I’m just... I’m trying to process whatever the hell happened on The Bachelorette last night. Surely, it was the best evidence of why we watch television, but I also think that it may be a sign of the coming apocalypse. Isn’t that what the Bible said? Locusts, plague, red moon, insanely addictive reality show shit-storm presented in a family-friendly medium. I think that’s what it said — Leviticus was basically all about The Bachelotette.

The episode starts off with a bang, when Chris Harrison tells Ali that he has something that he needs to talk to her about. What could it be?! Is she being charged with manslaughter for leaving Kermit up there on that mountain? Is Kermit being charged with moose-slaughter for carving Ali’s face into the sides of their still steaming carcasses? Did Roberto’s STD test come back positive and all of the fun of this show is going to be sucked slowly out of our dear Ali’s soul? No. Chris Harrison received a phone call today from one of the Bachelor’s GIRLFRIENDS confessing that she was in fact dating one of the stunning lads and that she had been speaking to him throughout the process. He said it just like that. No slow build, no sugar-coated wording. Just a sure, swift stroke of truth and the bandaid was gone.

The news isn’t over, though. The girlfriend would like to speak to Ali on the telephone. So, Chris Harrison goes over to the wall phone in their Turkish hotel room and I suddenly remember that some people have phones that plug into the wall. Phones with cords and giant buttons and receivers. I feel so young again. Chris Harrison dials the number — I wish it had been a rotary phone, that he would have turned the wheel back and forth and said in a Peter Faulkner voice, “Here’s the deal, ‘ya see? I got Ali Fedotowsky next to me and she needs the truth so stick it to her straight.”— but that didn’t happen. Instead, he dialed the numbers (beep*boop*beep*beep*boop) and waited for an unusual amount of rings for someone to pick up. All the while Ali stands next to him, slack jawed and aghast, her bottom lip suddenly even heavier than it usually is. When the voice on the other end finally picks up, meek and mellow, it’s one of her former Bachelor castmates. They chit-chat about how the experience must be crazy and how it’s nice to hear a familiar voice, but really Ali’s just thinking that this bitch needs to get the show on the road.

What comes next is a strange sort of admission. This girl knows that one of the guys has a girlfriend and she knows this because she’s sitting with the girlfriend. She tells us it’s Justin, but we already know that because of her insanely annoying Canadian accent and the establishing shot of her house that said she was in Toronto. What’s the deal, ABC? Couldn’t spring for the good cameras to go all the way up to Canadaland? Ali begins to tense up when her contestant friend hands the phone over the girlfriend, and so do I. She looks like some kind of a terrifying version of a New Jersey porn star — like Danielle Staub and Amy Winehouse had a crazy night with a horse and nine months later this little lady popped out, all teeth and apologetic TV crying.

So then the chick vomits out the whole sob story of what happened. She and Justin have been dating for about two years, she knew that he was doing the show, she encouraged him to go on it because it would be a foot in the door into the entertainment industry for him. He told her that his goal was to make the top three, because then everyone knows who you are — Justin, honey, no one really cares about The Bachelorette — but then it all changed. About two weeks after his leaving, Horseface found out that Justin had ANOTHER girlfriend, one that he had been dating for a few months. She’s telling Ali all of this because she knows now that things are getting serious and that it’s not fair for her to get too far into the lie. That’s a big steaming pile of dogshit — I think that there are other reasons for her finally squawking — maybe the two of them planned to drop the bomb at some point, thinking that he might be going home anyway (it certainly seems fishy that someone previously associated with the show was somehow in on the whole ruse). At any rate, Ali was not in on it and she seems to be out for blood. She begins barking demands at poor Chris Harrison: Where is Justin? Do the other men know? Why couldn’t the weatherman have predicted this storm? BRING ME THEIR HEADS!!!! No wire hangers!!!

I don’t know about you guys, but I like this Ali. She seems rejuvenated and a little unhinged and it’s just always great to be able to see people realistically reacting to nonsense on reality shows. She goes stomping down the hotel hallway, out for vengeance with poor, sweet Chris Harrison tagging alone after her. She knocks on the boys’ suite and Lawyer guy answers the door, surprised at the presence of Chris Harrison. My boyfriend comments that this show would be much different if it were Chris Hanson and I chuckle to myself.

So, here it is. Ali gathers all of the guys together and right there, in front of everyone, starts in on a tirade so full of sassy teenage venom I felt like I was being infused with bitch energy just by watching. She begins, "You know I know that this process has been hard for everyone — especially for you, Justin, since you have a girlfriend." BAM! Justin just sits there, sort of dumbfounded, and replies with the exhaustively insipid, "Really?" while a Grinch-like half-smirk creeps across his face. This dude is so horrifyingly mean that he's actually getting pleasure out of embarrassing this girl on national TV.

But satisfaction aside, it's all too much for Rated X, so he hobbles back and forth through the hallway, literally running through the rooms like a little child. He grabs his passport and his wallet because "that's all he needs" and Roberto takes this opportunity to comfort Ali by creepily rubbing her thigh. If ever there was an appropriate time for a televised inner thigh rub, it was probably this moment. Ali excuses herself to go talk to Rated X and he just hobbles down the hallway, running away from her. A few P.A.'s scuttle out of the camera shot and the chase goes all the way down to the courtyard of the hotel. I really want this whole thing to be sped up and infused with old timey video grain and Busby Berkeley chase music. All the while, the rest of the guys watch the fiasco from the window of the hotel room. Boy, is this good television.

The scene below is comically futile for poor Rated X. He keeps running away from Ali and she keeps catching up with him, like some kind of speed-resistant slasher flick serial killer. He tries futilely to gain entrance to the hotel restaurant, but some small Turkish waiter holds the doors closed and wags his finger "No. No falafel for you." This gives Ali enough time to catch up to him and attempt the injustice of touching his shirt. "DON'T TOUCH ME!," he bellows, and suddenly you're seeing the facade of family-loving Justin drop and some sort of mean, Canadian monster come out. He walks through some planters and over a waterfall with his boot — like, seriously hobbles his broken ass over a water installation just to get away from the crumbling mess of his master plan.

When he finally returns, no doubt prodded by producers, he's full of excuses. He has strong feelings for Horseface, but who could tell if it was love. He NEVER contacted her, but the montage of phone messages he left while on the show — played over him hobbling away from the hotel — tells a different story. I really can't recall a reality program so shamelessly belittling someone appearing on the show. I could watch this all day long.

The rest of the episode happens, and frankly, it's all pretty boring compared to this mess. Ali has one-on-ones with cowboy Ty (whose face is just a little off) and Frank (whose trepidation about the process is probably exactly how most normal people would react to having to watch a girl they're dating make out with a bunch of other dudes), but in the end the Lawyer, the only guy I would actually date on this show, has to go. Because he's a nice guy with average looks and that's just not enough for our fair Ali. As she told Rated X, she's here to find her husband. She's serious about it. As serious as a Roberto inner thigh rub.

If you haven’t been watching Persons Unknown, you probably should. As I’ve said before, summer mystery series are one of my favorite things on television. They’re perfect popcorn TV — when done right they keep you guessing for the whole summer. But then, the guessing is gloriously over in about three months and we don’t have to deal with ridiculous story lines after a reveal (i.e. Desperate Housewives) or ridiculous story lines leading up to an unsatisfying reveal (i.e. Lost). Really though folks, this one’s pretty fun and it’s only three episodes in — plenty of time to get caught up!

When last we found our hodge podge band of kidnapees, they were attempting with little success to escape whatever hell hole they had mysteriously found themselves in. When we pick back up, they’re trying yet again. Digging a hole underneath the city (and hoping to bypass the microwave fence preventing them from leaving) they’re exhausted after the week of teamwork. Then they hit something. It seems like it’s a metal wall — a pretty intrepid undertaking but nothing too out of the ordinary considering the scope of the prison they’re in. But it’s more than a wall. Its vents open to reveal slit-like openings and before anyone has an opportunity to inspect the new discovery, it starts spewing out gas. Frantic to escape, everyone stumbles out of the hole, nearly leaving Janet behind.

So, that dastardly plan has been thwarted but there are still things that they can do to escape. Perhaps finding a way out isn’t the solution. Perhaps they need to find a way to bring rescue to them. So, the kidnapees run about town, gathering anything and everything they can find to make themselves a giant bonfire. But nothing lights on fire. It appears that everything, literally everything, has been doused in some kind of flame retardant element. That sucks. But just as all hope looks to be lost they see a helicopter flying overhead. Janet’s the only one smart enough to find something reflective to flash at the pilot, and the 'copter begins to come low. Too low. It hovers for a while and finally lets a package drop.

Back in San Francisco-land, douchey reporter dude is, apparently, back on the case. I don’t really think that they’ve done a very good job of flushing out what his motives are and why he would defy so many death threats to find out who this kidnapped mother is. He returns home only to find his things strewn about and a PI sitting in his chair, pointing a gun at him. He tells him to stay away from the story and steals all of his evidence. But additional death threats and beat downs are no match for this dude’s reporting instinct. He breaks into the PI’s office, steals all of his evidence and peruses his email. He finds emails from both Janet and from Janet’s mother — both looking for Janet’s husband. There’s also a phone number listed for an off-shore bank deposit of $10,000. He calls the number only to be met by the same static that Janet met when she was attempting to speak with her daughter. Then the creepy starts, he gets a call on his cell phone with the same static. The next real world scene we get is of the PI approaching a cop with a huge clue in the Janet kidnapping — the identity of her elusive husband. When his photo is revealed, it’s none other than our intrepid reporter! So, is this a set-up to get him off of the scent? Is he really interested in the case for ulterior motive we could have never imagined? This is why we need to keep tuning in!

Back in Nowhereland, population 15 (give or take), the box drop has been, erm, dropped and the helicopter flies away, all hope with it. As the group approaches it, it explodes open. Inside are canisters for each of them. Most are empty, but three have gas masks inside. Considering the gassing that they’ve just been treated to, the masks are at a premium. Needless to say, there’s a lot of infighting for possession. Janet blah blahs about how she has to get back to her daughter and Cameron retorts that he also has a sob story about his terminally ill wife — shouldn’t he be getting a mask, too? I agree, what the hell is with this lady and her kid? It seems to be a lot of unfounded anger. She gets even more angry later, when she's trying to enjoy a nice tub of ice cream in Ye Olde Soda Shoppe and she finds paintings of her daughter and mother enjoying banana splits. Unhinged, she races to the mental patient lady and threatens her with a bottle of scotch. It’s all very strange and I have a feeling that there’s something major that we haven’t been told about her stories.

With only three masks and the omnipresent threat of gassing, the rest of the troupe goes stomping off to look for make-shift protective gear. Car salesman guy gets all creepy on Blondie, and she reacts by kicking his ass. Hmmm, where the hell did she learn all of those take down moves? Speaking of Car Salesman, he sees a video in a storefront television screen of Cameron smothering his wifey. Looks like these people have a lot more secrets than we know about.

While all in the hotel lobby, the conspicuous gassing begins and there's a frenzied search for protection but, in my opinion, not enough of a frenzied search for escape. Car salesman guy steals Cameron's mask from him. The night (and now day) manager locks his own door behind him and blondie goes after him. But then something strange starts happening. After a few moments of frenzy, a few of the people with brains realize that nothing is actually happening to them. The gas isn't toxic. But something else is. The gas masks begin to fill with some sort of green gas and Janet's the only one fortuitous enough to pry them open with a letter opener. Crisis averted.

After all of that (and a little more character development--like mental patient lady saying that she purposefully stayed in the institution because she felt safe there) Marine dude and Janet receive a bowl of fortune cookies and instead of playing the sick little game, they throw them in the trash. Something tells me that this isn't going to work out very well.

True Blood was, er… odd last night. Turns out, vampire sex makes me really, really uncomfortable. But there were plenty of normal moments in the episode too, at least normal for True Blood. Here’s what the people in Bon Temps have been up to:

Jason: Ever since he “got himself a drug-dealer” last week, it seems that Jason has found a new calling in life — being a police officer. Two things are alarming about this off the bat: first, Jason will follow a cause with the drop of a hat — remember his months spent converting to a crazy Christian cult? And secondly, he’s dropping one too many, “I can do this better than Andy Belfleur”’s for my comfort. It looks as though the vindictive, little-boy-hurt part of Jason is coming out and I don’t like it one bit. But we’ll probably be seeing more of it, as the only way that this idiot is going to bypass the deputy test is to cheat his way into the police department.

Tara: After punching the shit out of some rednecks, we find Ms. Suicide herself holed up in a nasty hotel room having some kind of insane sex with the mysterious English vamp who helped her get revenge for Eggs — you know, the one who’s also been nosing around Beel’s house. After some tantric nonsense, an almost bite (retracted because she “wanted it”), and a little bit of pillow talk, Tara gets freaked out by the fact that Vampy wants to know personal shit about her, so she runs out of the room and back to Merlotte’s to work a bartending shift. After serving Jason a drink — and getting confused by his ever-increasing (seemingly) displaced guilt — she gets a call about Eggs’ funeral going on. She shows up, only to find out that she’s the only person in all of Bon Temps to come to the burial. I guess people just don’t care enough to send serial killers off into the next life. But who paid for all of this? “I did,” says Sookie after walking out of the shadows in another pastel sundress. Best friend makeup time! Come live with me again! Okay! Blah, blah, hugandblah! The most interesting part of the Tara-sode comes when Vampy pays a visit to the Stackhouse home and charms his way into an invite. He wants to know all about Sookie and we want to know all about him.

Jessica: Poor, beautiful Jessica. Turned so young and so dumb. Wondering where her dead body has gone, she seeks guidance from the only other vampire she knows — Pam. But Pam is otherwise disposed at the time, fang-deep in that Estonian’s who-ha. Not only will this chick let Eric bang her out for 12 hours but she’ll let those chompers near her nether regions? Sweet Jesus, she’s a masochist. So, here she is. Without help and confused and who comes along but good ‘ol Vampy. He just saunters into the Compton mansion and Jess laments not knowing that a vampire can barge into any vampire home that he wants to — it’s humans whose residences he’s protected against. Acting props go to: Jessica, for playing the next scene like a dumb little girl instead of a dumb little girl trying to hide something. When Vampy asks her if anyone in her life has gone missing she replies that yes, her maker Beel Compton has, and it isn’t a bit of a rouse. She’s just too dumb for that. Beel isn’t exactly who Vampy was referring to, and he proves it by pulling the dead guy’s head out of a paper bag. See, his job is to “find things,” and since he’s done something to help her, she owes something to him. What does he want? He wants to know all about Beel Compton, and this chick starts spilling the beans like she’s in a Lucy episode. Vampy is the best thing to come into Bon Temps for quite some time.

Sookie: We get to find out what happens with the whole Eric/werewolf showdown! Sookie fires her gun at the wolf and Eric throws himself in front of the bullet to ensure that this dude can talk. But as soon as he starts bleeding, the wolf smells his blood and starts going rabid for V. He attacks Eric’s bullet wound like a frenzied addict and Eric can barely fight him off. It takes a bullet from Sookie’s gun to put him down, and even then Eric isn’t interested in trying to extract any information from him. He wants to kill him while he has the chance. After burying the assassin — the two has so much more chemistry than she and Beel!—Sookie wants to know who Jackson might be. Eric informs her that Jackson was referring to a place, not a person, as evidenced by the “obvious” Mississippi accent. It’s a funny aside that’s an obvious reference to the God-awful accents on this show — chief among them, Sookie’s. But this piece of information is just too much for our intrepid Sookie to told hold onto and do nothing about. Eric, knowing that she’s an idiot, tells her not to go, but she’s a big dummy and he knows that his words are falling on deaf ears so he sends her someone to act as a bodyguard. Alcide! He’s a werewolf whose family owes Eric money and he’s dreamy in that Olivier Martinez kind of way. Thus begins the roadtrip adventure to Jackson, where Alcide takes Sookie to a werewolf bar. It has wolves painted everywhere and people are wearing leather (except Sookie, who’s in a white sundress and "looks like lunch”) and God, do they love pool! Basically, werewolves have blended into human society by disguising themselves as bikers. Turns out there’s a whole new pack/old pack rivalry going on, with classy hunk Alcide being part of the less violent older crowd and the dudes who try and ravage Sookie and some guy who stole Alcide’s gf being part of the new. More shirtless werewolves, please.

Sam: After coming back from his near deadly run with little bro, Sam decides that it’s time to get back to Merlottes — leaving it in the hands of trigger happy Daddy-to-be (actually, that’s not his baby after all) Terry and V-mogul Lafayette probably isn’t the best business decision — and his trash family has mixed feelings. So Mommy, Daddy and jealous little bro make a road trip down to Bon Temps and end up taking trays full of shots before Sam kicks their drunk asses out of the bar. Something tells me this isn’t going to end well for the newly reunited family. At night, Sam’s security system is triggered (Sam really is the smartest person on this show) and he walks into his ransacked office only to find a mysterious bird flying away. Being the only shifter on the block was so much easier than this.

Beel: When last we saw our faithful Confederate soldier, he had just thrown an oil lamp at maker Lorena. This didn’t do much to take care of his problem, but she did look pretty awesome burnt to a crisp in charred, black riding crops. The King’s husband is freaking out because his rug from the 13th century has been ruined and I LOVE this queen. Vampire life be damned, there soot on the rug! The King reveals to Beel that he is currently doing Lorena’s bidding — hinting strongly that that bidding includes bodily harm to Sookie Stackhouse — but that he’d rather have Beel in his arsenal. Still thinking it over, Beel flashes back to three years after he was turned. He went to visit his wife and children, only to find that his son had been taken by small pox, his daughter sent away and his wife in shambles. This is all too much and Beel is overcome with emotion, causing him to cry tears of blood, which freaks the wifey out just a bit. After calling him the devil and a demon and various other names, Lorena comes sweeping in, telling Beel that the line between the human and vampire world must stay separate and that pain can only come from a blurring. She commands him to force her to forget that he was ever there and presumably leave forever. This memory reminds him that he has caused innumerable pain to Sookie too, and he pledges his allegiance to the King of Mississippi. Lorena is pissed when she finds out that Sookie is not to be harmed and hurls a bunch of insults at Beel. This precipitates the weirdest scene I’ve ever witnessed on television. I can’t even bear to type it out, but it involves violent copulation, Exorcist-esque head twisting and professions of love.

And that was True Blood.

I guess I'll talk about it. I taped The Real L Word, thinking that it might be entertaining and that perhaps (because it's on Showtime) it would illuminate the lives of real people in a real, unscripted way. The premise of the show is this: Lesbians in Los Angeles live, work and love. The twist that drew me in was that several of the cast members were the actual people who the characters on The L Word were based upon. Not that I watched that show either, but I thought it might be an interesting meta study in modern mediums, you know, to watch where it all began.

The pilot delivered on several levels. The women on the show do appear to be real. I think they're more exhibitionists than they are fame whores, so participation in producer-setup scenarios is much less frequent than on many other "reality" shows. I also feel like there are several people on the show, most notably the two engaged lesbians and the former player in a fledgling romance with a single mother, whose motives are probably educationally based. By this I mean that I think that they want to show the viewing audience that being a gay woman is just like being any other woman. And these people do show that. They dote on their dogs and watch TV and even deal with squabbling during child-handover after a split-custody agreement.

It's the other ones I'm worried about. They're all partying, promiscuous and afraid of commitment. It's annoying to watch a bunch of people like this in general, but when the piece of pop culture in question is serving another purpose (and intentional or not, it is) character portrayal needs to be tread lightly upon. The sad fact that exists in America today is that ecery individual is representative of the communities to which they belong. And when those communities include being a stigmatized minority, those actions (however minute or pedestrian) either support or refute the myriad assumptions about that entire group. That sucks. God, if I were representative of every copy editor in the world, they would probably think that we all like Lost to a creepy degree and crave ice cream like some people crave crack. And however much it sucks that I'm not judged that way and they are, it's still true. People in middle America, if they tuned into the series premiere of The Real L Word, would most likely reaffirm their assumptions that all gay people are promiscuous and irresponsible--incapable of maintaining a stable romantic relationship--and don't even get me started on what that means to proponents of Prop 8.

So, although there were a few highlights (I would watch a wedding planning show with those two ladies getting ready to tie the knot) mostly I just felt kind of sad a disappointed with this reality show offering. Oh, well. Guess I'll just have to watch some Lost repeats.

Summer’s favorite plaything, So You Think You Can Dance, is happening so I guess I should talk about it. They’ve retooled the format this season to include only ten actual contestants who are paired with ten all-stars. It’s an interesting enough twist, and it does raise the dancing bar for the competitors to a large degree, but I’m just kind of — I don’t know — bored with all of the perfection. Anyway, here are a few of my favorite dances so far:

Just kidding. There aren't any videos from the competition episodes. Here are some videos of people I like:

Super gay Kent, who's just as gay as they come and is oozing gay out of his gaylobes ever since he came to H-wood from Wapakaneta. Kent, I love you.



Lauren's young and perky, and it will probably affect her down the road when she can't do sexy-time dance moves. But I think that she's just too darn infectiously joyous for me to resist.



Okay, I guess I found a video of Robert on the show. Here he is with Courtney looking so attractive it could burn your eyes out with pretty. Too bad he's more interested in Kent than he is me.

Sometimes when I watch The City my heart swells because I like to pretend like this all isn’t incredibly scripted and that it really is a “little girl who could” story in NYC. Sometimes, like while watching this week’s episode, I just kind of want to throw things at the television and vomit into Ke$ha’s garbage bag boots. Here are some of the high-and lowlights of this episode:

1. Whitney has a big fashion trade show coming up where she can come into contact with buyers and store owners who might buy her lace leggings. It’s srs bzns and Kelly Cutrone is all hard-lined PR lady talking about questions that might be asked — aubergine this and egglant that. Those are actually the same color, but Whitney and her hair bow don’t know that so she just kind of stands there and looks vacuous and frightened — like she usually does — which I sort of just don’t get. This chick has the balls to wear a burnt orange Grandma drapery jacket but she can’t sell her own fashion line?

2. Olivia is charged with styling an Elle photo shoot for Ke$ha. I think they did this to me just so that I would have to type out K-E-dollar sign-H-A and hate my life. The party don’t start ‘til I punch Ke$ha in the face. While searching for accessories that exemplify “trashbag chic”, Olivia ends up in a store called Trash and Vaudeville. It’s my favorite kind of moment, just in general in life, because Olivia quite visibly thinks that she’s going to catch poor by being this far south of midtown. They have her try on some Bullet Boots (which are, of course, giant KISS boots with bullets and spikes on them) and she refuses to put both of the boots on. Maybe she knows something that we don’t know. Maybe if she put both of those boots on she would have lost all of her shiny hair power and gained 15 pounds and started shopping at Century 21. So she stands in her one boot, but does not walk, because that is somehow worse. She seriously says, “I’m not walking in these.” Some punked up shop girls make fun of her and she looks sad and dejected, just like that time that Blair Waldorff went to NYU and couldn't wear her headband.

3. The trade show is kind of a hot mess. People come and look at Whitney’s lamé (accent optional) jackets and unflattering pants and some stores buy some of them. A creepy Italian comes by and wants to see them on an actual person. Kelly Cutrone, in her infinite wisdom, suggests that Whitney strip down and throw on some of the clothes which is both creepy and flattering in the best kind of Kelly Cutrone way (“we don’t have a model because we have a recession going on, but who needs one when your designer looks like this).

She puts on some kind of a shiny halter thing but she’s still wearing her regular bra and it reminds me of this one time that I ended up swapping shirts with a girl at some party, thinking I looked extra hot, only to realize later that my black bra did not look so cute with the pale pink halter. The creepy Italian dude likes bra straps though, and decides to order a little bit of this and a little bit of that, sending Roxy into a frenzied panic of numbers and letters and writing. Really, she just has to fill out an order form but Roxy is not “not very good at school”, which can loosely be translated into regular world speak as, “don’t trust me around children or important papers." Even so, the trade show is a success and Whitney feels like she’s finally cutting out her piece of the pie in this crazy town.
4. Louise meets Olivia for lunch for no other reason than to defecate on Erin’s plans to turn them into enemies. They talk about Elle.com, Olivia comes off looking like an awkward robot and Louise comes off looking like a beautiful, English fairy princess. They bond over fashion and don’t eat a bite of the food that they purposefully haven’t ordered. Now, this is what NYC is really like.

5. Turns out creepy Italian dude’s order fell through, so now Whit’s stuck with all of the inventory that he promised to purchase and has no excuse to continue her side stint as a replacement model on-the-go. Roxy gets blamed because she didn’t follow up on the order but she claims that she had no idea that she was supposed to because Whitney didn’t specifically request it. After Whitney walks away, equal parts sad and mad, a mash-up of “Enter Sandman” and the Peanuts theme song plays in the background. Kelly deals Roxy some advice: "Every time you see her acting like that, just remember like, what’s going on in her head. I’m scared, I’m without my family, I might lose everything that I have, and I’m not sure about what I’m doing." It’s pretty good advice, had Whitney been any normal person trying to make it in NYC. But given that she comes from money and gets paid like $20,000 an episode to tape this god awful show, she’s not really going to be destitute if this whole Whitney Eve thing falls through.
6. The Ke$ha photoshoot happens. The “singer” in question stumbles in wearing a leotard and 6-day-old matted hair (I think her dignity’s somewhere in there!). Olivia’s aflutter with doing her fake job, suggesting high end purses that just do not go at all, and showing off the one-of-a-kind “trashbag shoes” she had designed especially for Ke$ha.

People "ooooh" and "ahhhh" over them, but they honestly look like some black heels that I tied garbage bag scraps to. Why are you bringing yourself down to this level, Joe Zee?

7. In what possibly could serve as the best catfight this season thus far, Olivia tells Erin that her “masterplan” (people say things like this?!) to “pin” she and Louise against one another isn’t working. Erin retorts that the phrase is “to pit against” and denies have such a plan, which actually probably is true. I’m sure she just wanted to show how much better an option Louise could be without all of this extra drama and Olivia still being around business. Olivia comes back with something that involves the word “whatever” and I laugh and laugh. People not knowing what words mean is funny.

The Bachelorette headed off the Iceland this week, proving that a whirlwind romantic tour ought not include cold climates. Everyone is so bundled up in parkas and peacoats that only their personalities are left to shine. It's really more of a dull glow. The weather also highlights the fact that 3/10 dudes you know bought those Russian bear hats last year, and they look like idiots when they’re standing together. Task #1 for the guys is to write Ali a love poem. So, off the men go, careening through the streets of Rychavichlandbjork and asking unsuspecting Icelanders how to say “I’m here for Ali.” Hey guys, you know what’s hilarious? Americans butchering other languages! Oh, the rest of the world, why do you even bother?

The guys perform their poems: Kirk’s is pretty good and it seems like he’s learned from last week’s Roberto-moment-of-genius and instead of screaming into the wind, walks up to Ali and recites the words of love. Frank’s is also decent, but when he walks up right after Kirk walked up, he looks like a cheap, Chinatown knock-off. Rapey Eyes, who I’d previously forgotten about until this episode forgets his lines (like, he literally says, “I forgot my lines", which makes the meta-scripting of this show sort of apparent for a split second and makes me laugh inside with glee). But although Rapey Eyes shares a facial feature with Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, he does not share the same acting ability. Not to be outdone in the “making the viewer uncomfortable” category, Kermit the Frog recites his love sonnet and boy, is it unrecognizable as the English language. To be fair, I’m sure he saw what all of the other boys were doing and sweatshirt wrapped around his neck like a babushka, but without headwear (because that would mess up his hair), he too ventured off into the Icelandic wilderness to frighten them with his voice and get another tattoo on an unnamed body part. And I’m sure somewhere in there he recited the Icelandic words for “protect and guard” but in the end they needed to subtitle him and it seemed that he ended the poem with something about her chest. I realize that this is the set-up episode for his leaving and that Ali should probably be sleeping with one eye open, but I’m gonna miss old Kermie.

Kirk wins the date and they go shopping for sweaters. It’s one of those scenes in reality television that bugs the crap out of me, where the person “looking for love” waxes poetic about how awesome the person who they’re on a date with is, simply because they’re easygoing or fun or have a sense of humor. These aren’t difficult-to-find qualities. They’re prerequisites, like having limbs and disliking Nickleback. Ali feels like Kirk’s “holding something back” (2010 candidate for most overused reality TV phrase) and I start salivating that he has some sort of a secret past as a female circus entertainer. Alas, he just has some pseudo sob-story about living in a shitty house in college that made him sick. Ali thinks that it explains why he’s so positive but I’m just wondering why living in a cheap house in college that gives you colds while simultaneously experiencing nights where your legs feel numb makes you a survivor. If I had a nickel for every time I paid rent in a house that no human should be living in and drank so much I experienced psychosomatic paralysis, I could probably buy myself a rose. It was certainly worth that for Kirk, who will be around for another week.

When the list for the group date comes to the house, everyone but Kermit the Frog and Rated X are named, setting the end of the episode up for the epic show down between the two most caricature-worthy dudes in the house. But in the meantime, Ali goes out with a whole gaggle of dudes, including my boyfriend Frank, the balding lawyer, cowboy Ty, Rapey Eyes, Roberto and the other one. Ty seems poised to win the rose given that the group is riding on horses and he’s a cowboy. God, I know they keep my office at approximately 37 degrees, but I’m getting cold just thinking about horsing around in that barren wilderness. Worst. Date. Ever. So, it comes as no surprise that when they finally reach the destination: a hot spring, that everyone strips down to their bathing suits faster than you can say, “I can’t believe he threw me under the bus.” Ali tells Frank that she feels like he’s not pushing his way to the front enough, and really, he isn’t. Probably because the idea of competing for a female like she’s a free t-shirt in a bar is perturbing.

Then the whammy happens. Rated X and Kermit head up in a helicopter with Ali to overlook the majestic snow and mountains of snow and flurrying snow and a FUCKING VOLCANO! Iceland is freaking me out, guys. They drop down and explore an ice cave with ice furniture and they call it “so cool” and the wrestler (now being referred to as “the wrestler” by Frank…lol) has his cast off so he’s feeling extra walk-y. It all looks very cold to me and it’s the worst kind of torture to make these people do their one-on-one’s sitting in the fucking snow. Not even Kermit deserves this. So, Rated X talks some Canadian and then it’s just Kermie and Ali and his tattoo and the snow and the volcano and perhaps some caribou or whatever mammals live in Iceland. Ali says that all he has to do is “be normal” which is actually kind of genius, but this is a frog we’re talking about. When he finally takes his gloves off to really tell Ali how he feels there’s still a small part of me that thinks he might be going in for the strangulation, but he ends up showing her the tattoo — its 11 studs for the 11 studs competing for her heart, the heart for her heart, the lock for his protection, and the dry skin and scabs to represent whatever grows in his throat to make him sound like that. Ali just stares straight ahead thinking, “This is how it ends. On an Icelandic volcano, my breath slowly being stripped from me by a crazed man who seems to always be underwater.” The Frog King goes on about how he hopes he can show it to his wife someday and I think he might be talking about the ladies he keeps stuffed and posed in his basement; they’re going to love the tattoo. The crazy’s just too much and Ali chooses Rated X, resulting in Kermit being left on the mountain, never to be seen again.

Back at the mansion, or whatever, the guys are getting one last chance to impress Ali, as there’s still one more of them going home. The lawyer is funny! And charming! And draws a tattoo on his wrist so that Ali can laugh about that whole debacle instead of waking up 17 times a night, checking her closet! But, he’s also balding and average-looking so I’m thinking he’ll go home next week. To contrast, there’s Rapey Eyes, who talk with Ali goes something like this:

Ali: Tell me something about yourself I wouldn’t know.
RE: My ex-girlfriend used to always say, “You’re so funny.”

And that would have been actually funny had his stilted delivery and tangible awkwardness been intentional.

Ali: What’s your biggest vice?
RE: I really like…Mexican food.

WATCH OUT EVERYBODY, THERE’S A GUY ON THE LOOSE WHO ENJOYS CHIMICHONGAS!!!

Spoiler Alert: He goes home. But Ali, that hug seemed so warm and natural!