I stopped watching the Bachelor a while back when that dipshit Firestone ruined himself and his family name (god, he was a boring subject), and I never thought I would watch this bullshit again, that is until I met DeAnna and her band of sensitive, frat-boy, jocko-homo’s, that make this season’s Bachelorette the best show ever. These pathetic male groupies make themselves look so ridiculous, that I feel sorry for them. Can you imagine sitting around with ten dudes all dating the same girl talking about who has had the most “face time” and what guy has the best “connection”? Shit, the fact that any of these helpless thirty-something’s use the word “journey” to describe a three-week stint on a reality show is enough to throw my television and my own brain into a pit of spikes shat upon by aids ridden Hell’s Angels.
I am a huge fan, Howard Stern is a huge fan, my wife is a fan, my dog is a fan (she’s a Maltese named Josie and she thinks Graham is gonna win).
The fact that the Bachelorette herself looks about a week away from being a Del Mar cougar (Del Mar, California—check out The Poseidon and Red Tracton’s on Thursdays and Fridays to see some “real” cougars for yourself) tells me that the guys n the show are looking forward to loosing early, and getting laid nightly in the bars of their respective hometowns—good for you guys!