The Bachelor, Episode Five: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby

Chris Harrison congratulates the eleven remaining women, and tells them that they’re all leaving Los Angeles to find love. Instead of my first guess, Hades, they’re going to Las Vegas. Finally, a place where they won’t look like drunk sluts! Instead, they’re look like drunk sluts at a joint bachelorette party.

The ladies are staying at a hotel that looks straight out of that Ethan Hawke vampire movie. It this isn’t post-vampire apocalypse, I don’t know what is. The Brad welcomes the ladies to the hotel, and brings them to their suite. Just in case his current career path (man-whore) doesn’t pan out, The Brad could make a perfectly mediocre bellhop.

The first date is with Shawntel. The Brad’s date card reads ‘Let’s end tonight with a Bang.’ Subtle. The Brad is dressed like a cheap caterer, which makes me miss ‘Party Down.’ The Caterer is taking Shawntel on a shopping spree, which both makes me think he’s treating her like a whore and also makes me really jealous. Where’s the part of the shopping spree where something fits her badly and she cries in the dressing room? Clearly they’re doing something wrong. Both The Brad and Shawntel complain of feeling “natural,” which means they want to see each other in their underwear. When Shawntel gets back to the suite, one of the Ashleys says, “It’s that perfect ‘Pretty Woman’ moment that every girl dreams about.” Precisely.

That night, The Brad shows up in a suit, and Shawntel is wearing her new outfit. They go up to the roof of the mall, which is where they’re going to eat dinner. Shawntel wants to use this as an opportunity to talk about her career as a funeral director and an embalmer. Might want to wait until after you eat, dear. Oh no, he’s making her explain embalming. Some of the words she’s using: orifices, leakage, incision, vein-drain. Don’t worry about it, Brad, because if you marry her, she’ll never embalm a body ever again. He tells her that she’s the “hottest funeral director he’s ever met.” Clearly he’s forgetting Nate Fisher. And now there are fireworks, and The Brad picks her up, for no reason, and holds her like a baby. Sexy.

The group date card arrives. The ladies are headed to a Nascar racetrack. These producers are EVIL. Ricky Bobby is going to lose it, and the rest of the girls are oblivious. EVIL! The ladies suit up and get strapped into their cars, and off they go. Finally, Jackie, the one with the nose, expresses some empathy. The Brad notices that Ricky Bobby is uncomfortable, and pulls her aside. Okay, her name is Emily, and she is handling this really badly. It’s okay to make The Brad feel like an asshole, Emily! Jesus Christ, Brad, don’t ask her to get in one of those cars! I hate all these people. Why does she insist on telling him that she’s excited to do this? Oh, Emily, you are taking all the fun out of this.

After the track, everyone heads over to—gasp—a rooftop pool. The Brad wants to talk to Emily again, and the ladies are pissed. Amazingly, The Brad seems to notice that Emily is locked up like a steel trap, and is trying to loosen her up. Sorry, Brad, that racecar has sailed. At the party, all the other girls cry when The Brad pulls them aside. I bet he’s starting to wish that he left more of them on the tarmac in LA. Crazy Maria Menounos pulls him aside and wants to show him what’s in her bikini top, because that’s just what you wear when you’re hanging out with eight of your friends.

Time for the dreaded two-on-one date. In order to make things easier on his limited vocabulary, The Brad is taking the two Ashleys on the date. The happy trio heads to the Elvis Cirque de Soleil show. One of the Ashleys says that her biggest obstacle is herself. She is clearly going home, because she is less slutty than the other one. Oh, what a surprise! One of the Ashleys is going to perform with Brad in the show tonight. It’s amazing how wooden The Brad can look while harnessed and floating through the air, but what can you do, the guy has a real natural talent.

The two-on-one dinner is always my favorite. The Brad can barely look at either one of them. Is he going to wait until they’ve eaten, or does one of them have to take her food to go? The Brad gives the rose to Ashley. Which one? The slutty one, obviously. They do their shtick at the Cirque de Soleil while the other one cries in the limo. I love reality TV editors.

Time to call the therapist! Uh oh, now he’s also called Brad’s “life coach.” This is a slippery slope, Brad—haven’t you seen the Metallica documentary? No, of course you haven’t. The therapist just used the word ‘journey’ three times in one sentence. I wonder which venerable institution provided his education.

The energy at the cocktail party is at an all-time low. The Brad says that he doesn’t need drama in his life. How many cases of champagne do they go through in a week? I’m guessing five or six. I wonder if it’s good champagne. Probably not. Crazy Maria Menounos is trying to hypnotize Brad, and tells him he isn’t allowed to talk. He is checking for the exits over her head as they make out. She thinks she’s going to leave with a ring on her finger. I think handcuffs are more likely.

The Brad decides it’s time to send home the girl who just passed him some love notes, which means the moral of the week is: don’t try to be cute. The Brad is not messing around. You should all know by now that The Brad likes to be bossed around, and is not interested in being someone’s sweetheart.

Chris Harrison calls this the “most controversial season ever.” I really wish I was watching the show that he’s watching.

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