Archive | October, 2013

The Bachelor: Gallery of Bitches

31 Oct

Step right up!  Step right up!  Have a throw for your chance to take home your very own over-stuffed Bachelor!

It was all fairgrounds and halls of mirrors tonight, but first off, my apologies for missing last week’s episode.  I was v busy trying to be a regular human and buy groceries.

I am going to talk about this week’s ep, but I NEED to just drop a mention here of poor Sarah getting the boot last week. I won’t say I was surprised Tim let her go, but, hot damn, the way she went was another story!   Tim tried to get all sensitive and, “Can I talk to you over here?” type thing.  But again, girlfriend was just not having it, ignoring him and sashaying her way outta there!  I gotta say this new, improved Sarah seems like my kinda chick.  Don’t sweat it, honey, you’re only 22.  Bachelor Vague Face looks far beyond his 30 years.  He’ll probably be in hospital with skin cancer by 2018 with all that topless running he does.  Particularly now that over-enthusiastic Penny isn’t around to rub sunscreen into his naked chest.

And speaking of topless running; breathe a sigh of relief, ladies!  Tim was back to his old self again, jogging down the NSW coast without his shirt on and contemplating the difficulties of shaving whilst still maintaining acceptable levels of chin stubble. For realz, it seems like all he does (apart from run and date crazy bitches) is shave.  But I have yet to see him appear without a five o’clock shadow.  What the crap?

Moving on…

This week, Katherine, (previously known as Which One Is That Again?) finally got some special alone time with Bachelor Bench Press.  He was quite adamant that this particular outing would really top all of his other efforts.  He pretty much says that every week, so I’ve stopped listening.  Nevertheless, Katherine was whisked away to a private (i.e. empty) amusement park with the chance to get a glimpse of Tim’s dagwood dog, ifyouknowwhaddamean?

Now, hear me out.  I’m all for a cute, spontaneous date at a fun park.  Any adult knows driving about in those dodgem cars is a great way to vent pent-up sexual frustration.  And anything that involves stuffed toys and showbags is my kinda jam.  However, taking a lady to an essentially abandoned amusement park at night is just cer-eepy!  Come on Tim, scary-ass clown heads and ghost trains?  An amusement park is not an amusement park without rude carnies and screeching children vomiting up their fairy floss.  Without them, all you’ve got is an episode of CSI.  So, it really wasn’t Katherine’s fault she didn’t get a rose.  That’s all I’m sayin.

Meanwhile, the other four bitches were left to ponder Kath’s fate amongst their Lincraft-ridden mansion, before being taken to an art gallery for a group date.  Obvi, us intelligent viewers knew there was a perfectly good reason why they were being taken there that had nothing to do with brush strokes. However, watching those chicks pretend they gave a shit about art was worth the 15 minutes I waited online for the episode to load. Especially Danielle’s apt use of the word ‘interpretating’.  Seriously, is this show scripted?!

However, bitches were soon to discover that the art gallery was really *gasp* a gallery of THEM!  Gosh that’s special.   I won’t waste too much time re-living the horror and the embarrassment; all you need to know is that Rochelle did beauty pageants and Ali used to wear a Tammy hat to school (a hideous Scottish-looking beret with a large pom-pom).

The big drama to come out of this exercise was that poor Tim felt that Rochelle was hiding part of herself by not previously disclosing her v controversial beauty queen past.  Mate, come on, it’s not something any self-respecting bitch is going to splash across the front page.  It’s a bit like auditioning for a reality TV show where you compete against other crazy women to get a guy to marry you….oh wait.  Anyhoo, Rochelle in all her fake wisdom claimed she used to ‘suffer massive anxiety’ and thought getting into pageants would help rid her of this affliction.  Babe, you didn’t look too anxious in that Crocodile Dundee onesie and tiara you were spotted in.

But lucky for Rochelle, Tim accepted her lurid past, pink sashes and all, and sent Katherine home sans rose for being ‘too guarded’.  That’s Bachelor speak for ‘not putting out’.  Between you and me, she was far too normal to continue on.  Tootle-oo Katherine.

So five become four, and the remaining crazies get to take Bachelor Chimple home to their (most likely) shame-faced families next week.  We already got an early taster of Anna’s father questioning Tim on his stripper days.  Let’s hope he’s brushed up on his bad acting skills, because I ACTUALLY CANNOT WAIT.

Thanks for playing ladies…

The Bachelor: Bitches Ahoy!

17 Oct

Crazies off the port bow!

Last time we met, I was salivating over the bitches of ‘The Bachelor’ fannying about on a farm in designer boots and wool-blend vests.  This week, the motley crew landed in Western Australia, but not before sailing the seven seas and (for one lucky nutcase) stomping through mangroves for crabs.  The sea creature, not the STD.

Within the first five minutes of the group setting off for Broome, we had Ali proclaiming how excited she was and that she really really hoped Tim would be there.  *face palm*.  Don’t worry, sweetheart, I think it’s safe to say he and his shirtless pecs will be involved.

My bestie has so accurately nicknamed her Terrifying Disney Princess.  Seriously.  Can’t you just imagine sexy dress-ups at her house?  Nightmares.

Anyway, turns out Bachelor Chesty Bonds was waiting for them aboard a luxury catamaran aptly titled ‘Karma’.  High-five channel 10.  But der-rama struck when Natalie lamented that she had a serious phobia of boats and would not be going.  Gurl, that ain’t no boat.  That a floating high-class brothel.  With alcohol. If there was ever an appropriate time to face your fears, this be it!

Turns out they can’t hear me when I yell at them through the television screen and Natalie firmly remained on land.  But didn’t you just love the cinematography of her looking forlornly out to sea whilst reclining on a beachside hammock?  What a terrible affliction she must be living with.  (Secretly I think she was too afraid to go swimming in case the others noticed her man junk, just bee tee dubs.  Too harsh?)

But poor old Nat was quickly forgotten and the bitches were all half-naked and frisky before you could say ‘nip slip’.  And nip slip indeed, when lawyer-whose-never-had-a-boyfriend-Anna expertly backflipped off the boat and ‘accidentally’ lost her bikini top in the process.  Well bloody played.  It’s like we could be related.

It should be mentioned at this point that I’ll-take-any-opportunity-I-can-get-Penny was fast taking over Ali in the GlennClose/Fatal Attraction stakes.  Her desperation was more obvious than her hair extensions.  Rubbing that sunscreen onto Tim’s firm, bronzed chest like her life depended on it.  But lucky for her, the Goddess of Crazy smiled and for her efforts Pen got some alone time with Bachelor Wet Head. And that was when Shit. Got. Real.

The lights dimmed and it was like the soundtrack to ‘Dirty Dancing’ struck up in the background.  This was Penny’s big moment.  And she screwed it in the most royal and entertaining way.  It was quite literally the definition of word vomit.  It was like ALL the feelings were just busting out all over the place. At one point, Tim made the very astute observation that she was crying.  “It’s joy!” She exclaimed as the waterworks streamed down her face.  Babe, that ain’t joy.  That’s yo crazy spilling out of your body in liquid form.  Then all of a sudden she was talking about her epileptic cat and how her name’s Pepper and then the person experiencing the joy was yours truly, clapping with bitchy delight as this amazing moment unfolded in front of me.  The cameras barely touched on Bachelor Tim.  Probably for the best though, considering he has the emotional depth of a teabag.

It was just the most beautiful overshare I’ve ever seen.  You know like your batty old Aunty Doris who gets drunk at weddings and tells you about her dog’s bowel movements?  It was better than that.  Because, unlike Penny, Doris isn’t trying to impress you.  She’s just happy to be talking to someone with functioning ears.  Penny is on a show trying to get this hunk of man meat to marry her!  It will go down as one of my Top 5 moments of the season.

The one-on-one date this week went to Anna.  Again.  And don’t try and tell me it wasn’t because she got her boobs out. The other bitches were SO PISSED.  But, just quietly, going crabbing in the mud is not my ideal date situation.  So they didn’t really miss much.

 Later, at the cocktail party, Tim, flexed his observational muscles again, saying the gathering seemed very quiet.  Considering the eight bitches that are left have been living together for weeks on end and trying to get the same man to fall in love with them, it’s really no surprise they’d tired of discussing lipgloss and cosmetic surgeons.

But then, surprisingly, Sarah was getting all up in his grill.  It was bloody great.  Because up until now, the woman had been coming off as so sweet she was giving me diabetes.  But girlfriend was not having it this week!  She was all, “…try and understand it from my perspective,” and really gave Tim’s resting vague face a good workout. (Speaking of resting faces, doesn’t Danni just have the most premium resting bitch face?)   And even better, when he offered Sarah a rose at the ceremony, there was no gushing, no sickening, “Of COURSE I will!”  All he got was, “Yep.”  And then she took that bloody rose and her newfound tude and Tyra Banks’d her way over to the other bitches.  Bravo.

As you might have guessed, poor Penny lost out.  Sweetie, you gave it all away.  If there’s one thing I know about men, it’s that they like a bit of mystery.  And veto the cat talk.  Come on, don’t say you weren’t surprised.  But I do hope she can salsa her way into some hunky, cat-loving man’s life one day.

Until next time me hearties.

An Open Letter to All Girls

9 Oct

Evidently it appears open letters are the new, cool way to communicate.  And considering my classy English skillz, I am gladly jumping on this crowded bandwagon.

Just to be clear, I am not Sinead O’Connor, and you are not Miley Cyrus.  Or maybe you are.  If you are reading this, Miley, maybe go easy on the tongue and the horny goat weed, girlfriend.

This is a letter I would like to send to all young women at or under the age of 20, or somewhere in that clueless vicinity.  Consider this the letter I wish some awesome, know-it-all bitch had sent me when I was 18 and struggling to use liquid eyeliner and common sense.


Dear ladies,

You don’t know me, but I have Michael J. Fox’d my way back from the future to help put the power of being awesome back in your hands.  I also realise you are probably too young to get that Back to the Future reference, and already I’m close to tears.  See, girls, you’re starting to give all us women a bad name.  And some of it is not your fault.  But some of it most definitely is.  I’m hoping that by passing on these pearls of wisdom, I might have some effect in correcting your life course away from becoming an ignorant, insufferable tramp and more of an awesome, Beyoncé-in-the-Independent-Woman-filmclip type.  Except without the rockin ass.  You’ll have to speak to your trainer about that one.  So listen up:

  • Be Your Awesome Self.

If you are smart, just be smart.  If you are funny, just be funny.  Let your freak flag fly.  There is nothing more frustrating than girls pretending to be stupid or boring just to make the men around them feel appreciated.  They have over-indulgent mothers to do that for them.  Some guys (or just people in general) might also be intimidated by girls who can crack a ripping joke.  These people are idiots.  And being awesome does not mean just being attractive and popular.  It also means knowing that the body of water to the east of Australia is not the ‘Specific Ocean’.*  So do your goddam homework.

  • Don’t Plaster that S*** on the Internet.

If there is one solid reason for me to thank God, apart from the invention of alcoholic ginger beer, is that Facebook was not around when I was a teenager.  Gurl, the world does not need to know yo business!  Plastering selfies and personal information on the interwebs is like a permanent scare.  On your face.  It’s out there, and it’s ugly.  And, trust me, when you get to 30 and look back on a timeline full of pictures of your half-naked self in the bathroom mirror and literary gems such as, “…canot be f***ed with u nemore.  will smash you next time I c u, bitch,” you will want to punch yourself in the face.  The key word here is MYSTERY, ladies!  You’re a much more charming person when we don’t know who you slept with last weekend.

  • You’re Not a Celebrity.

So stop acting like one.  You don’t need to swan around with Starbucks coffee and announce your life plans every five minutes and expect everyone to care.  Because eventually, when you grow up and realise you’re not actually famous, it will be a bigger let down than Britney Spears’ last concert.  Be humble, for God’s sake.

  • Eat Whatever You Want.

In ten years time, just the smell of a Big Mac will send your muffin top cascading over your jeans like lava.  Some people claim that if they could turn back the clock, they would tell such-and-such that they loved them, or taken some random trip to Switzerland.  If I had that kind of power, I would go back in time and eat all the food.  I would stuff myself with chocolate donuts until I had diabetes.  Because your teenage metabolism is working harder than Charlie Sheen’s lawyer.  And once you hit 25, it goes AWOL, never to be seen again.  Soak that gift up while it lasts, my friends.

  • Love is a Battlefield.

Pat Benetar was an underestimated philosopher of the 20th Century.  And if you don’t know who she is, YouTube her immediately. We are young, heartache to heartache, we stand.  No promises, no demands.  Those are wise words to live by.  What Pat is saying is that you gotta practice at this stuff.  And get tough.  Because one day you’ll wake up in your late twenties, in your own apartment with your designer coffee machine and sheets you didn’t buy from Big W, and realise that, despite all you’ve done, you still have NO bloody idea about men.  After being dumped by my Year 7 boyfriend in the tuckshop line, I ached for the day I was a grown woman who had all the answers on the male species.  Let’s just say I’m still waiting.

  • Sex is just a Battle.

The first time you have sex will most likely be really bad.  It won’t change your life.  It will just be bloody awkward.  Because, despite their protestations, boys have no idea what they’re doing.  If you want to get busy with a guy, just make sure it’s someone you actually like. Because guys will lie to get you in the sack. And use protection.  Ask any straight male and he’ll tell you boys are pretty gross.  I mean, some go for days without showering!  Come on.  You don’t need that shit all up in your grill.  So to speak…

  • It’s OK to be Ugly.

Trust me.  I was back brace girl.  With glasses and frizzy hair.  No word of a lie;  I was a walking cliché.  But to distract people from the alien-type restraining device around my chubby body, I worked bloody hard on my personality.  And now that I am 29, brace-free and not a giver of shits, I don’t need to rely on my looks or sexuality. No woman should have to.  And ditch the trampy make up.  You know all those girls who wear blankets of foundation two shades too dark for their skin and eyeliner that would give Taylor Momsen a run for her money?  In a few years they is gonna have skin that resembles braille, girlfriend.  Wouldn’t you rather risk a couple of stray zits for the sake of remaining fresh faced and youthful?   I know I would.


Whinge all you want, but you know I’m right.  Put down the cheap hair extensions and read a book.  You can thank me later.


Yours in girl power,





If you could go back in time and lecture your young, idiot self, what would you say?


*A student I once taught actually said this to me.  In earnest. I wanted to poke my eyes out.



The Bachelor: Dear Channel Ten…

2 Oct

I can see what you’re doing.  And I am asking you nicely, to STOP.


Myself, and other reality television-fuelled scrubbers, need it in our lives.  We NEED those crazy white chicks on our screens once a week.  And if you take away this gift of pure trash, I, like the junkie I am, will dissolve into a hot mess of tears and attacks of the munchies.

Tonight, the message came in loud and clear:  We are kicking them bitches off in groups now.

Before I get ahead of myself though, allow me the honour of re-capping some of the events of tonight’s episode.

Bachelor Hair Gel took all the ladies on a group date.  To a farm.  If there is one thing I love, it is watching crazy white chicks in ridiculous designer vests pretending to love life sick in nature.  It is just MADE for entertainment.  They milked a cow, for God’s sake!  Which led to the most sexually suggestive move I have seen (and been waiting for) all season.  Tim squirted milk onto Rochelle’s face and chest.  Cue the many ‘likes it in the face’ calls on twitter which I thoroughly enjoyed.  Mate, just be aware, the amino acids in milk can seriously damage botox deposits.  Just bee tee dubs.

Bachelor Tim claims he really wants his future wife to have an appreciation for the outdoors and for nature.  Dude, ‘Farmer Wants a Wife’ is on a another network.  These bitches are straight out of the Gasp loyalty club.  The closest thing they’ve gotten to nature is their authentic mink eyelash extensions, please.  Regardless, some of them fed baby lambs, others baby cows.  There was a lot of baby animals going on tonight.  Then after herding sheep, Bachelor Muscle Shirt announces they’re going to have a “traditional barn dance”.  Like from Grade 6.  I just died and went to heaven.

After a quick session of macking on with Anna, the day was complete, and Natalie, the brunette who looks like a drag queen, got a one-on-one date.  However, before this could happen, we had to have some Bachelor reflection time and, shut the front door, he WASN’T running along the beach shirtless!  The weather in Sydney must be really shitty, or Channel Ten know that we know that Tim is actually a stripper.  And they need to do some major damage control.  So instead of having a beach side shower, Tim was found tinkering on a beautiful baby grand piano.  I mean, for realz.  HE AIN’T PLAYING THAT THING!  This is what I mean;  this show is worth watching just for the simple effort they put in.

Anyway, during their date in the bowels of a bloody cave, Natalie admitted that she didn’t see Tim as “husband material” yet, because she hadn’t gotten to know him completely.  Seriously, this girl needs to go.  She’s far too rational.  We need us dem crazy bitches.  Sorry, Nat.

At the rose ceremony, Bachelor Velvet Suit took Ashley aside to have a little chat.  Wait, whats that you say?  Who’s Ashley?  What an excellent question.  I had no bloody idea.  But evidently, she had made a pact with Alana and Belle that whenever they had time with Tim, it was OK for the others to jim in.  Which they did.  Again, going with the Grade 6 theme here.  And then came the cray.  And that was the point I put down my block of Cadbury and got a wee bit excited.  Gosh, they were all so frustrated and impatient (i.e. drunk).  Was Tim EVER going to spend time with them?  Did he have ANY intention of getting to know them?  Poor bloke was totally ganged up on and it was AMAZING!  His default expression of complete blankness got a real workout.

Then came the roses.  And that’s when shit got scary.  I noticed there were two roses to go. And five crazy white chicks still waiting.  Now, I may only be a Drama major, but I’m pretty sure that means that three of them were going home empty-handed.  And I was not OK with that.  You can’t whittle them down that quickly!  And worse still, he kicked out the craziest ones, in other words, the interesting ones.  Alana with her Days of Our Lives hair.  Belle with her rose quartz and magic horny dog.  And Ashley with her…um…something.  (I was, however, slightly placated when wide-eyed-slack-jawed-Ali got her rose and awkwardly whispered “I miss you” into his ear.  Girlfriend needs to be hosed down.)

How can you do this to me, Channel Ten?  You can’t start eliminating multiple bitches without warning.  Nekk minnit, you’ll start rolling out the Special Double Episodes, the ‘chiropractor’ will prematurely pick a wife and my life will have no meaning.

Each week after I’ve eaten food mostly from packets and ventured outside my house without a bra on, I can turn on ‘The Bachelor’ and be reminded that I am actually a smart and normal person.  So really, it’s a community service.

Be warned, Channel Ten, I see what you’re playing at and I am not down with that.

Game on, molls.

What shows have you loved and then had some horrible network cancel on you?  How on earth did you get through it? I’d love to hear your comments.