Okay, so we have a slight problem.
I wasn’t able to take notes last night during the Bachelorette.
This is due to my slideshow. That I procrastinated on. As usual. I was burning dvds until about 11pm. I would have put it off even longer, but I had invited the parents to come watch it this morning. And, yes, I could have taken notes the old fashioned way, but instead, I kicked back on my bed in five minute increments. Then I had to put the label on the DVD, insert it into a case, and start the whole process over again. Times thirty. I know it’s hard not to be jealous of my nightlife, but just try.
Then I thought that I could fast forward through most of the show again and refresh my memory that way.
But I just got home and it’s almost 8pm.
It’s my nightlife, people. I’m a wild woman.
So here’s what I want to talk about from what I remember.
And can I just say that next week I’ll be on summer vacation and my not having time to do this will not factor in at all? AT ALL? Insert GLEEFUL FACE HERE. Insert HAPPY DANCE HERE. Insert DANCE POLICE HERE.
Okay, no more dancing. I promise.
What was up with Tony? The crybaby who misses his son? Oh my word. Buck up, already! I see that you miss your son. I got it the first nine hundred times you said it. He’s your best friend (weird), you can’t stop thinking about him, you can’t live your life like this . . . we get it.
I’m not a mom. I shouldn’t judge.
Especially because I remember crying when I had to leave my dogs at a kennel when the hubs and I went to Jamaica. The crying may have come when it was time to leave Jamaica, but either way, I cried.
Chris, the 25 going on 45 year old, is nice. They had a good time. Whatever. You know, they climbed to new heights so they’re bonded now. Much like love. It starts out at the bottom of a building and then you have dinner on the roof. If that’s not a cliche, it should become one. It describes my marriage perfectly.
Arie is cute. I thought it was hilarious that Dolly Parton was sarcastic about finding herself at Dollywood. Imagine that. Dolly Parton at Dollywood. I mean, really. Come on. I’m sure Emily had to have some sort of clue. Please. Scoff.
Group date: Loved the friends getting to interview the boys. That was great.
Did Sean come from out of nowhere? It sure seemed like it. Emily’s friends fell in love with him. I don’t know. I feel like I have to wait and see on that one.
Ryan – well, I don’t think he scored any points with the fat situation. As in, don’t get fat, or I won’t be all up on you. Up in your bizness. All up.
The Rose Ceremony was fantastic.
We’ve got crazy Kalon with the glasses. Were they necessary? Did he need them? Or were they an accessory? And, I’m sorry, but “I love it when you talk, but I am going to talk more now” was not a good move. How about YOU shut up? Huh? Just pipe down. Talk, talk, talk. He went on to talk about control and how his mother said this and that . . . Control? I’ll show you control. See that limo? Get in it.
But that’s not what happened because Emily is the bachelorette, not me. She kept him. WHAT?! Shake head. Insert JUDGMENTAL FACE HERE.
And Alessandro? Are you kidding me? Is this a joke?
(I’m looking around for hidden cameras.)
Oh. The cameras are out in plain view.
Hold on. Could we get an interpreter? I think there’s a language barrier. (What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.)
Oh. There’s not. He does mean compromise. As in, my life is so great right now because I’m a gypsy (not to be confused with a genie which would be waaaaay better) and so if I marry you, and take on your daughter, it would be a compromise.
At least she put him in a limo.
Ryan (pro Sports guy) is jealous of Arie. It’s not pretty.
I’m trying to root (wroot? route? rooty toot toot) for Ryan because one of my commenters said he’s from their hometown and I want to be on the team . . . but I don’t know. He described himself as a physical man and Arie as “dainty”.
Wait a minute here. Arie is a race car driver. He gets in a car and drives it in a circle.
Well, he wears a helmet, and a flame retardant suit, and he drives REALLY fast in a circle.
That’s not dainty. That’s . . . dangerous.
Either way you look at it, I don’t like Ryan’s attitude. I may like his un-daintiness, but not the attitude. And next week doesn’t look any better. I’m hoping for a miracle.
Weird boy smashed his ostrich egg. Gross. And how embarassing.
Stevie left. I wonder if he’ll go by Steve now. Or Bob.
One and a half more days. I’m beside myself.
I told my class I want a vacation. But then I want them to be in my room when I get back. I love this group. It’ll be a little emotional for me.
But not a lot.
I don’t like to cry in public.
Or in private.
Just in Jamaica.