The Bachelorette Fantasy Suite Recap: Blame It On Iowa

If you drank every time Andi Dorfman said “Iowa” last night, you were completely hammered. If you drank every time she talked about how much she hates Iowa, well – you’re dead. From alcohol poisoning. Sorry ’bout that! As a Hawkeye alum, I take particular exception to this blatant disdain and condescension towards a wonderful state. Hey, lady, this isn’t Siberia. It’s fucking IOWA. Between that and her gaping mouth, her incessant need to say, “stop,” and her annoying pity pouty face with her lower lip sticking out, I find her to be a bit irritating. And the fantasy suites are finally getting old, with the drawn out conversations where both of them rationalize why they need that extra time to talk (read: make sure no one has a third nipple or other disfigurement).

Nick, Nick, Nick, you love to talk about how cerebral you are, but it’s so hard to focus with your neon Members Only clothing. Were you planning on going for a midnight bike ride around DR? And color blocking is for chicks, k? At least you ditched your man scarves, so there’s that. Did anyone else love when Andi asked him, “What’s your funny thing?” I have a feeling she was about to find out in the fantasy suite, and he likes to call it his “little brain.”

Nick talked about his breakup, saying, “Sometimes I chuckle at it,” when you could see he was about two gentle pushes away from another full-on breakdown. If he had his own Twitter hashtag, it would definitely be #CREEPY. He’s not completely ugly if you like whiny, petite metrosexual types. But the thing we all took home from that date was that 33 year-old men from the Midwest like to write fairy tales, complete with their own illustrations. NOT! 33-year-old guys from the Midwest like to burp and play beer pong (but not in that order; no offense, guys).

Then there’s Josh. Josh, Josh, Josh. Don’t get me wrong. I find him to be as yummy as a hot fudge sundae smothered in wine sauce. But methinks he might be a bit lacking in the brains department. As my husband said, “He’s a half-wit.” He’s super charismatic though … almost like a big, goofy dog. Good boy, Josh. Good boy. Tell her you love her. That’s it. Now go get the bone! Who’s a good boy?! Who’s a good boy?! Okay, that just got weird but, still. He kind of reminds me of Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite.

Uncle Rico Napoleon Dynamite

“Back in ’82, I used to be able to throw a pigskin a quarter mile.”

He’s super pumped about Andi. He’s super pumped about life. He’s super pumped about smiling! He’s pumped, guys! Huddle up, everyone. GO TEAM JOSH!

And, finally, who doesn’t love watching a guy show up when everyone but him knows he’s sloppy thirds? Poor, poor, Chris … my lovable farmer Matthew McConaughey doppelgänger. Mama says, “Alright, alright, alright.” Yeah, I’m leaning way towards creepy today. Dude didn’t stand a chance from the start but the overtired game of Ghost in the Graveyard was downright painful. He looked like he was making a b.m. right there out in the open, and the ensuing kiss was beyond awkward. I wanted to wear my contact lenses for a couple of years and then have an amoeba eat my eyeball.

The most painful part was the conversation later in which Andi said, “Iowa’s great. It really is,” almost like someone had just held her down and forced her to lick the TV remote in a hooker motel. She followed that gem up with, “Is that everyday life?” She might as well have said, “You do have running water there, right?” or, “How high is the suicide rate for farmers’ wives, anyway?” PUNCH. Chris took it all in stride, as he’d likely already done the mental math and knows he’s got a good chance at being the next bachelor. Farmer groupies, unite!

In the end, Chris got the (cowboy) boot. Blame it on Iowa.

bachlorette-Chris

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Comments

  1. Jennifer says:

    Thanks Marnie for the laughs. Funny you mentioned 33 men in the midwest writing fairy tales. I don’t think that happens. From what I remember it’s happy hour on Friday, followed by Saturday College Football at the bars, followed by Sunday night football. Not too many fairy tales in my day.

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