The Bachelor Season 4: Bintang, done that.

15 Sep

Truth bomb: This may be the shortest, most non-eventful recap I’ve ever done and I feel like I’ve done it a million times; I am RUNNING ON EMPTY, GUYS. I promise I will throw in as much random funny shit from the internet to try and make it seem better. I mean, this is what would normally be the Dates With No Time Limits (yes, I’m STILL bitter, get over it) so nothing is ever going to live up to it, but come on. If it wasn’t for Olena I would basically have nothing to say. But one thing at a time…

Bachie Banana warms up for a long evening of being beige with some poignant stretching, pond-side weights and pond-side sit ups.

 

stretchings

Can pond.

He’s going to take his three blondes on a trip and he’s very worried about having to pick which one is the natural blonde because he cannot possibly end up with a fake blonde as his wife. Osher isn’t even here to help him. Either they couldn’t afford to pay him or he’s legit thrown in the towel and gone the f*ck home.

AIR ASIA FLYING TO A FOREIGN COUNTRY! AIR ASIA FLYING TO A FOREIGN COUNTRY! Give me a free flight to a foreign country! (I am not so much kidding about this one – I would love me some travel voucher.)

The big international trip on AIR ASIA is to, as Richie keeps calling it, “Indonesia.” Which is just Bali, the bogan tourist capital of Straya. At the very least, they’ve learnt their lesson from last year when they went to some shitty fishing town in Sydney and it just rained the whole time. From what I can recall, Snezana got taken on a funking walk to the beach as her final date. So I guess this is a step up.

 

air-asia-1

Can I have a free flight, please?

 

So much Bali. Many Indonesia. Bintang. Tourists. Nasi Goreng. You know the drill.

 

air-asia-2

How bout now??

 

ALEX

If nothing else, Alex should win a medal for laughing the most over his terrible jokes. They ride bikes through the rice paddies and they say beautiful and pretty a lot and Richie makes bad puns and Alex shrieks as if she’s been kept in a dungeon devoid of humor by some creep who wants to bone her…oh wait….

 

brooke-shields-laughing

Everything you say is just so FUNNY!!

 

Gush gush gush. There’s a lot of gushing and kissing with tongue.

Alex wants to know if Richie would move to Melbourne because obviously she’s the one with the “big responsibility” child and Richie pretends to entertain the idea but we all know Bachie don’t move nowhere for nobody.

They arrive at a Random Fancy Rotunda, where Alex exclaims that, “It’s so beautiful” and Richie replies with, “just like you.” Vomit.

There is an attempt at injecting some der-rama into the scene with Richie pretending to worry that his mum and sister might not know how to react to their son dating a blonde who has pushed out a human from her vagina. But considering his own mum is/was a single mum, I’mma say it ain’t gonna be a problem, but what would I know. Nice try, assistant producer.

 

NIKKI

Bachie Bananas is super excited to see the obvious winner and says he’s going to share everything he loves about Bali with Nikki. Yah, because you love her and you’re going to pick her.

Nikki seems wayyyy too excited and grateful considering she’s been here twelve times. TWELVE TIMES?! Ooohh…that’s right she’s from the country. I get it. Carry on.

 

phoebe-fun

You mean, we get to go to the beach again?!

 

Bachie Bananas tries to say he hasn’t seen an adventurous side to Nikki just yet, demonstrating that memory loss of his is still a bit of a problem. I don’t know exactly what you classify as adventurous, Richie, but remember when she ate lamb’s guts and beat up other girls in kangaroo suits, babe?

 

 kangaroos

Remember dis?

 

Anyway, the producers try to create an interesting date where they go to the beach and go on some flying fish water sports activity out the back of a hotel. But to me it kinda felt like this…

 

boring-banana

 

Gush gush gush. There’s more gushing and more kissing with tongue.

It’s very beige and they are obviously in love. The end.

Although I did giggle when Richie said,”Good times, good times,” before going in to pash her. Spot on, mate. Straya. Romance.

 

OLENA

Just when I thought the ads for Lady Bachie were more exciting than this episode, in walks Kween Olena.

Olena is obviously a massive bitch because she hasn’t said she loves him already. Because she realises that she doesn’t really know this guy all that well. And she realises they literally live on opposite sides of the country, and you know, that might be, like, a f*cking problem.

Poor Richie is confused about whether he likes her for realz or whether he just wants to bone her, so if any date has the potential to be interesting, it’s this one.

Bachie Bananas is super keen to find out what Olena’s parents said about him because, despite constantly saying it’s more important to follow your own heart, we are in desperate need of some der-rama and that is obviously important to him all of a sudden.

Kween Olena straight up tells him her parents didn’t really have an opinion because they met him for half an hour and they were being filmed for national television. I am gobsmacked this vessel of rationality has survived this long in the game.

Richie agonizes over this highly controversial piece of information for, like, their entire date which consists of them surfing and drinking on the beach.

He decides to “confront” her because how very dare her parents have nothing less than sunshine and rainbows to say about him and what follows then is an amazing ten minutes of Richie cracking the sads that Olena isn’t saying what he wants her to and Olena not giving a sh*t about it.

OLENA: I just feel like long distance relationships are really hard.

RICHIE: Yeah, but, what about my feelings?

OLENA: Look, I like you and stuff, but I don’t know how this would work, to be honest.

RICHIE: WHY AREN’T YOU OPENING UP TO ME AND TELLING ME YOU LOVE ME?!

OLENA: Kthanxbyyyeeee.

 

olena-dont-care

Yeah, nah.

 

Olena is just heaven throughout the whole exchange. Bachie basically loses his bananas over her rational arguments about long distance, even though he knows he was never going to uproot his life for her, and she comes back with, “You were livin in a fairytale.”

Yas kween. Thank god for Foxtel, because I totally hit rewind a couple of times just to enjoy that again. And again.

Bachie be MAD.

 

ROSE CEREMONY

Bye bye Olena. There is literally no reason for me to even be writing this. Srzly Channel 10 I don’t even know why you’re bothering with the Batman soundtrack because we all know what’s happening. Olena knows and she doesn’t give any f*cks.

When he finally puts her out of her misery and tries to explain that dumping her had absolutely nothing to do with the fact she had an opinion different to his, he tells us that,”Saying goodbye to Olena wasn’t really that difficult.”

This guy. What a sweetheart.

Olena can not get on an AIR ASIA flight quick enough back to a world where logic exists.

 

morgan-bored

On the plus side, the filler episode before the finale is over and we can all just look forward to actual finale tonight where Nikki’s blonde hair will take the Bachie crown.

ALTHOUGH!

After seeing the preview for the finale, I’m having a couple of doubts – they uuuuusually dress the winners in gold/white/some kind of virginal hue. And Nikki is going to be wearing red. Alex is in a gold sequinned number… I’m just saying…

 

air-asia-3

How bout now?

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The Bachelor Season 4: Homeward Bound

9 Sep

Aside from the Dates with Sex episodes (which no longer exist, technically, despite my numerous letters to Channel 10 – I’m never gonna let it go, guys) it’s my other favorite episode! Bachie meets the parents! I’ve always loved grilled banana as a dessert, and now I get to see it in human form. That sounded weird…

Not content with shirtless squat thrusts or lat pulls (yeah, I know exercise) we’ve now moved on to shirtless shaving. Bachie Bananas poignantly reflects on his four girlfriends while he shaves the minimal stubble from his cheek. Obviously it is very difficult to do this with a shirt on. And obviously one must follow up their shirtless shaving with a healthy smoothie before there can be any elimination of girlfriends. Eat lean, shave clean.

 

shaving

Oh gosh this is a difficult job

 

ALEX

So Alex has been hiding something from us. She lives in a funking winery apparently. There are LOTS of horses, fresh air and nature. And grapes. Alex does some serious grapes thinking about how the man who made her eat lamb’s guts would be such a great father to her kid.

Now that I know where you live, babe, I’d be your baby daddy, NBD.

Bachie Bananas explains to us that Single Mum Alex is, “like no one I’ve ever met – strong, beautiful and intelligent.” Sooo…I guess that makes the other three girls barnyard slappers? I sometimes think he just forgets what show he’s the star of. Poor pet.

Alex explains that, although it is hometown dates and the idea is for her communal boyfriend to be roasted by her proud family members, she has decided NOT to introduce Richie to her son. This is super disappointing…for me. Surprise surprise, Bachie Bananas is almost as bad at pretending to be disappointed as he is pretending to not be reading off cue cards. He tells her that he totes understands and practically wipes the sweat off his brow.

(Then they do that flashback to when Alex showed him the photo album of Elijah and she said that, “put a name to a face” thing, which still annoys me to no end. IT’S THE OTHER WAY AROUND! He’s putting a FACE to the NAME! Am I the only one who was bothered by this? Probs.)

Regardless, NOT introducing your communal boyfriend to your naive, impressionable child is a rookie mistake, Alex. Remember last year when Snezana introduced Woody to her daughter Eve on hometown visits to LOCK THAT SHIT DOWN? I know it seems perhaps a little unreasonable to expose a child to this kind of emotional risk, but this is The Bachelor babe – the laws of reason are redundant. Gawd, who even ARE you, Alex?! WHO ARE YOU?!

So for now we have to settle for Alex’s other family – her mum, sister and brother.  There is nothing I love more than an overly- protective brother, and Alex’s bro, Adam, is adequetely terrifying. And dem brows… on fleek. Adam’s brows run through the usual protective brother gauntlet of questions until he straight up asks Bachie if he’s ever cheated on a girlfriend before? No offense, Adam, but… that is basically the entire premise of this show. The best part is that Richie says no…

 

faith-kissing

Umm..remember dis?

nikki-kiss

Or dis? 

 

But then he mentions that, “he sees that kind of thing in his job,” quite often as he’s flying in and out of different cities.

HOLD UP.

They FLY ropes technicians around the country? Where can I study this?! What even IS a ropes technician?!

However, I know it’s early days, but I’m gonna give MVP to Adam and his brows for the most on-point comment ever in the history of this season. After listening to Sir Bananas awkwardly stumble through the conversation, Adam says, “I feel like he’s said this a thousand times before.”

 

adam-brows

The brows know.

 

Ten points to Gryffindor! You are absolutely correct, my friend. This is pretty much what we’ve all been bitching about since July!

Oh yeah, Alex reveals she loves Richie. We know.

 

OLENA

Of course they’ve got Olena doing some sexy exercising. It’s tennis. She’s doing some serious tennis thinking.

Because she’s Ukrainian with a former boxing champion for a dad, they’re trying to give her a bit of a Jelena Dokic spin. Remember that tennis player with the crazy ass dad who beat people up and went to jail? Yeah I’d be scared too.

 

Prison guards escort Damir Dokic to the courtroom for the retrial, Thursday, Sept. 24, 2009, in Ruma, northwest of Belgrade, Serbia. The father of tennis player Jelena Dokic, Damir Dokic was sentenced recently to 15-months in jail on charges that he "endangering the security" of the Australian ambassador in Belgrade and unlawful possession of weapons, but a retrial was ordered after a higher court annulled the first verdict.(AP Photo/Srdjan Ilic)

 

The most amusing thing that happens is that Richie is super shit at tennis and gets his bananas handed to him by Olena. He tries to save face by reminding us he’s been taking her on, “these extravagant dates,” so it’s kinda nice to just be kicking it on a tennis court.

Mate, who you kidding?

 

mud

Remember dis? #extravagant

 

They approach Olena’s house where Richie should basically just prepare to die, when Olena reassures him she’s shitting bricks. I don’t wanna be racist, but if that doesn’t secure a girl Australian citizenship, I dunno what would. Olena is now my favorite.

We meet Olena’s family, i.e. her terrifying father, and what follows is fifteen minutes of Richie desperately trying to seem tough and get Daddy Dokic to like him:

Richie: I took Olena on a motorbike. I love motorbikes. Please like me, I’m super tough, I promise.

Dad: I f*cking hate bikes. And now I’mma beat tha shiiit outta you. Kthnxbye.

And that’s what happens. He takes him outside to the boxing bag and we watch as another member of the Olena family hand Richie his own, now squashed, bananas. It’s excellent television. Better yet, Dad still haaates him.

 

boxing-richie

Haha! Please like me!

 

And so does Olena’s sister. Girl is just, “Like, don’t you feel weird him dating other chicks? Isn’t that weird?! It’s f*cking weird.”

(MENULOG MENULOG! OLENA’S FAMILY USE MENULOG!)

For a solid minute or so I thought Olena’s scary dad and sassy sister were going to team up and beat the crap out of Richie.

But there was no fight. I’m disappointed. I stopped paying attention. But I remember they sneaked in a pash before dad came back out with his boxing gloves on.

 

RACHEL

Rachel is over in Perth doing some serious beach thinking. She wonders why, since they’re both from Perth, it’s taken them THIS long to meet?

Look, I’ve never been to Perth but I’m fairly sure it’s a big place. Like, I’m from the smallest city ever (Brisbane) and I still managed to avoid my primary school boyfriend for fifteen years and we lived a few suburbs apart. (We had a bad break-up. There were tazos and another girl’s erasers involved. I don’t wanna talk about it.)

Already we know she’s going home. He’s using complicated phrases like, “big enough of a connection” and the like. And she also has not-blonde hair.  “You’re always good at everything, Richie,” the poor girl laughs. Yeah. Except for sentences. Not so good at that.

Wait, is this amazing beach shack she’s taken him to her HOUSE? Be still my beating heart…what is this place? Fish and chips, champagne, a gentle sea breeze? This is my dream home. Okay, take a breath, Lauren. It’s just a restaurant. Calm down.

They arrive at Rachel’s parents ACTUAL home. Is that a bottle of Ricca Donna I see in her hand? Suddenly it’s 2005.

Not-Blonde Rachel tells us that her dad has super good intuition and that whatever he decides of Richie will pretty much be it for her. So he’s some sort of fortune teller. That’s cool.

 

fortune-teller

I have a feeling he’ll pick the blondes.

 

Nothing else that interesting happens until they sit down to dinner. There are a lot of dudes at the table with long hair. I have no idea who they are but they are probably related to Rachel.

Someone else related to Rachel is her sister who is basically the Overly Protective Brother Adam in this scenario except with lady parts. She asks Bachie Bananas if he is in love with Rachel and then sits back and watches him try and say words for about five minutes. On the other hand, sis does have blonde hair, so part of me is surprised Richie didn’t just tell her she was gorgeous and try and pash her.

 

rachel-sister

Right hair colour. Wrong sister. 

 

For some reason Fortune Teller Dad is getting good vibes from the dude who made his daughter fight other women in hot pants so he gives them his blessing. Then someone says they never throw love around willy-nilly. Because Perth.

I think that was all. She’s going home. I just know it. Sorry dad.

 

NIKKI

Nikki is from some rando town in Western Australia called Northam, a.k.a butt-f*ck Idaho. So she does some serious outback thinking.

When Richie arrives they do this really awkward thing called a conversation on the top of Northam lookout while the semi-trailers zoom past. Nikki explains that her family are from the racing industry and I don’t really know what that means, but I hope it involves a lot of drinking and people taking off their shoes.

SURPRISE! They go to the races. But there’s no one else there. Probs cos no one else lives in Northam.

Eventually, they get sick of sitting on a Random Sex Couch at the races and head to Nikki’s palatial home because I’m almost positive “being in the racing industry” means her family might be Northam royalty. Everyone in her family like Richie because obviously Nikki is going to win, so they’d better.

Except for her Aussie AF brother-in-law Snowy who is.not.having.a.bar.of.it.

This guy means business and takes Richie outside to drink beer and grill shit on a barbecue.

I don’t really know what Snowy stands for, but I do know that this is ICE COLD #seewhatididthere. Although I’ve already given MVP to Brother Adam, I’m going to give Best Playmaker of the evening to Snowy for this nugget of wisdom:

“Just imagine the worst point of your life. Don’t worry about all their fancy shit and what they look like and stuff.” Yes, Snowy. Yes.

 

snowy

Can grill. 

 

Once again, nothing really interesting happens after that. Nikki tells her sister she’s in love with a man she’s spent all of a day or two with. Her sister seems to be on board. Just pick her already, Richie. For realz. I’m tired.

 

ROSE CEREMONY

Guys, I’m not even going to waste your time here. I was right. Rachel goes home because she dared to keep her natural brunette roots visibly brunette, how very dare she. She takes it well though and manages to put one last one on the board for us classy girls of the brunette variety.

Alex cries at how lucky she is to still be in the running for Bachie’s bananas. Olena kind of looks annoyed. Nikki just knows she’s got this.

I hate to say it but good God I’m looking forward to this season ending and I haven’t even watched half of it.

 

tired-gif

This is me. 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Bachelor Season 4: (Adult) Baby did a bad, bad thing

2 Sep

Guys, things are getting desperate over at Channel 10. It seems they got wise on the fact the last several episodes have been whiter than a slice of TipTop and have, subsequently, brought in the big guns. And by big guns, I mean Hamish Blake. And by Hamish Blake, I mean Hamish Blake as an adult baby called Rory.

What a time to be alive.

But first….

The six remaining bitches are sitting around their Tuscan villa, surrounded by the entire Spring catalog from Bed Bath’n’Table, chatting about how dreamy their manfriend is. Frightening phrases like, “He’s everything a girl could want in a partner!” and, “I feel so special with Richie!” are being thrown around willy nilly, again, reminding us that this is a dude they have spent no more than 12 hours with in total. The young guy who serves me my hangover latte and hash brown at McCafe makes me feel more special than that.

Overhearing this enthusiastic display, Osher arrives to lecture them like Year 11’s going into VCE; spending quality time with a man is important if you want to fall in love. And dates are the way to do that. Well, I know I just learnt something today.

SINGLE DATE

Goes to Overly Bubbly Blonde Faith. No surprises here but she is super excited and bubbly to go on her second date with Bachie Bananas. So much so that she goes and changes out of her already lovely crop top into another crop top. But it’s beige. Just like this date is probs going to be… or is it??

Suddenly Richie shows up to collect Faith and explain to her in front of his other girlfriends why he chose her for another date and why their connection is important to him and the ick factor goes through the funking roof. Like, I KNOW the show is about these women competing for the one dude, but good God man, don’t sh*t where you eat!

God bless you, Hamish Blake, for arriving just as things were getting hella awkward.

The zany, totally-not-a-grab-for-ratings twist this episode is that Hamish is going to accompany them on their date. Yes, poor Richie is so bad at being entertaining on dates that they’ve resorted to giving him a wingman. Hamish explains that they’re going to be looking after a “real life toddler.” Both Bachie Bananas and Faith cackle hysterically for a moment, because obviously Hamish is a comedian and obviously this is a big joke.

“Hahahaha! Oh my god! Wait…a REAL toddler?”

shocked gif

The real life toddler is, in fact, Hamish himself, who will be dressed as three year-old adult baby, Rory for the day. If either of his “parents” fail to look after him, he will stop the date. Oh the zaniness!

No, but seriously, Rory is actually heaven as he wastes no time throwing awkward questions at Richie like, “Is mummy the ONLY one for daddy?” To give Bachie credit, he does manage to reply with a semi-genuine “Yes” before Faith asks him to look at her when he says that. Cue Classic Richie Laughter followed by uncomfortable pause.

shocked gif

Hahahahaha! That was so funny…

More great questions from Rory – there’s even a reference to Richie’s clear favoritism towards blondes. He tries to deflect again by using a metaphor for it’s what’s on the inside that counts/as long as the flavor of ice-cream is delicious. As long as that flavor is blonde, though, amiright? Hahahaha!

Next stop is a fancy, hipster cafe where Rory goes ape sh*t and upends tables and pours drinks on the floor. It is at this point that I realise this would basically be my dream job as an actor. A) Overalls are super comfy B) I already have a sippy cup and it’s pretty much the best $5 I ever spent and C) Getting paid to carry on about childish crap and complain that you’re not getting enough attention is already my everyday life.

But it is disturbing to notice the large gaggle of blondes seated at the cafe – is this the Blonde Bitch Holding Cell? Like, is this where they keep their reserves should one of the originals forget to do her roots!? Big questions to answer, Channel 10…

Finally they go bowling and Rory freaking out in the middle of a lane is pretty much me this entire season…

hamish

What is happening?!

The only other funny thing that happens that isn’t because of Hamish, is when Bachie Bananas sings a gentle “Twinkle twinkle little dinkle” to his adoptive adult baby while doing wee-wee. #adulting.

Back at The Tuscan Villa that Spotlight Built, Mummy Faith and Daddy Richie attempt to put their adult baby to bed.  There’s a lot of pants pulling and grabbing of the bed…and not in the sex way which is disappointing. Richie legit has to wrestle Rory out of his overalls. I know this is meant to be funny, and I know that I don’t have a kid, but I’m pretty sure this is not that far off from real life. (I guess the only difference is that actual three year-olds can’t ask their fathers sassy, judgmental questions. Or maybe they can…kids are getting super rude these days.)

Overly Bubbly Faith and Bachie Bananas eventually collapse on the couch with MENULOG MENULOG DID YOU KNOW YOU COULD ORDER WINE THROUGH MENULOG. Faith picks Italian food and Richie stupidly picks white wine.

YOU DRINK RED WINE WITH ITALIAN FOOD, YOU FOOL!

(Wow, I think that’s the most passionate I’ve been about this season in weeks. I nearly scared myself.)

 

menulog

I wonder if Hamish got paid in Menulog?

 

GROUP DATE

Oh wait, there’s no group date. Apparently the producers paid Hamish Blake all of their budget to inject some actual entertainment into this episode, so instead, Richie takes Rachel into the back garden to sit on a Random Sex Chair. Except there are no candles, cheese platters or ostentatious decorations. Yep, sh*t is grim.

The theme of this non-date is ‘The Five Sense’ – in other words, they are going to eat some sh*t, smell some sh*t, touch some sh*t, listen to some sh*t and speak some sh*t. Not actual sh*t, but you get the idea. Although speaking and eating some sh*t is practically all they’ve done for the last 2 months so Rachel should be a total pro.

Zzzzz…nothing interesting happens. Hamish Blake has gone home and taken the Menulog with him.

 

rachel date

You mean Hamish isn’t coming back?

There is a point where Bachie offers to massage Rachel’s feet, but she admits she hasn’t washed them (umm..WHAT?!) and suddenly Bachie’s Banana shrivels back up into his body and he seamlessly switches to giving her a boring hand massage instead. And here I was hoping he might condemn her filthy ways to a nunnery or something else dramatic like that.

The producers have reminded Richie to put a lid on all the flattery and roses to try and maintain at least a tiny bit of mystery, so like Overly Bubbly Faith before her, Rachel is denied a rose.

I don’t think I care.

ROSE CEREMONY

Because none of the bitches are going into the Rose Ceremony with rose in hand, actual tension seems to be building in the Bed Bath’n’Table display room. Single Mum Alex no longer gives any f***s about waiting for Richie to take HER to the White Rose Sex Room and waves her magic white wand quick smart.

Up in the Sex Den, Alex reveals she has hidden a secret photo album of Richie sleeping her son in the cushions of a chair. Cue a lot of talk about responsibility and children and other stuff related to having kids. Bachie looks legit terrified. But Alex ain’t no fool, cos erryone knows that the guy who kicks off a lady who just showed him pictures of the child that came out of her lady parts is basically the biggest douche canoe ever in the world.

 

crazy girlfriend

She just KNOWS.

Well played, Single Mum. And well played on the leather bustier too; slayin.

Boring boring, someone is going home, we’re all devastated, boring boring.

The final two are Rachel and Intruder Lady With Name Starting With S. Rachel is obviously being punished for having dirty feet, how very dare she.

Joookes! Intruder Lady is sent home before I even bothered to learn her name. I feel a bit bad. She cries in the limo about how sad she is not getting the chance to make sweet Bachie love to the greatest guy she ever met.

Yeah, now I don’t feel so bad.

 

 

laughing in car

Come on, look how ENTERTAINING WE ARE!!

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The Bachelor Season 4: Stuck in Richie’s Mud

1 Sep

After (another) forced hiatus, I’m back again. And what an episode to come back with, amiright??!!

Jks, it was not interesting at all.

Guys, is it just me or is this the most snore-worthy season of Bachie everrrr? I mean, maybe it’s the fact I’ve been watching, re-watching and writing about it for four years that literally nothing impresses my stone-cold heart anymore, but somehow, I don’t think that’s the case!

But let’s not spend this entire post bitching and complaining because that is totally not my style AT ALL…

 

alec bored

What he said.

Obviously I have missed a decent chunk of Bachie Tribal Council because there are only seven bitches left. As usual, they are sitting around the Tuscan Mansion that Spotlight Built, as usual, talking about how much they miss their collective boyfriend and, as usual, worrying about who is going to get time alone with his Banana in exchange for some sort of humiliating task.

Intruder Lady (is it Steph? Steffy? I legit have no idea) is the only intruder left and is all like, “Haha, am I always gonna be that intruder girl to you all? Like in ten years are you still gonna call me that? Haha!” And the others are all like, “Haha, no babe, not at ALL…. But srzly, yes you are. We can’t wait for you to go.”

As usual, Osher shows up in some sort of lovely Roger David number and gives them all a quick maths lesson to explain how important it is that they go on more than one date with the man who may become their future Logies escort. The date goes to Nikki. It’s her second; she is blonde (tick), pretty (tick), and doesn’t cause any drama (tick). She is probs going to win.

SINGLE DATE

Apart from Nikki’s slayin leather pants (dayum, gurl!) and Richie showing up in Foghorn Leghorn’s car, the whole thing is super funking beige.

 

foghorn car

Real life reenactment of Nikki getting picked up.

Bachie Bananas takes Nikki to Australia’s third-oldest pub because she’s a country girl and obviously loves pubs and hay bales. I legit don’t understand why they take country girls on country dates? Don’t these poor women get enough of that farm shit at home?! It would be akin to a guy saying to me, “Hey you like to write stuff, so I thought I would take you to Officeworks!”

(No, but srzly, I would actually love that. I guess my argument is now moot.)

I can pretty much narrow down their entire date to one repeated conversation:

*The theme song from Beaches plays in the background*

Richie: I’m really looking forward to picking up where we left off.

Nikki: Yeah because you’re perfect for me.

Richie: Wow, yeah, haha, well it’s just so great to pick up where we left off.

Nikki: I agree. You’re just like, the perfect guy for me.

 

Somebody make it stop.

 

phoebe madness

 

At this point my computer crapped itself and I could only hear the episode while staring at a frozen image of a Lite’n’Easy meal. I actually do not think it made an ounce of difference. It sounded like they went to some other country-themed location, probably equipped with a Random Sex Couch (and cheese, hopefully) while a cool band called The Morrisons played country music for them. Because country.

 

muppet band

What I imagine The Morrisons looked like.

Dancing, kissing, kissing, dancing, face touching, talking, kissing, awkward laughing, talking, face touching, kissing, Nikki admits she’s fallen in love after two dates.  The end.

I actually think looking at the Lite’n’Easy meal was more entertaining. I mean, it WAS Roast Chicken, but still…

GROUP DATE

Yeaya! It’s an All-In. There are only seven of them so the producers need to squeeze every single drop of potential der-rama and bitchiness out of this. They continue to play villain music every time Rachel says something mildly honest because she is obviously the not-so-brunette villain now that my spirit animal, Keira, got the boot. Poor Rachel. As they say, it’s hard out there for a pimp brunette.

The girls worry that they’ll have to shove lamb guts down their throats again and so seem legitimately relieved when they discover they simply have to struggle through a mud-covered obstacle course. Because perspective.

Bachie Bananas explains that they’re gonna, “get down and dirty” and unfortunately, that’s not a euphemism. They will actually be running through the dirt and nature in their own Tough Mudder challenge. I would never even consider competing in Tough Mudder for the real-life satisfaction and achievement, let alone to win ten minutes of time with a brunette-discriminating ropes technician.

The twist today, however, is that they won’t be competing against each other.

 

PARDON? WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!

 

No, no. Apparently they are going to “work together”. To win a challenge only one of them can actually win. Yeah this makes total logical sense.

They climb over walls, jump into ice buckets and wriggle through mud together, all the while bitching about who is standing closest to Richie and how much they don’t actually care about working as a team. Rachel makes some very relevant bitchy jokes about how they all suck because they’re blonde and, again, she’s the only brunette which isn’t actually true because Kiki is still there, plus she’s more a J.Lo-esque bronde, so….

 

tough mudder

Yay! Teamwork! 

Olena pulls out the big guns ifyouknowwhaddamean and challenges Bachie Bananas to a one-on-one mud race. He agrees awkwardly, visibly worried that he is going off-script here and might have to end up paying for the sponsor-gifted muscle singlet he’s wearing. Olena does a total Randall from Monsters Inc and crawls through that mud like she has reptilian blood.

THEN she seals the deal by pouring an entire water bottle over herself to hose off in front of Richie, NBD. Needless to say, his Cool Bananas are no longer able to remain very cool and she wins the challenge.

 

olena mud

Don’t. F*ck. With. Olena. 

Sitting on their Random Sex Couch, Olena basically reminds him that she ate mud for him so he better kiss her/tell her she’s beautiful/give her a rose or else. He does all of these things because Olena now has magic sexy water bottle powers over him.

ROSE CEREMONY

Also super boring because, as stated earlier, seven bitches equals not a lot of drama. I don’t even think the newly instated Batman vs Superman soundtrack can save this one.

Single Mum Alex is convinced that Intruder Lady Sophie/Steph/Stacey is going home because when it comes to relationships, spending the most amount of time with a man is the number one way to win him over and take your deserving place at his side; screw the chemistry he may have with other ladies; that is NOT how love works, y’all.

 

crazy girlfriend

Alex explains it all. 

Overly Bubbly Blonde Faith is doing her usual thing of being blonde and staying positive, also assuming that her super deep connection with Bachie Bananas will win her another week in the Mansion over Intruder Lady With Name Starting With S.

I really hate to break it to these girls, but, despite her controversial Intruder-status, Name Starting With S is still a flaxen-haired female, so she is in with a raging chance.

I also wanna say Bachie Bananas wears his camp purple velvet suit as an homage to the late, great, Gene Wilder, but somehow I just don’t think he’s that creative. (And also, this was probably filmed eight months ago.) So let’s just go on the assumption that he does his best Willy Wonka impression to distract us from the fact that he is a total brunette-hater and gives Intruder Lady a rose early in the ceremony because she is not a brunette.

It’s down to Kiki and Overly Bubbly Blonde Faith who, all of a sudden, has lost a lot of her bubble.

Not that she needed to worry because Kiki gets the boot. Because she isn’t blonde. Are you picking up what I’m putting down here?

All this mud and exercise has left both Rachel and Faith extremely disorientated and emotionally exhausted because they practically collapse onto each other; thankful and relieved that their shared ropes technician boyfriend has allowed them to survive another week.

 

faith rachel hug

No, THIS is what perspective looks like.

And so ends both the journey of another non-blonde bachelorette and another fairly beige episode.

Alex better either go postal on erryone or invite them all into the White Rose Sex Den for some real group dating or I am going to need some serious substance assistance to keep this interesting…

kiki is hot

So close to being blonde…so close. 

 

 

 

 

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The Bachelor Season 4: Like moths to the (Non-Olympic) flame

12 Aug

Do Channel 10 know they don’t have the broadcasting rights to the Olympics?

Tonight was all about the sport, including faux-Olympic flames and podiums, which leads me to believe that the big guys at 10 are trying to pull the wool over our eyes. That, or jump on the Rio bandwagon without having to pay royalties.

The bitches are all casually chilling in their Tuscan kitchen in their black chokers and faux leather skirts lamenting their lack of Banana action. Keira’s lady parts are particularly frustrated when she asks, “Am I just here to look good?” Yeah babe. That’s what you’re all there for. Well, that and make fools of yourselves every couple of days in animal suits. Obviously.

Chandler Gunsberg rocks up in his best khaki shirt and, SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! He has TWO date cards at once! No one can take it. You would have thought he’d just produced a live bunny rabbit from his shirt sleeve. How does he DO it?!

GROUP DATE

In a fantastic display of Bachie logic, my new spirit animal Keira complains about having to go on the clearly sports-themed group date. She wonders why they can’t just sit around and chat with their communal boyfriend instead of competing against each other? Which seems a legit question considering this show is precisely about 25 women competing against each other for their communal boyfriend. (Are you getting as sick of this joke as I am?)

The competitors arrive at some place where I’m sure sport is played. There’s an actual funking podium erected in the middle (lol, “erected”) and of course the bitches get super excited about it. They woo-hoo and cheer enthusiastically as if they’re not there to humiliate themselves for a ginger.

But perhaps to placate commentators/feminists/general logically-thinking humans, the producers decide to make Bachie Bananas perform a slightly embarrassing task as well. He appears at the top of the stadium, running in with what appears to be a very poor imitation of the Olympic flame that one of the interns put together with sticky tape and tissue paper.

 

fake flame

Career goals.

However, no-one dares say the word Olympics because Channel 9 will just shut this sh*t right down. Anyway, Richie gleefully runs in to light all the bitches’ flames. Again, more woo-hooing and jumping up and down. I can’t handle it. Srzly, this guy could take a dump and those girls’d throw him a parade.

One would think that all this unspoken Olympic-ness would mean relays and hockey matches. Mmm close, but add in humiliation aids such as inflatable balls and kangaroo suits. The first game involves the bitches getting into aforementioned giant balls and racing each other to the finish line. Faith says what everyone is thinking – “It made my day seeing those giant balls.” Also, every girl on Tinder, ever.

Bachie Bananas gifts us all with his imitation of the ladies running in their inflatable balls. Personally, nothing makes me want to take my clothes off more than the man I’m already competing for doing a smart-arse impression of me.

 

richie crazy arms

How did they get SO lucky?

If running like a hamster on a wheel wasn’t enough, they also have to put up with many Cupid jokes while shooting arrows at each other a heart target. Worse still is Bachie Bananas’ awkward yet overly enthusiastic commentary from the sidelines. “Awwwesome shot! Ha ha ha!” “Oh WOW! That was SOOOOO close! Ha ha ha!”

The final, grand installment is a wrestling match. Yes people, it has literally come to this. The bitches are going to wrestle each other for the chance to touch Bachie’s banana. Throw in Usher’s 2001 album and some Smirnoff blacks and you’ve got every guy I went to high school with’s fantasy.  BUT! Because this is The Bachelor it would be unacceptable for them to just wrestle like common whores. No, they have to wear kangaroo suits. Like, I know I mentioned it in my last post, but seriously this show is basically It’s a Knockout with fake tan and roses.

 

kangaroo wrestle

“It’s a knockout! That’s the name of the game!”

Another reason why Keira may soon replace my regular spirit animal, (Professor McGonagal if you were wondering), is that she does not try one iota to mask her intense dislike for this whole exercise. She stands on the sideline with a sourpuss face that would give Queen Lizzy a run for her money. Bachie Bananas checks that she’s okay -“I’m not nervous. I just don’t wanna do it,” she replies. You can literally see all the f***s she does not give.

 

queen

Above: Keira. (Also this was from the actual Olympics. Double reference!)

The other bitches are OUTRAGED at her blatant disrespect for Bachie Bananas and the fact that she is giving them all a bad name. One of them (don’t care who) then provides the million dollar line of the night: “At least pretend to like it. The guy you like is standing right there!” I have never been so proud to be the owner of a vagina.

Overly bubbly blonde Faith wins the Non-Olympics and the three place getters are legit presented with Bachie-themed medals on the podium. After accepting the gold, Faith is whisked away to a Random Fancy Couch on the other side of the stadium where she and Richie talk about…sports? Feelings? I don’t care. She gets a rose. They kiss. It’s all very white bread.

SINGLE DATE

Goes to Kiki. All I know about her is that she did nude modelling. She also refers to herself as a bogan and says Straya a lot. According to the card, her date will involve a lot of “going up and then coming down.” Don’t quote me on that, I just wanted to make sexual innuendo.

Hello ploise, there’s a helicopter! I bet you $100 it’s going to take them to some Random Fancy Couch somewhere in Sydney Harbor.

Oh I’m wrong. But I’m not far off. They go to a Random Fancy Table. It even has a Port-a-Chandelier hanging off of the boom cable. Don’t say the Bachie production crew aren’t afraid to improvise.

But then nothing interesting really happens at all. They talk about being themselves and… love I guess? It’s the verbal equivalent of elevator music. Except Bachie keeps stressing that he’s gotta find out if “there’s a spark there.” Now look, I barely passed Chemistry in high school, but if something is going to “spark” isn’t it pretty damn instant? Like, I don’t ever recall casually waiting around for 20 minutes while electrons attempted to combust with an oxidizing agent. (I have no idea if that is actual science.)

The whole non-eventful date over, Kiki returns to the Mansion that Spotlight Built with a rose in hand. The other bitches crowd around their Tuscan benchtop to grill her about this controversial spark everyone’s talking about. According to Bachie Logic, sparks = kissing and Kiki straight up tells them the date was sans kiss. None of the women are any good at being shocked.

 

smug christian

Oh? You didn’t kiss?

ROSE CEREMONY

My Spirit Animal Keira arrives in what is pretty much the most slayin red onesie I’ve ever seen. When her fellow prisoners tell her she looks super hot tonight, she be like, “Um…I look like this all the time, so…”

Do you need another reason to love her?

Buoyed by the recent shower of compliments, Keira cracks an actual smile when BB approaches her for some alone time. They go over to the swing set/Random Fancy Garden Couch and Richie tries to persuade Keira that she secretly loved wearing a kangaroo suit for him but they end up just doing their awkward waltz again under the wisteria. Meanwhile, a handful of the other girls congregate poolside and poorly pretend not to be watching them with their night vision goggles. Alex is in tears that her shared manfriend is dancing with Keira Farquardt – the Evil Queen Who Doesn’t Like Kangaroo Wrestling. The others agree emphatically and prove that no one ever told them that the acceptable way to deal with jealousy is to drink until you can’t feel your feelings.

 

pool chats

This looks super fun.

The rest of the evening consists of Alex crying and the remainder of the lady buffet sitting around waiting for their f***boy ginger to ask them to go sit on a couch. Snore.

Eventually the actual Rose Ceremony starts and Chandler Gunsberg provides his always astute Bachie maths – something something roses, something something ladies. One lady will go home. By the looks of things, it’ll probably be another brunette, so I dunno what Alex has been sniveling about.

(*Side Note* It’s so nice to hear the Batman score still pumping away in the background like what what. It’s very comforting.)

Each time Bachie Bananas says another bitches name, you can almost see the arrows piercing through Alex’s already bleeding heart. Bet she wishes she tried a bit harder at the Non-Olympics, amiright?

But she really had nothing to worry about because, in the spirit of Olympic patriotism, Richie eliminates the Russian to keep his white Australia team together.

 

russia hockey

Soz, Russia. 

Sasha goes home and Alex lives another day to cry over not using her White Sex Rose.

 

Ahhh… the spirit of the game.

 

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The Bachelor Season 4: Somebody did put Baby in the corner

11 Aug

Like a parent discovering Facebook for the first time, I am very late to this party. Please accept my most sincere apologies. For those of you who didn’t catch it, I’ve been overseas in the US of A for the last few weeks and, due to my over-confident, devil-may-care attitude (i.e. lazy) I assumed I would still be able to tune in to everyone’s fav wifey competition each week via the magic of the interwebs. OH HOW WRONG I WAS! Curse you Geoblocks/Firewalls/Scary Sounding Things That Stop Me From Streaming The Bachelor. 

Whatever Trevor. Let’s look on the bright side; I CAN WATCH BACHIE AGAIN! WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE!

Before I launch into this week’s post, allow me to stretch my sarcasm muscles and share a few thoughts on what I did manage to see over the last fortnight:

  • The new Mansion That Spotlight Built is v v Under the Tuscan Sun. I hope this is a nod to an upcoming international trip because last year’s finale in someone’s backyard in Sydney was bulls***.
  • I FUNKING TOLD YOU THE WHITE ROSE WAS A SEX ROSE!! Don’t try and mask it with fancy phrases like, “White Rose Hideaway” and other crap. SEX. ROSE. God I love it when I’m right.
  • Osher is skinny again. I’m afraid he’s doing a Matthew Perry on Friends circa 1995-1998. Fat Chandler – Skinny Chandler – Fat Chandler – Skinny Chandler. (Osher’s new nickname is Chandler Gunsberg, btw.)
  • Richie is the best/worst Bachelor ever. Best because he’s super adorbs and awkward and worst because super adorbs and awkward gets annoying after a while.
  • Erryone is talking about Keira and her bitchy jaw. Obviously she is heaven.
  • FYI, black 90’s chokers are officially back.

 

keira choker

So jaw. Much choker. 

 

Okay. I’m ready.

 

It’s the Ovaries Test episode! I mean, is it just me, or does it feel like it’s come way too early? (Insert sex joke here. Also “insert”. Lol.)

The unsuspecting bitches have gathered around the Tuscan kitchen in their best Peter Alexander floral ensembles and knee socks; “Just LOOK at us having a cute pajama party together! A few more Irish coffees and we’ll probs take our tops off!” Boys, if you are reading this, you are lucky if I wipe the crusty sleep out of my eye as I stumble out of bed that early in the morning. Because reality.

To add to the totally unforced realism, the bitches all sing about how they hope the group date involves all of them going out together and pretending they’re making acceptable life choices.

Except Keira. Keira just wants that Bachie Banana Split, ifyouknowwhaddamean.

SINGLE DATE

Chandler Gunsberg arrives just in time to stop the naked pillow fighting to give out the single date card. Alex, the girl who, through a lot of subtlety from Channel 10, I have gleaned to be the single mum gets the single date. Cue lots of discussion about how unfair it is that Bachie Bananas is taking out one of his girlfriends in a competition where lots of girlfriends compete for Bachie Bananas. Srzly, I don’t know how many more seasons I can keep commenting on how moot this argument is.

 

cows opinion

 

To rub salt in the wound, BB picks Alex up in front of all his other girlfriends who pretend to give a f***.

BB and Alex make a lot of small talk about their time in the White Rose Hideaway/Rose Nest or whatever other euphemism they’re trying to sell. WE KNOW IT’S A SEX DEN, GUYS! Although, I’d probs take Alex to a sex den myself, considering she’s got a bloody impressive rack for someone who’s nursed a human baby. I have no human babies and I’m lucky if my boobs don’t hit me in the face when I lie down. But I digress…

Because Alex is a single mum and probably doesn’t have time to pamper herself, the producers are doing a Pretty Woman and calling in ALLLLL the corporate sponsors to make it look like BB has dolla dolla bills to throw around. I mean, he takes her to the Camilla store! (I’ve never shopped there, but from what I can tell they sell very camp kaftans for rich white ladies that cost more than my first car did.) Bachie Bananas very expertly explains why they’re there:

“Girls love clothes. – R. Strahan, 2016.

What follows is a montage of Alex trying on overpriced dresses and Richie commentating everything she does. Srzly, is he trying out to be a commentator for the Olympics? Because we only need one Bruce McAvaney, babe.

bruce mcavaney

Bruce for Bachie 2017

But I’m distracted then by the silly girl at Camilla telling Richie (and all of Australia) about the Undie Tuck. STOP REVEALING OUR SECRET, GURL! But no matter, because then BB and Alex stop off at their first Random Fancy Couch (good to see Channel 10 sticking to traditions) and guess what? It’s…………… in the Camilla store! Romaaaaaaaance!

After paying for Alex’s new dress kaftan with his tears, BB chauffeurs his lady date to the next Random Fancy Couch. This time it’s in the lobby of the Intercontinental Hotel. Did I mention Intercontinental Hotel? It’s a hotel and it’s very Intercontinental. #sponsorship. Meanwhile, just out of frame, some poor hotel worker is scraping leftover potato wedges from someone’s room service tray into a bin.

intercontinental

Can I have a free holiday now?

Of course talk turns to the BIG DEAL of Alex having a kid. BB puts on his focusing face and tells her he knows it’s a BIG DEAL and uses a lot of words like “responsibility” and “serious”. But you can totally tell he’s just trying to speed through this BIG DEAL talk to get her up onto the balcony where there’s another X-Factor reject ready to awkwardly serenade them. (His name is Allan Stone. He actually looks way cool.)

Hoping to remove the memory of their BIG DEAL talk through oral lobotomy, BB goes in for the kill and THERE IS MAJOR TONGUE!

alex pash

Thank you internet. 

GROUP DATE

Back at the Mansion That Tuscany Built, the women are rudely awoken by a noise that very few of them seem to recognize; the sound of crying fake babies. Upon discovering their new robot friends in the living room, most of them react as if a crazy drunk has broken in and tied up their families. No one gave them the memo that they must prove their ovaries to be maternal else risk being branded unlovable non-women who don’t deserve Bachie banana.

Except for Nikki, who is cooing and cradling her fake baby like Mary and the baby Jesus. She even names it Nina. Before she discovers it has a penis. Mother of the Year right there.

Megan, on the other hand, is not impressed by the whole exercise, even when she discovers that the not-at-all-obvious-attempt-at-equality-black-baby is hers.

She still doesn’t even try to pretend to give a f*** when Chandler Gunsberg swans in, announcing that this torturous chamber of baby hell IS the group date. Over on the Tuscan bench top, Keira has the realization that this is the first group date she HASN’T been on…

cersei smug

Keira be like…

Another girl I’ve never noticed before (is it Noni?) tells us how bloody happy she is to also not be included on the date because she couldn’t even stand to look after a baby for an hour, let alone an entire day. Obviously she is going home very soon and will be damned to Hades for not having acceptable ovaries.

Speaking of ovaries though, every damn one in the room explodes in a Mardi Gras parade of yearning lady parts when Bachie Bananas arrives with his very own fake baby strapped to his chest. All the bitches put on their best concentrating faces while trying not to fantasize about Richie carrying their own little Baby Banana (for realz, a guy straps a fake baby to his chest and all of a sudden he’s Man of the Year – Champion of Lady Boners. It’s actually a joke.) BB tells them all he has room for one more lucky lady on their Ovary Date. Obviously it’s going to be No Feelings Noni, but poor Eliza definitely didn’t get that memo…

jimmy gif

She can barely keep a lid on it.

As I suspected, Noni is chosen to put her uncaring ovaries to the test with not just one, but two fake babies. TWINSIES! She looks super happy about it. I believe the phrase, “…worst day of my life,” is used. Yay motherhood!

The five lucky bitches are then taken to the most obvious place a new parent would take their new plastic baby – Putt Putt. For realz, this show is becoming less like The Bachelor and more like It’s a Knockout. 

All of them except for Nikki are super sh*t at being maternal. When Megan puts token black child down on the golf green so she can putt, she proves that you really CAN put baby in the corner. Who knew?

Blah blah, Nikki wins the ovaries test.

Her prize is to spend ten whole minutes on a Random Fancy Couch talking about feelings with BB. Snore.

 

ROSE CEREMONY

Because Keira didn’t feature heavily in this episode, (I’m assuming) the evening is therefore low on der-rama. Sensing this terrible mistake, the productions assistants tell Nikki to tell Alex and the other girls that she kissed their communal boyfriend. Alex looks pissed that her communal boyfriend she is competing for pashed one of the…. you know what, I don’t care. We’ve covered this.

 

alex mad

Do Intercontinental know about this betrayal?

BUT THEN! Some weird girl called Eliza gets Bachie Bananas alone on the couch and, NBD, pulls out a blue rose thing from her bra. She explains that this Boob Rose is a little celebration of her being a weirdo. And then I get really sad because I’ve just met this amazing Boob-Rose-Maker but she’ll definitely be going home now because Channel 10 are using that music from The Simpsons when Lisa has to play the jar instead of her saxophone. And cutting to lots of shots of Richie’s uncomfortable face. Apparently red roses and white sex roses are the only acceptable roses in Bachie Bananas’ house.

Waaaaah!

I’m not even going to break the ceremony down. Eliza gets sent home to make more boob roses.

She should totes open an Etsy shop.

richie baby

I just wanted to include this somewhere. 

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Let me tacho bout my Mexcellent adventure…

19 Jul

Along with most of the breathing, tax-paying humans of the world, one of my dreams in life has always been to be upgraded to Business Class on an airplane. I have legit fantasized about smugly watching all the Economy plebs shuffle by into a vortex of thin blankets and leg cramps while I recline into a horizontal position on my Egyptian sheets while my personal butler brings me French champagne served in unicorn glass and a shirtless Henry Cavill sings me to sleep. (That is what happens in Business Class, yeah?)

Unfortunately, this is not a story about Business Class. I will have to continue to simply dream about this heaven in the sky for now.

The story I DO have to tell though, if you’ll believe me, is even more impressive.

See, I got a lifestyle upgrade. For nearly 36 hours, I got to live the life of a very important, rich person; a VIRP. Here’s how it happened.

I’d just spent the last week in Los Angeles with a couple of girlfriends; the last two days specifically we had stayed in a very retro hostel in West Hollywood that had linoleum floors and a heavy steel security gate out front to subtly deter the gangs and junkies. Don’t get me wrong, it was actually super fun and the free peanut butter on toast and coffee each morning was a godsend. On Friday night, two of the girls were leaving to fly home to Melbourne in plush, exit-row, Qantas comfort, while myself and my friend Teagan (whose name Americans just cannot cope with, so, for fun, we’re going to call her Tess) would fly to Mexico on an overnight United flight because of course we thought we were super clever and savvy booking an overnighter to save money on accommodation and of course it was a good idea to do it on a budget airline. Because life choices.

I’m obviously not American, but from what I’ve now learnt, United is kind of like Jetstar – you have to pay to have luggage, pick a seat, buy water, use the toilet… all the things, basically.

Anyway, long story short, don’t ever book an overnight flight to Mexico. Like, if you’re keen on self-inflicted torture and you’re thinking of auditioning for Survivor, yeah, maybe consider it.

But seriously, don’t, yo.

Tess and I arrived at our hotel at 9 in the morning looking like the kind of things you might pull out of the drain.

It was then that the woman checking us in mentioned that they had a special “favour” to ask some of their guests. Tbh, she had a very thick Spanish accent, but what I mainly recall is something about small groups of 2 with no children and being willing to go and stay at their “big brother” resort for a night.

We were the kind of tired where you’re not even sure what dimension you’re in anymore; as in, were we catching Pokemon or were we the Pokemon? (Lol, jks, I don’t play Pokemon Go). So we kind of just stared at her blank and slack-jawed for a solid minute or so. Pretty sure some drool came out too. But when she said we’d get complimentary wifi and a massage, I don’t think the phrase, “Where do I sign, ma’am?” had ever been uttered so quickly.

We were promptly put into a private car and driven a couple of hundred metres up the road to what I can only describe as the actual gates of heaven. Also known as Royal Hideaway, Playacar. 

 

mexcellent

I just really appreciate this pun.

 

The fancy marble gates swung open, and so began our weekend of living like Kimye. I knew this place was nekk level when I noticed the American VIRPs checking in next to us casually order a bottle of Bollinger to toast their holiday. The guy who brought it over to them was wearing white gloves and a three-piece suit. In summer.

Royal Hideaway is, similar to many Mexican resorts, an “all-inclusive”. This means that you are free to eat, drink and be merry whenever you wish as everything is included in your room price. However, it differs from other places because EVERYONE is on all-inclusive here; whereas, at more standard resorts for standard people (i.e. us) it’s only an option. An option we had obviously chosen at our original resort and thus been given very attractive fluoro-green wristbands.  (I’m pretty sure the concierge laughed in my face when I asked if we had to wear a different colour wristband while at Royal Hideaway. Hashtag common.

It was after I had made my embarrassing faux pas, that I noticed my friend gawking at something on the desk; the room rates. Look, I’m a lady, so I’m not going to just give it all away, but essentially, this shit ain’t cheap. When the most basic room they have still costs more than a month of rent, you definitely regret showing up in your Kmart shorts. I don’t even think Tess was wearing a bra by this point. (Sorry, babe.)

I’ll never forget the moment we walked out of reception and into the resort itself. The best way I can describe it would be that it was kind of like being at Captain Von Trapp’s place. If Captain Von Trapp was an exotic businessman with a thing for plush white furniture and monogrammed towels.

We were told that check-in wasn’t until 2pm, but we were completely free to enjoy ourselves and relax by the pool.

After a night of failed attempts at sleep atop our economy food trays and refusing to pay money for indigestion, both Tess and I were beyond hungry. So our first stop was the poolside restaurant for breakfast. Otherwise known as: the best goddamn meal I have ever eaten. When the waiter simply brought over a round of mimosas without being prompted I nearly asked him to marry me.

 

IMG_7378

Yes, that’s a breakfast tasting plate there, NBD.

 

To be honest, the next 8 hours are still a bit of a blur; but here are some thoughts I definitely had:

OMG! These deck chairs have PILLOWS!

Is that a double bed over on the beach?

I never want to drink anything but this strawberry margarita ever again.

You mean, they just bring it to us here?

Zzzzzz…..

That woman’s ring is bigger than my eyeball.

Should I have another taco? Yep.

Dammit, I forgot my body wash…oh wait, I’ll just use this L’Occitane stuff.

EVERYTHING IN THIS BATHROOM IS L’OCCITANE!!

Must remember to steal everything from bathroom.

If I could touch the hand of God, I bet it would feel like this pillow.

Zzzzzz…..

 

Needless to say, we kind of stuck out like sore thumbs. I mean, I figured out that there are two main types of people who go to these resorts: rich, overweight, retired Americans who wear visors and polo shirts; and rich, overly-tanned European businessmen and their mistresses who don’t wear shirts much at all.

At first I thought maybe they’d all assume we were off-duty escorts or something, but I’m pretty sure even high class hookers don’t wear Havianas and carry backpacks. And the fact that we slunk about looking like stowaways on the Titanic probably didn’t help either. But whatevs, suckers, because we did it for free, ya’ll!

 

IMG_7375

I promise that’s mine or Tess’ leg.

 

You might be waiting for me to get to the part where I explain that, despite all its’ finery and fanciness, living like the VIRPs of the world is not so great after all and that going back home to live a more humble, normal life is actually way better.

Well, I’m sorry, but that part isn’t coming because it was the best 36 hours of my funking life and I plan to move to Mexico and sell a kidney to live there forever.

Seriously though, if you do EVER find yourself with the cash to try something like this out, I cannot recommend this place enough*. It has Royal in the title for a reason; the staff are beyond attentive and helpful, and the surroundings are legit out of some sort of romance novel**. One that involves Henry Cavill, I hope…

 

Now, who do I know who’s good at organ removal?

 

 

 

*This is not an endorsed post. Royal Hideaway did not pay me to write this. Actually, wait… if you count endless margaritas and gourmet nachos as payment, then yeah, maybe they did technically pay me. I’m cool with it.

 

**Also, if you’re wondering where all the photos are of the rest of the place, there are none. I didn’t take any. I was too busy napping, drinking and stealing stuff.

Can we please have your dignity?

20 Apr

Has reality television turned us all into a*******?

They say sex sells, but shame and failure are way better. See, I really wanted to hate Married at First Sight. I promise I did. But I have a dirty confession; not only have I watched it, but I also kind of love it in the worst way and I DON’T KNOW WHY!

Actually, that’s a lie.

I do know.

It’s because, deep down, I’m a bit of an a**hole.

Ironically, my new obsession with MAFS comes at about the same time as my Bachie nemesis, Blake Garvey, a.k.a. Blake Vader, announced his tragic split from Lipstick Louise via a poignant breakup shoot with New Idea. Yes, you read that correctly. They legit got together on some windy beach-side lookout and posed for photographs looking forlorn and heartbroken. Relationship goals AF.

And a big part of me has absolutely revelled in it. The deep-voiced, shallow-minded lothario and his controversial third-choice bride have given back their Bunda rings and commemorated it with a flipping GLAMOUR SHOOT! It’s heaven on a stick. (On the other hand, another, somewhat smaller, part of me is sad I won’t be able to make sarcastic jokes about their beige wardrobes and personalities anymore, but that’s just a cross I’ll have to bear.)

 

new idea split

This is a thing and it really happened. (Image via New Idea)

 

But through these two reality television goldmines, what’s really become super clear to me is just how much we enjoy watching people suffer. And not just us, the viewing public of Australia, but the very contestants themselves. Apparently sacrificing their dignity, their bodies, their emotional well-being, and anything else remotely sacred is the only way wannabe television stars can make a coin these days. Forget the happy endings, we wanna see you tear shreds off!

Take Monday night’s ep of Married at First Sight for example. Although the surface-level focus was the anticipated meet up of all the couples and their incessant arm-stroking at Bilbo Baggins’ house, anyone with half a brain knew that it was really about Jono and Clare breaking up and the ensuing awkward AF dinner party showdown. And the other contestants kind of loved it. It was legit all they could talk about. I mean, they put in a solid effort pretending to care, but really the smugness was palpable…

 

cersei smug

Ohhh…you’re not together anymore?

 

The psychologists kept saying that Jono and Clare were matched for a reason, but unless that reason was to make good television out of emotional turmoil, I’m fresh out of ideas as to why these two people were married in the first place. Sources tell me that Clare suffered through an abusive relationship in the past, and so she was expertly paired with a man who lost his shit at a couch in Ikea. Obvi it had serious potential from the start, guys. But perhaps the best and most telling part of the whole shemozzle was the serious “psychological support” Clare received from the three “experts” when she and Jono officially decided to split and she found herself sobbing alone in the middle of the Blue Mountains.

 

there there gif

From left: Clare, John Aitken

 

And Australia loved it. It was a major talking point on Tuesday morning. But after a brief discussion with my fellow MAFS- addict and writer friend, we agreed that the schadenfreude doesn’t just stop at dating shows. Basically every reality tv program requires a significant element of suffering and embarrassment for us to want to tune in. And for what? Despite the small wins, occasional monetary remuneration and, at best, fleeting fame, what do the participants really gain from the whole experience? An entire nation of people enjoying their shame.

Because, deep down, we’re all a bit of an a**hole. But has reality television itself conditioned us to be this way?

So my friend and I played a little game. We decided to write the production briefs for some of Australia’s biggest reality shows. But in a much more honest way.

The Voice, X Factor and any others from the trolley of talent shows out there: Sure, sing us a beautiful song, but you ain’t gonna get any screen time unless you tell us about how you saw the life leave your little brother’s eyes after he was squashed by that tractor. For those of you not as fortunate to have a tragic backstory, don’t worry, we’ll put together montage episodes of all the really bad, delusional contestants who never had a hope of succeeding so that our viewers can have a good laugh. Maybe you can get on one of those.

Biggest Loser: We really want to help you lose weight, but we also really want to hear again and again how much you want to be a parent and keep dwelling on those failed pregnancies you suffered because of, you know… how overweight you are.  And while we focus on all aspects of your health, we’re going to starve you on a low cal diet for weeks, then roll you through the middle of the Chadstone food truck festival and see if you eat your body weight in dim sims. Surprise! Temptation! But don’t forget to be healthy, kay?

The Block: Come on our show and we’ll ‘challenge’ you by ringing every drop of stress and anxiety out of your relationship while we give you a shitty budget, rush you through something you have never done before, but also don’t forget to stay in love with your partner and be attractive. (Meanwhile, did you see Cherie’s wall paper… hideous amirite?) Then deal with our smugness when your over-decorated apartment doesn’t reach reserve at auction and you realise you’ve worked your balls off for, like, $3000.

My Kitchen Rules: We’ll invite the biggest pack of a**holes in Australia, sit them around your dinner table and watch while your hope curdles like the cream you forgot to refrigerate as they pick apart all the reasons why you are a terrible cook and overall person.

 

Reality television is basically taking over. I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing, but I can’t help but worry that it’s only going to feed our hunger for suffering and embarrassment. Don’t get me wrong, I (and I think a lot of people) want to see Ordinary Joe realise his hopes and dreams, but not before he hands his dignity over.

Just like Blake and Louise did. At the end of the day, someone had to have OFFERED them that photoshoot. Or, at the very least, thought it was worth publishing. Because they knew Australia would love it.

 

I mean, really, would you ruin your life for a guest spot on Ready Steady Cook and a 2012 Hyundai Getz?

 

 

 

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Why can’t dating be more like ‘Perfect Match’?

30 Mar

Is it just me, or has the concept of new age dating and romance just about blown up to Death Star-size proportions of late?

If it wasn’t already clear through the endless wheeling out of new apps and websites promising true love with the click of a button, the significant increase in popularity (and in my case, obsession) with reality TV dating shows has pretty much cemented our collective addiction to dating. We love doing it, we love talking about it and we really love watching it. It is legit surprising anyone manages to get anything bloody done anymore.

But it seems we have taken a bit of a wrong turn of late and things are going rapidly south ifyouknowwhaddamean?

Australia’s rekindled romance with our home-grown version of The Bachelor in the last couple of years appeared to trigger an influx of new trashy programs, each with their own spin on both the dating game and relationships in general. There was Dating Naked; the more politically polarizing Married at First Sight; Dating in the Dark and now, more recently, First Dates and The Seven Year Switch. (Unfortunately, this post is NOT about The Seven Year Switch and it’s thinly veiled premise of straight-up adultery. But if it was, I would have all the opinions on it, don’t even worry.)

But I gotta say, none of these shows really measure up to the glory of Perfect Match. A stalwart of late 80’s television, Perfect Match was what gave my life meaning. Back when staying home on a Friday night with your parents was not only acceptable, but preferable; at my place that meant fish & chips and a can of Coke. When you’re seven, that is the equivalent of a bottle of red in your underwear.

Perfect Match was and is by far the best dating show ever created and anyone who disagrees is kidding themselves. Obviously I am going to explain exactly why that is. But first, please enjoy this nine minutes of 80’s heaven:

Five Reasons Why Perfect Match is Everything

Greg funking Evans

The host of the show and quintessential Stone. Cold. Fox. Evans kept the ball rolling and the jokes flowing. He was kind of like a hotter version of Andrew O’Keefe. When unsuspecting and nervous contestants would put their awkward foot in it, Evans had the kind of suave charisma and quick wit to smooth over any potential law suits or inappropriate sexual innuendos. Most of the female contestants secretly hoped to bone him and I do not blame them one bit.

greg

Would swipe right

 

Dexter

I mean, who DOESN’T want to have their romance score with a potential Romeo calculated by a sassy robot? Srzly, it would make life a hell of a lot easier. Forget swiping right, or even sending endless kisses/winks/charms, Dexter did all that dirty work for you and delivered the results in a bowler hat and give-a-f*** attitude. (For the record though, what even is a “charm”? It just makes me think of Hogwarts. Not sexy. Unless we’re talking about the Weasley twins…damn those hot gingers…but I digress…)

Dexter

#sass

 

The format

Essentially, Perfect Match operated on a process of elimination. Contestants started out with three possible matches who they were separated from by a v festive, pastel-coloured partition. They asked them each a question or two about dream dates and so on, then they picked one person from the line-up whose mullet they thought they could take home for a family BBQ. Basically, there was no reliance on physical appearance or abundance/lack of gym selfies. The contestants actually based their decisions on personality alone. If I really think about it, I can barely imagine a functioning world where this is a thing anymore.

 

seats

So…no chance of sending nudes, then?

 

The holidays

Forget a badly disguised d*** pic; once contestants had chosen their “perfect match” for the evening, they were gifted with a flipping holiday! Newly matched pairs were flown to the Gold Coast or the Whitsundays with a TV crew who would capture every awkward moment in their budget motel rooms. The following week, their post-holiday interview would be screened, where one half of the couple would reveal their true love, while the other had to admit they just went on the holiday for the complimentary biscuits and ironing service.

 

choosing

Can I still choose Best Western?

 

The time slot

Guys, do I have to say it again? Perfect Match screened on a Friday night! It was like Date Night when you didn’t have a date. These days, the best thing you can hope for on TV should you find yourself alone on a Friday is Better Homes & Gardens or a smart repeat of The Shawshank Redemption. It’s like Reg Grundy and his production company KNEW that if you were gonna be flying solo, a chandy or two just wasn’t going to cut it.

 

logo

Television, if you’re listening, THIS is how you do romance! Actually, I take that back. I don’t just mean television, I mean the world. For realz. I’ve had jack of all the apps and the swiping and the messaging. Put me in a wicker love seat and let me ask three dudes in pastel suits who they’d like to have dinner with dead or alive.  I guarantee the results will speak for themselves. Because…

Like Peaches and Cream
And a Coach and her Team
Like Sand and the Seas
And the Birds and the Bees
Lie an Oyster and a Pearl
And a Guy and a Girl
What Have You Got?
You Got a Perfect…
Perfect…
Perfect Match!
It’s a Perfect Match!

greg debbie

Life goals AF

 

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Selfies are Literally Death Now

20 Feb

Yesterday I heard some news that made me want to cut my own ears off and hurl the bloody mess at people’s faces. It’s taken me a solid 24 hours to pull myself back from the ledge and put my feelings into words.

Why?

Because apparently selfies are now responsible for murder.

I am sure you’ve seen by now the reports of a poor, defenceless Franciscana dolphin manhandled to death by a group of dumbass tourists, desperate for a “cute animal selfie” they could post and gloat about on their facebook pages.

This innocent creature was just plucked out of the ocean like a set of keys from a bowl and passed around a large group of smiling beach goers in Buenos Aires. Because of this, it died. As in, that innocent little dolphin is DEAD.

Now, I’m no marine biologist, but I’m pretty damn sure it’s common knowledge that, despite being mammals, dolphins kind of need water to live. They’re not puppies who can swim. They are water-dwelling creatures who require said water to keep their bodies hydrated, lest their thick, greasy skin essentially over heat and suffocate them.

But apparently, this fact was tossed out the window in place of a desperate need to fulfil vanity and validation.

Most people who know me know I am not a big fan of the selfie. I even wrote a thing about it a couple of years back. (Seriously, you should read it; it’s in my Archives. No, I’m not above self-promotion.)

On the other hand, I am definitely in favour of self-love and I realise selfies can sometimes play a part in this movement. So don’t worry, I get it.

But I am, however, desperately opposed to what is becoming a vapid and, frankly, disgusting obsession with validating our own image  and, therefore, our lives. This need for acceptance and one-upping each other through posting on social media is a slippery slope that, until now, people liked to assure me was harmless because, “it’s not as if it’s killing anyone.”

WELL YOU ARE MISTAKEN MY FRIENDS!

A living thing has literally paid the ultimate price of gaining likes on Instagram.

Doesn’t that sound a little messed up to you?

I know my animal rights supporting-friends are already all over this like a rash; but for those who need a bit more convincing, think about this:

Dolphins are often placed third among animals in terms of intelligence (behind humans and chimpanzees) however, many new studies suggest that they may actually be closer to second place. Some biologists even refer to them as ‘non-human persons’. And lesbihonest, don’t you know a couple of human people who don’t even meet that criteria?

What I’m saying is that this animal had an intelligent brain. And feelings. And most likely felt a real sense of panic and terror at being tossed around like a beach ball. It makes me want to cry. And even though it happened in Argentina, I can’t say I didn’t think about the high likelihood of it happening right here in Oz.

Guys, can we maybe just put a lid on it?

In the spirit of Dry July and other such sacrificial movements, I’d like to propose an idea:

A day of no selfies.

One full day where no matter how damn good we look, or how on fleek our eyebrows are, we abstain from taking a picture of ourselves (and any other unsuspecting parties – animal or not) and instead, focus on simply enjoying the moment as it exists.

Walk out into the ocean and enjoy the salty water. If you happen to see an adorable sea creature minding its own business nearby, don’t hold it up next to your face, snap a picture and post it alongside fifteen hashtags. Observe and appreciate it before it swims home and store the memory away somewhere other than your camera roll. (In case you don’t know where that is, it’s your brain.)

You may be surprised at how much better it feels to keep the moment all for yourself.

Please, for the sake of the dolphins, could we just give it a try?

 

 

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