I Spy

Episode Report Card
Djb: C- | Grade It Now!
The Hell Nine Yards

Chris is grilling -- GRILLING -- Jesse. And I'll bet poor, unsuspecting Jesse had no idea these hardball questions were even coming! The next Bachelor? Richard Clarke. Tell me it's not the best idea ever. Is he married? If he's not, it's because the Bush administration told him he wasn't adequately prepared for marriage in the days and months leading up to his wedding. Chris asks Jesse what he's looking for in a woman, and Jesse responds that he wants someone with her own life. Not someone clingy. Chris laments that it's difficult being married to a professional athlete. And he'd clearly know, due to the famed Harrison/Joyner-Kersee nuptials that were all over the tabloids a few months back. At least they didn't air it on ABC. What a circus that would have been. Chris reminds us that there will be a spy in the house. Because there will be. A spy. In the house. Oh, and Jesse thinks he would be ready to propose to someone at the end, "if someone moved" him. Also? Spy in the house.

"Twenty-five women from all across the country on their way to meet you. You ready for this?" Or twenty-four women. From all across the continent. Poor Canada. You guys should, like secede or something.

The first limo is here! The first limo is here! "Jesse, let the journey begin." Back off, Chris. I expect not to see you again until somewhat more shocking! times. Now go. The first limo is here!

They can't give him anything but love. But hoo-boy, can he give them cash money:

Jessica B. is a twenty-one-year-old law student from Huntington Beach, California. And I'm not one to judge a book by its SPF, but if I had to guess the extent of her legal knowledge, I'd say her reading on the topic centers primarily around reading about Jude Law as one off People's sexiest men alive. I mean, I read it too; I'm not made of stone. But just because I read People doesn't mean I get to call myself "a student of contemporary sociology." Jessica B. tells us that she is "a hopeless romantic," and she steps out of the car in a shimmering white gown, informing Jesse right away, "Just you and me. Nobody else is coming." She's here all week. Try the beefcake. Don't worry. I have a sneaking suspicion she will.

Jean-Marie gives the joke away for free when she informs us, "I'm twenty-six, but I actually feel like I've lived a long life." And you have. In your twenty-six years. As lived on Jupiter. She's actually kind of pleasant in a lumbering, Elizabeth-Hurley-on-Jupiter kind of way. And she seemed to have styled her hair with the fashionable power of prayer. And the lord ain't listening. But Jesse Palmer is, when he asks her where she's from and she responds, "North Carolina." He volleys back an almost sarcastic, "Really?" like he caught her in a lie when he snuck a look at her driver's license and it's all, "Jean-Marie, from Jupiter."

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