We find Ali and the gang in my home city this week! New York, with its skyscrapers and Broadway lights and teeming masses (did you like my Statue of Liberty allusion?) is, as everyone knows, the city of love. Well, it’s at least the city of second dates. Less superficial than The Valley where the show began but still fraught with dirty, sexual tension — wondering what will happen when. And like New York (and The Bachelorette), if you just add a few drinks, some shit is probably going to go down — in a sleek cocktail dress no less! So, the guys have a challenge where they have to sing “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” for Ali in order to try to win a spot next to her in a performance of The Lion King on Broadway! Hooray! Finally someone’s going to let some white people into that show. I’ve been crying foul about the lack of representations for Dutch Afrikkaners in the animal kingdom for years, I mean, shouldn’t they at least be playing the hyenas? (did you like my 19th century imperialism reference?) After the contestants shit all over the dreams of thousands of aspiring stage actors, dancers and singers, spicy Roberto sings his way into Ali’s heart by doing the impossible. “He looked at her and sang to her. How did I not think of that?!” The couple put on ridiculous cat costumes (Ali’s makes her ass look about 3 feet wide, poor girl) and do some awkward wire work while the other guys are FORCED TO WATCH. This show is probably sentencing us all to the bleak, cold abyss of hell.
Seems that all of that showbizniz has exhausted our fair maiden because she comes down with something bad. She powers on through the cocktail hour though, and we get to watch as Weatherman meekly approaches for a one-on-one. “If I’m not interrupting then I’d…” he trails off into broken silence. “Yeah, actually you are,” the guy who she’s speaking to affirms in his best Lumbar impression. Ali just kind of condescendingly nods and I continue to appreciate the fact that this chick just does not give a shit about what the producers think. In the end, someone excuses poor Ali from the mess and walks her sick ass back to the room.
The next day she’s supposed to have a date with dude whose mom died but she cancels, instead asking him to come spend the day with her in her hotel room. Way to go Ali. That’s just about the quickest way to spread whatever plague you have to every last one of these poor suckers. They laze about and discuss this guy’s dead mom and the thought of his sorrow has suddenly energized Ali to the point of wanting to go on the date after all! So they meet up at an empty club (which is kind of creepy) and talk about this guy’s dead mom some more (seriously) and then Joshua Radin is there singing on the rooftop. He’s Ali’s “favorite”, cementing the fact that Ali has the same taste in music as a 37-year-old high school counselor in Boise. She gives this dude a rose because hey, nothing butters her muffin like a little dead mom talk.
Meanwhile back at the house, Kermit the Frog has apparently already gone on a date with Ali (I missed that part, dudes, I was eating a really amazing omelet) and has neither gotten a rose, nor been sent packing. The upside is that the pain and confusion is doing awesome things to this guy’s voice and it’s also causing him to make really, really good decisions. Like, really good ones. So, he goes traipsing through some terrible part of Brooklyn, looking for anyplace with needles and a release form. The trash is just swirling around him and there are awkwardly placed dumpsters and bikers everywhere and I’m worried for Kermit. Except then I see a street sign and he’s totally just a few blocks from me in Hell’s Kitchen and I’m not so worried anymore. But then it happens. See, I thought he was just going to get her a singing telegram or show up with a creepy collage book of their future children but this dude is walking into a tattoo parlor. And where should a clean-cut reality contestant with a permanent bubble in his throat get said “dedication to Ali” tattoo? Why, on his wrist, of course. So, he gets the gayest tat possible, a giant heart with a lock in front of it, and makes a wincing face that leads me to believe that he has a really small penis.
Remember grunge, guys? Remember when flannel was cool and you would wear it unbuttoned over a white baby tee? I sure do. I’m sure this chick in my fifth grade class does. See, when I was wearing knock-off Z. Caverricis and said top combo, she came to school in her dad’s oily lumberjack flannel and an oversized Looney Toons tee and it just wasn’t the same thing. She was just like Kermie, trying to do the cool thing and failing horrible. At least the guys weren’t as mean as my elementary classmates were. Maybe they should have been, though. After showing everyone his awesome tattoo (he only copped to it after Rated X weaseled the info out of him-- that clever Rated X, always so much smarter and wittier than the rest of the guys) they all just sort of look around the room in shock and incredulity. And then Froggie thinks that everyone was super impressed, that he really will get to “protect” Ali forever, that he finally does get to sit at the cool kid table. He’s so inspired that he even shows Ali the tat! No, I lied. He seems to have been stricken with a case of the Weatherman and never does get around to saying anything about it before my boyfriend Frank barges in saying, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything” in the kind of way that makes you think that he really does hope that he’s interrupting something.
So, as a result, the producers have to keep him around for another week (this time in Iceland! Maybe Christopher Cross will make an appearance!) and that one hot guy has to go home. Also, Weatherman who suddenly looks a lot shorter than he even did before. I think it’s all of the tall buildings. Farewell hot guy and Weatherman. I will fondly remember, um, I’m probably going to forget about you next week.
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