"Even though my parents and my family enjoyed meeting Jen so much and they really liked her," Andy interviews, "I have no reservations about introducing Kirsten." Anybody else getting the feeling that Andrew's prepping the camera for when he chooses Kirsten? Anyway, introductions. Brooks uses the word "vivacious" (ding ding ding!) to describe her upon introduction, and two of the smaller children approach her with a bouquet of wildflowers and a glass of wine. Oh, ha ha. Baby carrying wine. Winery humor. Dry like a fine Firestone Chardonnay.
This time the producers try to up the adorability quotient for Andy by putting a little girl in his lap. Outside on a large expanse of lawn, a large group sits around inside Kirsten's Punctuation-Free Zone, as she explains, "I went to the University of Florida and I graduated and I moved back home with my parents because I..." Brooks The Millionth asks what her degree is in, and she replies, "Magazine Journalism." Can she not just say "Journalism"? Why dumb it down when they'll figure out the "dumb" part for themselves? I'm sure it's a lovely major and all, but I can just picture the staid old Brooks The Millionth sitting in slack-jawed horror listening to Kirsten do a reading from her undergraduate thesis, Petty My Catty: A Statistical Analysis Of The Scoring System In Cosmo Quizzes. Brooks The Millionth asks if Kirsten plays any sports, and she responds, "I played some sports when I was in grade school I played softball and I did yearbook and that kind of thing." Ah, yes. The sport of yearbook. And, elementary school? I know she's young and all, but it's not like this is The Bachelor: The Greater Dakotas. She's not fourteen. Anything you've done in the, say, eleven years since grade school ended? She continues, "I kind of live for the weekends." That causes Hayley to quietly observe in an interview, "Where does the substance beyond this surface beauty lie?" Oh, sorry. I must have missed the part where all opinions of the bachelorettes would be expressed entirely in sonnet form from now on. Oops. I mean, "Nay, have I not thus neglected when therein all nymphs of Andrew's humor to be sung in thine form of a sonnet for his pleasure." Whatever. I ain't no poet. But I could kick your ass at yearbook.
The ladies retire inside with Kirsten in tow, and the men remain outside to smoke cigars and speak of sport (not "sports," nay. "Sport"). Inside, Kirsten's congressional filibuster continues with nary a breath, as she prattles, "Probably one of the most important things about making a relationship with Andrew and I work is the fact that I need to be where he is I couldn't be long-distance I think that's important like I wanna have my life and where I'm going but also at the same time I think he would make it so much better and so much happier." Hayley nods in agreement, but another curly-haired woman (who, point of order, was not at dinner last night) is skeptical. Kirsten adds that she wants a career, but adds, "I don't want a career that's tying me down or anything like I want it to be flexible like a part-time career." Oh, a part-time career. Said curly-haired woman (she's a sister, too, and her name is "Polly" and she wasn't at dinner last night, okay?) also doubts Kirsten's "substance," and we cut back to her in the kitchen, blathering blah blah blee blech. Outside, meanwhile, Andy tells the men, "I wish, in a way, someone would just screw up." Hear that, Andrew 2.0? The fix is in.