duh, just like we all expected Emily chose Arie Jef f on Sunday’s finale of “The Bachelorette.”
The first hint that things weren’t going to necessarily go as expected should have registered when ABC pulled a fast one and aired the stupid thing on Sunday instead of during the show’s normal Monday time slot. Maybe that’s what they normally do with the finale—I don’t know. I may be a loser who watches lots of reality TV but I can tell you this: I do not pay close attention to things.
Anyway, Emily shocked literally dozens of nerds like me who thought for sure Jef was nice, but more of a novelty boyfriend than husband material, when she chose him instead of picking sweet, beautiful, one-dimensional Arie. I mean, Arie drives race cars for crying out loud. Yeah. RACE. CARS. That bitch is from West Virginia. Nothing horns ‘em up in the Mountaineer state quite like a guy who drives a fast car in circles for three hours. Plus he has that pointy hair Emily really seems to like (*cough* Brad). Buuuuuuut nooooooo. She went and picked the Conan O’Brien/Brian Setzer hybrid and screwed everything up.
OK, so I really like Jef, and the odds are pretty good that he’s a great guy and with this newfound love he’ll probably also discover the missing “F” from his first name. But would it have killed Chris Harrison during the finale, when Emily asked for his advice on what to do seeing as she already knew she was in love with Jef, to sigh deeply and say: “Ya know, I think the right thing to do here is to go on your final date with Arie. I mean, don’t you think you at least owe it to him to give him 24 more hours of happiness thinking he might actually have a shot with you by waiting and ripping out his, er, gently telling him at the final rose ceremony—and I would go into as much detail as possible as to why Jef is the better man here? It is not only the right thing to do, but the ONLY THING TO DO. Now go.”?
But no, instead he said some stupid shit about thinking about Arie and his feelings and blah blah blah. BO-ring!
Anyway, after that moment, I pretty much glazed over and zoned out until the “After the Final Rose” portion of the 17-hour marathon when Miss America said, “Charleston,” in response to where she was planning on marrying Jef. At that point I snapped out of my coma and was all, “OH HELL YES!” Immediately I wanted to text her and tell her all the great reasons as well as the not-so-great reasons for why she should get married here. But then I remembered that I didn’t have her number. And plus there was the whole “restraining order” thing. Anyway, had I texted her I would have told her the following pros and cons:
And then I remembered she’s from West Virginia and they have a Charleston there too. So, um, crap. Mighta jumped the gun there. Oh, well, who cares, “Bachelor Pad” is on now and I think I speak for all of America* when I say, BOOBS!
*OK, so probably just American males