Bachelor
Life (x4)

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I Don't Give a Damn 'Bout the Whole State of Michigan

He's one of "the most eligible bachelors in America"? Why, what happened to all the grownups?

Over a soundtrack of driving-yet-kind-of-faggy drumbeats that sound like they're about to kick into "Why Don't We Do it in the Road" as reimagined by Chuck Mangione, we begin this week inside the house of Andrew "Chardon, Nay" Firestone as he packs his pricey baubles and prays audibly that this "New Jersey" place the producers keep telling him about isn't as scary as it's depicted on the premium cable which he alone can afford. That toneless, vaguely nasal intonation that's hypnotized us all into a constant lulling state of "Wait, okay, now I'm sure I don't find him cute at all, so let's go ahead and just get on with our...or maybe I...?" for the past six weeks kicks in, as the thought-provoking voice-over of Andrew "Wine-O Forever" Firestone tells us, "I'm definitely looking forward to today. Getting the group dates over." Oh, I know. Those grueling group hot-tub sessions with four bikini-clad women while you're sitting there thinking, "When will I be relieved of this torture, oh Lord? WHEN? For the love of all that is holy, WHEN WILL MY NEXT MASSAGE SESSION NEXT TO A TOPLESS WOMAN COME AND EASE MY ACHING BODY AND MY TORTURED SOUL? WHEEEEEEEN?" Those can be a killer. Andrew continues in this vein, adding, "Getting out of Malibu." He says it with the relish of a man who would replace the word "Malibu" with the word "prison," and as if the man in question were Nelson Mandela. Dude, why is he so mad at Malibu? Was the Farmer's Market, like, totally out of wheatgrass shots or something? Fleeing the desperation and oppression of this tony, temperate coastal paradise as quickly as his chauffeured stretch limousine will allow, Andy throws some more shirts in his suitcase -- look out, Ricky! Wouldn't want to damage your "couple of silver spoons" -- and tells us that "these next set of dates will change things emotionally and romantically." Why's that? Well, it's because "it's more like dating four ladies individually." Awww, someone went and taught L'il Andy some math! It's so cute, to watch him add all those numbers up in his tousled head all by himself! That must have been the lesson plan they covered in his class today. Which probably also explains why the first time he spoke his previous statement, he accidentally said, "It's more like dating four felt duckies individually" and necessitated a reshoot. Math is hard! Anyway, Andy decrees that, from now on, it's all about "finding the one." Look at Mr. Mathlete go! One is also a number! Though, clearly, it is the loneliest number that you'll ever do. One is the loneliest number. Much much worse than two. One is a number divided by two. And, for those of you who were under the impression that "tony" was a word specifically designated for Entertainment Weekly's "Gimme Shelter" column, here's some proof we can all adopt it for our own selfish needs. Because seriously? It's in there every week.

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Bachelor

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