Dallas Continues to Represent on The Bach

I love reality television almost as much as I love giving unsolicited opinions. Two weeks ago, I wrote about The Bachelor on our brother site, and then I slacked off for reasons I will explain after the jump. So, if you like show and/or you’d like a look into just how dark my soul is, jump.

Last week, the guhls didn’t get together for our weekly watching party, and I watched it with a boy. Here’s the thing about watching with boys: they generally think the show is the dumbest thing they’ve ever seen. But can I just say that watching former Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader Melissa’s date last week was maybe one of the greatest moments of my life? I’ve jumped out of a moving car on a particularly bad date, and I think that beats going on the freaking Goodyear Blimp. Anyway, she survived, but I lost two (out of three) of my draft picks, so I pouted for about a week.

Last night, our crack team of reality show watchers reconvened. The Coors Lights flowed like, well, wine, and the show was better than ever. Some questions: was it weird that Stephanie’s kid had three costume changes at LEGOLAND (four if you count the swimsuit)? How awesome was it when Megan said, “I live my life to please other people…To not have anyone thank me or appreciate me or praise God that I’m not in their lives for 10 days [is hard or some such nonsenese].” She’s the most altruistic lacrosse coach ever. But perhaps the award for the best line of the night goes to Natalie, who stopped playing with her hair for approximately 2.2 seconds on a date to observe, “I like bears.” And she followed that gem up with a story about a lost teddy bear that devastated her entire family for, “like, two weeks.” There was yelling, there was vomiting, and then there was our girl Melissa.

This was kind of a booby episode for Melissa. First of all, sadsack bachelor Jason takes these girls on a “date” that’s exactly like going to Paint Yer Own Pottery. Except here, you take off your clothes, make a body cast, paint it, and attempt to sell it for charity. Luckily, Melissa was having a “good boob day.” You know what she wasn’t having? A good dress day. No one was kind enough to inform her that her purple frock was actually a shirt. Not that Jason minded. Nor did he seem to mind when Melissa confessed that she’d had a breast reduction. “That’s something I never saw coming,” he said—and yet the good, kindly Jason still saw fit to give her a rose. So, she lives another day.

I wish Deanna would hurry up and return. She’s my only hope.