Dancing With The Stars & The Bachelor

You get two for the price of one, fans.

Here's my critique of the first: Gosh, it takes forever for these people to do their little dip and sways. They could have cut the music by a half as far as I'm concerned. Maybe, where Penn is concerned, by three-quarters. And totally erase that goofball who's manhandling the lovely Julianne. I know the real bloggers give a play by play of each couple, but I'm not one of the real bloggers, so I'm just going to give you highs and lows, with an emphasis on the latter, because that's just how I am. So here's my prediction: Jason will last until almost the end, but he won't win. Adam will go on Tuesday. Steve will go to week five or six. And that sexy, sexy, R & B boy--he'll take the trophy!

First, a confession: I have never watched The Bachelor before. There is something too totally twee about some guy handing roses to the "lucky beautiful ladies"--well, frankly, it makes me want to spew. (Isn't that an evocative word, spew? It sounds just like what it is). However, this time I got caught by the Bachelor himself. He's a Brit, an Oxbridge man, who's now a banker and, as all good Brits do, wears brown shoes with his gray suit. He seems exceptionally down to earth and focused. The not so sub-text of his interview was that he had a messed up love affair, his father had a stroke, and thus, the Bachelor is trying to get bewedded and befathered before dear old dad dies. Good luck, mate. I left after the first umpteen Lovely Ladies exited their stretch limos (here's a gig for you--drive a rock star around by day and a reality star by night), and truly, they are a motley crew. It didn't help that they were meeting the Bachelor in the chill night air of Los Angeles in winter (note to all: there is a reason why Angelenos always take a sweater or jacket with them at night). Oh, and it was raining, which didn't do much to their blow-outs--and that only serves as a testimony to the hair care products the show is using. No, what drove me from the television was the utter insipidness, the vacuous, vacant, vapidity of almost all of them. Except for, I think her name was Amanda. She has possibilities.

That's a wrap for tonight. I'll tune in again to DWTS. And The Bachelor? eh.