I was on a radio show this morning (Y101 in Jackson, MS) with Nate and Murphy talking about The Bachelor. Of course, my East Texas twang was in full force and I spoke 90-miles-per-hour because that’s what I do when I get nervous. Fortunately, I came to the table with some pretty good talking points and felt confident that I could get through the interview without being stumped. And then I was asked, “As a woman, which was worse: the scrapbook or the kissing scene?”

This kind of question falls into the genre of when someone asks, “What’s your favorite song from the 80s? Or “Which is your favorite musical adapted for the big screen?” It’s like choosing a favorite child. I would insist on breaking the rules, first requesting at least three days to research the topic, compile my findings into a color-coded Excel spreadsheet and then sharing my list.

Although presented in the same vein as the above scenario, my morning show buddies’ inquiry gave me pause. Which was the lesser of two evils? The only thing I could think to say was, “That’s like asking me which I’d rather have performed on a weekly basis: a Brazilian who-ha wax or well woman exam?”

Fortunately for me, the guys and my sweet Mama who reads my website, I didn’t say “who-ha” on the radio. Instead, I said that I thought Jaime reverting back to the days where she learned the art of how to tongue kiss under the stadium bleachers was far worse than a psycho scrapbook. In this instance, awkwardness definitely trumped crazy.

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.

Can you believe that it’s week six? Groban is halfway through his journey of finding mediocre love, celebrating 15 minutes of fame, suffering through three months of ABC mandated public appearances, breaking off an engagement, returning a princess cut Neil Lane diamond ring before irrevocably choosing to hook up with Vienna at a reunion party.

Harrison hooks the ladies up with a nice suite at Trump’s Ocean Club in Panama City. I can report that 74 versions of “OMG” were exclaimed as the women explored the bedrooms, breathtaking view and endless bottles of hard liquor available on every 90-degree angled surface. Groban arrives in a Jeep Wrangler, because he’s cool, casual and like his entangled coif, he just likes to go with the flow.

My spirits were dashed when Groban dropped off his own date card. Harrison would not be joining us. Had we all not been privy to constant dramatic teases of Our Host laying the smack down on that blond girl you can’t remember named Casey, I would have assumed that Harrison chose to enforce the clause in his contract that states he may skip one destination per season, sacrificing Panama entirely for an extra week on the beaches of Belize.

One-on-One
Kacie B.
“Will Our Love Survive?”

The girls are extremely irritated that Kacie B. has landed another one-on-one date with Groban. Rachel gives her the old stink eye, Courtney the Model calls him a chach for not weeding out the weaklings and Jugs McGee playfully tackles her while the ABC intern rushes off to find an inflatable swimming pool and several gallons of mud or Jell-O…just in case.

Groban picks KB up wearing brightly colored orange swim trunks and an azure blue tee from the Gap. Way to go Sonoma! I’m choosing to count this ensemble as a mild victory even though he was wearing restaurant industry issued black Reeboks currently residing on the feet of everyone on the wait staff at Other Groban’s family eating establishment in Georgia. Ironically, Kacie B. was wearing the exact techno-inspired purple and hot pink shirt I wore with lavender pedal pushers in my third grade reflection picture.

A helicopter drops the pair off on the deserted island of San Blas. The next few hours are critical. Groban and Kasie B. will be forced to experience what it’s like to live in the wild, completely relying on one another’s survival skills using only three items from their luggage. Kacie B. brought a stuffed monkey, a bag of gummy bears and a Swiss Army knife. Considering her restraint to NOT pack the baton, I think she deserves an “E” for effort in the participation column. Ben somehow scrounged up a fishing net, a book of matches and a machete. Had this been a true competition, he and the ABC intern who packed is bag totally outwitted, outsmarted and outplayed Kacie B.

By happy chance, things were going really well as the two sauntered down the beach holding hands, swirling glasses of Merlot. What a good call on the camera man’s part to be forward thinking enough to anticipate that a bottle of booze and stemware would be in order. An action sequence occurs when Groban decides to cut down some coconuts for dinner. Twenty minutes later, he’s still hacking away at the stubborn exterior. He feels even less manly as he dines on a balanced meal of gummy bears and the fish Kacie B. caught with his net in her black sequins bikini top.

The duo waxes on and off about how their 120-minute escapade on the lonely island allowed them to “be there for each other” and “glimpse into the teamwork that is marriage” and “come to the realization that they can make it on their own.” I came to the realization that Groban is more of a chach than I originally thought. We all learned something.

Kacie B. shows up for dinner in a one-armed severe black mini dress. Her head of curls have a mind of their own, but Groban doesn’t seem to mind. They share hair product secrets and before Groban tells us that he’s “looking forward to diving in deep.”

Newsflash Groban. You’re on a date with Kacie B. Not Courtney.

The halftime performer becomes visibly nervous when she admits to the camera that she has a deep dark secret she must confess to Groban. His reaction is about as palpable as the dingy grey shirt he’s wearing when Kacie reveals that she once had an eating disorder. Later Groban says that Kacie’s willingness to open up makes him like her even more. He said the same thing about Courtney the Model last week.

Kacie sweetly accepts the rose, reaches for a congratulatory kiss by rising to her tip toes in her kicky purple kitten heels that matches the thong we will surely see if she bends over.

Kacie B: “On a scale of one to wonderful, tonight was fantastic.”

Dissecting that sentence and arriving at the speculation that fantastic exceeds wonderful, on a scale of one to 10…I might throw up.

GROUP DATE
“Let’s Get Lost”
Emily
Nicki
Lindzi
The Blond Named Casey
Courtney
Jaime

Using process of elimination, Jugs and Rachel discover that they are the lucky participants in the dreaded two-on-one date. Jugs literally beams from boob to boob as Rachel listens to inner demons, telling her that she could never compete with a VIP cocktail waitress.

The group date ladies were given the choice to wear denim cut-offs or white shorty shorts paired with either a graphic tank top or frilly prairie inspired blouse that should never be worn in climates such as the rain forest. Groban arrives in an old boat that cuts through the muddy waters with ease. Once again, he reminds us that he’s looking for a woman who can just go with the flow. Ironically when the ladies sit down two-by-two, it starts raining. Then little kids start showing up at the waters edge throwing themselves into the filthy river with reckless abandon. It was all Emily could do not to take a water sample and educate the local people on simple hygiene.

Groban parks the boat and the group “stumbles upon a village” out in the middle of nowhere. Right. Just like Courtney “stumbled upon our Bachelor’s hotel room” before he Grobaned Elyse in her own rejection dinghy.

The entire village greets their guests, segregates the men from the women and provides colorful tribal inspired costumes for everyone. In the women’s hut, Courtney is perplexed as to why the other ladies aren’t willing to show their ladies in the ceremonial beaded dickies hand stitched by the village matriarch.

Courtney: “Are you wearing your bra with these?”
Emily: “I’m wearing a swimsuit top, and yes.”

Courtney: “You guys are so prudish. We’re in nature. You should bare chest it.”

Groban arrives to the party in a loin cloth. He looked ridiculous, as if ready to play a Junior Gladiator or cupid in the schmaltzy Valentine’s Day production at Sonoma Town Hall. His embarrassment was plastered all over his face until he noticed Courtney nipping out, a circumstance inspired by the cold rain. Things went a little primal after that. As Emily fluently communicated in Spanish with the Chief about waterborne diseases, Courtney paints B + C = heart with tribal paint on Groban’s back and then her skirt “accidentally” falls off. Never fear. I doubt the little children of the tribe were scarred for life upon seeing this nakedness since ABC provided computer graphically generated brightly colored loin cloths to cover their bare bottoms.

The viewing audience is another story. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it as many times as needed: thank you ABC for providing black box modesty patches. On a scale from one to wonderful, they were fantastic.

Everyone claimed to have a good time, but Courtney and Groban were the only two who actually meant it as the topic was discussed during the after party. He steals her away to have some alone time and she begins to weave her little web even tighter. The entire conversation was an elegant dance in double talk. Allow me to translate.

Courtney: “Our relationship is a good one. The skinny dipping in Puerto Rico was insane.”
Translation: “Picture me naked right now.”

Groban: “I like that you are assertive and confident. Don’t stop being yourself.”
Translation: “Let’s get naked again soon.”

Courtney: “It’s hard. I lose sight of our nights of passion. I just want to feel special.”
Translation: “Hand me your balls.”

Groban: “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Translation: “Here are my balls.”

Speaking of balls, Jaime finally grows a lady pair and steals Groban for some alone time. She is the only person related to the inner workings of the show who is completely shocked by the realization that Groban has no clue she likes him, even though this is the second time she’s addressed him in private. The first time was when she introduced herself upon exiting the inaugural cocktail party limo.

Jaime begins a very nervous, rehearsed soliloquy about her feelings, hopes and dreams. As if suddenly lost in a primetime sitcom, her audio is lowered, a tantalizing sting of music swells and the camera man focuses on a hot model in a bikini gallivanting stage left. It was like we were watching a dream. Jaime became very animated and spoke with a Charlie Brown teacher voice as Groban focused all his physical and mental energy into fighting the urge to not begin wolf whistling and panting.

The situation becomes tricky when Courtney begins executing Thighmaster exercises without the Thighmaster on the poolside chaise lounge. I’m sure Barney Stinson would have delivered a masterful inner dialog sequence, but we’re treated to Groban’s pulse rising before our eyes. Insert innuendo here.

Finally, Jaime realizes that her 20-minute conversation uplifting Groban to more than he could be has fallen on deaf ears. She admits defeat and bows her head to the mercy of the white string bikini.

Model – 1
Jamie – 0.

Groban decides to practice his Spanish with Emily. He applauds her for no longer being caught up in the house drama. She pokes fun and tells Groban she’s in love with the Chief over at the secluded village. He thinks she is totally funny and muy bonita.

This exchange gives Emily a distorted Pollyanna view of the show and she decides to make amends with Courtney. She apologizes for “inserting herself into a situation” and then asks to be friends.

Courtney: “I respect you being direct with me. I don’t forgive and forget. I don’t respect the fact that you talked bad about me. We will never be friends. Nobody treats me poorly.”

Thank goodness we have a villain. Otherwise, we’d be forced to watch Groban paint the town beige each week.

Lindzi receives the date rose for not overdoing it on the bronzer and Courtney is ticked. As she prepares for 15-minutes of complete silence in Room 1611, she begins crying about the fact all men like her but they always end up treating her without respect. It was a complete waste of good lip gloss and another round in the beaded bra when Groban didn’t show up. It was a great option for new footage on her acting reel.

Two-On-One
Rachel
Jugs
“Save the Last Dance for Me”

Jugs is super confident she is going to rock this date. Just when I was feeling bad about writing “as long as there are people there to make it rain” in my notes, she shows up in one of Ashley’s old rompers.

I’m going to ask you to make better bad decision Jugs. Come on.

The girls double hug Groban at the same time and then they intertwine their arms into his and head to the dance studio. If you haven’t guessed this week’s theme yet, let me give you a hint: Groban isn’t looking for the best dancer…he’s just looking for someone who can ________ . [Hint: the answer is NOT “go skinny dipping”]

The darling little salsa lady instructs the trio on how to move their hips, count to seven (skipping the number four) and shimmy with gusto, emphasizing that “the way you move with your partner shows if you have chemistry in real life.”

Jugs was costumed into a pink strapless number two sizes too small. I’m convinced the instructor’s daughter wore it at her quinceañera. Rachel wore a royal blue outfit with a feathery skirt. The Jim Henson Company would like for me to note that no Muppets were injured in the making of this frock.

Rachel is up first and fumbles through the 1-2-3, 5-6-7 with playful glee. Jugs practices in the wing, chomping her gum with every ball change.

Rachel: “I sort of forgot that Jugs was right there. We totally have chemistry.”
Jugs: “I’m a better dancer than Rachel. It’s what I do for a living.”

Jugs dramatically takes the floor, grinding on Groban like he’s the good old stage pole at Treasures. She delivers the beautiful choreography of her candy striper routine by mentally playing “Pour Some Sugar On Me” in her head. Rachel daintily tries to cut in, but Jugs is at the hot, sticky, sweet portion and Groban ignores her request.

Rachel: “This sucks. I don’t think he sees through her sexual dancing.”

At dinner, Groban comments on the awkwardness of the situation and both girls agree that they will be normal during one-on-one time. Rachel tells Groban that she is not in this for the competition, but truly like him. He answers with the assurance that he’s not quite sure how he’s going to vote tonight. Ah. The words every girl wants to hear when they are on a classy reality dating show.

Jugs sits on a bench with Groban and pours her heart out. She begins crying, ruining the soft texture of her purple eye shadow. Exhausted by emotional women, Groban looks behind her to see if there’s a model waiting for him in a white string bikini. No such luck. When he mentally returns to Jugs, she has presented him with a scrapbook.

Interesting. To my knowledge, they’ve spoken three times. Since cell phones and cameras are strictly forbidden, one can assume that said scrapbook is not chock full of snapshots from their 12 hour relationship. Upon further inspection, and commentary from Jugs, we learn that she has fashioned roughly 45 pages of “memories” based on the dates they haven’t been on and a future life together they have yet to live using only cut out words from brochures, TV Guides and dinner menus from hotels in Park City, Puerto Rico and Panama. I particularly liked the page that featured their fake first trip to meet the parents as it was all in Spanish. I’m sure I spotted at least four color swatches for bridesmaid dresses too. Maybe she absorbed a little too much glue tacking down all those cut out letters, but the final product was surely something serial killers and ransom letter writers would be proud of.

Watching the horror gloss over Groban’s eyes was entertaining. He gives the date rose to Rachel and Jugs exits the restaurant in a huff. He explained to her that he already has relationships with other women in the pack, encouraged her to maybe wear pants or jeggings next time and bid her adios. She grabs him for a long embrace, muffles something in the crook of his neck, hoists up the strapless quinceañera dress and heads for the States.

Forced Drama
Our Host arrives as a man on a mission. There will be no playful banter. Index finger rings are safe at home in the jewelry box. His effervescent smile is masked by a stern face as he drops an octave to command a private audience with that blond girl you don’t know named Casey.

OHCH: “It was brought to my attention by three different people back in US that you are in love with someone else other than Groban.”
Blond: “Michael? He’s like my ex.”

OHCH: “Are you or are you not still in a relationship with him?”
Blond: “That’s like totally not true.”

OHCH: “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH. CODE RED. CODE RED!”
Blond: “Okay, okay! He said like he didn’t want to get like married and I do. I came here like looking for love.”

Using a skill few men possess, Harrison raises an eyebrow and the eavesdropping Bachelorettes quickly scurry back to their pre-rose ceremony beatification rituals.

OHCH: “Are you still in love with him?”
Blond: “I don’t want to be. I hope he will like change his mind.”

OHCH: “BUSTED. You still love him. Follow me.”

Harrison checks his secret, yet brightly colored file, eager to pull out incriminating evidence had Blond not admitted to sort of still loving her ex. He ushers her through back alleys and dark stair cases before boldly knocking on Groban’s door. He takes a seat, ready with the stick in case he has to poke the fire.

Blond: “Chris told me there was like something that I like needed to talk to you about.”
Groban: “Please don’t put your dirty feet on this beige couch.”

Blond: “Like I was in love with this guy, he didn’t like, like me back. Like I don’t think he’s like holding me back, but like Chris said like I should totally tell you.”
Groban: “I wish you had been more honest with me.”

Blond: “Like, I don’t want you to be mad.”
Groban: “Well…I don’t want you to be here.”

Casey the Blond shares the same confused look as witnessed earlier in the season by one Miss Pacific Palisades. I don’t think the truth actually permeated until Harrison debriefs her in the hallway. She begins to melt down before his eyes. His jaw tightens, undoubtedly from the piercing of flesh from his teeth.

Must. Not. Laugh.

Harrison takes one for the team and pulls Casey the Blond in for a hug before depositing her into the rejection vehicle. She ugly cries for several minutes. We’re not sure if she’s upset that Michael has miraculously pulled the puppet strings all the way from Kansas, that she’s been rejected on national television and never expected anyone to know she actually owns an acid washed denim jumper or she will never be able to disinfect her feet enough from walking barefoot all around the hotel.

Rose Ceremony
Nicki still has feelings for Groban and expresses those through slow dance moves from sixth grade. Emily feels more confident than she’s ever felt. Lindzi is rockin’ her bronzer. And Rachel discovers a chink in Courtney’s armor.

Courtney: “I feel like I’m going home tonight.”
Rachel: “What? I’ve never heard you say that!”
Courtney: “Bazinga.”

Jaime continues to reel in the unfortunate luck of her group date and decides to take matters into her own hands once again at the rose ceremony. She pumps herself up by chanting, “I’m a sexy woman. I can please him. I can make him happy. I’m NOT a prude.”

Clearly not. Prudes don’t wear short, tight, strapless red cocktail dresses.

She corners Groban and our Bachelor is genuinely thrilled that Jaime has decided to have an actual conversation with him. Things begin to look bleak when she commands, “Brace yourself because you are going to be shocked.”

He becomes even more excited when she decides the best way to show him that she cares is by giving him a lap dance in her shorty red dress. The buzz dies down when she can’t stop giggling at her own spontaneous ways. She keeps babbling that she’s usually not this “fancy” between bouts of sticking her tongue down his throat. It was the most curious thing I’d ever seen.

She dismounts his crotch, chooses a more ladylike position beside him on the bench and then suggests they simply make out.

Groban: “That sounds great. I didn’t expect that from you. You went from zero to 60.”
Jaime: “You think that was a 60? That was more of a 50.”

Good Lord Jaime. For the sake of everyone watching you right now in utter disbelief, those updating their Facebook status and Tweeting, “OH NO SHE DIDN’T!” I beg of you to stop the car completely and just walk away so I can crawl out from behind this couch cushion.

Of course she didn’t.

For the next 20 unfortunate minutes, Jaime gives Groban a step-by-step lesson on how to French kiss a girl. Her instructions are peppered with key indicators that this is not going well, such as, “Yeah, I know.” or “I’ve kissed a girl before.” and the zinger, “You are making this so much harder than it needs to be.”

He pulls away, exclaiming “I can’t take you seriously!” She looks at him quizzically, gnawing on a mint or an ice chip, which I’m sure made the Kissing: 101 class that much more awkward. Perhaps she was proving that she had a talented tongue by tying a cherry stem into a knot? Whatever. That’s not the point. The point is that this presumably sweet girl has just landed herself a permanent spot in the “Bless Her Heart” Hall of Fame.

Jaime: “I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

I’m going to go with: “She is certifiable.”

Kacie B., Lindzi and Rachel join the other ladies and watch as Nicki, Courtney and Emily receive roses.

Poor Jaime. Nobody likes to be told what to do. Especially when you’re told to take a moment to say your goodbyes.

Next week, our six remaining ladies travel to Central America where Courtney may finally be outed for being a dramatic mean girl. Am I excited? You better Belize it!

Quick side bar: PLEASE DO NOT POST SPOILERS IN THE COMMENT SECTIONS! I LIKE TO BE SURPRISED!

Thanks everyone!

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