into her bunk and cried herself to sleep. Which is worse, you ask. Trying to have a good cry while people below are banging it out or trying to get some while the person above you is wailing like a Hurricane Katrina?

The next morning, Blakeley wants to see how Chris liked her punani, but Chris insists it was just a kiss. Sure, just a kiss on her vagina lips sang Lady Antebellum. NOT!

Anyway, it’s Blakeley’s turn for a group date; she has to pick three guys to make it “racy.” Since there’s no African American or Asian men—unless you count Ryan as a mix of somethings—she picks Chris (who “would love to cum”), Ed (who fists pumps), and Dave (who poops his pants).

Their date is a soapbox derby event, or as Emily Maynard calls it—the place where little Ricki was conceived. Here, they get to decorate their cars. Chris names his “Bliss” for Blakeley + Chris… or what he’s feeling from all the free handies he’s gettin’ in the house, in the hot tub, on the patio. Ed wants be creative and different, and since he’s in a pickle with an automatic vote against him from the challenge, he makes his car a pickle. Could be a metaphor for his penis but ABC went with the former idea instead. Lastly, Dave’s car is the rose; he might as well have broken into tears and begged for it.

Dave says he’s going to take the other guys out “from the rear.” Somewhere, Mike is wishing he made that joke. Rising to the occasion, Ed’s pickle wins it by a tip nose. Blakeley presents him with his trophy and lures the men back to the Bachelor/Bachelorette’s pad, where they hop into a jiz-free hot tub.

Dave plays to Blakeley’s vulnerability, essentially calling her a loser on her season. He says he only has one thing to offer her— his peen vote. Afterward, Blakeley and Chris talk, and Chris says he wants to be in an 8×8 storage room with her where he can club her like a baby seal. For all intents and purposes, Blakeley is the Freddy Krueger in Chris’s nightmare.

When it’s time to present the rose, Blakeley oozes her appreciation to Dave, and just when he’s about to blow his joyful load on her crochet sweater, the black widow slowly, and somewhat awkwardly, turns and offers the rose to none other than Chris. Dave goes limp.

Afterward, the gang heads back to the mansion where sheer debauchery ensues. Chris sprays Dave in the face… with a bottle of champagne. Jamie grinds up on desperate-for-any-action-this-season Ericka Rose, who then proceeds to make out with Donna. In another room, a bunch of women, including Lindzi, have climbed into bed with Kalon; and in the pool/hot tub, Michael is flirtatiously asking Rachel if she’ll take it up the butt, while Dave is actually penetrating one of the twins.

Inside, hehehehehe, Blakeley can be heard saying she “hearts my teammate” while hugging Chris. I know this because I had to rewind it five times because it sounded like “I heart my peen-y” in a croaky old witch’s voice.

And who could forget about Ed, who cannot resist showing off his cup. “Have you tasted victory?” Well, we know Sarah has. “FLYING PICKLE!” Yeah, buddy!

At approximately an hour and twenty-two minutes into the show, I got a headache… thanks to the twins whose re-donk-u-lous arguments made no sense. Something about I don’t want to be your partner, waah, you don’t listen, waah, I’m such a whore, waah, I have my period, WAAAAH, I wanna leave!

Donna heard a cock rooster, which meant she wanted to get some sleep, and Hatchet face’s ears began bleeding gallons of blood. It was a mess!

Twin 1: “I really wanna kill myself right now!

Twin 2: “Then do it!”

Michael says he’s met a lot of people on the planet, and he can’t believe how quickly the twins go from being best friends/dressed identical/love each other/ohmigod/sister to I hate you/you’re el diablo! Clearly, he’s never had a sister!

From the couch, where Lindzi’s giving Kalon a handy, the twin’s argument seems entertaining. The twin who humped Dave says her goodbyes to him while he’s yawning, half asleep. FINALLY, they leave of their own free will. “Yelling isn’t helping” should be their coined phrase.

When Dave wakes up, the girls tell him the twins went home, and he is DEVASTATED! Dude, trust me, the Situation felt the same way. WINK!

Proceeding to the rose ceremony, Mike makes it clear that he’s the winner and everyone, including Dave, knows Dave is going home, but Kalon wants to shake things up. He lubes up Lindzi’s vagina with his slimy tongue and sends her to manipulate others to send home the man who puts the pussy on the pedestal—Ryan.

That shit spreads like herpes wildfire, until Ed calls Reid a little bitch for listening in on his conversation… 50 feet away. At this point, Reid wants to circumcise Ed’s pickle, so he goes to the chick that both of them shagged. No, not Jillian! Sarah, who’s having a post-coital meltdown! Ed can’t believe it. It’s a complete “mind-blow”, which, coincidentally, is the same move Sarah made the previous night. “I feel so guilty. I turned on someone I hooked up with in this house. I’m so mad at myself.” How could she? After everything he didn’t do for her!

In the end, the Material Girl is the swing vote—Ed, “the least best” of Jillian’s possible suitors, or Ryan, a guy who makes the Jonas brothers look horny. Sarah is hysterically crying and breaking out in hives. One by one, the men get their roses, but it’s Ryan who leaves with nothing but his virginity. The Queen of Pop says now she’s a free soul. Poor Ryan! He seemed like a good guy, a real devout Christian, caught in the crosshairs of Jamie’s burning bush. Well, maybe he’ll have a shot at the sequel to that Steve Carrell flick. Until next time… remember to scrub your genitals!

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