It's My Bachelor Party And I'll Cry Because I'm Crazy And/Or Sad About The Sudden Death Of My Grandmother

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Djb: C- | Grade It Now!
Skinny Amy

Seal Beach? Where is that? ["The Mall At Short Hills? Oh, no -- that's Wet Seal. Sorry." -- Wing Chun] Seal Beach is where we are, is where. It's a sandy expanse with an ocean at the end -- so I guess I'm just waiting for a rationale behind the "seal" modifier -- and Bob and Meredith are hoisted onto the horses she just told him that she didn't like that he somehow knew that she already didn't like. "I'm not a big fan of horses," she reminds us. "But, I mean, it's with Bob." And if Bob jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge? Well, then, yay, us!

Up and down the beach, they ride, after which they take a romantic walk with rolled-up pants. They are soon to come upon a sandcastle made of not sand, a enormous taupe palace with a full dinner and spread waiting for them inside. They sit on chaise longues outside, Meredith wrapped in a blanket telling Bob she'll try raw oysters for him, which she also doesn't like. Meanest. Fantasy date. Ever. She samples one and tells him, "That doesn't do so much for me." How about hearing about dead people in Bob's family? He offers Meredith a little speech about people who have died in his life, bemoaning, "We had three major losses in a very short period of time: my uncle, my grandfather, and other grandfather." And this is my other brother Darryl. And then he remembers that his grandmother died, too, not long after. Three, then plus one? What is that, a baker's dozen? One for good luck? I would describe exactly how this is making me feel right now, but I wouldn't want anyone to accuse me of shirking my recapping duties, so I'll just suffice it to say that it rhymes with "flobody pares, Bob." (Rhyming "Bob" with "Bob"? Brilliant of me. By the way.)

"Bob made everything okay for me today. He made my tragedy okay. He made the horses okay. He made the oysters okay. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect person to spend my day with." Poor, lonely, ruined Meredith. She and Bob hold hands under the table and talk about how Meredith can't assume she'll ever get a rose. He tells her, "I don't understand what has kept you here until this point, but I'm thankful for it." It's you, Bob! You! You who you love, don't you remember?

The second date box arrives, Misty and Jenny using their cumulative IQ -- the sheer breadth of which could fit snugly in a box quite a bit smaller, I'm quickly coming to learn -- to operate the motor commands of "lift, turn, pivot, bring in house, put down on sarcastically large ottoman, pause briefly, think Antoinette's faggy hat is really queer, spot check on still living grandma, sigh with relief, giggle, and sit." The girls crowd around the ottoman, which means that some of them open the box in Malibu and some of them open the box in Torrance, as we learn that a group date of three isn't as bad as being the least compatible or using the death of an aged relative as a tertiary subplot. Mary, why don't you share with the rest of el class-o, por favor? "Mary, Kelly Jo, and Misty. Join me for a night of jammin' and jammies." Squeeee! He writes the way really hip Judy Blume books talk! Frederick himself walked out from Hollywood on foot to deliver the tawdry contents of the box: sexy negligees and a microphone. Misty celebrates, "At least I wasn't voted least compatible!" When you hear the dude's Rick Springfield, the only thing you're gonna wish you'd been voted was "Most likely to be more like Estella's dad": deaf in life but only really protected from Bob's karaoke stylings in death.

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