Friday, February 26, 2016


I woke up in a daze. My phone was vibrating uncontrollably. I glanced over and noticed I was in an overeager group chat. It was 7:04 in the morning, at least five of my alarms were going off.

It took me a moment to realize what was happening. My ears were still ringing from an Eric Prydz concert and I was probably on two and a half hours of sleep. There was a light knock on my bedroom door before it swung open.

"Thanks for letting me crash man."

There was a guy standing in front of me that I definitely recognized as someone I had been with the previous night, but certainly could not recall his name.

"You really saved me, first time I've ever had a bad trip."

I kinda nodded and gave him a thumbs up as he showed himself out. I searched through my phone for some clues as to how the night had ended. I remember leaving the Palladium but definitely not getting home. FUCK. $200 Uber? Not good. My phone buzzed again.

"So, are you on your way?"

Ya. 5 minutes. A classic lie when you're running late.

I was supposed to pick up a buddy on my way to our Brentwood pre game for the Northern Trust Open. A 7am pre game. I quickly open the Uber app and see an inexplicable morning 4x, I decide to drive.

I throw on a pink sweater vest and I'm in Brentwood by 730am not too bad. At this point my hangover isn't too bad. I try to remember if I actually took some shrooms from a guy I met in the bathroom or if I just dreamt that. I decide to grab a mimosa and not worry about it.

By 9am, we are inside the Riviera Country Club double fisting beers. Aside from aforementioned sweater vest I am wearing some pleated cream pants and red Sperry's. My friends are all wearing very wide leisure hats. I want to say we were doing this ironically but we fit in extremely well. I should add that the crowd was 99% white and we all looked like we had reputable fathers and "came from a good family."

I think I was on my 5th beer before we had even seen anyone tee off. Somehow we were swept away into the United tent to hit golf balls on a simulator. From 160 yards away from the pin I was able to hit a snap hook so bad that I ended 170 away from the pin. The events coordinator told me it was the single worst shot she had ever seen.

Finally we made it to the driving range to watch Dustin Johnson. We all agreed that we were going to root for him because he does cocaine and fucks other player wives.

After watching DJ hit the driver a few times we followed around a group that included Rory and Bubba Watson I think? I dunno, I was shampoo effecting really hard and don't remember specifics. Golf tournaments are weird. You can literally reach out and touch the best players in the world, people run right up to the temporary barriers with hands outstretched hoping for a fist bump. And while I choke even if the starter is watching me tee off, these guys have to do it in front of hundreds of random bros that have been drinking since 8 o clock in the morning.

We spent the day wandering around, drinking beers, pitching each other TV shows, putting on some of the impromptu mini golf courses the tournament had set up; real white guy stuff. All the while I forget that it's about 90 degrees and sunny as fuck.

After a while watching 30something white guys hit perfect shots becomes a bit of a bore, so we quickly switched to degenerate gambling. Closest to the hole, will he make this putt, shortest drive buys a round of beers. I'm sure we never intended on collecting any of these debts, but it certainly kept the Bud heavies flowing.

When we reached the 18th I was trying to text people at home where they could see me and also watch to see if Bubba was going to make in 40 foot Birdie putt. It was tough to tell as I was seeing double. Perched on a hill, I very nearly stumbled and took out an entire section of fans. Fortunately I was able to tuck and roll and only make a fool of myself.

By the time we were ready to go see ska revival band 'The English Beat' I could tell that my skin would be peeling by morning. I was having trouble standing. At some point in between my second and third cigar, I just wedged myself against a tree to prevent from falling down. It was time to leave.

On the way out, we walked by multi-million dollar Brentwood homes that I will never be able to afford, I stumbled upon a caddy and asked how much it would cost me and my friends to play a round at the Riv.

"About $50,000." He quipped.

A boy can dream.

After powering down for a couple hours I decided I was safe to drive back to Venice (I wasn't.) I made it back to the couch just in time to see Indiana smash Purdue, I was ready to call it a night at 730pm but that was not to be. My fellow golf buddies had rallied and were coming to Venice.

What followed was a bunch of stuff I'm not particularly proud of. More ecstasy, doing a nasal douche with a netti pot so I could hoover more adderall, trying and failing to make out with an Asian girl in the basement of some bar, falling on my face when she moved out of the way. I get kicked out of Townhouse so often these days, I don't even fight in anymore.

The next day was rough. I had that kind of hangover that you only get when you've been partying in the heat. It felt like the Monday after Coachella. No matter how much water I drank, my urine still came out this abhorrent dark hue of brown. My back hurt, I went down a rabbit hole on WebMD and came to the conclusion that I had Pancreatits, the same ailment that had sent one of my study abroad roommates home. The base of my skull hurt, I concluded that I had a bleeding aneurysm. Death was imminent.

Monday was worse, Tuesday was just as bad.

Wednesday I considered checking in to the Marina Del Rey Hospital for an IV.

Thursday I searched Facebook to see if I had any nurse friends that would be willing to sneak me a saline solution.

And then I made it to Friday…and all my problems just drifted away. My pending court cases, my potential physical ailments…they don't matter now.

In 7 hours I'm going to Park City for my second ski trip of the season. There will be lift beers, there will be hot tub beers, there will be pares beers, there will be general shot gunning beers. I CAN'T WAIT.

And then Monday, I'll be hungover. Tuesday will be shit. By Wednesday, I'll probably stop contemplating driving into oncoming traffic.

But then FRIDAY, nothing will matter anymore. I'll drive to San Diego with a bunch of hot chicks and live such an emotional high for 48 hours it will make up for all of the bullshit.

Then Coachella is coming and I'm going to Denmark and Germany and Sweden…LIFE IS SO EXCITING. But for the Monday headaches...

It's a vicious cycle that begs the questions…is it worth it? is this a way to live? Can you just ignore and run away from all of your problems?

The answer, at least for the moment, is yes.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Over the Hills and Far Away

I once drove four hours to a girl's house on a Thursday night. I didn't have work off the next day, I wasn't planning a long weekend. I simply left Lake Forest, IL at around 530 pm and by the time I made it to Indy it was probably about 1030pm (time zone change) When I got there I think we had a glass of wine, watched one episode of Say Yes to the Dress and went to bed. We seriously might not have even had sex.

The next morning I woke up at 5am and drove to my shitty job in Chicago.

That was dumb.

But I was 23 and I was 'in love.' That's probably the stupidest thing I ever did 'for love.'

The irony of the story is that the following Monday, I did not make it to work. See I had gone straight from work that Friday to the Milwaukee airport, flown to NYC and proceeded to do all of the cocaine in Manhattan. Then I took the 6am MONDAY flight back to Milwaukee, with the plan to drive straight to work in the North Shore suburbs.

For those of you keeping track at home, my plan had read like this.

Thursday- Go to work, drive to Indiana.
Friday- Drive from Indiana to Lake Forest, IL. Work. Drive to Wisconsin. Fly to New York. Party.
Saturday- Party
Sunday- Party
Monday- Fly to Wisconsin, drive to Illinois. Go to work, drive home to Chicago.

The human body has limits. This was my breaking point. I made it to the Milwaukee airport and had a total meltdown. I slept on the floor of baggage claim for two hours and then drove straight back to Chicago and proceeded to sleep for 20 hours. When I showed up to work on Tuesday, I claimed I thought we had MLK day off. It kinda worked. I wouldn't be fired for five more months.


That is a rough travel story. Pity me if you want, or just think to yourself that I am a degenerate for attempting to pull something like that off. But whatever you do, don't pity Amanda from the Bachelor. Because she's doing just fine.

If you're having trouble following, I should note that Amanda (the mom) was sent home last night. She seemed to be cool with it outside of the fact that Ben made her drive all the way up the 405 to LA. Really harshing her mellow man...

95 miles? One hour and forty five minutes? That's nothing.

How DARE Ben Higgins summon her from Orange County to summarily dump her on national TV!! What are her kids supposed to think?

Guys, Amanda was at Bungalow last Saturday, she's doing just fine.

I bet Amanda didn't even have to drive herself to the mansion in Agoura Hills. ABC def sprung for a black car to get her. Maybe even an SUV. Hell, I bet they put her up in a nice hotel afterward.

But I'm not writing this post today to poke fun at Amanda. I'm sure she'll continue to party the rest of her 20's and take over parenting duties from Mom and Dad once it's convenient for her. The truth is we have three girls left and I don't know who to cheer for anymore. They all kinda suck, so instead of ranking the girls today, I'll be ranking their hometowns based on what was shown in the episode.

3. Hudson, OH
Before we go anywhere, I just want to mention that I am TOTALLY not prejudice against Ohio. SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS ARE OHIOANS. That said, JESUS that place looks like the worst. I think the only thing worse than being from Cleveland would be an almost suburb of Cleveland. Not even a fucking toy factory could save this date. It also doesn't help that Caila's dad is a fucking vampire.


Caila's dad…

A vampire…

Ok, maybe it's a bit of a stretch.

2. Dallas, TX
How do you want to spend your day in Dallas? You want to argue about an ex-boyfriend and then get roughed up by my brothers?

No? Would it help if I told you my parents are rich as fuck and not only do they have a giant plantation but I myself live in an apartment straight out of an Anthropologie catalogue?

It helps a little I guess. Anything else?

Ya my mom's plastic surgery looks like this…


1. Portland, OR

God dammit, we got cheated out of our Venice day because Lauren was actually raised in Portland. But you know what? Lauren's day in Portland was normal and really that's all we want at this point, right? They went whisky tasting and her parents were pretty cool. Her sister was kind of a babe…and her brothers point blank asked Ben if he was planning on fucking her next week in the Fantasy Suite. Now those are future bros in law I can get on board with.

It's time for this season to end, shit is going off the rails.

See you in Jamaica bitches.

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Indiana Travel Guide

I apologize for not putting up a Bachelor recap last week. I was busy reading hot take think pieces about a 19 year old boy putting his balls in a trainers face and a rock star doing a fuck ton of drugs and hooking up with a groupie.


I'm kidding, I was dealing with real life stuff and to be honest the episode was pretty shitty. They went to the Bahamas and it rained the whole time.

Wanna know what happened last time I went to the Bahamas in inclement weather? I flew there on a goddamn private jet and went to a day club where a gay man in a cowboy hat game me a one pound bag of ecstasy pills. I then proceeded to take about five of those pills during dinner at Nobu and accosted Steve Urkel at Aura. I think I stole his bottle because he refused a picture with me. All the while my house in Bloomington was being raided by a man named Captain Cash who is now dead.

"Come at the king you best not miss."

I'm sorry, that started as a humble brag before I went full on douche. I apologize. The moral of the story is that shitty weather does not make The Bahamas boring. Shitty people make the Bahamas boring.

Thank Christ this week gave us Conservative Mecca Indiana, which you may be aware is my home state. I have complicated feelings about Indiana because while it was a wonderful place to grow up, it's also boring as shit. But this week, as Indiana is wont to do for large events, it brought the fucking heat.

I've never been more proud to be a Hoosier…welcome to God's country.

Stop 1: Winona Lake
Welcome to Winona Lake, the smaller shittier Wawasee! If you have ever met a person from Indiana with a shred of financial stability they probably talk about this cool lake that has a bar that is loosely affiliated with Frogs.

THIS IS NOT THAT LAKE. It's a glorified retention pond, in fact I couldn't tell from Ben's shitty pontoon boat but I imagine there is some sort of HP restriction on those motors. NO EXTREME WAKEBOARDING BRO.

Anyway, Ben jets the girls over to some 'waterfront Air BnB' that I assure you costs $200 a night for the entire house. There will be people on the internet today that stress that the Higgins family is wealthy. I will calmly retort, I currently have sufficient savings (about $1000) to retire to Northern Indiana. Once Ben drops the chicks off at home we find out that Basic Bitch Lauren is getting date 1…yippie!

Stop 2: Community Center
You know you live in a one horse town when the grand tour consists of your middle school, your high school and a fucking community center. But this community center had it all: white kids playing sports, a mentally handicapped kid that can do parlor tricks and even a bullied youth crying in the corner!

As if Down's Sydrome kids making bets and hitting half court shots wasn't enough, the goddamn Indiana Pacers showed up! George Hill tried his best to play the local card. "I grew up in Indiana, it's a small state." Paul George was much less convincing. I could see it in his eyes, "I'm a motherfucking superstar, why am I in Warsaw, Indiana?" I don't know Paul, I don't know.

The Pacers make the kids do jumping jacks and some other shit that got my frat kicked off for hazing and then Ben and Lauren kiss. It's cute, I guess.

Stop 3: Wrigley Field
Ok, I know what you're thinking. Chicago is TOTALLY a suburb of Warsaw, IN right? Actually, it's not even close. It's a casual 120 miles away. That's roughly the distance between New York City and Wilmington, DE. When is the last time you thought of Delaware as a suburb of The City? But fuck it, Warsaw is boring right?

Let's go somewhere cool!

So they go up to Wrigleyville, the Jerusalem of coke addicted frat bros everywhere and give themselves a private tour of the stadium. It was during this date that I realized why I love Jojo. Of the remaining contestants, Jojo is the only one that is a Serena-type. She's hot, she's sexy, she has tits. The rest are all Blairs. They dress cute, they have nice skin and good smiles. Gentlemen out there trying to describe to your girlfriend why you like Jojo over Lauren. Simply tell them, it's a classic Gossip Girl situation, they'll understand.

The date itself was fine, Ben looked like he wanted to rail Jojo's tits off inside that scoreboard, and like Serena, she TOTALLY would have let him. Bonus points for going through with the date despite an obvious thunderstorm. I was oddly nostalgic for miserable November weather in Chicago, right around the time where everyone is losing hope and the girls are secretly celebrating because they don't have to shave their legs for the next 5 months.

What I found interesting though was Ben didn't seem to be able to enjoy the date until he broke Jojo into crying and telling him something sad. Does Ben Higgins understand that these are all hot rich white chicks in their 20's? It's likely that nothing bad has ever happened to him. I'm starting to think Benny is a bit of a masochist, I bet he's in to choking.

The date ended with them eating some unimpressive food, I would have probably cum if it were Lou's or Portillo's but they settled for some shitty catering, must have blown all the budget locking down that location.

Stop 4: A random barn!
All right, Lauren got the Pacers, Jojo got Wrigley…what will Becca, Caila and Amanda get? A random fucking barn in the middle of nowhere! Yay! That's the Indiana we know and love. I'll admit, I mostly played Clash of Clans during this segment because it was boring AF. Ben told Amanda he wanted to mmet her kids. Becca begged not to get voted off in a rose ceremony (spoiler alert: she does!) and Caila blah blah blah she's going to be the next Bachelorette because of affirmative action. Amanda gets the rose and judging by the promos for next week's ep it will NOT go well.

But Amanda got to hang with Ben the rest of the night, I shit you not, this is what they did.

-Worked a McDonald's drive thru. I promise I think one of them said 'this has always been a dream of mine.' It was also SHAMELESS shilling of McDonald's breakfast all day, something that was probably super relevant when they filmed this is November.

-Met the Mayor of Warsaw. I think he even gave Ben like a key to the city.

-Rode rides at a carnival that was thrown to honor Ben.

It's Indiana folks, it doesn't take much to impress them.

Stop 5: Home sweet home
They're meeting the parents! In their totally affordable Northern Indiana lake house! The neighbors are probably wholesome blond bombshells that do 4H, they probably look a lot like Emily! Emily? What a curious choice to take home Emily? You want the 23 year old bottle girl with no personality to be grilled by your parents?
Here is a list of things Emily was asked by the parents, followed by her answers…

Hopes: Be an above average mother and spouse. Cheerlead for the Denver Broncos.
Fears: Vegetables. Does not like vegetables.
Dreams: Watch movies like all day.

Is she a keeper?

Mom and Dad's verdict: NOPE

Sorry Emily, back to the pole (I'm kidding she seems like a nice girl, I'm sure she'll get a good bar tending gig in LA. Maybe Sarah can swing her a job at Bungalow, and then I can date Emily, at which point I will delete this blog. If this blog ever suddenly gets deleted I am either dating Emily from the Bachelor or unexpectedly got staffed on a TV show.)

Stop 6: Town Hall?
Just to hammer home for the 972nd time that it's a small town, the rose ceremony is done on the steps of the town hall, which is I bet where the cool kids ate lunch during high school.

After whining to Chris Harrison for 2.5 seconds that he doesn't want to cut anyone, Ben finally mercy kills Becca, a girl with whom he had less sexual chemistry than he had with his mom. (Seriously, I was moderately disturbed with his parent sex jokes)

Yay onto the girl's hometown dates. If ABC's website is accurate, we should be getting Marina Del Rey (Venice adjacent!) Dallas (and Jojo's evil older brothers) Orange County (PLEASE MAKE AN OC REFERENCE) and Akron. (LeBron or GTFO)

Can't wait!

Wednesday, February 10, 2016


"Hey, I think someone left the milk out," someone says to me.

To a normal person, that may sound like an innocent musing by a coworker. But not me, I know what she means.

"Oh, does it taste funny?"

I'm sure the milk tastes fine.

"Oh no no, I mean like it looks like someone forgot to put it away just now."

I give a long slow nod, like I'm thinking. I know what this person wants, but I'm taking my time.

"So it looks like someone forgot to put it away? Or it's just out…"

Most people in my position would NEVER take it this far. I'm an assistant, I should just go assist. Moreover, I'm a production assistant, so that means I am essentially everyone's assistant. But then again most PAs are young and wide eyed or annoying try hards. I am 29 and bitter. I am also large and imposing, so I always take it this far.

"Well I guess someone COULD be in the middle of making some cereal…"

"Ya, that's more likely, I mean I can't imagine someone just leaving the milk out, that's so weird, right? I mean we're adults! But I'll tell you what I'm going to do, I'm going to go investigate."

I then throw on a big fake smile and walk toward the kitchen. What a power struggle that was. Her subtext was clearly 'go put the fucking milk away pledge' but in matching her intensity, I've guaranteed that this person will never tell me to put the fucking milk away ever again. It's not worth it.

My dad used to do this shit to me all the time. He would yell down the stairs when I was in the basement playing a video game.

"Hey did you leave your lights on in your room?"

I don't know, did I?

"Ya, looks like you did, can you come up here and turn them off?"

But you're right there.

A struggle would ensue and then I would run upstairs to turn the lights off.

I don't get it, if one of my roommates leaves a plate out, I just put it away. If Sarah blacks out and cooks chili at 3 in the morning and forgets to turn off the stove, I don't drag her out of bed and make her do it. I turn the nob a quarter turn to the right and continue living my life.

I went into the office kitchen and put the milk in the refrigerator and had a psychotic break that I haven't had in the five years in LA. Why am I putting someone's milk away at 29?

It doesn't help that all of my irresponsibilities are starting to catch up with me. It turns out that you can't live a life of luxury on 700 dollars a week. I'm getting audited by the IRS and last week when I got pulled over for driving with expired tags, I found out my license was suspended.

Ya, turns out you actually have to pay those parking tickets.

I was in the middle of a full blown panic attack, wondering why I had such a shitty job, wondering why I was such a bad adult. I have a wedding card that has been sitting in my bedroom for 2 months that I haven't been able to send because I don't know what to write in it to excuse its lateness.

I'm just crippled by my own inadequacies. I did a deep dive on WebMD to find out if I have secretly been bipolar this whole time, all the while trying to figure out a genius plan to sell my car, get a job walking distance in Venice and solve all of my problems.

And then my phone rang.

"David, it's your father."

(People over 50 still don't understand the concept of caller ID)

I look at my clock and realize it's 9pm. Midnight his time. I see I have a couple missed calls from him earlier in the day. I didn't answer because I was spiraling out of control in self-pity.

None of our favorite sports teams are playing and it's a Tuesday night. This is bad news.

In the .02 seconds before he can tell me, I think about all of the worst case scenarios: A family member died, the cat died, my brother is in jail, my mom's been in a crash, cancer, stroke, financial ruin…

Do you remember when your mom was late picking you up from practice when you were a little kid? My mind would always go straight to the worst case scenario. I would picture the headlines on the local news. "Suburban mom hit by drunk driver on way to pick up her mediocre kid from soccer practice." I would then think of how I will never live this down and that everyone will blame me in a total Zach Braff from Garden State situation. My life would be effectively over.

Then she would show up one minute later and everything would be fine.

"I'm having a heart procedure tomorrow."

A heart procedure, what does that mean? Like heart SURGERY?

"Very minor, they're putting a catheter in my heart to look around, worst case scenario they'll insert a stent to clear up some blockage."

This did not sound very minor to me. I told him I loved him and that I would pray for him and I immediately looked to the internet for comfort.


Cardiac Cath risks

Heart Attack
Air Embolism (DEATH)

Not too reassuring. Obviously I stayed awake all night because I couldn't shake the idea that… well what if he dies? I would be so lost and crumple like a wet paper towel. Some of you out there have lost one or two parents and I have to tell you, you are so much stronger than me that I can't put it into words.

If I were to lose a parent, I would go off the deep end...perhaps move to Western Australia and never be heard from again.

I cannot imagine a world in which I can't fall back on two most important people in my world. This can't be happening, I mean my dad runs 6 miles a day, how in the fuck can he be sick?

I woke up with a text this morning.

"Good news, call me when you wake up."

It was from my mom. She has good text mannerisms. If I would have seen a bunch of missed calls or a text that said 'call me' I would have had a full blown stroke. "Good news, call me when you wake up," was the best that I could hope for given the circumstances.

I call and I find out that this 'minor procedure' actually found that my dad had 100% blockage in the anterior inter ventricular branch of the left coronary artery. It's called the widow maker, because when you suffer a heart attack due to this artery, you do not survive.

They caught it JUST in time. "It was a miracle."

Of course my dad is all jokes, 'Now that my arteries are clear I think it will improve my mile time.'

And why you ask? Why does this happen? He's fit, eats somewhat well and he's only 61. I guess sometimes it just happens.

And to think, 24 hours ago I was pitching a fit because someone asked me to do my job and I'm going to have to hire a traffic attorney to get some tickets squared away.

Sometimes things are put in perspective. The little shit REALLY doesn't matter. Hug your loved ones, appreciate the time you have and encourage people to regularly see their physician. My dad finally went because he felt a little short of breath after a morning run. Think about how different this post could have been if he decided to just go to work.


Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Breaking Down the 'Realistic' Ken Dolls

I'm not going to write much of an intro for this post, because these guys already did a great job.

TL;DR new Barbies came out last week so a bunch of fat girls could feel better about themselves. And now realistic Barbie needs a realistic prince because LOL fat girls can't date hot guys, that's only in bad movies and nights where I take too much MDMA.

The new Ken dolls…Barbie is so lucky to have all these new choices.

Inoffensive black friend Ken: Inoffensive black friend Ken grew up in a middle class home in Torrance. His father was an attorney, his mother ran a cooking blog. You and Ken did theatre together at Mira Costa High School. In the stage production of High School Musical, you played Troy Bolton and he played Corbin Bleu. Sometimes on the weekends, the two of you would roll together in his mom's white Chrysler Sebring convertible. You would listen to rap music and Ken wouldn't make you censor the 'n word' he gets it. It's fun to say.

You would TOTALLY let Ken date your sister because he's your bestie man! When people call you racist you point to inoffensive friend Ken and say NU UH MY BEST FRIEND IS BLACK! You even share jeans and white tee shirts sometimes because "We're all in this together!"

Post-prime frat bro Kenny: Post-prime frat bro Kenny was a fucking legend man. Do you remember his parties in high school? His dad had that fat spot in the Palisades and his mom had the beach house in Malibu! You guys made it rain as Lambdas at SC, dropping hundreds of dollars at the 9-0 Every. Single. Night. You guys even had a 4-way in the steam shower of his dad's pool house once. That shit bonds people!

After college, Kenny's absentee father bought him a nice bachelor pad on the Marina peninsula. Kenny started a charity that provides free legal defense for frat guys accused of hazing. He started packing on the pounds and he's not as good with chicks anymore being that he maxed out at 5'8. But if you're down to get straight ratchet on a Sunday, he'll buy you some shots at The Whaler.

Ethnically ambiguous lawyer Ken: Ethnically ambiguous lawyer Ken won't tell you his heritage, but he's definitely not white. Yellow or brown, maybe even partially, but he's smashing racist stereotypes. You think I'm an Asian working at a wok shop in the inland empire? "Ha! I'm a lawyer living in Brentwood, I just made junior partner you fucking scum." No he doesn't have any 'homies' that live in East LA. No he doesn't speak Spanish. Why would you assume that? He goes to Q's on the weekends and hits on UCLA chicks, just like you!

Sometimes you wonder if ethnically ambiguous lawyer Ken is actually just a tan white guy. He does kinda resemble John Travolta playing Robert Shapiro in American Crime Story. For all I know Travolta is white, unless being a Scientologist allows you to self-identify as alien. EAL Ken is definitely NOT a tall dark complected white man though. He was in the CBS diversity writer's workshop before he decided to go to law school, and now he spends his days wearing ill fitting suits and too much hair product.

Pixie gay boi Ken (aka Angel): Pixie gay boi Ken knows he's a stereotype, but you know what? He doesn't give a fuck. In fact, he would prefer you call him by his nickname, 'Angel.' When Angel isn't busy chugging cock at one of Bryan Singer's pool parties, he is employed as a semi-professional voguer at The Abby. Angel is also an actor/model/director/producer/dancer/poet/essayist/artist/barista. He's a fabulous shopping companion to Barbie.

On the weekends Angel can often be found in Palm Springs at the Ace, usually traveling with an older gentleman. Angel knows what you're thinking. He'll only be pretty and young for so long. Two words for you: memoir bitch.

Silver Lake Kenneth: 'May I offer you a pour over coffee? Perhaps a local IPA or a single malt scotch?' You politely decline and notice that his coffee table is a repurposed tree stump. "Do you like it? I got it at a flea market, I traded a homeless man…er sorry, that was offensive. I traded a nomad for it. Four Abba records, vinyl of course." You don't quite remember when Ken started demanding you call him Kenneth. It was around the same time he started collecting lots of flannel and always dressing like it was about 40 degrees out.

He also has taken to social media a lot lately to support Hilary. He also weirdly brags that his girlfriend doesn't shave her vagina. That's not something to be proud of bro.

Pedophile Ken: Pedophile Ken is legally obligated to tell you that he has to be 500 feet away from schools at all times. BUT he wasn't really masturbating behind that bush, he was peeing. The fact that there were little girls playing hopscotch next door was total coincidence, he was just shaking man, didn't wanna get any piss on his sweet new khakis. When did America get so soft?

This whole thing is ridiculous. A guy used to be able to lose his hair, grow a creepy beard and live with his mom. No one would say a word, but now you put on a few pounds and a quarter zip and people look at you like you're Jared fucking Fogel. For real man, Ken just wants to jerk off to hentai porn and play Fallout 4, leave him the fuck alone.

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Bachelor Prop Bets

The shortest passage in the Bible is John 11:35. This is something every good midwestern boy learns in Sunday School. The passage merely reads "Jesus wept," and I imagine that's what he does every time he sees the massive cross hanging around Olivia's neck.

God she's the worst.

But Jesus wasn't the only one weeping last night. The rallying cry of the social justice warriors was muted when their 'strong female character' Jubilee was put out of her misery in favor of the Lauren B's and Beccas of the world. Meanwhile in Iowa, Donald Trump was upset by a sociopath and a socialist hermit from Vermont is taking a serious run at Jezebel's personal savior.

So many emotions right now…

But we don't have time for politics and/or the social repercussions of eliminating the last black contestant on The Bachelor. It's Super Bowl week after all, so let's get right to the prop bets, shall we?

Caila is the next Bachelorette 1/1
EVEN MONEY ON THE HOT FILIPINO. Because what is more of a win/win for ABC than a hot mixed race chick? They can pat themselves on the back for having a brown (yellow?) Bachelorette and STILL keep the show primarily white! It's like hiring a WASPy guy named Chad to be a diversity staff writer because he's totally 1/8 Cherokee! I guarantee you the rest of Caila's edit is going to focus on how much fun she is with intermittent reminders that she is totally not 100% white. Did you know that in the Philippines there is a bar run by midgets designed to look like Middle Earth?

Lauren B wins The Bachelor, breaks up with Ben a week later. 3/1
Sarah looked at me last night and said 'Ugh, why do y'all like her, she's SO basic.' This is true. A life with Lauren B means missionary sex, quarterly blow jobs, definitely no butt stuff. But then you look at Ben, Ben is basic af. 

I mean look at these fucking guys. They look like they're ready for a big night out at Applebee's.
Of course this relationship will be over within a week because Ben is famous now and famous people want to put it in the butt. 

Olivia recaptures the hearts of the liberal world via a 'Crying Game' situation. 1,000/1
Olivia is so horrible that she cannot be redeemed. I don't know what that bitch said to Ben before the 'to be continued' situation. At this point, an Uncle rape, a brother suicide…no dice. THAT SAID, if somehow Olivia were to be a trans man living as a woman? She's back. Ben would be up a creek. BEN'S DISMISSAL OF OLIVIA IS A PERFECT EXAMPLE OF TRANSPHOBIC AMERICA! Can you imagine the ratings for the dick reveal? I mean sure, it would be blurred out a la a Japanese bukkake situation, stay tuned for the director's cut DVD.

In a shocking reveal, Leah is actually Natalee Holloway 10,000/1
Did you ever see the movie Double Jeopardy? Bruce Greenwood fakes his own death so that Ashley Judd will go to jail for his 'murder.' Ashley Judd is eventually released from prison finds out that he is actually alive and kills him because you can't be tried for the same crime twice. Maybe Joran Van Der Sloot was just kind of a shitty boyfriend and 'Leah' wanted him to rot in jail, meanwhile after some light plastic surgery she's ready for love again.

I mean it's not THAT much of a stretch.

Emily murders Olivia at the next Rose Ceremony 350/1
We all knew that Emily wasn't very smart, and last night we saw an unintelligent, nervous girl finally break. A cornered animal is oft the most dangerous. I wouldn't be surprised if in the presence of her certain demise Emily snapped and straight up murdered Olivia.

It's actually the death just before this that's more applicable, Cat merc'ing Frye's wife. But this is an all time GIF. BONUS PROP Olivia is summoned from the dead as Lady OFACE and kills all the remaining competitors 100000000/1

Becca is a robot. 50/1
At 50/1 that's good value! Are you familiar with the theory that Keanu Reeves is immortal? Will someone on Reddit please provide similar supporting facts that Becca is a robot? At the moment all I have is a hunch.

Jojo has fucked your boyfriend. 1/5
Just look at this skinny little betch.

OF COURSE SHE HAS FUCKED YOUR BOYFRIEND. Jojo is an alpha. Jojo was in a sorority! She probably went in front of angel board multiple times for infractions such as: cocaine, sex in cold dorm, 'borrowing' your Prada bag, blacking out at formal. Jojo is like the original Mean Girl.

Check out those fucking photoshop skills yo.

Jennifer survives the next rose ceremony 500/1
Jennifer is the one person in the world happy about that little to be continued situation, because it guarantees her one more royalty check on episode 6. Jennifer may have great tits, but she never had a chance on The Bachelor. She has the same odds of surviving another week as Rick Santorum does on winning the Republican nomination.

Also in case anyone was wondering why people always laugh at Rick Santorum's name, it's because 'santorum' is slang for the gooey fecal matter/lube combo that is the byproduct of anal sex. Sorry for ruining your day.

Lauren H and Amanda go lesbian 100/1
There is absolutely no evidence to support this, but I like both of these characters. Lauren H is like the funny girl that I'm friends with and sometimes when we're really drunk we hook up. Amanda is so sweet, but I just can't saddle my man with two kids that aren't his. I want them both to find happy endings and in the context of this show that means these two declaring their love for each other. ABC could pay for their wedding, throw them a lavish honeymoon, air it as a 3 night event and satisfy the LGBT community forever. They'll probably even win a GLAAD award.

Some day I'll be a great network executive.

Lace returns in the finale to have one more drunken meltdown. 20/1
I mean why not right? In a world where Reality Steve is spoiling everything, the producers have to have one last trick up their sleeves? I watched Unreal, I know how soulless these people can be.

I agree Lace. I agree.