Hi everyone, get pumped because (cue Technotronic's Pump Up the Jam, let it linger a bit longer than seems normal, dance nonetheless the whole time) … BACHCAPS are back!!! Evan and I couldn’t be more excited about this season for a host of reasons, but the two primary ones are: Juan Pabs (obvs) and the addition of Sara Circs (aka @saracircle aka “Bazooka Mom”) to the BACHCAP team. It’s about time we got some female perspective into these finely crafted pieces, what with the Bach being a show that preys on fascination with dramatically spectacular romance (for the ladies), a weakness for looking at boobies (for the men), and a love of watching train wrecks fall from cliffs and land in fiery balls of wreckage smack dab on top of fireworks factories (for everyone). Help us navigate these waters, Sara. Tell us how dumb we are. We need this.
This week’s categories for the premier basically rule the school so enjoy, kids.
Girl most likely to murder your family if you break up with her
ZWR: No brainer: crazy Lauren H. the mineral coordinator. Let’s see: unused wedding dress in intro thingy, freaking out at the cocktail party whenever girls talk to each other, crying on the first night, tells Juan Pablo about getting dumped IN TREMENDOUS DETAIL when they finally get a chance to talk. This girl would absolutely plunge a knife right into your uncle Morty’s back and then drive to Sonic for a cherry limeade with blood all over her arms and face.
SARACIRCS: C’mon guys. Lauren H. is a red herring. *Mineral coordinator*? That’s not a real thing, and she’s not a real person. The answer is the lady who rolled in on a piano.
ZWR: What’s a “red herring”? I didn’t go to Williams.
SARACIRCS: I dunno, man. Doesn’t it sound like something Shakespeare would say?
THE EVSTER: Renee the single mom seemed pretty cool, kinda cute, down-to-earth, but she also rollerblades. Plus, she has a child, so obviously her crazy-level is exponentially higher than any non-child-having human being. I saw a mother this past weekend in the supermarket checkout lane who kept telling her daughter to “GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF THE CONVEYOR BELT,” because as we all know, thousands of children every day lose their fingers on conveyor belts.
|I wrote "Crazy" on her shirt|
Girl most likely to give you the “WHOA ZOMG YES PLZ” in a place that isn’t a bedroom on the first date
ZWR: Probably Cassandra, the former NBA dancer? I mean, if you’re around professional athletes a lot you probably get somewhat accustomed to one night stands and boinking in cars and jacuzzis, right? That absolutely made no sense but I stand by my answer Saracircs stop giving me that look!
THE EVSTER: Here’s my problem with Cassandra, the former NBA dancer. She’s 21, and when you’re 21, you can’t really be a former anything. Well, except a former virgin. She’s definitely a former virgin. So am I for the record.
ZWR: Also, is some 21 year old smoke show really that hard up on finding guys that she needs to go on The Bachelor? No way she’s ready for settling down and/or marriage. That’s crazy talk.
SARACIRCS: Lucy the free spirit. Did you see her? I mean, did you really look at her? Her face was dirty. It was the premiere episode of The Bachelor on ABC and she had dirt on her face. No question she gave Juan Pabs the whatever-you-called-it in the foyer 36 minutes into last night’s episode.
If you were a professional soccer player and went by one name what would it be?
ZWR: Penguino. Hey, speaking of soccer, I hate feet. If I were Juan Pabs (stop laughing) I’d kick that stupid hippy girl out the second she wandered in with no shoes on GET TO STEPPING PAULA COLE.
THE EVSTER: I have always felt that people who don’t like feet are missing out on one of the purest, rawest, most sensual and disgusting ways of receiving sexual pleasure. Like, there is truly nothing more erotic than having a woman kick you square in the neck with her bare, webbed feet. My soccer name would obviously be Le Petit Oeuf.
SARACIRCS: Ugh. I hate soccer, and pretty much sports in general. What exactly is it you do on this website again, Mr. WithRoy? I’m still...uh...familiarizing myself. Anyway, when I was growing up, the counselors at camp made fun of me whenever we played soccer because I would actually run AWAY from the ball. I was also about 40 inches tall until my 28th birthday. Anyway, I guess my soccer name would be Sapporo. C’mon, you know that sounds amazing.
WTF DID YOU SEE THAT MASSAGE THERAPIST’S INTRO THINGY?
ZWR: Dude what the butt was that? I’ve never gotten a massage, but is it normally some weirdo mounting your back on all fours pawing at your head like a cat? And then she randomly pretended to feed him like a baby with the airplane spoon? WAIT WHAT WHY HOW? And then she followed it up with a hella-awkward massage for JUANPABS and her crazy eyes and essential oils bro she’s straight up crazy, too, just not “murder crazy” like Lauren H. the mineral coordinator.
THE EVSTER: No it’s not normally like that. Normally it’s a dude with enormous hands wrenching his knuckles into your ribcage while your bare butt is fully exposed. There’s also mood music playing -- sometimes harpsichords and little bells and wind chimes, and other times ocean sounds and sea lions and soft, hairless women playing bicycle pianos. And now for the least surprising thing you’ll read all season: the massage therapist was BY FAR my favorite.
SARACIRCS: Evster, you know you can request a female masseuse, right?
THE EVSTER: Yes.
ZWR: Crickets. I like crickets.
SARACIRCS: K. Anyway, massage lady got what she wanted: a brief moment of national exposure. We’ll be seeing her on QVC hawking tooth whiteners within the year.
How many times did your dumb wife fan herself when Juan Pabs was on screen?
ZWR: I can’t even count how many. One highlight was when they showed him soaping up his pecs in the shower and she grabbed her phone in like two one-hundredths of a second and ALREADY had texts from Jewish Gill and Kara (our neighbor friends) discussing his soapy man breasts. Then the three of them spent the next twenty minutes sending lewd iMessages to each other.
THE EVSTER: Juan Pablo and I essentially look the same with our shirts off, except that my body is completely covered in moles and I have the teeniest, tiniest, itty-bitty Chef Boyardee nips. Although I gotta be honest, I think I like Juan Pabs way more than my wife does. I mean, she likes him, she definitely likes him, and we both absolutely love that he named his daughter after Gonzo’s pet chicken, but she generally likes a more rugged dude. Someone like Jon Snow or Idris Elba or every single one of my non-Jewish friends.
SARACIRCS: I see we have not yet updated the questions to accommodate our wifeless contributors. No matter. I, like so many women before me, will adjust so you white men don’t have to. Anyway, you’re in luck: I was watching with a straight female friend (and my allegedly straight husband). Gotta say though, Juan Pablo doesn’t do much for any of us. The best Bachelor of all time was British Matt, who LOVED being in the spotlight and LOVED women and was SUPER charming and KINDA skeezy and WAY hot. Also I once saw him at Ye Olde King’s Head, a British pub in Santa Monica (California -- where I live, you boneheads), and I could have sworn he was checking me out. I mean, I’d also had six pints (that’s British for “pints”), but AN EYEBALL IS AN EYEBALL.
Favorite girl with big boobies who owns an assisted living center
ZWR: Lacy, Definitely Lacy.
THE EVSTER: Dude, at one point Lacy said, “I was raised to believe that you’re not completely dressed without a smile,” which proves that she’s a Class A, Special Ops, bonafide DORF.
SARACIRCS: Nikki if you gave her an assisted living center.
Were you allowed to even sleep in bed with your wife after that episode?
The Evster: Let it be known that I have recently gained like 20 pounds because I’m on this new, prescription medicashe (yes, people, I’m on boner pills) and it causes me to snore like a goddamn hippoplatymous (combination hippo and platypus). Anyway, last night -- at around 1am -- I overheard my wife crawling out of bed so she could sleep in the guest bedroom so of course I gave one of those half-hearted, “Oh no Honey, don’t go,” and pretended to reach over and grab her when really I was just sprawling out on the bed face down like a homicide victim. Suffice it to say, I completely swaddled in the covers and had a wonderful night’s sleep and have not made sufficient love to my wife in roughly 6 to 12 months.
ZWR: WAH 2.0 got up at 12:30, 3:00, and 5:30. The WAH woke up at like four asking to go potty, then five minutes later because she lost her Tinkerbell, then like ten minutes later because she needed a drink of water, and then like ten minutes after that because her blanket was crooked. The point of all this is go screw your face I hate you I haven’t slept since 2010.
SARACIRCS: Dude, Zoo, we gotta talk about sleep training your kids.
ZWR: They’re not human.
How many babies did Chris Harrison sell to get this job?
ZWR: Can’t wait until I get up at 6:15 tomorrow morning and it’s four degrees outside. This guy is the luckiest piece of crap on earth. He has to be some Disney executive’s brother-in-law or something, right? I mean, he does NOTHING. It’s like having someone referee the skill crane. “You got a teddy bear, congrats.” “You didn’t get a teddy bear, sorry. Best of luck to you.”
/imagines a referee standing next to the skill crane at Denny’s, cracks up.
THE EVSTER: I will seriously sell a baby.
SARACIRCS: I honestly have babies to sell.