Props to Wing and Sars.
We again join the action in progress this week, finding ourselves in the Ladies' Villa just as Chris "Hostess Ding Dong" Harrison calls the ten remaining bachelorettes downstairs. Upstairs, the ladies put down their slam books ("She's way too emotional!" writes Christina of Liz. "She has a boyfriend back home!" writes Ann-Michelle of Kirsten. "I'm two dumm too no aneething! And drunck, to!" writes Amber of, as she spells it, "Ammbur." Eventually, all the remaining contestants arrive in the living room with empty pans, various prospecting gear, and t-shirts reading "I Heart 1849!" to discover two new nemeses on the premises: meet, as Chris explains it, "two of Andrew's closest friends. This is Kevin and his girlfriend Shannon." And I'll tell you what: I missed it the first time around that Shannon was Kevin's girlfriend. So for a few deluded hours, I thought -- even during the most dire, Andrew-judging moments of this episode (get that napkin off your head in public, you entitled, spoiled infant) -- that it was cool Andrew had friends who were girls who were just, like, friends. I wasn't aware that Shannon was the wingman (literally, "the one who serves the wings while the boys are watching football") to a guy made out of body hair and gigantic nose cartilage who causes the Oxford English Dictionary definition of "lunkhead" to be all, "Oh, you mean I'm that guy! I get it now." In a confessional that is whatever the opposite of the word "prophetic" is, Kevin offers, "I think I know what he's looking for in a girl, and I'm here to help find who his future bride may be." Right. By sending him up the champagne-and-puke-made river with Amber Drunkelman. Good show, Lord and Lady Lunkhead.
Some people learned that TV was invented juuuuuuuuust now, so Chris goes over the rules of engagement (will he propose? WILL SHE SAY YES?) for the fourteen hours of episode that lie ahead: "For the next few days, you're all going to be going on dates with our bachelor. There's gonna be two intimate one-on-one dates and two group dates. Who's going on them? You'll find out over the next few days as the date boxes arrive." Just like in real life! Except I'm not always home when they arrive, so my date boxes keep getting bounced back to UPS and being held at a distribution center fifty miles from my apartment, except this one time that I saw the really weird Russian guy who lives downstairs holding an opened box addressed to me in one hand and a prominent heir to a tire fortune who I think I saw speaking the words "it's actually all about the wine now" in the other. Damn those wily, date-box-stealing Russians.