Last night was the night I nearly threw a television out of the window.
Frank. Seriously. Frank and his stupid tank tops and his stupid rando ex-girlfriend and his stupid dramatic insecurities…. and man crying. Stupid sad piano music should follow Frank around for the rest of his life.
Roberto. It must be hot in Tahiti. You seem to be a sweat monster. You took sweaty from sexy to schvitzy… Yea, sorry.
Chris. Some show producer told you to waaay unbutton your cute red plaid shirt waaaay low, didn’t they? Well.. at least you have nice clavicles.
Also… someone has baby teeth. Also… this show has forever ruined the word ‘amazing’. Good heavens. Also… will someone please take Frank’s microphone away? Lordy. Why did he bring such a big suitcase? Also… how would you like to bust out your ugly cry on national television? Not ok.
Maybe I was Skype chatting with my friend Whitney through this whole tedious ordeal. Whitney is waaaay into wine. She paired a wine for each one of the three finalists. I’m waaaay into sweets, so I ate half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while watching. I’m not necessarily proud of anything I’ve done tonight. It happened though… and why hide my private Bachelorette shame when I can just as easily share it with the thousands of you out there. That makes sense, right?