Monday, June 30, 2008

The Bachelorette, Part 400 (or, Dear God, when will it end?)

Deeyawna must now have sex with all three of the guys to see if really wants to marry one or none of them. On this episode, she will have the chance to go on overnight dates in exotic locales like Grand Beach Island in Missouri.

Date one: Jeremy, the Robot. Hugs, hugs, all about the hugs and the picking up of each other. They share dead mom’s and that’s a bond that will last for at least three more dates until she finds out that he actually killed his mom. First, a power boat. Next, jet skis. Hi, don’t kiss each other while on separate jet skis, that’s rule number one. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Whoops. I accidentally fell asleep watching them wiggle their toes in the sand. They just found a hermit crab!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please tell me they aren’t going to drag this show out for two whole hours. Dinner time. Deeyawana wears a large green robe. She’s trying to get him to loosen up, but he can’t. He raises one eyebrow, that’s as much whimsy as he has. He just did it again. STOP. Now he’s confessing that he really likes her and that he is so afraid to lose her, because he doesn’t have her. ”I would tell you that I’m falling in love with you, but…That’s already happened.” Go, Jeremy! Way to take a risk. Loud kissing. He has not hesitated to take the fantasy suite card. Hey, why do the guys get to propose to the girl at the end? She picks the guy and then he gets to decide if he wants to propose, so wait…That’s not fair. They’re making out on the bed and he’s closing the door to the TV cameras. Wanna bet he likes it missionary style only?

Oh, dear, the second hour is The Guys Tell All. That’s what we have to endure for the second hour.

Date two: Jason. Still on the Grand Bahama Island in Missouri. He’s an idiot. He runs to see her, I wish he would fall face down in the sand. Sorry, but don’t run in flip flops across the sand. You cannot look cool that way. Jeremy does not play games. First, off-roading in a red Jeep. Why is this fun? Now, across the lake that he’s comparing to the Amazon. And a picnic on the other side. Aren’t there mosquitoes? Next, kayaking. Neither have done it and so this is a good way for them to learn how to fight and blame each other for mistakes. Evening time. Jason tells her that she looks gorgeous. I wonder if she wishes he’d play a little harder to get. I wish she wouldn’t always say everything with exclamation points at the end! He says that she’s one of the two most important topics in his life. The other is biology. She says, Everything happens for a reason. I disagree, but we’ve been over this. Will he accept the—YES! Of course he wants to go to the fantasy suite. What is she wearing on her arm? I think it’s the hermit crab from earlier. Again with the thumb on her chin when he kisses her. I wonder what his ex-wife is thinking as she’s watching this? He has a present for her. It’s a…sand dollar? Thanks…He thanks her too, for teaching him that he can fall in love again. Music crescendos, he puts his fricking thumb on her chin again. He seems like the type who will likely have some weird kinky fantasy where he wants her to dress up as Little Bo Beep and he wheels in his own little lamb.

Date three. Jesse, who cannot believe he is still on the show. Neither can we, dude. Please tell me he got a hair cut. Nope. It’s just greasy. First, horseback riding. He’s already said “rad” and “dawg.” They’re forcing the horses to swim in the ocean. Another little picnic. He says that he likes her way too much, dude. She rocks his knucks. They’re talking about how it’s good that were friends first. For like, five minutes. That means she thought you were a dork, dumbie. Now they are almost catching fire on the beach. Dinner. We’ve already seen six times from the previews that he may refuse the fantasy suite card because he says he wouldn’t feel right having bad sex with her until he first meets her dad. I am quite sure she will change his mind. She says she had tons of fun with Jesse during the day. He says that the day was awesome and he wants to ask her some serious questions. First, how soon does she want to get knocked up? She says, Right away. Could she move somewhere that doesn’t have snow b/c he’s a snowboarder. She basically says, Not really. He keeps talking about how he used to be in the snow all of the time and go shredding. This doesn’t have to do with paper, I guess. He doesn’t know what he wants to do, which is fine, because he’s 26, but I don’t think she wants that in a guy. He says that falling in love with her scares the crap out of him. Nice. Ha, ha, ha, ha, the whole thing was a joke, he of course wants to go to fantasy suite and shred her. He tells her that if she chooses him, he hopes that she’s serious about getting married, and something else, can’t focus, am hypnotized by the watch on his arm which is the size of the one top of City Hall.

Final rose ceremony. Deeyawna says that she’s falling in love with all three guys. She must only do what her heart tells her to do and she’s sick to her stomach because she knows she’ll break someone’s heart tonight. Please get rid of…I can’t even say who I want her to send home because I don’t like Jeremy or Jesse. I’m guessing she’ll send home Jesse. WHAT? He got the first rose. WHAT??? Is she crazy? If she sends dad home, I will officially give up this show. I mean it. Come on. Jeremy is a dud. Okay, she picked Jason. Jeremy goes home. He will kill her now with one quick chop to the back of her skull. He looks off into the distance, calculating what the proper human response should be. She cries and sniffles because that’s what she always does. He sweats and looks at the ground because that’s what he always does. She says that she cares about him, but that she doesn’t really love him. He says that he’s hurt and he’s never had his heart broken like this. He’s in love with her, he says. Today could potentially be one of the worst days he’s ever had. How about when your mom died? Does that compare to this girl you’ve known on TV for six weeks? I’m sure he will get plenty of fan mail and have a new girlfriend in like one day.

I’m not even typing what he’s saying in the limo because they are dragging this out soooooooooooooooooooo long. He’s making them stop the car for one second so he can walk around and do what? Pick a rock up to keep? Jump over the wall to get her? Okay, now he’s scaring me because it does look like he might kidnap her.
Next, the bachelor’s tell all! Except you will have to watch this on your own, because I can’t possibly type this up. Too many oxfords in the room.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Go Ahead and Kill Me First

I realized after getting off at the Ellsworth/Federal stop tonight, on my way somewhere else in the rain that I would make a bad POW. Had just been in Center City to celebrate Irina's release from Temple, and so had maybe like three drinks and then realized halfway to the train station that I really should've used the restroom before I left. You know it's bad when you have to ask yourself if it would be horrible if you peed in a side alley in near twilight. Or if you contemplate asking those people smoking on their front step if it would be okay if you used their bathroom. And plus it was hot and I was wearing flip flops that splashed mud and rain up on my back legs. That's when I decided that I would make a horrible prisoner. I would cave at the first sign of discomfort and give up all of the state secrets, sell my mother out, prostrate myself on the ground, perform high kicks if asked, anything, anything, anything, to feel okay again.

In other news, I have been asked to be on the fiction board for Philadelphia Stories which means that I get to have a say in what stories are published. Carla sent maybe ten stories to all of us on the board today to read and evaluate. I am hoping that by reading the kind of stories that get submitted, I'll be inspired to write and submit myself. I'm wondering if there will be tons of sci-fi or stories about kittens. Or even better, kittens in outer space. I am secretly hoping to be totally blown away by someone's story--someone whose writing I read and go, Okay, we must immediately be friends. It could happen.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Famous But Not Yet Snotty

My friend Irina just emailed to let me know that my book is listed in one of the front page articles of the magazine section of today's Philadelphia Inquirer: "The Philly Books, Popping Out in L.A." It's just like a brief, brief blurb but that's still kind of cool.

Alas and Alack

Sorry to say that I missed The Bachelorette viewing on Monday, at least for the most part. It keeps starting too early. Most nights at 8 o'clock, I've just finished listening to Terry Gross for an hour and have to go lie down to get the sound of her wispy voice out of my ear. And I also wasn't at home and didn't bring my computer with me.

But listen, the show was two hours long again. Anyway, I caught the last maybe 30-40 minutes of it. It focused solely on the four hometown dates with Deeyawna visiting the men's family. I briefly saw the Jason date and later heard from Jess and Julie how he's a wonderful dad and how much he loves his son and how they both cried (Jess and Julie, not Jason) when he had to leave the toddler to go back to Hollywood. I didn't see the hometown dates with the other two. I imagine that Jesse's (that's the guy with dippy long bowl cut) family all sat cross-legged on surf boards to pass a joint and then ate cherry pie without utensils. The guy with the eyes too close together...uh...Bryan? Jeremy? I feel like his name begins with one of those two letters...I suppose he took her on a tour of the robot factory and/or laboratory where he was conceived.
And then Graham. Still adorable, but it seemed like his Southern accent went up by about 87% and then I started thinking of him as Graham Cracker. He took Deeyawna to his old high school gym (makes me think of that someecard "You peeked in high school") where he gave her an over sized jersey with her name on it and his last name which I thought was totally weird. They shot baskets and the viewing audience yawned and asked if there was anything for dessert (no). They made out and then he took her home to meet his boring parents and we realized what he might look like when he's older and decided he wasn't that great of a catch after all. Something happened at the end of the visit where Deeyawna was trying to get him to talk and he didn't say anything. I guess that was disappointing for her, but really, how many guys will confess their feelings out loud and then how many of them will do that on camera?

Rose Ceremony: Keeps the two dumb asses (Jesse and Mr. Roboto) and cuts G. Cracker who, as it turns out, has written her a letter to express his feelings. I was surprised to learn that he could write and it appeared that he even spelled her name correctly in the salutation. She sobs and cries out on a bench with him and he still doesn't say anything. But in the limo, he has tears in his eyes and we all wonder if she made the biggest mistake of her entire life ever, one she will regret for the next fifteen minutes, no do overs, no go backs, etc., etc., (this is how they play it up on the show). Next week: the fantasy suites and previews show it looking like Jesse may say no to an overnight date with D. because, dawg, he's got his homies in town, check it, give him some knucks! (this is how he talks).

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Hipsters Unite

Stumbled on this funny video called Hipster Olympics on You Tube. Worth a watch, especially if you've just been to a party in Fishtown the night before swarming with hipsters in all shapes and sizes. Well, no, really only in hipster sizes--thin men in tight girl jeans, thin girls with zig-zag bangs and see-through blouses with beads. Several headbands in sight, including one guy who wore a yellow athletic headband as though he had just stepped off the tennis court circa Wimbledon 1978. Talked for awhile to a tiny girl from India who looked as though she were channeling a Native American--black hair in two thick braids, a shiny shirt/dress, and yes, another headband, though this one was made out of scarves and feathers and things. Met another tall, skinny guy wearing a wristband from a show the night before. He was cute and fey and of indiscriminate sexual preference. I think I offended him by saying I thought this particular artist was exploitive (me parroting Lisa Marie). Actually, I probably didn't offend him at all and I'm being kind of catty. Everyone was pretty friendly and I managed not to spend the night in the corner by the sangria table judging. Instead, I judged from the back yard.

What would make nights like this easier is if we all wore nametags that also list our emotional age, relationship status, sexual predilection, and maybe two or three general issues we have that might impede a connection: 12, S (single), S (straight), DI (dad issues), JBUANSBWMOWY (just broke up and need space but will make out with you). That way, you wouldn't do what I typically do which is to piss off someone's girlfriend by talking for half an hour with her architect boyfriend about his favorite buildings.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Where I'm Calling From

Having a little trouble getting out of the house this morning though it appears to be a nice day and I have all of these new/old songs on my i-pod so can anticipate a long walk to the same places I always go--Circle Thrift, Rittenhouse Square, the Whole Foods where I expect to be banned at any moment, since I show up to graze the free food at least twice a week (I always buy something, but it's usually inexpensive like an all-natural, non tortured muffin). I could also stay home and clean because my house is a mess. I mean, it's picked up, but it's not clean. So much cat hair blowing around like tumbleweeds plus star-shaped splashes of spilled coffee on the linoleum and various decorative items wearing a layer of dust. If I suddenly inherited a ton of money, I would hire a house cleaner. That would be my dream; someone else who would come in and get this place in ship shape. And also a cook, just a slightly talented chef who could prepare the occasional meal that doesn't feature a 99 cent box of pasta. But I do want to get out of here, if only because Ernesto is driving me crazy with his incessant attempts to bust out of the back screen door. As I type this, he is balanced at the very top of door, meowing pitifully. He knows that the trick to escape involves the door handle, so he sometimes pushes on it. I wonder if I could find a way to channel his energy and somehow rig him up to a vacuum cleaner?

Am invited to a Fishy-town party tonight with Carrie but I always feel slightly uncool at these things because I don't own a pair of tight tapered jeans or wear scarves in my hair and cannot talk about bands I've recently seen at Khyber. I suppose I could park myself by the food table and spend the night drinking room temperature red wine from a plastic cup and shoveling cheese and grapes into my mouth by the handfuls. But Iona will be there and she's adorable and funny. And I invited A., though he has a previous engagement at a yoga graduation party (what? I asked him yesterday if that means the graduate will be demonstrating her levitation techniques and if they will possibly be holding downward dog wheelbarrow races. He claims to not like these hippie-type get togethers and yet he's always going to them. Uh, yeah, well, not like I don't do the same). Also brought work home with me, if you can believe that, but I have about 29 letters to write and each one requires a substantial amount of research--can't just knock them out b/c they're supposed to be personalized, so I need to spend time doing that and I have a deadline for a book review at Philadelphia Stories, and I should finish the round robin story for the people at writing camp, and I need to shave my legs; no wonder I'm stuck today. Of course, I'll feel better once I get going, but part of me would rather stay in and do nothing except maybe read one of these library books I got yesterday from the university. They have a pretty good selection of fiction which makes me inordinately happy.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Witness

Here's something a person could do if she worked in West Philly and didn't yet have that many friends to go to lunch with: walk across the street in search of food and company at 30th Street Station. However, be forewarned that you will face a minimum of three homeless people scattered about, mumbling to themselves with nearly dead cigarettes smoldering at their fingertips. That's what I did today for lunch. At the same time, the train station is a beautiful building and if you squint and try not to notice the myriad destitute people sleeping toothless on the wooden benches, you can sort of enjoy it. It's the same building where they filmed Witness, one of my favorite movies, if only because of the scene where Harrison Ford dances in the barn with a Quaker woman played by Kelly McGillis to one of the best songs in the world, "Don't Know Much About History" (or whatever the title is).

After work, decided to walk to my next destination, just to see what that would feel like. Crossed the Schuykill on Chestnut and wondered what keeps more people from just jumping into the river. Not that I'm feeling particularly self-destructive, just that it would be slightly exhilarating to hoist yourself up on the rail and leap into the rushing water beneath. Met LM and her boyfriend John at his art opening near Rittenhouse Square. Ran into JR there...He was uncharacteristically (at least in my experience) glib and funny and sort of adorable in his yellow t-shirt, arms all bright with tattoos. I said, When's your next show? He said, February. I said, Oh, so what's that exactly? He said, It's the second month in the year. He's probably dating someone now and it's giving him a little more moxie. Still, I liked him and wondered if we could ever just be friends because he's interesting and talented and funny. Usually, he seems in a hurry to get somewhere else and never seems to remember who I am, but today, he did remember the last time we ran into each other (though I had forgotten). It was on the subway--I was on my way to an interview and he was on his way to work. I must have said something about just wanting to get a job where I could spend most of my time reading blog and doing crosswords because he said something like, Yeah, are you able to do puzzles at your new job?

Have finally figured out how to add my CD collection to my i-pod. I have to resort to this b/c my newest free download thing, Soul Seek, is fucked up and won't let me steal songs. So, can't get any of the Simon and Garfunkel I want at the moment, except for "Celia" which I had saved somewhere else at some point, but cannot get anything else by them or by Paul Simon, my secret boyfriend, my dearest Shortie. I have this urge to run over to C & P's and ask if I can borrow their entire CD collection. I don't know what happened to mine--somewhere along the way, I've lost like 200 CDs, mostly bad stuff like Counting Crows and Madonna, but also some songs I love to sing along with like pretty much every bitch girl song from Exile in Guyville. Help me, Mary, please.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Dog Days

Many dogs in my life today. On my way to the train, I ran into my favorite dog; this German Shepherd mix who is sometimes tied up outside of his house in the morning. He's sort of spastic and whines, but he lets me pet him and pull tufts of his fur off to release into the breeze. Then met Carrie at Chapterhouse after work to hear about her trip to Paris and there were two more dogs inside; one is a spotted friendly mutt named Jessica who lives there. I surreptitiously fed her bits of my raisin scone while the owner wasn't looking. Then to the bike shop next door to pick up Carrie's ten-speed which needed a new tire and tape for the handlebars. Another dog hangs out there, Fido, the saddest dog in the world, skinny, old, never wags his tail no matter how much you pet him. The bike shop boys are gangly 25 year olds with dark hair hanging in their eyes, blue tattoos up and down their legs and arms; guys with big hands long fingers adept at adjusting things. Back to Carrie's to see the kittens we rescued, Piper and Paul Skoles. Both are growing at an alarming rate and do nothing much all day except knock over plants.

Was thinking today about romantic comedies and how, like in the chick lit (I first typed "chick lick") book I mentioned before, you have these particular moments of reversal. Maybe it's a throw-back to Shakespeare or someone--didn't most of his comedies have an ending where everyone comes together at the last second after all these missed connections and misunderstandings? In ro-co movies, it has to happen where the couple fight their mutual attraction because of some impediment (excessive coolness, another partner, living on different continents), until finally, one night, they sleep together, and the next morning, things are weird and one sprints off into the opposite direction. Think Reality Bites or When Harry Met Sally (I always thought there has to be something wrong with me because I wanted Winona Ryder to end up with Ben Stiller, who was supposed to be this uptight, boring dude and not the uber hip and sardonic and damaged Ethan Hawke with his perpetually greasy hair). Anyway, it has to happen that one of them has lost his/her senses and runs away so that they can have this sudden epiphany, realizing that s/he's made a terrible mistake that must immediately be remedied. In WHMS, there's the extended end scene where he finally makes a literal run to go find the woman he realizes he cannot live without. At the last second, he makes it to the NY's Eve party, just in time to stop Sally from leaving and professes his love, how he cannot go another minute without her. In RB, Ethan shows up at the penultimate moment too, just as Winona is about to dash into a cab to find him. But then I wonder what would happen if we flashed forward to a year down the road, where this pattern of leaving and showing up have happened like fifteen times since then and they are hating each other to death.

Dave used to do that to me too, except he didn't leave, he sort of dwindled. I remember one time in State College, we had what yet another conversation the day after he spent the night where he spoke in stops and starts. " I just...I...You...I feel like...We shouldn't...I never meant...If I were a rich man... " I said, "Okay, goodbye, then. Bye-bye." I walked him to the door. He sort of floated out, still not clear on how to express his intense admiration and equally intense inability to make out if any strings were attached. I watched out my apartment window as he slowly drove away. I mean, really slowly. Like, still riding his brake lights. I knew he was looking out the windshield, still trying to figure out what he wanted to say to me and I thought, You dumb ass. (Well, and also, he had a vanity license plate I hated that read "SKYCRZR"). I couldn't understand how he could be both so into me and so not into me at the same time. Much easier to contemplate that problem then to ask the more intimate question, Why would I be into someone who felt wishy-washy about me? Well, he was a good kisser. But still. And a poet. Though inarticulate in real life.

In any case, those movie realization moments almost never happen in real life. You don't find someone sitting on your doorstep when you drag home, or run into him at the airport just as he's about to charter a jet to visit you in your hometown where you've been for the last two weeks to nurse your dying brother, or pop out from behind your shower curtain while you're brushing your teeth (unless you've been dating a psychopath). I'm trying to think if I've had a moment like that or if I've ever done the showing up. Nope. I do remember one time in high when I was at a hospital waiting room after one of my friends had overdosed on her mother's sleeping pills on the night we were supposed to go see a movie. I was all by myself for some reason and feeling really fucked up and scared. I heard the whoosh of the entrance doors and looked up to see my boyfriend, Mike, the drummer in a Christian rock band, who had just walked in. He hadn't seen me yet, so I got this perfect moment where I got to see him as he was searching for me and I felt it in my stomach, this sudden rush of complete relief and affection for him, thinking, Oh, thank God, he made it. It'll be okay now.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Heel

Because of the level of professionalism in my office, I find myself often clattering in heels these days like a real grown up. I makes me taller and I'm fine as long as I don't try to walk anywhere. I mostly wheel around the office in my rolling chair. Busy, busy, busy today in a way that I like--time flies when you're writing letters, constructing press releases, editing articles, searching for photographs, and trying to come up with a theme for a new campaign. We like dragons. I may have to soon purchase some dragon paraphernalia, perhaps get a huge Japanese dragon on my back.

Went briefly to Borders after work to search for some of the books I discovered in at the writing retreat; books I can't yet afford to buy, but no one can stop me from opening up a new book and smelling its pages, something I seem to be compelled to do. Still lots and lots of chick lit out there. Here's one example: A girl has a great, wonderful, and boring husband. She still pines for Leo, a man she loved in college who didn't seem to love her back. One day, she runs into this Leo and her world is thrown into chaos!!! I flipped through some of it, and though I didn't read the ending, I can tell you what will happen: she will almost cheat on her husband with this Leo. She will discover that Leo is really an asshole and not worth her time. She will go running back to her husband, who will grudgingly take her back. There will be one last scene where she almost lets herself think back with boy-colored glasses at the jerk from her past, but she will finally come to terms with the fact that she has an awesome life in the suburbs. I feel like I could write this story in three days while drinking vodka and eating Triscuits. That said, I do have a Leo and so can sort of relate.

My Leo was a guy from college; a great actor who was also completely off in many ways--I think he did a lot of drugs, but I translated it to mean that he was different and interesting. Plus, he was extremely, painfully attractive and he was also great onstage. I've always been attracted to people who are good at artistic things, like pretending to like you while really just practicing a role in Look Homeward, Angel. We never dated. Does anyone date in college? I never did. Instead, we hooked up after 3-5 theatre parties. Once, we made out on Mainstage, lying down on the stage bed that was part of an Arthur Miller play. A perfect symbolic moment of the entire debacle. At parties, he would spend most of the time off in a distant corner or maybe not showing up at all until the last possible second and I would pine and drink cheap, warm beer and try to ignore him or if he wasn't there, try to develop a crush on one of tech theatre guys. Just when I thought it was hopeless, he would swoop over to me, say something that I found unbelievably charming, and off we'd go on his moped (!) to his crummy apartment with the mattress on the floor covered in dinosaur sheets. But when he looked at you, he did it in such a way that it made it seem like he was really seeing you--or me, in this case, which was disconcerting and thrilling. And he was always leaving. I think he showed up places just so he could make a good exit. I cut me to the core in a way that only intense and unfulfilled crushes can do. He dropped out of school to move to New York. I saw him again about five years later in Seattle after a college friend got married. I thought he would be different. I was sure I would. I wasn't. Something about the way we communicated or didn't communicate made it impossible me for to say anything without feeling stilted and self-conscious. I stayed for two nights at his place and he said, Your visit suddenly became so important to me that I just...Maybe his super power was that he never finished a sentence. Everything he began to say ended in ellipses, leaving it open ended for any number of possible interpretations.

The second night, he took me to a bar and flirted with a girl who had a gigantic head, and at the end of the night, I had to trail after him back to his place, where we slept side by side on his bed and I thought surely I would die. I wonder though if I would feel the same if I saw him again. He's nearby--I have his email. He's not married. But no fucking way. No way. I cannot be that girl again.

The picture here is one that comes up when you do a google search for his name. It's not him (though there are photos of him out there too. Oh, crap, and a film reel. Of course, I'll watch it), but I like this photo on not-him better. Not-him if he lived in the 1950s. Still dapper, surely. When you do a google search for my name, you get a picture of a horse. I do not have the energy to interpret the symbolic meaning of that. But I do like the title of this blog, because it's appropos in so many ways.


Monday, June 16, 2008

Another Two Hours of Your Life Gone Forever

What is this? A new BCS (or whatever channel this is) episode of The Bachelorette Tells Us All Stuff We Already Know! Luckily, I didn’t get home until late (such an industrious worker) and so missed the first half hour. I can’t say that I’ll write much about this particular episode because it’s just stupid recaps and hearing what Deeyawna has to say about the guys and why she sent the robot home and the Chi-town guy and the sweaty dude with his shirt unbuttoned to his navel, etc.

Weird to think that last week at this time, I was at Rosemont, watching this with a few of my new bffs. And here I am, back in my life. Had trouble falling asleep last night in part b/c this girl next door kept yelling, then I woke up at 5:30 am. because I was afraid I’d oversleep.

We’re getting an illustration of the lives of the six remaining guys. Jesse’s first. He’s a complete idiot. Please, please, please cut your hair and maybe put some powder on your nose and possibly stop wearing those circus tennis shoes. Here’s Twilley who may have a personality disorder, but he’s still my favorite b/c he’s the funniest or the weirdest and possibly the drunkest. Hmm…A pattern for me is murkily beginning to emerge…His dad was a professional something sports player but he draws. Aw, he draws! And he’s losing his hair, but we will try to overlook that and perhaps wonder if he could spray some on. She will never, never in the world pick him. Will they ever kiss? He needs to tone back on the stories with the crazy voices. This is who will win: the dad. The dad has a hot bod. Look, he’s exploiting his son for TV! He might be terrible in bed; looks like someone who has a diagram on the bedside table: “insert here.” Oh, right and the thumb on the chin thing. See, he’s quite exact. ‘K, here is Invisible Mullet. He owns fifty-give hundred pair of jeans, a five bedroom McMansion, twenty SUVs, works out in Hawaiian shorts and no shirt, uses facial cleansers and has a tanning bed in his house, wears a leather coat and talks to his mother fourteen times a day, and proudly admits that he’s a mama’s boy. God, I can’t stand how he jacks up the Southern accent when he’s talking to Deeyawna. We get to see his mullet disappear as this other dude cuts it, but, when he’s finished, it weirdly looks like he’s still got one. And Graham. He’s the one she totally wants to jump. Me too. Except for the perpetual five o’clock shadow. He’s the bad boy. And Jeremy is the one who is the most boring though he does have a cute dog. He’s playing the dead mom card. And the dead dad card! Good move. Deeyawna likes this because she has a dead mom too.

(Oh, dear, oh, no, crud. The mama kitty just showed up again on the back wall. She looks okay. I am certain she has kittens stashed somewhere. Goddamnit. I will try not to do anything. But I thought she was maybe dead so it’s good that she’s not. I want something something something something good to happen and kittens is not it).

And now. The show. The show that could be watched in fifteen minutes, but will be extended out in previews and flashbacks. She has said “my husband” no fewer than twenty-five times. It’s disgusting that she is going to kiss IM in a hammock (20 minutes of previews).

Our skinny host, Chris, shows up in the guy shack. Fifty percent of them are wearing hats. Shirts are all still on. I give them ten minutes before they start stripping. The men and Deeyawna are going to an exclusive resort in Palm Springs. Will Jesse ask someone to give him “knucks?” Jeremy runs up to give her the first hug. Why do we have to pretend that Deeyawna picks these locations single-handedly? She does not.

First one-on-one date goes to Sean. Gahross. And he has a tattoo on his back. Of all of his clothes, he chooses a tight gray t-shirt that will have instant sweat stains. They’re going up in a lift. He takes the opportunity to grab her ass when she gets freaked out by the heights. Romantic dinner at the top of the mountain. SNOOZE. He’s talking about walking around with a loaded gun. She says, Is it a hair trigger? Does it go off instantly? No, of course she didn’t say that. But I bet it does. “Anybody can say words, but it’s actions where it matters.”

(Date box for second one-on-one. Twilley has never once gone on a date with her. She is going instead with pointy-nosed Jeremy. Twilley is actually disappointed).

Oh, the gd rose petals on the sidewalk. They’re eating sushi chocolate. They need to stop taking these guys to places where they sweat. No fireplace or candles or heat lamps or torches, please. Because the guys are always sweat and it’s distracting. Now they lying down in a giant hammock, my nightmare. He’s trying to think how he’s going to make a move to kiss her without flipping the entire hammock. Side kiss. Those are the worst, oh, shit, he’s saying, “Thank you, baby. Kiss you, baby.” He does have big hands, which is attractive. God, I need to get out more.

Group date. Another gendered date wherein they will be driving dirt trucks or wait, no they’re going four wheeling. She’s taking Twilley alone with her on a helicopter ride. He asks how he opens a door for helicopter. He can’t do it. He will not kiss her and Graham is telling the camera that Twilley gets really bad motion sickness. Oh, great, he’s going to throw up on her. He is so cute. Why can’t she just like him? And now he can’t get out of the helicopter. Doesn’t she see that he’s funny? Maybe I should write him a letter after this? I could move to Tulsa. I wish at least two of these guys would kiss or fall in love or something. Two shirtless men on camera. I wonder how much they worked out before this show? Must’ve been like fourteen hours a day. Now they’re all swimming in the pool. The guys play that thing where they get on each other’s shoulders. Jason realizes that he sometimes gets lost in the shuffle because of his exactness. She pulls him aside to ask him what it would like to do hometown in Seattle with the son. It’s great that he lives in Seattle. He comes Jesse in stupid shorts. She’s hoping that he will kiss her. He won’t. He doesn’t get it. He won’t kiss her, I don’t think. He’s too scared. She can keep on waiting. Graham steals her away to take her on yet another hammock. Backwards baseball hats are not a turn on. (All Emma Carol does these days is sit in the window and meow at the outside world).

One-on-one date with Jeremy. She wears a sparkly yellow dress and they will be driving to some 50’s joint in a white 50s convertible. Gag. I mean, I love the 50s, but I hate how everything is themed. The date is taking place at Frank Sinatra’s house where he lived with Ava Gardner. They are having cocktails by the pool, oh, no, worse, they are singing Frank Sinatra karaoke songs. Both suck, but he sucks more. How do you not know the words to a Frank Sinatra song? She thinks they make a perfect dance couple. I think he’s almost, if not more, boring than Jason. Back at the ranch, Twilley compares Jeremy to a mutant from The Matrix and does a perfect imitation of him. He is super stiff and fake. They are now in the sauna and he’s kissing her just like someone in a Frank Sinatra movie. Hand under the chin. She doesn’t like him.

Okay, final cocktail party and rose ceremony. More drama because Deeyawna isn’t in the room. What? OMG! Oh, dear god, oh, who cares. It’s just that she’s pretending that she doesn’t know who she’s sending home. It’s clearly Sean and Twilley or Jesse and Twilley. Maybe Jeremy and Twilley. God, I am so disappointed in myself for knowing all of their names. If she gets rid of Graham, I’m going to kill her. Who gives a crap if there’s not going to be a cocktail party? Just get to the rose ceremony.

Rose Ceremony:

First rose: Jeremy. The other robot.
Second rose: Jason. No shit.
Third rose: She is going to give this to Sean and I am disgusted. Am I right? Graham. Thank GOD.
Fourth rose: Please don’t pick Sean, please don’t. It’ll be Sean, I know it. Come on. JHC. Oh, dang, she picked Jesse. Good, we don’t have to go see Sean’s house with the tanning bed.
Going home: Twilley. (I am typing this even before the rose ceremony. She won’t keep him). And Sean. Twilley, it’s you and me baby. Sean is trying to be noble and the clich├ęs are flying like mad. “You live and you learn. Thank you for the opportunity. A rolling kitten gathers no moss.” Twilley is saying how he’s not a super model, he’s just a nice guy, he knows he’s not the handsomest , but he does think he’s a good guy. He reminds me of Bill Murray.

Okay, that’s all for now bitches. I may write a letter to Twilley, just to let him know that I think he's a-okay.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Dad's I Have Known (Not in a Biblical Sense)

D. Enzmann's dad was strange. He had fuzzy, crazy black and white eyebrows like caterpillars above his glasses. D was a late baby and so Mr. Enzmann always seemed more like a grandpa then a dad. He was odd--walked around in his boxer shorts and was absent-minded in a kind of goofy way.

Wallis' dad had a moustache. He was a divorced dad, only showed up once a month to take Wallis out and Wallis often didn't want to go with him and so brought me. He took us horseback riding and paid for both of us, out of guilt for remarrying the woman he had an affair with while married to Wallis' mother. He didn't talk much.

I never met Diana's dad. She didn't talk about him. She had a weird stepdad who was too friendly to all of us. Nothing happened, at least not to me. Lynn's dad was dead by the time I met; he had a heart attack. They had so much stuff in their house, these women and girls, that it seemed like he had been gone for a long time.

My friends Jess and Jodie have guy-like dads, dads who like sports and are jovial and friendly and always look me in the eye. Jodie's dad is generous and has a heavy Pittsburgh accent and a moustache.

It occurs to me that I've known and do know lots of dad's with moustaches; almost none with beards. My dad has/had one. He was a cowboy in the rodeo for awhile. I like to tell people that because I feel like it makes me more interesting, and also it's one of the few things I know about him. That and that he has a heart murmur and had bypass surgery. Oh, and one blue eye and one green eye. My eyes are hazel. The only photo we had was this one Kodak picture of him sitting in my grandparent's living room. His legs were crossed and so the most in focus part of the picture is the bottom of his shoe. And a couple of news paper clippings. He played basketball in high school. His first name is Lars, but they called him Butch. I didn't call him today. I don't have his phone number and haven't been in contact with him for lots of years and it would've been awkward anyway. He yawns when he's nervous, trying to appear more casual than he feels, and he yawns most of his way through any conversations we have.

Happy Father's Day Though I Hate Hallmark Induced Holidays


More later...

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Writer's C(r)amp

Am back from the week long writing workshop extravaganza and just now tried to take a short nap, but have grown so accustomed to the twin bed with the thin mattress I slept on at Rosemont, that I was unable to fall asleep without the accompanying sound of the crinkling mattress or the truncated space.

What did we learn this week? We learned that writing is still hard, but that you have to go at it again and again, that you have to make it a habit, part of your daily life, or your work will escape you, go into hibernation, causing it to be that much harder to face a blank page (or screen) when you finally do sit yourself down.

Met lots of great people; got to work with Elise Juska, who is an excellent writer and critic. She gave us writing and reading exercises every day, pieces that worked in tandem with one another and I realized that you can come at a story from different directions or in what might seem like artificial ways, such as free writing a scene from a story to see if you can stumble on something new or unexpected. We went to readings twice a day (well, I didn't make it every time; but most times) and heard a range of stories, poems, and essays and got to hear the writers talk about process. Also received tons of great recommendations for books and authors to check out (Andre Dubus, Lori Lanson, Halfway House by Katherine Noelle, You Are Not a Stranger Here, by Adam Haslett, Without a Map, On Chestle Beach by Ian McEwan, Willa Cather {why have I not read her?}, William Trevor, Tobias Wolfe) and now have some new writing from the free writes as well as directions to go with the two stories of mine we workshopped. One is fairly close to being ready to send out and the other is in pieces, but I at least now have a direction to move toward.

We also all developed crushes on the faculty, all of whom are in serious relationships, but it's hard not to go slack-jawed when you listen to good writers read their work and when you also get to have lunch with them. It was sort of like being in junior high in that way, you know, we wanted details about their lives as though they were these exotic creatures, which, given the level of success they've had in a highly competitive field, is sort of accurate.

So, I'll try to maintain this momentum, though, at the moment, I just feel kind of physically gross because I didn't shower that much or shave my legs and my hair is a mess and I need a nap and my cats are winding around my legs in this constant frantic circle since I was gone all week. There's nothing better in the heat than having cat hair stuck to your legs.

Top Ten Moments/Things (that I feel are appropriate to mention):

1. Watching The Bachelorette with Fiction Courntey and Kate and then Curtis. We had the best, best time making fun of everyone and it reminded me how much better it is to view it in the company of friends.

2. Writing and reading the round robin piece--this story I started that everyone added to and then Poetry Courtney read aloud on the last night. I need to type it up and finish it so it can be emailed to everyone.

3. Watching the Lakers v. the Celitics on the tv downstairs at night with the other attendees/teachers.

4. Why am I the only one who heard B. burp during someone's reading? I almost went into convulsions from trying so hard not to laugh.

5. Meeting Pete, the soft as a bunny Brittney Spaniel belonging to Mark.

6. Slowing down in the car to pick up Charles and then yelling, Sorry, we don't have any room, and speeding off. All the girls I met were great; really funny and interesting and a bit on the silly side, which is just how I like them.

7. Elise's advice in workshop--my favorite one is her reference to Eudora Welty's (?) notion that you should pick up a story like you would a cat, somewhere just above its middle.

8. The readings. I pretty much fell in love with everyone who read their work.

9. Sister Keritas (sp?), in total.

10. The way that we all seemed to jive--no weird competitiveness or snideness that can come from a bunch of writers in one place. As a rule, most good writers I know are introverts and people-watchers so that when you put all of us together, we tend to be harsh observers. I didn't feel that this week. It felt more like camp in that way. We did not sing Khumbya at the end, but we may as well have.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

The Bachelorette

I am writing this from a workshop at beautiful Rosemont College. This will be pretty discombobulated because I am only half paying attention and half trying to socialize.

First one on one date: Jesse the snowboarder is serenading Deeyawnah by singing a terrible song/poem that rhymes. Do not rhyme. Especially not Deeyawnah with “Pee on Ya” (that line is courtesy of Courtney, one of the workshoppers here. And she’s not even a poetry person!). We missed the first 22 minutes, so who knows what’s going on. Likely not much. Okay, now they’re at dinner. He’s saying he’s not the kind of guy who cheats. He’s eating like he’s never been out to dinner before, with the knife upside down. I’m not that kind of guy who opens up. I want you to know that I’m into you. It’s real. She’ smiles fakely. He says, it’s real for me. She admits that she’s not typically attracted to, uh, people like him (uh, douchebags?). He could at least wash his hair before the date. I can’t understand anything he’s saying because he’s mumbling. She’s going to give him the rose because things keep growing between them every time they get together and he tells more fart jokes (Courtney astutely points out that he has hat head from wearing a snow boarding hat for twelve years in a row). They are being serenaded by Natasha Someone who has her dress belted directly below her boobs. Who got her this gig? What kind of agent does she have? He should be fired immediately. It’s great that Jesse and Deeyawna are exactly the same height and that he can spin her twenty times in row.

Time for the six on one date (not a porno reference). They are going to the Indy five hundred so they can drive stock cars. Jeremy still creeps me out; don’t know why. They are being forced to wear stock car oilcan outfits like someone from one of those Tom Cruise movies. Why do they always have to make them do contests? Oh, here’s Brian, who appears to be part robot. I can’t tell if his hair is gray or blond or what. He’s having trouble getting the car to go forward, but now he’s able to speed around the raceway at thirty miles an hour. Now here goes dad. Second place. Graham would rather die of embarrassment than drive fast. Jeremy is in fourth place and he is very upset. Twilley who is like Bill Murray will probably be in last place. Please don’t yell, Yo hoo!! Oh, he did. Multiple times. Now mullet head is going, trying to beat Twilley’s high race score, which he did. He tells her that he wants to win the race to her heart. We, the viewing audience, collectively gag. He looks like he might be into chewing tobacco. “We got this little bluegrass connection that no one else can share.” Yee-haw!! Now Deeyawna is driving and she has the hightest score. The guy with the invisible mullet just said, “You know, when she left rubber at the starting line, I thought, that is my wife. That is my wife!” By the by, everyone still hates Jeremy. Even good ole Twilley. Here comes Graham with the stupid facial hair. They’re holding hands. The guys are talking about how jealous they are. And they all seem to be saying that they’re falling in love with her. She has a blinking problem, most definitely. Deeyawan totally wants to jump Graham’s bones. Graham is saying how he wants their relationship to be different and she’s hurt by this. She keeps telling these guys that she knows exactly how they’re feeling and yet she acts like a jerk. She has asked him to open up and then when he does, she gets mad because he’s telling her that he’s feeling bad.

Robert and Fred are having a serious conversation with dueling accents.

Deeyawna just gave the first impression rose to Sean. He is really playing up the Southern boy bullshit.

Back at the ranch the next day, we have to see that Jesse is wearing the worst shorts ever. They have invited Deeyawna and the two boys to have an outdoor bbq. They’re letting the chef cook with his stupid popped collar. One of the guys is wearing a shirt that reads, “Home Wrecker.” Deeyawna feels a little awkard, like she didn’t fit into the guys standing around with their shirts off. Like almost all of them are not wearing shirts. Deeyawna is very upset because she should be the happiest person in the world but they’re all breaking her heart. She cries and says, “I came down to hang out with all y’all but if you don’t want to hang out then you should go home. Just go home. Or at least put your shirts back on.” She has put 100% into this every day and this is not fair! She can’t promise that she’s not going to make connections with other guys, but when she’s with you, she’s focused in on whoever the hell she is with.”

Here’s the two on one date (or as Kate calls it, “The two for one date”) wherein one of them will have to go home. She is serving them dinner at a mansion in the Hollywood Hills and wearing a gold lame shirt. Both of the men are sweating to death and Robert’s shirt is unbuttoned to his navel. She asks her typical question, What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done? Robert has chartered a helicopter and then took her back to the bed filled with rose petals. Greg’s was a surprise get-away and he took her bags and they went to Lake Geneva to just be with the other person. Robert is saying that he loves Fred, but he’s going to punch him in the face. He needs a wet wipe. He moved in for the kiss and she tells him he can have her cheek because she doesn’t want to be covered in his sweat. He’s two buttons away from showing his belly button and/or his nipple. She’s calling him out for running away from the situation. He keeps saying how there’s a connection while the rest of us are hiding our faces behind our hands.

She and Jeff or Fred or whatever his name is are now awkwardly sitting on a chaise lounge. He sees that there’s a connection and she sees that he is wearing his hair like a living Kewpie doll. Okay, she must choose one of the guys to go home. Robert thinks that he is going to get it. And he is not getting it. He does a triple take and then gets into the limo. He’s lying on the floor of the limo and saying, “I am destroyed. I just can’t believe I misread the connection so badly. I am just sad.” A single tear rolls down his cheek. Look, I don’t mean to be an asshole, but he could have tried some Clearsil before the date. She is sending Jeff/Fred home too! She is a bad ass. She cannot bring herself to lead him on. And so off he and his argyle sweater goes back to Chi-town.

The cocktail party:

Okay, the guy with the invisible mullet is wearing a striped suit. Jeremy is making a last pitch about how he hates that she was upset. Courtney says that he looks an ugly Keanu Reeves. It’s true. Here comes the robot, The data that you’ve inputted seems accurate. Twilley is making a last ditch attempt, he’s fearful b/c he doesn’t get much time with her. And he wants to explore all the options. Graham wants to know what’s going on in her mind. He says that he was glad to have been caused pain by her being hurt (?). She doesn’t ever want to be confused as to why he’s here. He says, I’m here for you. They kiss with tongue.
Rose ceremony:

First rose: Jason. Of course. She LOVES him.
Second rose: Jeremy. Do not like this guy.
Third rose: Oh, Twilley. I don’t really get it. They don’t seem to have any connection.
Fourth rose: Pick Graham.

Aw, Brian is going home. Like, no kidding. We haven’t heard a peep out of him the entire time. He just left to get his batteries charged. And used the word: “behooved.”

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Iron On

I actually ironed a shirt this morning. It's one of my recent H&M purchases, a white button-up with wide cuffs. I am certain that in typical H&M style, it will last approximately 3.5 washings before disintegrating into thin air. but who cares, I needed a white shirt after suddenly realizing that the other white button up I've been wearing makes me look like I'm auditioning for the role of secretary in a Mamet play--too tight and inappropriate for work and looking as though a button might pop off and get you in the eye at any second. After many, many, many episodes of What Not to Wear, I'm finally getting the message that I need to buy clothes that fit, rather than those that make me look like pin-up girl and not in a good way.

So, ironing this morning made me remember how my mom used to let me iron my stepdad's handkerchiefs and their pillowcases when I was in elementary/middle school (by the time high school rolled around, I was like, Yeah, no thanks). We'd set up the ironing board in the middle of the den and iron while watching Guiding Light. I never made it home in time to watch As the World Turns, which was fine because I liked GL better--Holly and that dastardly Roger and wimpy Beth with her mouth constantly turned down and handsome Josh who loved Reva (I believe they married and divorced about six times). Why is it that every once in awhile, they'll run through the same scenarios? Like: the evil twin appears out of nowhere or someone will get amnesia, or a man and a woman who don't like each other will get trapped on a deserted island or in a dungeon somewhere and be there for a long, long time until they fall in love, or there will be a murder trial that goes on forever. On the weirder soaps, they often have puppets that appear and sometimes clowns. They'll have like these strange plot twists where a doll comes to life or is possessed or where magic happens. These episodes/plots usually also involve midgets. And they are never the good guys. Maybe things have progressed since I used to watch them. It's quite possible, since it's been like 15 years.

In other news, my June piece for Maven is out. It's not very good, but I did submit a new piece today that I like called "If Dorothy Parker Were on Facebook." And Carrie just sent me a bunch of photos of the kittens that she and P kept. Look how flipping cute they are! They now have the entire run of the house and Carrie says that they follow her around everywhere.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

TV Show Moments that F-ed Me Up

Hey, this job as a writer requires quite a lot of writing! It makes it difficult to feel motivated to update my blog, and to finish the article I need to write for Maven magazine. Nonetheless, I was thinking the other day about weird moments or characters on TV that freaked me out at an early age. These would be all from shows I saw between the ages of 3-6. I hope this post will never be used by some undergrad under duress searching for an argument against kids watching TV for a rhetorical paper due the next morning at a.m.

Anyway:
1. Cookie Monster. I was always scared of the Cookie Monster, in part because he was so out of control (my cousin Charlie was terrified of the Count. You could make him cry by just saying, "V-one, Two, Tree!"). I remember a dream I had when I was really little where the Cookie Monster actually gobbled me up. I remember being swallowed down his black throat. It didn't hurt, and was, in fact, mildly pleasant. Still, I didn't like his googly eyes and his crazy obsession. Even at an early age, I was geared more toward a Type A personality.

2. Lady Elaine. Remember her, from Mr. Rogers Neighborhood? What genius at PBS decided that a haggard looking old lady puppet with a turned down nose and a scratchy voice would be a fun puppet for kids to see? And did she or did she not have real people hands? That didn't make any sense either. Lady Elaine was my first brush with lesbians.
3. That Episode of All in the Family Where Edith Almost Gets Raped. I'm not kidding. They had a whole show (without a laugh track, even spookier) where Edith is being pursued by a captor in her house, fleeing from closet to bedroom with her hands and apron fluttering. I couldn't understand why the show wasn't following the rules of sit-com. You weren't supposed to see Edith being held at knifepoint. That wasn't funny. I guess they were trying to make a point about...Being terrorized? It scared me too that a rapist could go after someone older like that--I thought only young girls were at risk. After that show, I worried for my grandma.
4. That Episode of Brady Bunch Where Bobby Dreams His Whole Family is Shot by Jesse James. Again, what? In this show, Bobby has been misguided in his hero worship of Jesse James. As punishment from the universe, he has a nightmare set in the Old West. At first, it's fun and interesting to see Marsha and everybody in prairie dresses and old-timie gear, that is, until Jesse James comes into the bank and shoots everyone dead. Except for Bobby. It wasn't a protest against gun control; but more of a lesson about how you shouldn't immortalize gun fighters. As if there were a rampant outbreak of kids rediscovering what's "fun" about Hitler and Charles Manson.
5. That Episode of The Waltons Where Mary Ellen Has a Miscarriage. It wasn't the miscarriage part that was traumatizing, it was that she kept seeing these dead birds everywhere before it happened and someone in town warned her that dead birds were a sign of bad luck to come. To this day, if I see a dead bird, I expect for something to come crashing out of the sky, or for my car to explode, or for another tragedy to occur within the next two days.
I'm sure there are others. There certainly must be at least one episode from LHOTP that harmed me, but I can't think of any. Or maybe it's just that bad stuff always happened on that show (blizzards, bullies, dogs dying, Pa being stuck in a forest) and so it wasn't surprising. But at least in the three particular shows I mentioned, I only saw them once and they're still rambling around in my brain today.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Yes, Again

Why is this starting at 8 p.m.? Why are the shows still two hours long?

Twelve men left and Chris Harrison continues to looks like he's got an up-coming audition for a made-for-TV version of Kafka's The Hunger Artist. I remain amazed that Graham or whatever his name is can maintain this not quite shaved look. I guess what's happening is that the guys who used to live in the house with Deeyawna have to move out and three new ones get to come in and look at her in her bikini. Wait, maybe not. I missed last week, so I don't get it. She's making them perform like dolphins, throwing them balls that they must jump and try to catch in mid-air on their noses. The other dudes are hanging out at the dude ranch. It's so weird to see guys try to pretend that they like her. The restaurant dude is explaining to the other guys what's happening. "She's in her bikini, right? And she's totally hanging out of it, you see? And she's rubbing lotion on their noses and faces..." (She is doing that, oh, but now three guys are rubbing lotion on her. My fantasy come true, except I wouldn't be into the short and squat dude).

One-on-one date goes to Richard, the guy who hasn't said one thing the entire three episodes. He is distinguishable only in that he always has sunglasses on the top of his head (as does every other guy). He's a science teacher. Oh, Dick, we wish you luck. Deeyawna is obnoxious. She walks into the room and hollers, "Hey, bitches, help me walk down this ramp in these stupid heels! Hurry up!" Dick is earnestly telling the camera that he may be falling for her or maybe not, but he hopes he gets the rose. For their date, they will be traveling to a rooftop with a breath-taking view of smog-covered downtown LA. Gag, Dick is a cornball, "I know I’m supposed to be enjoying the view of the pollution, but I can't help enjoying the view of Deeyawna." She asks, "What's the most romantic thing you've ever done for a girl?" He tells her this stupid story about packing a backpack full of cheese to a canyon to look for shooting stars. Now, he's geekily explaining shooting stars. She hides a yawn behind her hand, "Geez, I never knew that. Nor did I care to know."

Back at the ranch, the guys are shooting pool and discussing whether or not Dick will get a rose. Uh oh, date box arrives. I can't believe Twilley is still in the game. Group date with a bunch of dudes. Could all of them all be going on this date? Oh, okay, all but Jason which means he gets the other one-on-one date where he can finally talk about his son. Enough with the SON already. Just tell her. He'll be graduating high school by the time he gets around to mentioning his existence.

Wait, I just fell asleep for a second while Dick was explaining his passion for teaching in a monotone. Deeyawna pretends not to care about money and the fact that she makes three times what he does. I wish she would get really drunk and tell him that he's a crashing bore. She's asking him about past girlfriends and he confesses that he's never brought anyone home to his family, mostly because he likes men. Whoops! Will he or won't he get a rose??? He's dying to kiss her and he's going to do an 80 to 20 percent test. He's going to lean in 80 percent and see if she comes the next 20 percent. I am so embarrassed. She leaps away from him and pushes him into a Cinderella carriage. They have nothing to say to each other and the horse is getting explosive diaherria. The horse won't stop whinnying (even though I think it's probably added later).

Uh-oh, she's going to tell him to get lost. They always make them say stuff that makes it sounds like they might ask for a kiss and then they do a reversal. "I really like you and I'd really like to marry you and I hope you feel the exact same way...But I've decided that I would rather be with someone else who is the exact opposite of you in every aspect." She's crying. That's the advantage girls have in this show versus The Bachelor. They can shed a tear and the guy just has to take it and endure a long friend hug. I like being a girl! He must step out of the carriage and try to find a taxicab to take him back to the house to grab his bags and return to his science class broken-hearted. The guys watch as his suitcase are carted away by some anonymous person with broad shoulders (maybe he'll win her heart in the end?). They're in shock. He doesn't even get to say good-bye to the dudes. Don't worry, someone will see this show and write you fan mail. Not me, but somebody. Some twelve year old girl from Detroit possibly.

The date treasure box shows up. It's filled with cowboy clothes--boots, ten gallon hats, lassos, lariats, branding equipment, snap-up shirts, cattle prods. This is so dumb. Seriously. Jesse, the snow boarder, is a total douche. They're headed for The Red Barn. She wears her hair in braids and a tight shirt, low slung jeans. She can't stop talking in an exaggerated Southern accent. The guys are being taught how to do line dancing. They do look kinda cute. Maybe I have a thing for cowboys. Jesse sucks at it. Aw, the poor Chicago guy is totally not going to get a rose. He cannot dance and he cannot talk. Deeyawna has been practicing for weeks and so she can of course do it. Thanks for the extra lessons, ABC! They are being forced to ride the mechanical bull. I can't wait for her nose bleed. Twilley's the best and then stupid Jesse who stays on the longest. Okay, here goes Deeyawna to get an injury--oh, it's a fake out. She's just waiting to see who will come to her rescue. Damnit, Jesse was the first one to go to her. He just wanted to check out if there's any blood. For his heroic-ness, she allows him one-on-one time. He says, "I want to be that guy who farts in bed with you." He really said this.

Nighttime: she's pulling the barber Ron aside to give him a good talking to about his confronting Jeremy about confronting Tom about staying in the house about Fred whose brother passed him a note and...I can't follow this. I guess Ron is dissing him because he thinks Jeremy is a woose. He says, "I think that iron sharpens iron. You need someone who is as strong as you." He keeps smiling in this really stupid way like he's a serial killer. He will not get a rose. They're gossiping around the fire and Ron is again telling Jeremy that he doesn't have enough tact. What the hell did he do to piss this guy off? I hate this Ron guy. Is he a politician? Where the hell is Deeyawna, peeing in the forest? Speaking of pee, Jeremy is telling the camera that he's not here to have a pissing contest with Ron. Good boy. Oh, I guess everyone hates Jeremy, but I can't figure out why. What did he do? The two guys Fred and Graham are sneaking up on Deeyawna and Jeremy. I think it's possible that Deeyawna won't like any of these dudes. Now the chef is lamenting the fact that he hasn't had any one-on-one time with her. Everyone's uncomfortable. Oh, okay, now he gets to talk to her. He takes his hat off to address her. That's nice of him. I just told Julie on the phone that I like Robert, but he looks like he's just lost twenty-pounds and will then balloon up as soon as the credits role. She smiles a big fat fake smile. Oh, a rose is being handed out. I bet Robert will get it. Yeah!!! He gets to say for another week. He kisses her on the cheek. Omigod, they're singing "Home on the Range." I bet they've been forced to do that.

This show is unending. We still have an entire HOUR left.

Date box for Jason. (Oh, dear, Robert has a popped collar. He just went down three notches in my estimation). He won't stop smiling. Is this show sponsored by Pepsodent or someone? They are being picked up in a yellow helicopter. I guess he's cute, but it may just be that he's one of the few people who has a distinguishing characteristic (a kid). Do people riding helicopters have to wear those headsets? I guess they do so that they can talk to one another. Have I ever been in helicopter? I think maybe, but I might have also dreamed that. (My guess is that the guy with the mullet will go home this week, as will Ron, as will Twilley. That's my psychic shot for the day). They're having a date in an astronomy lab? Wouldn't that have been a better date for the science nerd?

Note: I did have the whole rest of the show, but my computer froze and I lost it. Sorry. Ron was kicked off and so was shortie, Paul. That's about it. Seriously though, it was long enough, right?