“What the BLEEP happened?”

Yes. It was the explicative heard around the world. Unless, of course, you missed it because your television was on mute due to Kacie B.’s exit interview in which she communicated with sounds only dogs and dolphins could relate.

Knowing that Kacie B. was unaware of her parents’ issues with this silly reality show known as The Bachelor and its messy haired suitor Groban, I’d be willing to bet that an encore appearance of the baton paired with a black unitard probably contributed to the decision making process that resulted in extreme ugly crying nestled among the comfort of a few f-bombs.

It’s only a guess.

SIMPLE DISCLAIMER
The following information you are about to read is of personal opinion. However, if you or someone you poked on Facebook happens to personally know, sort of know, is friends with the niece/former classmate of someone who is obsessed with the Hunger Games trilogy and looks exactly like one of the contestants on the show…none of this is personal and I’m sure they are all lovely people.

ABC wastes no time with silly maps of cartoon airplanes flying from Sonoma to Florida. The audience is thrust into the Cox Family horse farm where Lindzi is riding a noble steed named Devon, waiting for the Grobe to show up in a muted plaid shirt.

Oh. I was wrong. It was a bright blue plaid shirt. Before I congratulate our color wheel discriminating Bachelor, let the record show that his pants were grey. I’m just saying.

Lindzi: “Horses have been in my life since before I was born.”

Let’s pause to truly appreciate the power of that sentence.

Lindzi leads Groban and Devon to a picnic and talks about how her old boyfriend, whom she lived with, dumped her via text message. She talked about having a broken heart, seeing red flags and the fact that her parents straight up hated the guy.

Groban: “I can see that your walls are coming down slowly, but surely.”
Lindzi: “Vulnerable is a big word for me.”

Yeah? Well “excruciating” is a big word for me. We’re 18 minutes into the show and I’ve already started banging my own head against the wall. SERENITY NOW!

Devon’s owner hooks him up to a carriage, sits on the lap of our Bachelor and helps him maneuver over the river and through the woods. Groban holds onto a whip with one hand and Linzdi’s butt with the other. “Giddy up indeed,” Devon thinks as he trots to the Cox’s house where the ABC intern has pulled all of the family room furniture into the backyard.

“Meet my boyfriend!” Lindzi shouts as she dismounts Groban’s lap. Our Bachelor drops the whip, extends his hand and introduces himself to Lindzi’s father Harry.

His name is Harry. Harry Cox.

I’ll allow 10 seconds for you to digest that bit of information and laugh like a prepubescent boy just as I did.

Did you get it out of your system? Good. Moving on.

Mother Marge is distracted by the potential for grass stains on her brand new wheat linen couch as Lindzi babbles on an on about their super fun first date in San Francisco.

Lindzi: “We went to a secret speakeasy and then to a concert in City Hall.”
Harry Cox: “You know, your mother and I were married in San Francisco City Hall.”

Everyone regales in this discovery of serendipitous proportions. No one except for me, iTunes pop sensation Matt Nathanson and the shady dude who purchased an original Neil Lane key to the city bauble on Craig’s List seems to remember that this date was originally reserved for Nana’s Granddaughter.

Bygones is a big word for me.

Harry Cox and his wife challenge Groban and Lindzi to a carriage dual. There were several thoughts that went through my head as this action sequence unfolded.

1. Please don’t run over the dogs.

2. Harry Cox insisted that there be trash talk during the race. Will Groban be able to channel Emily’s thug gangster rap melodies? And will that be enough to vocally conquer a man who is undoubtedly proficient in the art of trash talking having dealt with a name like Harry Cox for his entire life? I can hardly stand it.

3. Do not attempt this at home without wearing a helmet. Safety first, kids.

4. Devon is one step away from sacrificing himself by dragging that carriage straight to the glue factory.

Mr. and Mrs. Harry Cox are the winners. The wagon, Mr. Cox’s daughter and Groban are all yolked together as they trudge through the grassy knolls of Florida, growing more and more bitter each step, literally pulling Lindzi’s parents all the way to the house. ABC is getting mighty bold with their metaphors, aren’t they?

Marge ignores the fire ant pile that’s building at a rapid pace under the coffee table and instead requests a private audience with Groban.

Groban: “Lindzi really did grow up around horses. I didn’t expect this!”
Mom: “We kept her away from boys and made her focus on horses and cheerleading. She was hurt really bad and has severe texting anxiety.”

A bit rattled, Groban moves on to Harry Cox.

Groban: “I’m not ready to propose. I have strong feelings for your daughter and would like your permission one day.”
Harry Cox: “She’s our only daughter. You’re a nice young man.”

Translation: “I can see my daughter dating Devon before I see her with you.”

Later, Harry Cox pours Groban a nice cocktail in a redneck wine glass. Think Mason jar with a stem. Repulsed, Groban is only able to overlook Harry Cox’s blatant disregard of a decanter (not to mention the proper drinkware) by focusing on Lindzi’s sexy belt buckle, tight fitting jeans and adorable dimple. They make out by Devon’s stable. I fast forwarded when they began rocking back and forth holding each other.

HOME TOWN DATE TWO
Kacie B.
Clarksville, Tennessee
Sweet, innocent, young, adorkable Kacie B. took to the 50-yard-line of Buster Boguskie Stadium with her secret weapon once again. That’s right ladies and gentlemen: The baton made another appearance. This time, it was accompanied by an ill-fitting billowy orange blouse, a black unitard with a questionable crotchal region and 30 kids from Stratford High School who needed extra credit in order to pass for the semester. I may be reaching since the ensemble was a little weak in the brass section, but it appeared that Kacie B. executed a lovely illusion, after her first toss turnaround, to the jaunty tune of “Last Train to Clarksville” originally introduced to the world by the poetic stylings of The Monkees. Even though her presentation was less than stellar, she gets full points for sheer chutzpah alone.

I too spent many a day on the 50-yard-line, high kicking, jump splitting and generally spreading Bobcat spirit in the peak of my high school career. With that said, there’s only one way ABC could convince me to set foot on that grassy field during a home town date. I would insist that I recreate the infamous 1992 Homecoming fence routine in which I suffered my first knee ligament tear. Our Host Chris Harrison would play the part of the 110-pound Freshman water boy who carried me off the field. We’ll omit the part when the other 110-pound Freshman had to come help his buddy because he couldn’t pick me up by himself.

Details is a big word for me.

Instead of leading Groban under the bleachers, Kacie B. settles him under the press box in the stadium and cracks open a bottle of wine, giggling the entire time.

Groban: “What’s so funny?”
Kacie B.: “This is the first time I’ve ever done this.”

Groban: “Had a drink at the stadium?”
Kacie B.: “Had a drink in Tennessee. Daddy is a federal probation officer and doesn’t drink. I know everyone in this town since Buster Boguskie is my Grandpappy. What I’m saying is…there are eyes and ears EVERYWHERE. I’ll be your Natalie if you’ll be my James Dean. Let’s get snockered.”

Groban admits that he’s already arriving at bat with a strike since his business is booze and the Officer frowns upon such nonsense. Ironically, he chooses a bottle of wine to break the ice with Kacie’s parents while the parents choose to get really crazy by making everyone eat on the same side of the dining room table. Kacie B. understands that a serious talk is inevitable and she rushes to find sanctuary with her one-sleeved sister Allison B.

KB: “Ally B…that’s totally my future husband out there.”
AB. (stifling a laugh): “With that hair? Er…I mean…why do you think so?”

KB: “Because I’m tired of listening to what people tell me to do. Daddy is skeptical because he doesn’t take any risks. I’m a world traveler now. You just wait until they see footage of me snow skiing down a street in San Francisco backwards … in a bikini.”
AB: “I don’t get it. Was it a baboon skit?”

Kacie B.’s talk with her father did not go as planned when he refused to give his blessing. The Officer did a great job cutting through the reality show crap and basically told his daughter and her wine maker friend that he was not on board with this “forum” of dating and encouraged Groban to cut his daughter loose before she gets hurt.

Groban: “One of my fears is that I don’t make the right decision. I have strong feelings for your daughter and other women in this process.”

Clearly, this was not the most ideal way to win over the Officer.

Kacie B.’s mother was on a similar page.

Mom B: “Our children have always been with us. We’ve never allowed babysitters. I want to be the one to teach him. I’ve watched the show and know that in the end, they always decide to move in together. That would disappoint me greatly.”

The ABC producers begin to twitch wildly, knowing that without booze and cohabitation, Groban is seconds away from peacing out of Tennessee. Who will twirl the baton in the finale now?!

The bottom line is this: The B family was sincerely concerned for their daughter’s well being and was not willing to play any games on national television when it came to the sensitive needs of their kid. They were honest, made their intentions known to both Groban and KB and held firm to their convictions as Ally B. giggled in the corner having cracked open the forbidden fermented fruit of the Flajnik family winery. I admire that.

HOME TOWN DATE THREE
Nicki
Fort Worth, Texas
While driving down the steer-infested streets of the Fort Worth Stockyards, Groban professes his love for Texas just as so many wise men have done before him. He loves the horses, the cows, the ambiance, the state flags waving in the breeze…and…wait for it…give me a second…it will come to me…Nicki! Yes, Nicki is her name and she appears to be suffering from the same unfortunate crotchal region situation as Kacie B. even though she was NOT wearing a unitard. Groban is easy to spot in the sea of tourists since his mop top is sans 10-gallon-hat and she rushes to tackle him in a warm embrace and share what I believe to be the couple’s first kiss.

Groban’s usual bland-colored tee and grey skinny jeans were a close hot mess match to Nicki’s horizontal striped off-the-shoulder top. I admire her clear effort to pay homage to both “Flashdance” and “Urban Cowboy” simultaneously, but she wasn’t pulling it off. Keeping with their “When in Rome” outfit exchange tradition, Nicki insists they cowboy suit up at the nearest boot shop. Groban managed to out dork himself by switching his boring tee with the most drab pair of skinny grey jeans, black pearl-snap shirt and felt black hat. Even though it was evident he was struggling to embrace the ambiance, he looked ridiculous. Nicki opted for a more bedazzled look with a kicky, glitter top. Later at the local watering hole, Groban nearly missed his Tom Collins flying down the salt-covered bar when the shine from the grease in his hair hanging from the front of his Stetson reflected off the sequins causing a momentary impairment of vision. That was close! That straw might have put his eye out!

Nicki reminds us of both her name and her failed marriage. Riiiiight! She’s the divorced one.

Nicki: “I don’t want to beat a dead horse or anything, but I want to talk about my divorce again. Can you hand me that Louisville Slugger?”
Groban: “I think it’s good. I need to know details to gauge how much emotional baggage you have. I mean, are we talking carry on? Or full out matching luggage set?”

Nicki’s parents appear to be very normal. She is attacked by her mother with a death grip and the two run off to the bedroom to gab about sultry surfer hair, wineries in Sonoma and potential dates for a June wedding. Later, her father practically blames himself for his daughter’s failed first marriage and promises to be more cautious the next time he gives her hand away. There was a lot of talk about pain and flying the coop and protection. It was very sweet.

Nicki takes Groban up to her old room, confessing that she just had the best day of her entire life.

Delusional is a big word for me.

Nicki drops the “L” word right there on her Ralph Lauren comforter. That’s when I noticed Groban looks at her differently than he does the other girls. I think he’s confused about Lindzi’s foundation choices and spends most of his time wondering why a girl so cute wears so much makeup. I think he’s affectionate towards Kacie B…much like a loveable Jack Russell Terrier. I think he lusts after Courtney and her beguiling ways. And I think he finds contentment in Nicki’s undying vow to always put him up on a pedestal.

I’m not sure she’s the future Mrs. Groban though.

HOME TOWN DATE FOUR
Courtney the Model
Scottsdale, Arizona
Courtney’s agent explains the ins and outs of the deliciousness known as the “Women Tell All” and strongly encourages her client to take whatever means necessary to right all the wrong behavior that was on full frontal display during her time in the mansion with the other contestants. The model apologizes for treating the other girls badly and admits that she only fought hard because Groban is worth fighting for.

Groban arrives at the house with Courtney and we meet a long lost Kardashian sister, a father in a sweater vest and a Mom who is one face lift away from blinking her own lips. The crowd ventures out for cocktails on the veranda where Courtney talks to her family as if Groban isn’t sitting directly to her right.

The Model: “I like this guy a lot. He’s smart, funny and I dig him. I’m falling.”
LL Kardashian: “You ARE falling or you HAVE fallen?”
The Model: “I like love him.”

Due to Courtney’s preference for baby talk dictation and the over abundance of the word “like” on this show, I’m unsure if she meant she, like, loved him or she like/loved him. I choose like/love since an entire faux wedding was created for the big “I LOVE YOU” reveal moment, but I can’t, like, be sure.

Mom: “I’m a fan of experimenting with any and all beautification products sold legitimately or on the Black Market. But I’m not sold on this kid.”

Courtney takes her Kardashian to a bedroom where a photo canvas at least measuring 16×20 of The Model is dominantly displayed in the background. They talk about love, appreciation, respect and skinny dipping.

Meanwhile, Courtney’s father has a heart-to-heart with Groban.

Dad: “Son, marriage is life’s greatest gamble. You have a 50-percent chance of success. Are you ready to make that bet?”
Groban: “Winning.”

Courtney takes Groban to a park down the road. As luck would have it, they are staging the gazebo for a wedding. She shares with Groban that she could see herself getting married in that same exact spot one day. Then she pulls out a paper bow tie for him to wear and a spiral bound full of loose leaf notebook paper so he can write down his vows. She scoots down a few rows so he can’t see that she’s already janked her vows from Carrie Bradshaw. Groban plays along and puts pen to paper.

Groban’s Vows
From the moment I laid my eyes upon you
I thought to myself, “She has nice boobs.”
You bewitched me on the beach when I saw your bare booty.
But there are red flags with your tendency to be moody.
Stepping back to reality, you’re body’s hard to dismiss.
Can you take me seriously with my hair like this?
And now we’re getting married and I just want to shout!
You know any normal person would totally freak out.

Courtney’s Vows
Call agent
Invite Jesse Metcalfe to WTA after party
Touch hair
Return rain coat to Steinmart
Emily = skank
Lick lips
Ask Groban what hair products he uses
Never purchase those hair products
Put homemade ring on Groban’s finger
Tell him you love him
Pay Eddie $50 for posing as minister
Winning

ROSE CEREMONY
For the next 20 minutes, Groban walks us down memory lane through four hazy flashbacks that spell out the intricate details of home town dates we literally just experienced less than an hour ago. By my count, he was wearing at least 12 variations of grey. The only thing that kept me from punching my fist through my computer screen was Our Host Chris Harrison basking the romantic glow of the candlelit hotel foyer that had been transformed into a makeshift de-briefing room for his postmortem session with our Bachelor.

HotterThanCrap is a big word for me.

I was saddened to see that the Pier One Photo Frame Bureau had been replaced with the Pier One Photo Frame Table, but the flicker in Harrison’s eye pulled me out of my doldrums and we headed to the rose ceremony.

With wardrobe budgets at bare minimum this late in the game, the cocktail dresses were awful. Lindzi subliminally tells Groban that they are a match by wearing a grey, drab dress. Courtney wears the same frock she wore when handing out statues at the 2008 Golden Globes. Nicki was in an ill-fitting black cocktail number and Kacie B. looked as if she was planning to tell Groban that she had a bun in the oven and he was the baker.

Groban hands the first rose to Courtney. I believe the sound you heard was three sets of teeth grinding. Lindzi is honored next and she is followed by a long, dramatic pause before our Bachelor calls Nicki up for her coveted bud.

Our Host asks bids Kacie B. adieu and instructs the other ladies to say their final farewells. And that’s when this happened:

Apart from the Kardashian sister spilling the beans to their parents that Courtney and Groban had skinny dipped in Puerto Rico, this was the funniest part of the show. Thanks to IHGB reader Julie for sending this shot to me!

At this point in the game, the heart break-er escorts the heart break-ee to a convenient piece of furniture in decent lighting and waxes on and off about what went wrong and how he/she is a great person but there is more chemistry with other contestants. Groban walks behind Kacie B., sighs when she sits down on a bench and mumbles “I’m sorry.” It was the only explanation uttered before our little administrative assistant was shoved in the rejection limo bound for Tennessee. Although no actual tears descended from her ducts, several facial contortions lead us to believe that Kacie B. was experiencing some sort of angst. This hypothesis was confirmed when high pitched squeaking issued forth from her throat which was later translated to: “What the *BLEEP* just happened?”

The ABC Psychotherapist provides a lovey that smells like night time before tucking her into the back seat with her binky and baton. Don’t worry Kacie B. You’re 24-years-old. I’m pretty sure you’ll bounce back.

Next week, Groban takes the ladies to Switzerland. Who’s with me when I predict Courtney will do something kinky with lederhosen and melted chocolate? Anyone?

Remember to send me pictures of your watching parties!  It’s not too late to be included in the super cool finale surprise!

I’m all about the shame, not the fame,
Lincee