Marnie is currently at 38,000 feet en route to Los Angeles, so this is her father filling in for her on the weekly blog. I gave her full veto power over everything written here – but I’ve tried to use the DNA telepathy to channel what I think she would have written anyway.
Rachel says Finland is “like Narnia”. Huh? Are there talking reindeer there that sound like Liam Neeson? I don’t think so, Rachey baby.
Putting Rachel on cross country skis is like giving Bill Gates the solo dance spot on Soul Train.
What are they drinking? Mulled cider? They’re not telling me, but whatever it is it’s steaming and it’s in cups that look like the “cup of a carpenter” that Indiana Jones chooses to drank out of in “The Last Crusade” and I’m wondering if Rachel is going to put a buzz on before she opens up to this twit about the false feelings she has for him.
Rachel apparently fears rejection and craves reciprocity for her feelings. So in a way she’s a lot like France.
Since we know Rachel is toast anyway and therefore have to withstand the complete absence of drama, I’m kind of struggling as Nick loads her onto the sleigh and Rudolph pulls them along towards what I can only imagine is a marathon lutefisk and aquavit binge/purge session.
Cue the CGI-enhanced Northern Lights shot. No way those are the Northern Lights. Everybody knows that global warming has basically made it impossible to see the Aurora Borealis. But ABC just can’t resist throwing more nonsense at us.
Nick isn’t sure where he stands with Rachel, who can’t verbalize bold-faced lies so she verbalizes that she can’t verbalize things very well. The show is so crushingly boring at this point that I’m trying to figure out if the candles in the room are scented or not.
Rachel erupts into giggles when she “admits” that she’s falling in love with Nick, who says he’s falling for HER “100%” and we all collectively scratch our heads because we know she’s going about as far on this show now as Nick can spit. And I’m pretty sure Nick doesn’t have salivary glands because he rarely opens his mouth when he speaks.
Hey, it’s Fantasy Suite time – “should you choose to forego moral decency and make the beast with two backs, please use this key to go into the room so you can drag this out a bit longer and make us all wonder why the F we are watching this crap instead of doing something useful like figuring out how to solve for cold fusion or making packaging that actually fits whatever product it’s carrying instead of being five times too big”.
Wakey Wakey. Eggs and Bakey. Nick bolts to “get ready” for his next gifted-on-a-silver platter roll in the freakin’ hay, and once again I wonder what self-respecting woman would agree to go through this BS anyway.
Here comes Vanessa, who we all thought thought should have gone home a long time ago of her own volition because she seems like one of the women who truly understands that Nick is a complete douchetard.
But she’s playing the game and sounding like she cares, so we’ll stay with it and hope that Nick gets hypothermia in the ice bath and has to be airlifted to a Helsinki sex change clinic where they make the not-so-shocking discovery that all his junk leans toward the XX chromosome anyway.
I would love to say that there is “major shrinkage” for Nick coming out of the ice bath, but my guess is that he wouldn’t know the difference.
Yes, Nick, Vanessa is “out of her comfort zone”, and so are we all, because you creep everybody out and make us all question how the F you made it onto this show fifteen times in the first place.
They jump back and forth between the sauna and the ice bath a few times, and once again Vanessa shows us that she has all the balls in this “relationship” and Nick is little more than a eunuch with a sparse beard and a wool toque.
Okay, enough Nick bashing.
V says she is in love with Nick and they are talking about real stuff that might keep them apart, so as much as I don’t think she really loves Nick I am getting a vibe here that this actually may be one of the more real moments between a couple on this show in…well, forever.
In the winter teepee, there’s more serious talk about “core values” and ‘moving to Canada”, and how they each love their country. Nick is convinced that they’re emotional twinsies, and Va-nay-nay refuses to keep it superficial and starts the really deep shit flowing like thick, viscous lava straight out of the Muana Loa crater.
Truthfully, at this point I’m really just wishing we could go back to shallow/sexy flirting and that they’d chuck the hardcore life talk and just hit the Fantasy Suite for some good old-fashioned in-out/in-out.
Vanessa crushes the hopes of good guys everywhere by saying she has always wished for a guy like Nick, which means that apparently smarmy, unintelligible, unemployed narcissists everywhere stand the best chance of getting all the really hot/smart Canadian babes.
I appreciate the commercial break because Emma Watson singing to a candlestick with arms and a face gives me a better glimpse of reality than this God-forsaken show does.
Nick is everything Vanessa wants in a husband except he doesn’t have a job, doesn’t want to live in Canada, and has two other girlfriends who say they feel the exact same way about him even though it’s all a bunch of bullshit.
Well, maybe Raven doesn’t feel that way. She’s clearly been distracted by finally having “the Big O” with Nick, and just wants more. Can’t say I blame her.
The girls eye each other suspiciously as they arrive at the Rose Ceremony and a hug from Chris Harrison, who’s clearly as cold as all get out and pissed that he can’t be inside with a snifter of Remy and a fresh Monte Cristo.
What’s this? Nick says he’s scared…again? But he says his fears have been overtaken by love. And he’s crying. So he’s either REALLY scared or really in love. And I’m also pretty sure that he really appreciates the fact that he got to nail all three women.
Raven is go for the rose. And she has the cleavage to prove it.
Vanessa is go for the rose.
Rachel has some kind of Egyptian Nefertiti collar thing going on and looks great and thankfully escapes the clutches of this turd-in-the-punchbowl of a guy to fight yet another day in the trench warfare that is the battlefield known as Made For Primetime TV False-Love Programming.
Buckle up, Rachel. Dry those tears. Yes, you’re leaving – but you’re in charge the next time out and we will love to watch you go for it.
I don’t have the stomach for Women Tell All. Marnie will take you home for the finale. In the meantime…thanks for listening.