The Bachelor: Finale Ultimo

21 Nov

SQUEAL!  We made it!

After weeks of bitchy stares, awkward pashes and shirtless jogging, ‘The Bachelor’ finally came to it’s heart-stopping conclusion in picturesque Thailand where Bachelor Protein Powder chose his future beard bride.  I, for one, was fortunate enough to witness this moment in TV history at a Bachelor party with other like-minded fans of this ridiculous show.  We settled ourselves down, champagne in hand, cheese platter at the ready, and buckled in for what was sure to be a momentous evening of spray tan and feelings.

Two crazy bitches left, yet only one rose remaining.  Well actually, it was a badly designed ring, but we’ll get to that.

We opened with a touching montage of the season.  This included LOTS of shots of Tim’s Vague-Face and toey bitches frolicking around in the mansion that Spotlight built. The senior script-writing team were back on board this week, though, with poignant statements like, “amazing journey” and “romance blossomed.”  Because there were roses.  Get it?  Clever.

Sticking with tradition, our fav bachelor took to his hotel swimming pool to perform his weekly thinking and rose calculations.  Something something about feelings.  Something something about Thailand and feelings.  Gosh, he was just so “deep” in thought in that water.  See where this is heading?

But before Bach could really make this hard decision, he had to put his ladies to the ultimate test.  Cue family.  In walked Tim’s mum, dad, brother and what looked to be his sister?  Or possibly his ex-wife.  Hard to say.  He astutely explained that the two bitches they would meet were different. They had different jobs. One was 26 and the other 27.  Which means they are younger than him.

What I wouldn’t give to sit in on a family dinner with these guys.

Rochelle was first bitch off the rank, and Bach helpfully explained that Mummy was a “psychologist” just as they were walking out the door.  I’m assuming this is the same as Tim being a “chiropractor” so I wasn’t too concerned. In another act of subtle symbolism, the editors showed us several shots of a storm brewing over the horizon and melancholy drips of rain on the roof.  Oooohh…it seems trouble was ahead. Straight away Rochelle jumped into her favourite topic:  her walls.  For realz, this girl bloody loves talking about them!  We know you had walls up.  We know Tim smashed them down with his massive, tanned biceps. WE GET IT!  By the time she’d said the word for the seventh time, I was looking for Miley to come busting through the door with a live version of ‘Wrecking Ball’.  Alas, that didn’t happen.  What did happen though was equally as shocking and entertaining… Tim’s mum was a bitch!

Obviously the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree, because, just like her stripper son, Mummy was ALL about the feelings.  Tim had obvi filled her in on Rochelle’s unforgiveable past as a beauty queen, so the girl was just stuck up the proverbial creek without a paddle or a tiara.  Despite telling her that she loved Tim, Mumsy was still convinced that Rochelle was, “… holding something back.”  Her dignity? Her self-respect?  Her SlimFast contract?

Anna was off to a better start by awkwardly hugging Mum as they walked out to her den of despair.  But she soon suffered a similar fate to Rochelle when Mrs Bach got all Judge Judy and started interrogating the poor girl on her past relationships.  She was v shocked and appalled that Anna hadn’t brought men home before!  Now I’m no dating expert, but isn’t that a lot better than having brought home a whole football team of men?  Or at least better than being a hooker?  Or a stripper?  Oh wait…

While Anna was busy playing the crying card, the editors cut back to the family, and the actors playing Tim’s father and brother pretended to care about something.  Probably related to feelings.

For their final date, Tim decided to blindfold each girl and take her somewhere really “special”.  In other words, he wanted to take them somewhere he could remove his shirt again.  Anna explained that Tim had “…kept her in the dark” about the date.  Yeah.  Probs cos you were blind-folded.  Aren’t lawyers meant to be smart?  Anyway, Anna found herself on a boat, then there was this section where they canoodled and talked about feelings a lot and I kind of zoned out.  I think it was at this point we went to get champagne refills.  We re-convened when they were back in Tim’s natural beach habitat, where he chopped up a coconut and splashed juice in Anna’s face.  Inappropriate.

She revealed that she didn’t want to tell him she loved him until the last moment of their date.  Something about remembering her?  So to illustrate her point, she showed up to dinner with her red box.  OOOHHH MYSTERY!  What was inside?  Rochelle’s heart?  Ali wielding nun chucks?  No.  It was what appeared to be a set of cards.  Cue cards for Tim, I assumed.  Again, no.  It was a list of the things Anna loved about Tim.  Ummmmm…..Isn’t that exactly what you said you would NEVER DO, Anna?!!  She seemed v nervous about reading her list.  So nervous, in fact, that she forgot how to do maths. FYI babe, a quarter of 40 is 10.  She had no reason to be worried, really, because there’s nothing Tim likes more than hearing lists of reasons why he’s so great.

Rochelle had a hard act to follow with that list when she met Tim, sans bra, somewhere in Thailand.  She too was blindfolded and led to a waiting elephant.  What’s that?  There’s no water there so how did Timmy cope with his clothes on?  Guys, don’t stress.  After their jungle tour atop the elephant, where Rochelle talked a lot about walls and feelings, the pair found themselves on a bridge.  Above water.  Phew!  Bachelor Shaving Cream explained that there was this Thai tradition that the woman performs to show her dedication to the man.  Sex?  Disappointingly not.  No, they just held hands and dunked themselves in the water.  Boo.

Later that night, they cuddled up on a couch somewhere and talked about feelings again.  Snore.  Pass the blue cheese.

FINALLY!  It was the last ever rose ceremony.  Like, EVER.  While Bach meticulously shaved off his permanent stubble *tear*, the girls put on their falsies, ghd’d their hair and got dressed for the end of their amazing journey.  Is it just me, or was Rochelle’s choice of fluoro evening gown not appropriate?  Sorry, babe, it looked like you go it off a sale rack at ICE.  Anna, on the other hand, was conveniently dressed in a very bridal-looking white and gold number.  Coincidence?  I think not.

All eyes on Tim as he took his place upon the alter of sacrifice love (surrounded by water, luckily), and we waited with baited breath to see which poor crazy bitch was going to walk around the corner first and miss out.  A hint of fluoro from Rochelle’s dress was all it took to reveal that Anna would be the chosen one.  Duh.

Poor Rochelle.  We, as intelligent viewers, knew that she was about to get dumped.  Although I was never the biggest Rochelle fan, I gotta say, it was a little like watching a cow being lead into the abattoir.  As Bachelor Squat Thrust was telling her how great she was (something he is used to doing in the mirror), Rochelle seemed to be hyperventilating.  Seriously, she was heavy breathing all over the place.  Tim was obviously without his usual cue cards, because he was stumbling stupidly through his speech and smiling at her inappropriately. I wouldn’t be surprised if she honestly thought she had it in the bag.  Until he revealed that his heart was leading him somewhere else.  *Gasp*

“Ok.  Yep.  Yep. Ok.  Ok.  Ok.  Yep.  Thank you.”

WHERE WAS OSHER?!! Isn’t that the part where he appears in his velvet suit and whisks the heartbroken mess of a girl away?  Osher was bloody nowhere to be seen and everyone seemed v confused and disorientated, because Rochelle awkwardly walked off and into a waiting station wagon.  Good one, Osher.  You’re fired.

Enter Anna in her faux bridal gown.  What followed was a lot of dumb grinning, more talk of feelings and amazing journeys, awkward laugh-crying and Bach proclaiming his love for the lawyer who’d never had a boyfriend.  Sweet.  He then presented her with the previously mentioned ring that, surprisingly, symbolized their journey together through a forest of 24 crazy bitches.  Because we are ALL about symbolism, right?

She stupidly accepted, there was a kiss, more laugh-crying and we cut to a badly edited CGI of fireworks over the coast of Thailand and I was left to cry into my Sparkling Brut.  The End.

But never fear, my dears, ‘The Bachelor: After the Final Rose’ airs tonight where all of the bitches will return with fresh botox and bruised egos to get all up in Tim’s grill.  I am actually peaking in anticipation for ALL OF THE FEELINGS!

I do hope you’ve enjoyed my Bachelor blog journey.  Feel free to go back and re-live the drama of the past 13 weeks while I figure out what the actual crap to do with my life.  I’m thinking alcohol.

Farewell.

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The Bachelor: Dates With (No) Sex

14 Nov

*SPOILER ALERT*

This blog contains no sex.  So if you are reading this in the presence of the underage, feel free to read on.  Or if you are overage, like me, feel free to start getting angry as I recount the biggest disappointment in Australian television since the return of “Hey Hey, it’s Saturday”.

Dates with No Time Limits.

Can you hear me squealing for joy from there?  Well, that was my general state of mind for the whole day leading up to this episode.  I could not wait to get home, crack open the wine and party like it was 1999.  Because dates with no time limits means dates with sex (in a 7.30pm time slot).

HOWEVER.

As you may have picked up on from my opening comments, I have a bone to pick with the various producers and promoters of ‘The Bachelor’.  For three main reasons:

1) There was no shirtless running/push-ups/pondering from Tim.  Dropped the ball there, guys.

2) Tim is actually a huge douche.  I’ve renamed him the Emotion Police.  Get him a better writer.

3) THERE WAS NO ACTUAL SEX!  YOU LIED!

For starters, there was plenty of opportunity for Bachelor Premature Greys to be doing his weekly maths and astute observations about roses while being half-naked.  But no.  Evidently Channel 10 have decided that, since Bach has to pick a wife in a week, they’d better keep it classy.  Too little, too late my friends.  The fact that you kept him confined to a forest (fully clothed, mind you) might just be why he was unable to do the dirty with his bitches.  This is so very disappointing.

Worse still, was the fact that his full level of douchebag was on clear display.  Did the intern copy writer take over script duties? Just bee tee dubs, you better get someone else on the pay roll for next week.  I was watching the episode as well as following the twitter feed, and everyone was just SO NOT OK with Tim’s behaviour.  I realise he is an ex-stripper/fake chiropractor/greasy-haired actor, but we’re still supposed to like the guy!

But the biggest tragedy of the evening was the fact that, despite the promising ad clips of suggestive thigh stroking and oyster platters, Tim did not actually realign anyone’s sexual chakras.  I am so not ok with this.

But we will get to that.

First “extravagant date” of the night went to crowd fav, Ali.  She’s dropped the moon boot leg cast and opted for a simple double band aid, so she was ready to roll.  The theme of their date seemed to be ‘apples’. Bizarre. He picked her up in a Porsche and they went whizzing through the Blue Mountains, until conveniently stumbling upon an apple-themed roadside stall.  Now, I realise that ‘The Bachelor’ itself is not a high-level thinking show.  But how dumb do you take us for, Channel 10?!  No self-respecting apple grower would EVER leave that much Bed, Bath ‘n’ Table merchandise unattended on a deserted road!  My Grandpa used to stop at a popular roadside stall in NSW to buy pawpaws, and it was nothing but plastic bags on a bloody trestle table.   Never in my life have I seen homemade pie not being watched over by a crazy old lady in a hair net and an apron.

Regardless, Tim and Ali took their offending pie and pretty bag of convenient apples and had a picnic.  With apple cider, of course.  Ali told Tim all about the book she was reading, ‘How to Make a Voodoo Doll for Dummies’  ‘The Recipe to True Love’ and Bach cleverly related it to watching ‘Shrek’ on an airplane.  What the actual crap?  I’m pretty sure he was insulting her, but just like the huge kransky incident from last week, she was blissfully unaware.

They soon retired to some mountain chalet where the owner had kindly left them keys to the ‘Love Cabin’.  Can you feel the anticipation? Just as Ali looked like she would unhinge her jaw,  we cut to a shot of Timmy on a boat and the Love Cabin was forgotten!  It seems because Ali had proclaimed her undying, crazy white-girl love to him numerous times he wanted to “respect” that. Boo to no sex!

He also said no to Rochelle because…well…I’m not 100% sure why, but something to do with feelings and emotions and shit like that.  Speaking of poor Rochelle, once again, Officer Emotions had her on detention on his Love Boat, trying to work his brain around her v controversial past as a beauty queen.  Is it just me or is that a bit rich coming from a stripper?  They talked in circles for ten minutes about feelings and then Rochelle apologised profusely for some unknown crime.  It seemed to placate poor old Bach and he allowed her to join him on deck for a “massive and delicious” seafood platter and some sneaky under-the-table action.   But no sex.  Not even after a personal invite from the Captain.  Sigh.  Things were looking dicey.

This left me hanging my hopes on Anna to bring home the bacon, ifyouknowwhaddamean.

Their date was more feelings and emotions, mixed with words like “open” and “honest” and then more feelings.  Tim was v concerned that Anna wasn’t telling him, “…what it is exactly she likes about me.”  True story.  He actually said that.  Which was nothing short of a miracle, really, considering it usually takes the man an hour to spit out a decent sentence.  Even so, girlfriend refused to play that game and basically did a Sarah and told him she was choosing him as much as he was choosing her.  Preach.  Her intense lipstick really came in handy by highlighting her judge-y scowl.  Anna has been my personal fav for some time, and I have to admit, after Sarah’s similar efforts in putting the hard word on Bachelor Crossfit had backfired, I feared poor Anna would also be punished for having an opinion.  But not so…

Just when I thought my efforts had been in vain, Bachelor Spray Tan looked poised to ask Anna to spend the night oiling up his muscles and other man parts in the aptly titled Forest Lodge.  Or Ocean Love Suite…or…something equally naff.  Things were looking up!  Instead, Tim put on his serious thinking face and explained staying the night together wouldn’t be fair.  Because something something about feelings and something something about sleeping with one girl and not the other. And then she cried.  And I threw something.

THERE WAS NO SEX AT ALL!

Lucky they began the rose ceremony quick smart, or else my television and other valuables would have been in serious trouble.

All that pent-up sexual frustration from the week left the girls wallowing meekly on the recliner lounge by the pool until Osher/Andrew G/Oshy Gunsberg/Who Cares came and escorted them the 20 metres into the rose ceremony.  From there, he left them to join Timmy in his special, secret Bachelor hide-out where he was played messages from each crazy bitch on his iPad.  Ali, true to form, reminded him (very loudly) that she loved him.  Give her some credit, it is possible he could have forgotten with all the serious detective work he’d been doing.  Rochelle decided to express her love through a kids nursery rhyme poem where she tried and failed to rhyme the word chiropractor with something.  I’m guessing using poetry as her skill is what lost her the Miss Australia crown.  And I forget what Anna said.  Something logical probably.

And then all of a sudden he had the last rose in his hand, the ‘Batman’ soundtrack was cranked up a few decibels (seriously, IS it the same music?  Every week I am waiting for Christian Bale to crash through the glass doors and go postal) and it was Ali who missed out.  All around Australia, collective breath was held, waiting for the bloodbath.  Luckily, Tim picked a good week to give her the boot, since her leg injury prevented her from chasing after him with a knife.  She held it together, though, and told him she still loved him and regretted nothing as they said their goodbyes.

Then he left her on the bloody steps!  And it was here that the tears came.  Twitter was all abuzz with “Tim shot Bambi!” outrage, and I have to agree, it was v heartbreaking.  There was even snot.  But I’m sure Ali will recover once she gets her van parked outside Tim’s house.

So we say farewell to our favourite crazy and look forward to next week, as the Spice Girls once said, when two become one.

Vale Ali.

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The Bachelor: Meet the Parents

7 Nov

Gird your loins, man!

The time has come…for Bachelor Speedos to meet the parents of his four fav bitches.  And, tbh, after last week’s slightly beige episode in a creepy amusement park with whatshername, I was practically salivating for this one.

BUT…

I nearly had a small heart attack at the beginning of this week’s ep because Tim was pictured on the beach IN A SHIRT!  Correction, not just a shirt, but a jacket too!  I got a little panicky, thinking maybe he’d had some sort of serious gym-related accident or maybe even Channel Ten had read my (and several others’) blogs and tried to class things up a bit?  I mean, what was this madness!!??

Guys, it’s OK.  I got a little too ahead of myself.  It’s fine, he took the shirt off and was soon enough doing laps by the beach.  THANK GOD.  Deep breath…

Anyway, Tim once again started proceedings off by doing his weekly calculation of  subtracting the amount of roses from the amount of girls left, (the answer’s one if you were worried), put his offensive clothing back on and headed off to Golburn to kick off his Mummas and the Pappas tour.

First stop, Anna.

Lemme just say straight up, Anna’s mum is a total fox, so already she’s got my vote.  Tim was initially met with both Anna’s mother and two sassy sisters.  Poor pet seemed extremely overwhelmed, although, I thought a room full of loud women was exactly what put a stripper at ease? No?

Eventually though, in walked Anna’s lawyer father, and, speaking of strippers, got right to the point and put the hard word on Tim about his v controversial, shirtless past.  Which he TOTALLY DENIED!  Dude, this guy is a lawyer! Anyone with wikipedia can look up pictures of you in leather chaps, but this man has files.  You know how you go to work and put people in the recovery position?  This guy goes to work and puts people IN JAIL!   In fact, Mr Anna reminded me of the dad of a friend I knew from school who was a doctor and completely bloody terrifying.  So, lying is never an option.  But we wouldn’t have a show if the very first set of parentals were already barring their daughter from continuing on, so Tim escaped fairly unscathed and all was right with the world.

Next up, Rochelle.  And again, Mrs Rochelle giving Mrs Anna a serious run for her money after telling her daughter she was making a shandy and using words like, “dishy.”  I liked her.  But the drama of this meeting was all hinging on Bach meeting Rochelle’s police sergeant father who had already done a background check on him and called his next of kin (most likely).  So there was nowhere to hide those fluffy handcuffs!

BUT AGAIN!  No bloody mention of it!  What was going on here?!  Were these people paid actors?  Wouldn’t be surprising really, considering Rochelle is one of the best actresses I’ve seen on Australian television in a long time.  My fav moment from her was when she confessed to mum she was afraid of being, “…exposed and vulnerable,” all the while wearing a v see-through chiffon shirt.  Oh the subtext!  But more der-ama struck at dinner time, when Tim noticed Rochelle had gone all quiet and reserved.  Obviously he was very hurt by this behaviour and decided he would get right to the bottom of it as soon as possible.  I mean, how COULD she?!  In my opinion, she just looked bloody bored.  And speaking of looking bored…

Enter Danni.  My favourite part about Danni’s family date was her poignant reflection upon Tim arriving in her home town of the Gold Coast.  (I freaking love that she is a GC girl.  Don’t tell me it doesn’t explain a lot, am I right?!)  Evidently she was looking forward to him visiting Currumbin as she’d…”spent a lot of time there.”  Umm….considering it’s where you grew up, babe, you might be understating it a little.  But I digress.  We got to meet Mrs Danni, who didn’t receive any flowers from Tim, how very dare he!  On the bright side, we got to understand where Danni’s impressive Resting Bitch Face comes from.  Luckily for our Bach though, Mum still gave her blessing to the man dating four women and keeping her daughter locked up in an interior decorator’s worst nightmare.  Winner!

BUT!  Once again, Tim was getting that pesky vibe, the one where he feels like *insert bitch’s name here* isn’t quite, “opening up to him.”  I wonder if he gets paid every time he says that?  So Detective Bach took Danni outside to really get to the bottom of her clearly unacceptable attitude.  And so started a very awkward non-conversation where Tim tried to use big words and Danni said, “yeah” a lot.  Riveting.  But that terrible anti-climax was remedied after the ad break when it was finally Ali’s turn.  Saving the best til last, Channel Ten?  Of course you are.

Doe-eyed Ali decided to take Timmy on a pre-parental date to a novelty German town in South Australia.  Where she ate a gigantic kransky hot dog.  Like seriously, it was huge.  Look, I’m sure it had some fancy German name, but whatever Trevor, that shit was inappropriately phallic for someone wearing an all-white outfit, just saying.  It was here, though, that Ali confessed her parents had never really approved of any men she had brought home before.  Sigh.  Is that because they weren’t real people?

Before Tim had said two bloody words to Ali’s parentals though, she was off with the tears.  Good God, woman, calm yo self!  Even your mum and dad think you’re cray.  And speaking of which, Mr Ali was totally Lou Carpenter from Neighbours!*  Another winner!  The best bit, though, was Channel Ten giving us several teasers of Ali ‘revealing’ her true feelings to Bachelor Chin Stubble before the ad breaks.  I posted on twitter that if she wasn’t going to tell him she was pregnant with his unborn child, I’d be bitterly disappointed.  Unfortunately, I was and, surprise, surprise!  She told him she loved him instead.  Which she has been saying since the second episode.  And then came the next totes awks moment since the infamous pash attempt from the series premiere….*Gasp*  He couldn’t say “I love you” back to her! But Ali’s logical reaction of, “He didn’t say it to me in words, but he said it to me in chemistry,” really just demonstrated the point of this ridiculous show beautifully.  Babe, if a guy don’t say I love you, there are no ‘buts’. True story.  Must have been the sausage breath.  Or maybe the crazy eyes.  Hard to say.

Regardless, the rose ceremony was upon us once again, after Bachelor Body Trim had officially been given the tick of approval from all the bitches’ families.  But he decided to punish both Rochelle and Danni for their bad behaviour by leaving them until last and making them really think about why they were there.  Before putting them out of their misery, though, he ushered them (no, not Oshered, he was still in the mansion) outside to read them their last rights i.e. have them tell him how amazing he was.  Rochelle pulled out the tears like a champ and she was home and hosed.  Bye bye Danni.  And twitter erupted with ‘Ding Dong the Witch is Dead!’ type statements, proving, it seems, that Danni was officially the season’s resident biatch.  Such a shame. I see a spin-off in the making for her.

And then there were three.

Join me next week, as I recap the Dates With No Time Limit i.e. dates with sex.  My favourite type!

As we close in on the pointy end of the competition (no pun intended), I do have to say now I genuinely worry for Ali’s mental health.  If she doesn’t win, the producers better have Dr Phil on standby or someone equally qualified to prevent a possible mass murder.

Until then.

 

*He wasn’t actually Lou Carpenter, which would have been amaze.  But close enough, really.

 

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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…

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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.

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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,

 

Lauren

 

 

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.

 

 

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The Bachelor: Dear Channel Ten…

2 Oct

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

PLEASE DON’T CANCEL ‘THE BACHELOR’!

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.

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The Bachelor: Prick From a Rose

16 Sep

“Will you accept this rose?”

Damn straight I will!  Why?  Because there is nothing I love more than watching 25 single, desperate women with enough botox and fake tan to put Heidi Montag to shame, competing for the affections of an eternally shirtless ‘chiropractor’.

Come on, we all gave a little snigger when pensive Dr Tim explained how hard it was being a ‘chiropractor’ and having no time to find love, all the while running down the beach in little more than a loin cloth.  Seriously, the producers of ‘The Bachelor’ must have v expensive water bills considering all the bloody beachside showers that man is having!

But despite all of this I am totally and utterly digging on this show in the most shameless way.

Not so much because of Dr Boardshorts, but more because of all the CRAZY BITCHES TRYING TO MAKE HIM FALL IN LOVE WITH THEM!  It really is just the most hilarious concept for a TV show and I just cannot help but love it hard.  I used to think eating a large packet of peanut M’n’Ms in my underwear was a good day, but this is way better.  And much better for my ass.

As you would know, the premise is that Dr Chisel Face spends time getting to know these nutcases by taking them on individual and group dates, and then at the end of the episode, he hands out a single red rose to the ones he wants to keep around; the ones he believes are one step closer to being ‘Mrs Fake Doctor’.  Can you just hear the Celine Dion soundtrack in the background?

At this early stage of the competition it is very hard for me to pick a fav.  However, there are some obvi standouts who are already giving Kimberley from Melrose Place a run for her money and crazy pills. And she is not even a real person.

First of all there is Ali, or as she is called in my house, Doe-Eyed Crazy.  Seriously, the girl couldn’t be in a more perpetual state of awe if she was sucking on laughing gas.  The poor pet got a little too eager on the first night and tried to plant one on unsuspecting ‘chiropractor’ Tim.  And he awkwardly pushed her off.  For reals, you couldn’t MAKE better television!

My other fav is Bianca.  Or Sav Blanca.  In a word, she’s a drunk.  And for that reason alone I like her.  I feel like the ‘Fitness Model’ thing is a lie and she’s really just a recovering junkie doing her community service on national television.  But she’s got some serious tude.  And a speech impediment.

Mention must also go to whiny Laura whose damsel in distress act is starting to get really old.  Almost as old as Penny, the 35-year-old fitness instructor who likes to salsa and wear terrible hair extensions.  Gosh, it’s like this show was made just for me!

I think the other reason I like this show so much is because it also makes me angry.  It’s just a Naomi Campbell bitch slap in the face to feminism (and every other remotely independent woman-type movement ever made).  I mean, these 25 women are COMPETING for a man to fall in love with them!  And they all live together in the same house while they do it.  I mean, it’s the first rule of multiple dating, bro – keep those bitches separate!  But I realise this is the whole premise of the show and, consequently, a moot point.

And while we’re on it, what the shit is going on with host Osher Gunsberg?  No no, I haven’t had a momentary episode of dyslexia, the man previously known as Andrew G slash Andrew Ginsberg has gone on some spiritual and professional quest to America and come back with a wanky name change.  Don’t worry, I looked it up online (I totally research) and evidently he met some wise shaman while holidaying in Israel who told him his name had bad energy around it and he was heading down a path of ‘destruction and sadness’.  Very ‘Eat Pray Love’! Look, I’m no expert, but I think this had more to do with the fact that he’d been working on some of the worst television shows ever created and someone was pissed.  But I digress.  The point?  Osher is actually ridiculous.  Only Prince can get away with that shit.

The other thing I love about ‘The Bachelor’ is the ridiculous ‘acting’.  Like last night, when seven unsuspecting bitches were taken out into the Australian sand dunes for a group date.  When Dr Wet Hair made his big entrance over the top of the dunes like Indiana Jones, GOSH it was dramatic!  They were all so shocked and impressed that it was him!

WHO THE EFF ELSE DID YOU EXPECT IT TO BE?!

But again, it may seem like I am bagging on this show, but quite the contrary.  It has allowed me to truly understand the meaning of guilty pleasure. It’s like when you go off carbs and get a cheat meal on Sundays.  It’s that massively greasy pizza and tub of ice-cream you shove down your throat.  Bloody good for the soul.  Because watching it reminds me that I am actually an awesome person with half a brain cell and natural breasts.  Mind you, the women on this show haven’t had a pizza or ice-cream since they were in nappies, so you gotta shed a tear for them in that regard too.

And I urge you to watch it.  Just prop your eyelids open with a couple of match sticks and force yourself to witness the excruciating drama unfolding.

Then come and gossip about it with me like we actually know these people.  It’ll be amaze.

And stay tuned. I don’t imagine this will be the last time you hear of me, Dr Used-To-Be-A-Stripper.

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Ode to My Father

1 Sep

“Some people say I look like me dad!”

You said it, B*Witched.  (And if you don’t know which circa 1999 Irish girls group I’m referring to, YouTube that shit immediately.)

There is a common belief that most girls end up looking like their mothers.  And from observation I have found this to be true.  But not for me.  I thought by this age I would have started appreciating cane furniture and shopping at Laura Ashley.  However, this does not appear to be the case.  Despite the fact I sometimes bear an uncanny resemblance to him in photographs (which is a little disturbing when you’re a 29 year-old woman) fate and genetics seem to have decided that my future is heading directly towards Fathertown.

And since a) today is Father’s Day and b) my father works in some random part of buttf&*# nowhere (also known as Western Australia), I have created this blog post as a dedication to daddy dearest (who will most likely never read it, as he does not have sufficient internet access or possibly internet knowledge.)

10 Reasons Why I Am Turning Into My Father:

1.  I yell at the television.

This was originally restricted to State of Origin matches. ( Yes, I am an avid QLD State of Origin supporter and don’t even start.)  This kind of behaviour is acceptable in a live-to-air football match.  However, a few months ago, I found myself screaming “SHE’S LYING TO YOU, HAYLEY! STOP LYING TO HAYLEY LEWIS!!” during an episode of Biggest Loser.  On my own.  Give me a recliner lounge and a rum, and I’m Dad.

2.  I fall asleep in an upright position.

Don’t tell me your dad didn’t doze off in front of the telly.  My dad even did it with his cup of coffee still in his hand.  And I would watch with gross fascination.  But now that I have a real job and have been practically forced into taking multi-vitamins for Energy & Vitality I TOTALLY get it. I do it at work, on the bus, in the movies, on my couch, at the doctor.  I even drool sometimes.

3.  No parking space is ever good enough.

We used to live within 5 minutes of one of the biggest shopping centres in south east Brisbane, if you don’t hardly mind.  Any mum’s dream.  Any father’s greatest dread.  Dad never came to the shops except at Christmas and birthdays.  And it took him an hour to find a space, because “everything was too bloody far away.”  Mum would park in the next suburb if it meant she had access to the Myer Stocktake Sale.  But not dad.  And not me.  It’s a prime spot or I turn that car around.

4.  I have to turn off all electrical points in the house.

I cannot leave the house without double checking that everything with the remote potential for catching fire is turned off.  At the wall.  Things like the heater.  The kettle.  My hair straightener.  The TV.  Now I understand why it took us half a day to leave the house for a holiday and why my mother had to have a scotch and orange in the morning. Whatever, when YOUR house burns down from electrical failure, don’t come crying to me.

5.  I like beer more than a lot of things.

Cheap beer.  Even at 58, dad will still take a XXXX over a Corona.  Before you judge, I do not drink XXXX.  In Victoria, you can get assaulted for that.  But I would take a VB.  Or Carlton.  Whichever.

6.  I laugh at my own jokes.

It’s bad enough that I’ve been telling dad jokes since I was 17.  It’s worse now that I am the one laughing the loudest.  And I don’t even care.

7.  I wear singlets under everything.

Remember Chesty Bonds?  Mum used to pick up a two-pack for dad at Woolies because he wore them UNDER EVERYTHING.  Apparently it was a thing back in the late 80’s/early 90’s before it was acceptable for men to wear fluoro coloured muscle shirts.  Initially I thought this new habit of mine developed because I lived in Melbourne.  But the fact that I am still doing it well into Autumn and Spring begs to differ.

8. I like to watch documentaries.  And Seinfeld.

Dad’s favourite shows are docos.  I used to see docos as dead bloody boring with a few shots of old ladies with their boobs hanging out.  Not anymore.  ‘Inside the Human Body’, ‘Airplane Investigation’, ‘National Geographic’s Search for the Green-Eyed Girl’ – I’m mad for it!  I turned down ‘Bridezillas’ to watch a doco on the volcanic eruptions on Mars on a flight to Brisbane last month.  WHO AM I?!

And the Seinfeld thing?  I used to hate it.  Now I own the DVDs.

9.  I go to Bunnings.

This is a bit of a stretch.  I went to Bunnings.  Consider the fact that I had never been before in my life, I have now visited that place three times in the last year!  In my defence I was wearing a leopard print maxi and a purple cape.  But still.

10.  I’m very concerned about petrol prices.

Gosh they’re getting expensive.  It’s bloody daylight robbery!  When I got my licence, it was 68 cents a litre!

 

 

Truth be told, I still don’t know how to change a tyre properly or how to check the chlorine levels of a pool.  But give me another few years and she’ll be right.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

 

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The Five People You Hate on Facebook. Lesson Two: Spammers

19 Aug

‘Like this blog to see something amazing happen!’

Oh wait, sorry, nothing happens. I just want more likes on my page. But thanks for falling for it.

Really, it was just a matter of time before Facebookland & other such spheres were permeated by spam. At first, it was offensive sideline advertising suggesting you might be in need of more effective bladder control products. But nowadays, spammers live & post amongst us.

The sad & irritating fact is that many don’t know they’re doing it.

Guys, I realise it is horribly tempting to click on an article that promises you’ll ‘…see what this hot bitch can do’.  But I am here to tell you that she doesn’t do anything but embarrass you when it comes up on my feed.  And I am judging you.

Just buy porn.

The thing is, so much of my social media feed is taken up by advertising and spam, its rare that I actually receive good quality stalking material.

Now obviously, I use social media to advertise and promote this blog.  I’m sorry, I’m poor and pretty limited at public relations.  But at least my blog is written by me and about me.  So I guess its kind of like a very long status update.

But here is my list of the more non-acceptable spammers who you just wish you could smack a little:

1.  The ‘Falls for Everything’ Spammer:  Hey bleeding heart, you realise that those photos of some kid holding a sign saying ‘If I get 1 Million Likes, my Dad will buy me a pony!” ARE NOT REAL!  They are stupid people using their children to gain attention.  And even if they were real, do you actually think buying little Timmy a pony simply because he got 1 million likes from strangers on facebook is smart parenting?  All that happens is you give them what they want, and your activity shows up in your friends’ feeds and annoys them.

2.  The ‘Motivational Molly’ Spammer:  This one is harder for me to discuss without looking like a total bitch.  But se la vie.  Sweeties, I am so happy for you that you are in a great mood/got a promotion/lost 20 kgs.  Really.  But I don’t need a motivational picture of a sunrise on the hour every hour to remind me.  I know people with entire albums dedicated to lame-o memes of kittens and quotes from Ghandi.  I’m not trying to be the happy police, but MODERATION PLEASE!  Sometimes, when I’m hungover, fighting with everyone and being buried underneath piles of work, your post of a smiling dolphin makes me want to strangle myself with my own scarf.

3.  The ‘Come To My Event x 1000!’ Spammer:  One of the true beauties of Facebook is the potential for free advertising and invitations.  Creating an Event online not only saves lots of time but also paper.  And I am all for reducing the carbon footprint, if you don’t hardly mind.  BUT inviting me more than twice to the same event will not reduce my footprint on your ass.  Chances are, I did receive it the first time and I am just too lazy to respond.  Or I already know I’m not going.  Inviting me again is not going to change that.  And furthermore, tagging me in your event photo is also equally incriminating.  I AM NOT IN THAT PHOTO!  Anyone who wishes to stalk me will obvi be looking for photographs.  What if they stumble on a photo of your event that I am apparently connected to?  What if your event was crap?  What if a potential employee looks me up?  What if your event photo has inappropriate content in it or just looks dumb? Oh gosh, it’s all so confusing! Furthermore, telling me your event is ‘selling fast’ or ‘selling out’.  That’s a lie.  According to the dictionary definition, something isn’t selling ‘fast’ if, after two months, its still available.**

4.  The Product Brown-Noser Spammer:  Very tricky, this one.  And equally confusing.  But are people secretly working for Price Waterhouse Coopers (or some other mass, generic company that owns everything)?  I don’t understand!  Case in point:  someone I follow on Instagram posts a photo of a bottle of juice/smoothie or something.  She then captions it “Loving my delicious @productname smoothie this morning!” followed by a thousand hashtags.   ???????  Are they paying you to say that?  Are you hoping they’ll give you free stuff for it?  What’s the deal?!  Or on Facebook the other day, I had a friend tag the brand of kettle bell he was using at the gym.  ME NO COMPREHENDE! I guess the real crux of this category is that the people who do it are mostly mass offenders.  They’ll try and tag their shoes, their face cream, their water, their yoghurt.  Whoever you people are, you frighten me.  Are you working undercover?

**At this point, it is probably wise of me to raise my guilty hand and admit that I used to partake in some of the aforementioned activities.  Mainly spamming people to come to my events.  Because I am an interstate resident of Melbourne and, for a long time, didn’t have many friends.  And I am sorry.  Be assured I have amended my ways and am on the road to rehabilitation.

I hope this post has encouraged you to do some self-reflection.  Are you an unknowing spammer?  It’s OK if you are, we can work on this together.

Now can everyone please go back to posting stalker-worthy material.  My day is not going to procrastinate itself.

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