I watched my man, Ben, on The Bachelor this week. I’m glad the dude is getting some redemption after that heartless wench pulled him off his knees and diced his manhood in front of millions. He’s a good sport considering he was totally set up. Really, Ash, you couldn’t give him a hint?
It would be cool if they did a season with an old fuck like me. They’d probably need to put it on HBO as my filter has worn thin.
Chris: So, Phil, how do you feel? Are you excited?
Phil: I’m giddy as a dog at a Snausage buffet. These chicks had better be hot and infertile.
Chris: Oh, I think you’ll be quite pleased with our selection. Here comes limousine number one. Good luck, buddy.
The first limo pulls up and I can hear some squealing.
Bachelorette #1: He’s so cute! I’ll have him get rid of that goatee, though.
B #2: Quick, pass me the Veuve before it’s my turn.
B #3: You whores better keep away from him. He’s mine!
B #4: How’s my hair?
B #5: Fuck, I thought it was Ames.
I stand on the driveway, which the producers at ABC decided to spray down with water. The limo door opens and the first bachelorette emerges, slips, and bangs her head on the door which dislodges her extensions. I try to not to laugh, to no avail. Cut to commercial.
The next woman emerges and approaches me.
B: Hi, I’m Brittney.
Phil: Hi, Brittney. What a lovely dress.
B: Thank you. You’re cute. I know you’re a writer, so I wrote you this poem…
Phil: Save it, Sugar. I have over twenty more women to meet. Just go inside and drink, please.
B: Um, OK.
Like Ben did, I spin to check out the hiney. Not bad. I give Chris a thumbs up. Chris gives me the cut-it-out sign.
The next bachelorette emerges. She’s old.
Phil: Hold up. Nope. Get back in there.
B: Excuse me?
Phil: Look, Darling, I’m going to save you embarrassment. You won’t like me. Get back in the limo.
Chris isn’t happy with my shenanigans.
Chris: Dude, you’re supposed to meet all of the women and do the eliminating at the end of the show. That keeps the sponsors happy.
Phil: She was like eighty, Fucknuts. What gives?
Chris: I’m the expert. Trust me. We need to mix in some sloppy messes with the good ones so the viewers are amused.
Phil: Fine. I’ll play along.
The next woman emerges and she’s lovely.
Phil: Chris, give me one of those roses.
Chris: What did I just tell you?
Phil: Give me one, Dickhead, or I’m just going to snap one off the landscaping.
Chris: That won’t count.
Phil: You suck.
B: Um, hi?
Phil: Oh, hey. You know, please don’t say anything else so I can savor this moment before you show your true stark raving mad emotional bitch side. Chris? The rose?
Chris: Not happening.
Phil: Goddamn it. Fine. What’s your name, Sweetness?
B: You told me to be quiet.
Phil: Well, you get points for following directions.
I drop to one knee and pull a ring pop from my pocket.
Phil: Amy, will you marry …
Chris: Jesus … cut!
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