Showing posts with label the bachelor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the bachelor. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

The Bachelor: London Calling


London called. Los Angeles answered. Thats right. The last rose, along with one hefty diamond ring went to the one and only Shayne Lamas, soap opera actress from The Bold and the Beautiful. For me, the highlight of the show was when British Bachelor, Matt Grant, got down on one knee and asked "Monkey, will you marry me?" Monkey? I love it! Those two are so cute. Unlike last season's devastating letdown when Mr. Brad Womack sent home both women, this season's fairytale ending renewed my faith that The Bachelor can find love. I'm already looking forward to next Monday when The Bachelorette, DeAnna, gets another chance at love as she finds a man among 25 eligible gentlemen. Should be a good one!

Monday, March 17, 2008

The First Impression Rose

Last night as I watched episode one of this season's The Bachelor, Tristen posed an interesting question. "What would you do to get the first impression rose?" For those of you that watched the ridiculousness that went down on the show last night, know that this is a difficult question. I guess to answer the question fully, I might have to cross off all the things I wouldn't do to get the first impression rose.

I would never. . .

. . . get out of the limo and dangle the hideously large ring on my ring finger while saying to the bachelor "See this ring here, this is just a place holder 'til you give me the real thing." (Yes, this was acutally said last night.)

. . . bring my clarinet with me and whip it out during a one on one sesh and suck on the reed while telling him "I have to suck on this to make it nice and wet so it will vibrate as I play." (Gross! I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.)

. . . get down on my knees and arm wrestle a 6'5" Enlgish man in hopes of winning over his admiration and affection. (Who are these women?)

And finallay, I would never. . .

. . . no, not ever . . . get so plastered that I'd stuff my lacy white undrewear in his pants pocket with the thought that maybe, just maybe, he would be turned on enough to see past my psychotic brain malfunction and give me a rose. (What the???)

What would you do to get the first impression rose?