Bland Canyon

The Bachelor episode recap: S16 E6

2012-02-06T20:06:00.105-05:00

I hope you're sitting down for this because, and I'm just going to come right out and say it: this was the craziest episode of The Bachelor so far. Crazier than the time they climbed that bridge and called it a "date". Crazier than the time they skiied down the street in their bikinis and called it "fun". Crazier than Jenna the blogger on six bottles of Pinot Grigio.

CRAZIER THAN THIS.

There's boob flashing, crazy crying, awkward sex lessons - there's SCRAPBOOKING, for god's sake.

Grab a glass of wine, get comfortable, and get ready for the express ride to Weirdville...

The past few weeks has seen The Bachelor slowly morph into The Amazing Race with Ben and The Women zipping all over the place from Sonoma to Puerto Rico - last week we even got to see Courtney's map of Tassie. This week they're in bloody Panama.

Fortunately the producers still have a vague understanding of why we're all watching this show, which is why they've chosen to put everyone up in the city's most sexually suggestive building:

"Welcome to Twat Towers ladies, you'll be staying in the Clitoral Suite."

All The Women are mega excited to be staying inside a giant vajayjay for a week, not to mention the producers who can finally rest easy knowing scaredy-cat Ben will be forced inside at least one giant vagina this season.

"It will be great to go skinny dipping this week," muses Courtney as she looks out the window of the big bajingo onto the swimming pool.

Meanwhile, my brain explodes at the thought of people watching Courtney's hoo-hoo from the windows of a monolothic minge. That's meta. Meta minge.

Suddenly another giant twat arrives:

I think we can safely say this is the first time in a long time that Ben has unloaded his bags into a giant muff.

With the huge clam fully loaded it's time for the first solo date which this week goes to Kacie B.

With any luck the dates will be beaver-themed like their accommodation.

"Will our love survive? Pack three things," says the date card.

"I don't think I can fit three things IN there..."

Fortunately Kacie B is allowed to bring a bag on her date, so all the Kegel exercises she spent the night doing go to waste. America, meanwhile, holds its collective breath to find out what three things she brought with her.

But it looks like "pants" isn't one of them.

"Today we're going on a helicopter," announces Ben.

TIME FOR A FUN BACHELOR GAME: Guess what happens next!

Kacie B says "Oh, that will be fun, just like the last 13 times on this show already," and calmly climbs into the helicopter.

Kacie B says "Great, I really loved the other 37 times we've flown in helicopters on this show," and quietly steps into the helicopter.

Kacie B screams like a mental patient because she's forgotten the other 72 times she's already been in a helicopter on this show.

"There's the canal," says The Benchelor, pointing out the window at what may or may not be a sewage treatment plant.

Sadly he resists the temptation to tell Kacie B all about the "far canal", which would have been more entertaining.

Ben announces they're flying to the deserted "Sand Blast" island, which sounds only marginally more fun than spending a week inside a concrete snatch. I hope they're going to spend the day cleaning graffiti off palm trees with heavy industrial cleaning equipment, but then they land and I see the caption on screen is actually "San Blas". Bugger.

Even the helicopter pilot can't stand their irritating grinning and hand holding, so buggers off and leaves them there.

Suddenly, the two are stranded. Abandoned. Left entirely alone on an uninhabited island in the Caribbean Sea. Alone except for a camera crew, three producers and a catering division.

Not content with morphing into The Amazing Race, the show suddenly takes a left turn and becomes Survivor, with Ben and Kacie B forced to rely on their wits to survive.

Better see what three life-saving items Kacie B brought with her:

1. A stuffed monkey.

Well done.

2. A corkscrew.

To open those funny fruits from the Pinot Grigio trees!

3. A bag of candy.

I think it's safe to say that Kacie B would be the first one eliminated at Tribal Council.

Fortunately for her though, The Benchelor is super impressed with her pathetic assortment of survival items, exclaiming "OOOH A CORKSCREW! NICE!"

Ladies, when your date thinks the most exciting thing you can do is bring a corkscrew out of your handbag, you might want to consider seeing other people. Or at least consider not picking up men from AA anymore.

In order to hide her terror at spending a full day on a deserted island with a recovering alcoholic, Kacie B spends the rest of this segment pretending to be retarded by laughing maniacally at everything Ben says.

"I brought this machete to murder you with."
"AHAHAHAHAHA!"

"And then I'm going to wrap your body up in this fishing net."
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHA!"

"This is what I'll be doing to your head later."
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAAAAAAA!"

"Today has been great - we're providing for each other, and we can make it on our own," says Kacie B, whose idea of "making it" is obviously less about living in the real world and more about harvesting coconuts and eating candy on a deserted island.

After a thrilling afternoon of eating candy, coconuts and the one fish the producers thoughtfully threw into their net, they head back to town for dinner and dull conversation about "things Kacie B likes to do". It was all pretty complex, so I've drawn it up into this Venn diagram for you:

As you can see, it was a scintillating discussion that went on for hours.

Surprisingly, even after these stellar conversation starters from Kacie B, the two don't have much to say and spend much of dinner holding hands and staring awkwardly at each other.

Meanwhile back at the mansion, the new date card arrives just as Lindzi is getting some free TV publicity for her new business venture, denim underpants:

Even Courtney is impressed.

"It's probably either a group date or, my biggest fear, a two-on-one," says Emily.

Emily. PhD student. Unaware of the double meaning of "two-on-one".

A whole bunch of girls are going on the next group date leaving just Blakely and Rachel which means - cue thrilling music - BLAKELY AND RACHEL WILL BE INVOLVED IN A TWO-ON-ONE WITH BEN.

I tried to find a funny picture to use here by Googling the phrase "two on one". That's why I'm using this picture of a puppy instead.

Because Rachel has half a brain she realises that on a date with two women and only one rose, there's a 50 per cent chance she could be going home tonight, not to mention 100 per cent chance of awkwardness.

Blakely, however, is still a Hooters waitress.

"But I get to spend 50 per cent more time with Ben! Right? I'M EXCITED!"

We leave the intelligence festival to head back to La Trattoria di Boringo, where Ben and Kacie B's conversation has reached new heights of mediocrity.

"How are you my dear?" sighs Ben, who has apparently just turned into an 82 year old woman. Maybe he'll offer her some tea next and get her to rub his cankles.

"Can I go back to the giant poontang now?"

"Are there significant points in time that have shaped you to get to this place?" asks Ben in what might be the least charming, flirtatious or interesting conversation starter ever.

Bored beyond belief, Kacie B digs deep and pulls out the biggest conversational gun in her arsenal: revealing she had an eating disorder in high school.

He truly has a way with the ladies.

Meanwhile, across the seas you can faintly hear everyone back at the mansion yelling "YOU'RE NOT SPECIAL, YOU KNOW."

"Speaking of eating disorders, should we stare at our dinner a bit more or just continue ignoring it altogether?"

"Kacie B's eating disorder was a monumental moment that made her who she is today and it makes me like her even more," says Ben before adding "ALSO BECAUSE SHE'S NOT FAT, AM I RIGHT GUYS?"

Kacie B's spectacularly unimpressive sob story earns her a rose. She manages to avoid eating it, but she does throw up as soon as she gets back from her date with Ben. Understandable.

Let's move on to the group date which this week is being held in one of Panama's most romantic places - a muddy river in the rain.

Unhappy at the over representation of vulvic symbolism in this episode, Ben decides to restore the balance by bringing along his own phallic symbol to the date:

"WANNA RIDE?"

Predictably enough, Courtney is impressed.

"It didn't look like THAT in Puerto Rico."

But not so impressed that she forgets to whinge about something.

"This is my third group date and I'm over it," she slags, oblivious to the fact that Ben is deathly afraid of being alone with her in case she gets naked again and wants to touch him on his special place.

"What's so impressive about Ben is he's such a man's man, driving this boat right on shore is like riding a bike to him," gushes Jamie, who apparently doesn't suspect that a winemaker from Sonoma might not intuitively know how to drive a Panamanian longboat, and might have just learned it from a tour guide half an hour before.

Meanwhile: who could think of a more wonderful thing to do on a date than bail out a leaky canoe in the middle of the jungle?

"Can you pass that bucket? I need to spew in it."

Suddenly the group comes across a Totally Authentic Tribe of Native Panamanians TM who have all gladly swapped their regular outfits for loincloths and head dresses in exchange for beer and cigarettes from the show's producers.

"This is the biggest language barrier I've ever come across in my life," gasps Lindzi. Clearly she never spent much time with Jenna.

A reminder.

All The Women are given bead necklaces. Courtney chooses to wear hers as a top, because we just haven't seen enough of her naked body yet, and thus makes ABC's overworked and underpaid editing guy the happiest man in the universe. Again.

"Well SOMEONE left their headlights on."

Then she reveals she's also taken her knickers off, because that's what you do when you're visiting a tourist attraction like Embera Village, or The Louvre, or Disneyland.

Even the village kids are like "Lady, have some class."

"Our elders told us this day would come. Now we must sacrifice you to our god."

Then out steps Ben in a beaded loincloth and all The Women start whooping and hollering as though Brad Pitt had just started a strip show in the village square, rather than the reality of a pasty, slightly flabby white man standing awkwardly in an embarrassing skirt.

If you can be out-cooled by a midget George Lopez impersonator in a skirt, you should just give up on life.

They're all handed bowls of paint and somehow resist the urge to throw them all at Courtney, instead opting to paint tattoos on each other.

Courtney, an algebra expert, shows off her massive brain by writing a complicated mathematics equation on Ben's back:

This is how Einstein got started too.

Unfortunately her reputation as a genius is undone just five minutes later when her tiny brain falls out her ear and she has to get it back in.

"I hate it when this happens."

They wrap up the day with a quick boogie to Embera Village's answer to the Beatles...

He's big in Panama.

...and because no one has had any alcohol for at least three hours it's time for a cocktail party back at the Big Vagina. Or, as she's sometimes known, Courtney.

Ben drags Lindzi the horse lover off for a quiet chat and a noisy kiss (seriously, what is with the kissing sound effects on this show? Are they really coming through the mics or is there a whole division set up in ABC's audio department where guys smack watermelons and apply suction cups to jelly pudding all day to get the sound effects as disgusting as possible?)

Back at the 600 Foot Tall Snatch Kacie B is reading out the date card for Blakely and Rachel's impending two-on-one.

Happy place, happy place...

"Two girls, one rose," she reads, which is only marginally better than that other similarly-titled internet video you showed your nana that one time.

"ISN'T THIS ILLEGAL?"

This is either an unfortunate coincidence, or the rose ceremony is going to get a whole lot more interesting this week.

Best head back to the group date, where the conversation has turned to Courtney's scandalous bare-breasted antics.

"She certainly knows how to get a guy's attention," gushes Jamie, as if taking your top off and flashing your boobs is some great secret of attracting men that only a select few women know.

Courtney, meanwhile, is growing bored of not being exclusively worshipped by Ben every 30 seconds and so resurrects her "I'm losing sight of us" trick from episode 4 which as we all know translates as "Give me a rose, motherfucker".

Ben is confused. Because Ben is a moron.

Also, this.

Realising her whingeing isn't working this time, Courtney is forced to change tack and so launches into Operation Desperado.

"I'm in room 1611 if you've had a long day, we can just lay there and be quiet for 15 minutes, 30 minutes, whatever, it doesn't have to be skinny dipping, you know where I'm staying if you wanna," says Courtney in the manner of a woman who normally doesn't have to beg to be slept with and is starting to grow confused as to why she's still talking.

Translation: I want to boof you.

Under pressure to get a rose, good girl Jamie decides tonight is the night to get her slut on.

"I'm just gonna kiss him!" she announces triumphantly, striding off to get cosy with Ben.

Sadly, she is out slutted by the queen of the sluts, Courtney, who saunters into the background in her white bikini and takes a leisurely swim while Ben and Jamie tacitly agree to pretend she isn't flashing her bits at everyone.

"Nope. Can't even see her, or her tits."

"How do you feel about me?" says Jamie.

"Um..."

"I've definitely told you numerous times the great qualities I see in you," she continues.

"Uh huh."

"I just get so nervous around you..."

"Mm, good."

"But I really genuinely like you a lot, I think you're a great person..."

"Hmm? Half past two."

Ben wraps up his in-depth conversation with Jamie with a heartfelt "Lovely to tits you, Courtney," and moves on to Emily who tells him she's in love with someone called "The Chief". Apparently this is a joke, as Ben laughs and gasps incredulously "You're FUNNY" (well, she IS a woman) but I have no idea what she was referring to. Can any Americans explain?

As is so often the case, Emily has an epiphany after talking to Ben except this time it's not about how she's wasting her life on some oily-haired twat, it's that she should end the battle of Emily and Courtney which began in episode 4. Darn, and that tapestry was almost completed too.

So she apologises to Courtney, who responds by performing the first act of her upcoming one-woman off-Broadway play "The Many Faces of Courtney":

Act Two is even better.

Lindzi gets the group date rose, Jamie puts her bookmark in chapter two of "How to be a Slut" to continue reading later and Courtney heads back to her room in the giant minge to wait for Ben to come and shag her.

Night turns to day, day to night and back to day, summer turns to winter, snow blankets the ground and then thaws and baby birds start hatching all over Panama, Presidents come and go, the Euro falls, colonies are established on Mars, robots achieve independent intelligence and start their own society in Antarctica and still Courtney waits.

"I've been consistently disappointed by men who take me for granted," whines Courtney, who at age 28 has only just learned a valuable lesson - just because you gets your tits out for a bloke doesn't mean he'll want to spend any actual time with you.

Meanwhile, I don't want to get all Sherlock Holmesy about a show that's obviously not supposed to be that deep, but unless Courtney is very concerned about oral hygiene (and I think we can safely assume that she's not), she's clearly sharing room 1611 with someone else.

Maybe one's for... no, actually, let's not think about that.

So who is her room mate, and where were they this whole evening while she was supposedly moping around alone?

Anyway now it's time for the most awkward date of the season: Blakely and Rachel and Ben, otherwise known as the "two on one", "two girls one rose", the "Hooters Back Door Special", or "usually about $1500".

Blakely is wearing another unfortunate example from her extensive romper collection, so it's a good thing she's made to change into a pile of pink vomit when they get to a latin dance club.

Rachel, meanwhile, looks like Gonzo's lovechild.

Just quickly, is anyone else getting a bit of a Jerri Blank vibe from Rachel, aka Tara Reid?

Why does she keep doing this face?

They shuffle around the floor for a bit, Rachel is scandalised about Blakely's "sexual dancing" because apparently it's 1955, and then we move on to dinner where Ben spends much of the evening like this:

"I have to talk to TWO women AT ONCE?"

"It's strange to be at a table with two different women," sighs Ben, who is way more used to being at a table with nine different women. MUST BE HARD.

It's never been more apparent that one woman must go. Who will it be? Let's let Blakely answer that question on her own.

"There's something I want to share with you," she says, as the camera tilts down to reveal...

HER HOME MADE BEN FLAJNIK SCRAPBOOK.

"These are a lot of the things I see in you that have made me start to fall for you," she says, turning the pages in The Creepiest Book Ever Made and showing Ben dozens of pictures she's clipped out of magazines that "represent their life together".

"This is you and me in San Francisco, and this is your dog Scotch, and this is me tying you to the bed at night so you don't run away from my love, YOU DIRTY BIRD!"

"To me this is more than a dream, it's more of a reality," Blakely explains as she continues flipping pages.

Rooted to the spot with fear Ben slowly reaches for his backpack, hoping the machete from his date with Kacie B is still in it but sadly he can only find the stuffed monkey, so chooses to kiss Blakely instead.

It does stop her talking but also somehow makes her think Ben likes her, so when he gives the rose to Rachel it's a bit of a shock. Funny, that.

Blakely storms off in tears, ripping sheets out of her scrapbook as she goes which is a bit of a shame really, because she could have taken it with her and just glued a huge picture of a broken heart at the end to finish it off later. Never mind.

Ben tries to explain by saying "I respect you too much to bring you through another one on one date", which is funny because I thought the explanation was "Your stalker scrapbook about me was really creepy and I'd like to never see you again". Maybe I read it wrong.

Blakely shuffles off to the loser car, never to return. Although it appears hers wasn't the only old pussy left out in the rain tonight:

Nice work, cameraman.

Meanwhile, back at the Big Minge, last week's award winning valet comes to collect Blakely's bag.

The women get out their calculators and work out a few percentages, make a few notes on butchers' paper and do a bit of internet research before they all scream "THAT MEANS BLAKELY'S GOING HOME!"

They're smart, those girls.

Just in case giant concrete twats, Courtney's boobs, repeated references to two-on-ones and Blakely's scrapbook hasn't created enough drama for this episode, the producers decide to make some more - ENTER CHRIS HARRISON.

He drags away Casey S, otherwise known as "Who?", for a private chat because - cue dramatic music - SHE IS STILL IN LOVE WITH HER EX BOYFRIEND.

Well, kind of. I mean, she says she's not but she probably is, deep down. She's not really sure, but maybe she is. Chris Harrison says she is so she must be.

AND IF SHE'S POSSIBLY MAYBE KIND OF IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE SHE CANNOT POSSIBLY OPEN UP HER HEART FULLY TO THE BENCHELOR, AND THUS WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO JOURNEY ACROSS MIDDLE EARTH TO THROW THE RING INTO MORDOR. Or something.

"I dunno, maybe I need to be in therapy or something," she says, surprising everyone as the first person on this show to actually admit that.

She's dragged off to confess her sins to Ben before being kicked off the show, although we don't really know why as she keeps saying she's not actually in love with her ex, and she's not leaving to be with him, and she really wants to be with a guy like Ben, but she's got to leave because... well, that's how you earn money in reality TV.

Heartbroken, Ben goes out onto his balcony to stare at the ocean while Chris Harrison pulls some moves in the hallway.

"I know it's tough... so what are you doing later?"

Meanwhile, I think I can speak for all viewers when I say:

Oh well, no time for that now, it's the pre-rose ceremony cocktail party!

And while the other women are drinking and chatting and batting their eyelashes at Ben in the hopes of getting a rose, Jamie knows better. She's just finished reading her copy of "Slutting It Up Volume 2: Tips for Tramps" and she knows she has to be aggressive.

She's so confident in her new found abilities she's already launched a new online course - "Awkward Flirting for Women Afraid of their Sexuality 101". Anyone want to sign up? The first lesson plan has leaked online, here it is:

HOW TO ~~BE SEXY~~ ~~ACT SEXY~~ ~~SEXUALLY PLEASE A MAN~~ FLIRT SO AWKWARDLY YOU CAN SCARE ANY MAN AWAY IN FIVE MINUTES OR LESS

STEP 1: Forget small talk, guys only want to talk about sex and will get bored if you bring up any other topic. Try a conversation starter like "I have a really big surprise for you!"

STEP 2: Subtly refer to your bedroom to get him thinking sexy thoughts, like "When I go to bed at night I think about you and about the things I would like to do with you."

If your man gives you this reaction, you're doing it right.

STEP 3: Awkwardly straddle his lap in your tight mini dress, while explaining in intricate detail how this is all part of your "big plan". Try not to let him see your hoo hoo, although this might actually be impossible, so just shift around a lot uncomfortably to obstruct his view.

Sexy!

STEP 4: Time for the kiss! While you're kissing him just like they do in the movies, say sexy things like "I like your hair!". He will show his appreciation by laughing.

STEP 5: Remember to check that your man is feeling the sexy vibes by constantly asking "Do you like me kissing you? Do you like me sitting in your lap? Am I embarrassing myself? Did you envision something different?".

STEP 6: Time for your second kiss! This time, give him some direction like "First our mouths are going to be CLOSED, and then we're just going to feel each other out, and THEN once we've felt each other out we're going to OPEN our mouths!" He will really appreciate the instructions.

I kind of envisioned something different. Did you envision something different?

STEP 7: Just before your lips touch be sure to confirm the arrangement you have proposed, by saying "Wait, we're going to go mouth closed first, yes?". If your date reacts like this, you're doing it right:

Two crazy kids enjoying some sexy times together.

STEP 8: By now you should be enjoying the view of your man's back as he runs screaming into the horizon. If he's sticking around, try step 3 again.

"I think I've shown you tonight how much I like you, is that clear?" Jamie asks, before getting Ben to sign off on the official flirtation plan she just demonstrated and putting it in her briefcase.

Meanwhile, I think I may have to revise this call from episode 1.

Now there are seven women and only six roses, and only one woman who turned into a total freak at the cocktail party meaning that THIS COULD BE THE LEAST SUSPENSEFUL ROSE CEREMONY EVER.

As usual, the final rose comes down to two - Jamie and Emily. If I were a betting girl, I'd say the woman who gave The Benchelor the awkward sex lesson is going to get the rose. Lucky I'm not a betting girl.

And in a surprise akin to opening a packet of biscuits and finding biscuits inside, Emily gets the flower and Jamie the instructional kisser is given a goodbye hug from Ben. BYE, JAMIE!

"OK first we're going to hug like this, THEN you're going to move your head to the OTHER side, and THEN we're going to feel each other out a bit..."

---

READ LAST WEEK'S RECAP episode 5 | Episode 7 coming February 14

Ben Flajnik sings about his dick, viewers gag

2012-02-01T08:41:00.005-05:00

Just when you thought The Bachelor's Ben Flajnik coudn't get any more repellant, up he pops on YouTube singing about his dick.

Not content with flashing his Little Ben all over national TV in Monday night's skinny dipping incident, this season's Bachelor has now surfaced in a Lonely Island-esque spoof music video called "Cream Dreams", in which he calls himself "The Storm Horse" and raps about how his "dick can fulfill your bedtime fantasies" with its "white pee".

Weirdly, this wig is better than his actual hair.

"If you'd just let me f*** you right I could be your cream dream every night," he sings, which I think is the same line he used on Courtney in Monday's episode.

Note to Ben: You are not Andy Samberg.

Meanwhile - WHY IS THIS GUY STILL SINGLE? A mystery for sure.

Enjoy the 3.45 of pain below. Hey, at least it's not 1.5 hours of pain like every episode of The Bachelor.

(And if you haven't read my Bachelor episode recaps yet, DO IT!)

The Bachelor episode recap: S16 E5

2012-01-30T20:03:00.071-05:00

Having already survived the non-stop thrills of Sonoma and Utah, The Benchelor this week ups the ante by taking his harem to Puerto Rico (or more specifically: Vieques Island, Puerto Rico, which I think translates to "Island of Spray Tan and Breakdowns".)

Meanwhile, what's with all these destinations? When did The Bachelor turn into The Amazing Race? Why don't they just rename it The Amazing Bachelor and be done with it.

Hmm, maybe "amazing" isn't really an option.

Amid all the serenity and beauty of tropical Puerto Rico it's good to see the epic battle of Emily and Courtney is still raging away from episode four - a war so fiercely fought, the other women have stitched a tapestry to commemorate it.

For generations, historians will attempt to unravel its secrets.

"I absolutely feel that Courtney's not good for Ben," whinges Emily, while every red blooded male watching this show (ie: all three of them) beg to differ.

"She better watch her back because if she slips up with me again I will embarrass her so bad," says Courtney, who wins this week's award for Most Ironic Ironic T-Shirt Ever.

If by "nice" you mean "rip off Emily's head and verbally assault her".

Chris Harrison turns up to collect his paycheck and says a few things on the way through like "rose ceremony" and "one on one date" before handing Jamie the first date invitation to read out because, well, what - you think HE'S going to read it?

"You're kidding, right?"

Jamie does a great impression of a lost American tourist reading directions out of a Spanish guidebook and dental hygienist Nicki screams. I didn't really pick up what was said, but I THINK Nicki is going on a date to the train station with Ben.

"Los huevos rancheros amigos para siempres Corona burrito."

Nicki races off to get dressed and perfect her dentist drill vocal impression, while Courtney mopes on the couch, ruminating over her war with Emily.

"She's still on my list and once someone's on my list they're kind of dead to me, there's nothing you can say to recover from that, YOU BETTER CHECK YOURSELF, BITCH," she says.

Just a reminder.

"If I don't get a rose tonight I will be extremely bummed," says Nicki, revealing a somewhat controversial strategy for staying on the show. However you get your kicks, girl.

Meanwhile - nice try ABC, but are we actually supposed to believe that each of these girls is living out of A SINGLE CARRY ON BAG on this show? They've each got more costumes than Lady frickin Gaga. One of Blakely's bras would barely fit in one of those things. You'd need at least two just to carry Elyse's spray tan.

I call bullshit.

"Nicki brings out a playful side in me, almost like a kid side of me," says Ben who, just to remind you, has already skiied down a street in the buff, performed in a pantomime and twirled batons with Kacie B. Good to see he's finally discovering his childish side, though.

Suddenly a helicopter appears and, at exactly the same moment, Nicki is attacked offscreen by ninjas who start beating her with sticks and giving her Chinese burns. At least I ASSUME that's what happens, as that's the only thing that can explain her incredible high pitched scream.

As it turns out she's just REALLY excited to see a helicopter, which seems to be a recurring theme on this show. Anyone else think these girls should just marry some helicopter pilots and be done with it?

"Oh the weather couldn't be nicer!" exclaims Ben, in what is otherwise known as "a huge cue for the weather to change".

"It's like god is smiling down on us right now," says Nicki, in what is otherwise known as "the second huge cue for the weather to change".

While they're both waiting for the emotional drama that will no doubt ensue from the oncoming rainstorm Nicki and Ben stop to sample one of Puerto Rico's local delicacies, "Piragua", otherwise known as "Cock in a cup":

"Wrap your lips around that one, babe."

"What could possibly go wrong?" says Nicki 30 seconds before things go drastically wrong and the two get caught in a torrential downpour.

If this were Courtney, she'd just take off that wet dress and saunter through the storm naked. Thank god it's not Courtney.

"Nicki's flexibility and being able to go with the flow is really attractive to me," says Ben, which is good because it's safe to say that Nicki's sodden hair and stick-on, vomit-coloured dress is NOT attractive to him.

Soaked through, the two decide to go on a shopping spree to "try and find the most authentic Puerto Rican outfits we can".

Oh please. PLEASE.

"Ben is moo-ey, moo-ey, moo-ey cally-entay!" enthuses Nicki, who has somehow managed to choose the one dress in Puerto Rico uglier than the one she had on. As she walks down the street children chase after her asking when the circus is starting.

Still, at least she doesn't look like an extra from the Smooth Criminal video.

Their date gets even more thrilling when they crash a stranger's wedding and ruin it for everyone by sitting out the front of the church with TV cameras crapping on about relationships.

"You think they already got married?" asks Ben as the bride heads in to the church, demonstrating a worrying lack of understanding of how a wedding works.

Or perhaps he's just asking if 26-year-old divorcee Nicki thinks the bride has been married before. Takes one to know one, right?

"I think being married is very different from being engaged," says Ben while collecting the inaugural No Shit Sherlock Award for Services to Obviousness.

"This could be my second chance at my fairytale, and I'm so ready," grins Nicki.

Meanwhile, anyone who uses the word "fairytale" to describe anything other than an actual fairy tale is a moron who probably wears too much pink and should be slapped back into reality. This goes double if the person is only 26 and has already been married and divorced once.

As they watch the bride finish climbing the steps to the church (which so far has seemingly taken her about 22 minutes) Ben ominously says: "I want to walk away with a woman at the end of this", as if he needs one more to complete his collection or something.

Er, well...

Cut to night time and Ben and Nicki are by the beach among lush tropical greenery, listening to all the croaking frogs and... oh no wait, that's just Nicki talking.

It seems Ben has found the perfect conversation topic for a first date - Nicki's divorce.

Nicki starts talking about her ex and marriage and couples therapy while Ben nods sagely and pretends to look interested. I have to admit I missed most of her speech, because I was distracted by a piece of fluff on the carpet that was frankly more interesting.

Fortunately we cut away from this thrilling discussion to check back in at the Piss Up Palace where Blakely the 34-year-old Hooters waitress and Elyse the human Cheeto have interrupted the ladies' "Wine, Cheese and 18th Century French Philosophy" evening by arguing over who should get the next solo date. Rude.

"Time out guys, can we get back to Voltaire's views on theology?"

The group date card arrives and Elyse's name isn't on it meaning she's scored herself the week's second solo date. She's so happy she sheds some of her cheese flavouring.

Meanwhile, what name does Blakely have hanging around her neck?

Jed? Jess? Jo? Tex? Ted? Fox?

Perhaps it's the combination to her brain.

Back at Boring Beach Ben announces he doesn't care that Nicki is a divorcee at 26, possibly because he is distracted by her cleavage (or by the jugglers under her circus tent dress) and in a completely unpredictable move, pashes her and gives her a rose. Glad we came all the way back here for that.

We move on to this week's group date, on which The Benchelor has craftily promised The Women something to do with "diamonds".

Potential activities for this date:

A visit to a foundry where The Women will be made to carve their love on a concrete effigy of Ben using diamond-tipped drill bits;

A trip to a South African diamond mine where The Women will be forced to work for no pay, and prove their love for Ben by being the first to break out;

A night at a Neil Diamond concert;

Anything at all that has absolutely nothing to do with wearing or receiving actual diamonds.

As it turns out Ben was referring to a "baseball diamond", and all The Women are going to have to suit up and start swinging bats for the afternoon, which is actually more disappointing than any of the above options.

Everyone's wearing their tightest singlets and their tiniest shorts for what is basically a game of baseball as styled by The Playboy Channel. Let's call it "Assball". While we're at it, let's get all of the sexual innuendo out of the way right now too:

Gripping sticks

Playing with balls

Going deep

Fourth base

Scoring

Gripping one's helmet while sliding into third

OK, so I made that last one up but it's good, isn't it? I bet Blakely would use it.

Speaking of innuendo, I feel that Ben's t-shirt is rather overstating his attributes.

Don't flatter yourself, mate.

The Women start racing around the field doing sprints and drills as a bunch of professional baseballers yell instructions at them while Ben watches from the sidelines. Just to remind you, this is a date.

Would still rather do this.

It's all gone a bit A League of their Own, although it's unclear which one is Rosie O'Donnell.

I guess it's him.

"Do you catch it like this, or like this?" shrieks some unnamed blonde, turning her hand around as millions of viewers slap their foreheads while muttering "That's right, you catch a ball ON THE BACK OF YOUR HAND."

Suddenly - the sky darkens and the wind starts whistling through the bleachers. Somewhere, a dog barks.

He always pops up when you least expect it.

The Harrison announces The Women will be split into two teams and made to compete in a baseball match, the winners of which will get to party on Boring Beach with Ben. The losers will, of course, be sent to a south east Asian concentration camp to manufacture fake Louis Vuitton wallets for export.

"I want to win this game so bad, I can literally taste it," says Blakely, who may or may not be actually tasting last night's chilli instead. It's hard to say.

"Blakely is a champion out there - who knew strippers could play baseball," slags Courtney.

What follows is 10 minutes of baseball, which is to say I take a 10 minute nap. I wake up just in time to see Jennifer lose the game for the blue team by standing still to watch the pretty balls whizz past her face.

"What was I supposed to do with this big stick again?"

Helicopter envy sweeps the stadium again as the red team gets ferried off in yet another chopper, and we lurch forward in what is proving to be the most boring episode of The Bachelor yet. Hopefully Kacie B will fall out of the chopper, or Blakely will commit hara-kiri with her bat just to liven things up a bit.

Courtney punches herself in the eyes, a thoughtful gesture that many have already considered doing, but thrill is short lived.

"I'M NOT THREATENED!"

The red team goes off with Ben to sit around a campfire and drink cocktails, while the blue losers get on a bus and cry all the way back to Goon HQ. Never mind, I'm sure they'll find something there to drown their sorrows.

Add some Adele and you've got a pity party!

"I can only handle so many more group dates where my head just pops off, I'm getting exhausted," sighs Courtney as everyone sits around on Boring Beach drinking mojitos.

Sorry, have I missed these? When has Courtney's head popped off? What was underneath it?

Oh. OK, then.

Meanwhile, it seems the shampoo situation here on Puerto Rico is even more dire than back in America.

Just let your Soul Gloooooow!

Let's check back in at the Silicone Shack shall we? Oh look, Elyse is applying more orange foundation and practising her patented "attractive" face for her upcoming solo date.

That's sure to win Ben over, I'm positive she'll get a rose. FOR SURE.*

*Note: may not actually be sure.

Over on the Beach of Wasted Youth, Courtney has reattached her head and is musing over her next plan of attack.

"I don't need roses, I need more time," she says. "And eye of newt, bill of duck and three dozen babies. AND A CAULDRON."

Sadly Courtney doesn't get all the ingredients in time (eye of newt is really hard to find in Puerto Rico)(three dozen babies, not so much) and she fails to cast her evil spell, so Kacie B ends up getting the group date rose.

And THERE'S the duck bill.

"Can I steal you?" Courtney says to Ben, leading him off down the garden path to the sand where OH MY GOD WHO IS THAT?

"Hey Gary, am I in shot? I SAID AM I IN SHOT? Oh, I am?"

The professionalism on this show is overwhelming.

Courtney may have given up on witchcraft but she proves she's still a wordsmith and a scholar with a heart rending speech professing her love for Ben.

"It would just be nice to like spend some time with you and like alone like not in this setting like that's what I need at this point like just you and me like I went swimming the other night in the ocean and it was like all I could think about was you and like it's romantic here," she says.

Nicely put.

Sensing her monologue has been lost on The Benchelor, she launches herself at him instead, wrapping herself around him and cooing "If only we could just have a bottle of wine and GO SKINNY DIPPING!"

Now, having a half drunk model drape herself over one while declaring she wants to get naked is not usually considered cause for alarm for most straight men.

Ben is not most men.

Scared. As. Fuck.

"Er.. I don't doubt that that won't be fun," stammers Ben in an absurdly constructed double negative that even Deep Blue would struggle to decipher, before ushering Courtney off the beach and back to the safety of the fully clothed campfire party.

Everyone has a nice cold shower and goes to bed early, and they all wake up refreshed and bushy tailed (or if you're Blakely, just bushy) to prepare for Elyse's one on one date.

"Let's find love somewhere private," reads Courtney from Ben's date card. That makes a nice change from last night, when Ben almost found love IN someone's privates.

Elyse manages to put on the only dress in Puerto Rico that is more orange than her tan, and heads off to the Snooki-themed fancy dress party Ben is throwing on the other side of the island.

"Do we have any pickles?"

"Ohhhh... what a SIGHT!" exclaims Ben as Elyse careers towards him down the garden path which, let's face it, is up there with "What is THAT on your face?" and "Do you mind if I bring my workout buddy Chip along?" as the top things you don't want your date to say.

"That thing is SO BIG!" shouts Nicki which, funnily enough, ranks as the number one thing most guys DO want their date to say.

Although this time it appears Nicki is referring to the big white yacht in the harbour. Ben sadly takes off his "gigantes" shirt and throws it in the bin.

Elyse and Ben get on the yacht and start steadily downing glasses of champagne. HOW COME NO ONE IS EVER HUNGOVER ON THIS SHOW?

"I gave up a LOT to be here," Elyse tells Ben, reeling off a list of things including her job, her best friend's wedding and her dignity.

They jump off the boat into the ocean but the combination of Ben's hair oil and Elyse's fake tan are enough to cause an international incident, and emergency crews have to be called for a cleanup.

"Why did we let them go in? WHYYYY!?"

After President Obama vows never to let the couple return to the water, Snooki and The Situation sit down to dinner and some awkward conversation.

"I'd like to propose a toast to the best dressed couple on the beach," says Ben.

Sadly the camera doesn't show whoever it is he's referring to - Ben himself looks like he's thrown on his Year 11 formal tux about 25 seconds before walking out the door. He looks like he smells of Bacardi.

"I bet the late fees on this rental are like, through the roof now!"

"I'm SICK of being SINGLE, I wanna be ENGAGED, I wanna get MARRIED," moans Elyse in between glasses of champagne in what is a note-perfect impression of:

A) Any single girl who's ever been to any wedding ever;

B) Any single girl who's ever been drunk, ever;

C) A girl on a first date who wants to make the man run away screaming.

Elyse follows up all this flirtatious talk by complaining about having not been on many dates with Ben, and feeling "left behind" the other girls, and how she's desperately looking for love and...

30 minutes later.

Finally Elyse pauses to take a breath and Ben jumps in with some kind words about their day and how nice Elyse is, but it's all working up rather obviously to the least surprising surprise ever - that Elyse isn't getting a rose tonight.

Well, not surprising for anyone with half a brain, at least. Elyse is rather taken aback. The moment she realises what she's being told is priceless.

The moment of recognition.

Hey, I know the perfect thing to do after breaking up - a romantic walk along the beach! Great idea!

"I don't know what I did wrong," Elyse wails as they wander along the sand.

"You didn't do anything wrong, you're an incredible, incredible woman," says The Benchelor somewhat unconvincingly, given that he's only really spent half a day getting to know her.

Actually, that was enough.

Elyse is bundled unceremoniously into a dinghy and is shipped off to Guantanamo Bay to the sounds of David Gray, while Ben wanders back to his hotel room to console himself with mini bottles of Jack Daniels and Toblerones.

IS he wearing his Year 11 tuxedo? At least get the pants re-hemmed, dude.

Meanwhile back at the Palais de Plonk, The Women are all sitting around playing Dungeons and Dragons when suddenly - the award for best performance by a valet in a reality TV series goes to...

THAT GUY.

"OH MY GOD WHAT JUST HAPPENED?" everyone shrieks, grabbing their heads and wailing as the valet walks out with Elyse's sole piece of luggage, fake tan leaking from the corner.

"Maybe Elyse drank too much and the 'Jersey Shore' came out," says Courtney before shrieking "IT BLEW MY PANTIES OFF!" at nothing in particular which, as anyone knows, is about the Jersey Shore-iest thing one can say apart from "DTF".

"I'm gonna refresh him, I'm gonna rejuvenate him," says Courtney, heading off to Ben's room with a bottle of wine. So THAT'S what the kids are calling it these days - rejuvenation. Remind me to avoid that "rejuvenation facial" at my local salon then.

Ben arrives back at his room, totally devastated at having had to farewell Snooki the human Twistie, to find Courtney casually relaxing on the cold concrete stairs like the most ineffectual hitman ever.

"So nice to see you again, Mr Flajnick."

"I didn't think she would take initiative like that and break the rules," frets Ben. "I don't know how I feel about that."

There is a reason Ben's room has an entire wall covered with knobs. It's clearly a "knob" themed room. For knobs.

"I have some lotion in my pocket if you need a massage," slurs Courtney before casually opening up her robe to show off her lacy bra.

"Oh... my..." stammers Ben who clearly missed that first year university class "What To Do When A Half Naked Model Throws Herself At You With Wine And Massage Oil".

"Don't look don't look don't look, just keep drinking and maybe she'll go away."

"We could go to the beach and we could probably do something else too, if we're feeling frisky," she continues in what could easily double as an audition for Frisky Models Volume 3: Beach Babes in the Buff.

"As I'm talking to her I'm thinking - this is probably not a good idea, but at the same time I want to spend more time with her and she's taken it upon herself to magically appear on my doorstep," Ben says, which I think is Puerto Rican for "I want to see Courtney's tits".

"Have you ever gone skinny dipping?" she asks, as she starts taking off her robe on the beach and the cameraman practically does a baseball slide on the sand to get her full body in the shot.

THAT one's going on the Christmas reel.

While the cameramen are having the best night ever, Ben looks more frightened than anyone thought was possible for a man swimming with a naked model. Maybe he can't swim.

And as Ben's sea cucumber gets acquainted with Courtney's clam in the Puerto Rican ocean, we head back to the Prozac Pad where it's time for the rose ceremony.

Rose ceremony in a nutshell:

What with Courtney swapping conversation for face sucking lately there's a position vacant for for "most vapid conversationalist" in the house, a role which is quickly filled by Jennifer.

JENNIFER: "You're so easy to talk to."

BEN: "Yeah, our conversations are easy."

JENNIFER: "Yeah, they are."

BEN: "Yeah."

Well done, Jennifer. Well done.

"I've always wanted to find love, and I've always wanted it to be right, that's why I'm 33 and still single," says Blakely, who is 34.

As Blakely continues speaking to Ben orchestral music swells under her - either this is her Oscar audition clip, or it's her acceptance speech and she's about to be ushered off by Jack Nicholson.

"I like to be in my birthday suit as much as possible," declares Courtney to no one in particular, before sighing "I wish we could go SKINNY DIPPING!". I think this is Spanish for "Christ, can you guys ask me if I've shtupped Ben yet so I can just tell you what we did last night? PICK UP THE CUE, BITCHES."

Emily tries to impress Ben with her gardening prowess by doing an amazing demonstration of digging her own grave, apologising for bitching about Courtney last week before immediately bitching about her again. Ben is not impressed. Maybe she should have rapped it.

A whole bunch of girls get roses, including Casey S, otherwise known as "who?".

Courtney's night time minge flash gets validated with a rose, which reminds me of a commercial I saw once for Summer's Eve.

There's an almighty crack of thunder and the spectre of Chris Harrison comes on to announce the final rose, like that cloud that displays the laps in Super Mario Kart.

It's down to Emily the rapping LeAnn Rimes lookalike disease specialist and Jennifer the... was she an accountant? Ah who cares. Neither of them is guaranteed a rose here, because neither of them is Kacie B or Courtney.

And even though she's a massive bitch who is way more interested in Courtney than Ben, Emily gets the last rose and Jennifer gets sent off to GitMo to join Elyse despite being the only person in the house with natural skin tone.

But there's no time for sadness, they must move on to the next roadblock... or is it a U Turn? Or a detour? Whatever, next week they're going to PANAMA CITY!

"Oh. I was wearing one of those hats just two months ago."

---

STEP BACK IN TIME AND READ LAST WEEK'S Episode 4 | OR READ ON TO Episode 6

Adelaide, it's time to get out and walk

2012-01-24T14:15:00.004-05:00

Hold onto your latte, Adelaide, because I'm about to share a great secret with you that will blow your mind.

Are you ready? You might want to sit down for this. Here it is: You and New York, you've got a bit in common.

Here, do you need a paper bag to breathe into? Are you alright? Now stop laughing, breathe deeply, and let me explain.

Obviously the Big Apple is much, well, bigger than you. Sure, it has a few more internationally famous landmarks. And I'm not going to lie, its nightlife is considerably more exciting.

But after reading the story online this week over the proposal to remove parking in Adelaide's CBD it hit me that there's one major thing you have in common with New York – and one major thing you could learn.

Here it is: both cities are very pedestrian-friendly, but only one knows how to actually encourage pedestrians.

Both cities are relatively flat, built on an easy-to-navigate grid and have pretty much everything one needs within walking distance (assuming you're sticking to one general area of Manhattan and not, say, attempting to walk from tip to tip).

The difference is that in New York people don't bat an eyelid at walking 10 blocks to get somewhere, even in the rain or snow. Suggest that kind of trip in Adelaide – say, from Parliament House to South Tce, and people will automatically reach for their car keys.

Is it because Adelaideans are lazier than New Yorkers? Probably. But it's more than that.

It's true that most New Yorkers simply don't have cars – on a tiny island crammed with 8 million people, it's practically impossible to even find a place to park one, so walking is something of a necessity.

However they do have one of the greatest public transport systems in the world in the New York subway. So why do so many people still choose to walk?

Here's the thing, Adelaide: walking is actually enjoyable. You see things you wouldn't see from the driver's seat, you interact with people, you feel the buzz of a place.

And for a small city that enjoys such great weather, wide streets, empty footpaths and picturesque views, it is quite simply crazy how reliant you are on the car.

You might say “But walking through Adelaide is boring, the only shops and cafes are on the major strips, and everything in between is dull.”

Maybe, but it's a vicious circle. More foot traffic through a neighbourhood means more vibrancy, more trade and more opportunities for business to thrive. It's no wonder Adelaide finds it so hard to develop new parts of town (the south west corner, anyone?) when no one will get out of their cars long enough to visit them.

This is why this whole kerfuffle over Adelaide's parking is so ridiculous.

The state retailers' association says the plan would kill retail in the CBD, as people would simply drive to suburban shopping centres instead where they can park their cars.

Er, isn't that already happening? Hasn't that been happening for years?

Maybe Adelaide should stop talking about how to accommodate more cars in the CBD, when it's patently obvious the suburbs are always going to win that battle, and work out what else it can offer shoppers. Like say, more footpath space for alfresco dining and better public transport – both projected results of, golly gosh, REDUCING PARKING SPACES.

Take a tip from the Big Apple: a vibrant city isn't about cars parked on streets, it's about people walking on them.

---

This article was first published in the Adelaide City Messenger on January 19, 2012.

The Bachelor episode recap: S16 E4

2012-01-23T20:01:00.061-05:00

After last week's Cray Cray Festival involving bikini skiing, bridge climbing, bitching and spontaneous fainting it's hard to believe The Bachelor could get any more nutso - but then Ben flies on in a helicopter and announces he's taking everyone to Utah.

THIS.

Utah? Maybe he's going to marry them all in one big, mormon ceremony and we can finish this shit right now!

Sadly that turns out not to be the case, but having Utah as this week's setting does mean we get lots of the following:

a) twangy guitar

b) sweeping landscape shots

c) wistful staring at said landscape

d) boot wearing.

So, you know, silver lining.

"I want The Women to experience the outdoors, the outdoors are a big part of my life," explains Ben, as if up until now they've all been stuck inside knitting.

As a side note - Ben may well be the only man ever to want to take 13 women who are all gagging for it OUTSIDE.

"Whenever I look outside I think this is the perfect place to fall in love," sighs Nikki, staring wistfully at the Utah landscape.

Millions of Mormons know this to be true.

But this isn't all majestic mountains and doe-eyed puppy love - THIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS. Enter host Chris Harrison to outline the rules of the day, the most important being: "If you get a moment with Ben, don't talk about the weather".

WEATHER TALK MAKE BEN ANGRY.

Time for the first solo date of the day, for which Ben has thoughtfully chosen washed-up movie star Tara Reid. Aw, that's nice of him, that will make her feel better.

Oh wait, it's actually Rachel.

Rachel is just one nip slip away from a perfect Tara Reid impression.

While perpetually hoarse-voiced Rachel heaves and hacks her way through explaining how excited she is to be going on a date with Ben like she's just smoked 20 packets of Lucky Strike, Kacie B retreats to the balcony for a picturesque whinge about how Ben didn't pick her. Again.

CUT AWAY TO GRATUITOUS SHOT OF ACCOMMODATION. CUT BACK TO KACIE B, CRYING. AGAIN. THIS TIME IN A DIFFERENT OUTFIT.

"I don't want to see him in a helicopter with another girl," wails Kacie B.

What about a hovercraft, Kacie B? Could you see him in a hovercraft with another girl?

Or a hot air balloon? Would that be OK?

What about a unicycle?

Before we get a chance to determine which modes of transport Kacie B would be content with Ben to use on his date with Rachel, Ben has zoomed off in a helicopter on his date with Rachel. Oh well.

They go to a secluded spot by the river where the only sounds are the trickling of water, the gentle swooshing of the amber trees and the chirrip of birdsong. Which is a pity, because it means Ben and Rachel's stupidly boring conversation is clearly audible.

Actually, it's less of a "conversation" and more of a "totally boring running commentary on how things are pretty and nice", to wit:

BEN: This is nuts.

RACHEL: God it's so pretty out here.

BEN: This is our lake for the day.

RACHEL: God this is too pretty. I'm so happy.

BEN: I'm glad that you're here.

RACHEL: Mmmm.

BEN: It's so... nice.

RACHEL: Mmm, for sure.

BEN: It's so... romantic.

RACHEL: It IS.

*SILENCE*

RACHEL: This IS nice.

Eventually Ben whispers "peace and quiet!" and kisses Rachel, presumably to stop her from musing on how nice things are. There's one way to get a kiss - just be so boring that there's literally nothing better to do with you.

Back at the Pinot Palace some amazingly unexpected things are happening, like the fridge is making things cold, water is making things wet, and Kacie B is whingeing. Again.

"I guesss I didn't think it would be this hard so soon," wails Kacie B, as millions of viewers around the country shout "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!"

Back on the most boring date ever, Ben and Rachel have finished their dull conversation in the boat and have begun scene two on land.

BEN: You've been on dates every week!

RACHEL: Yeah I've been on group dates, but now I'm on a real date.

BEN: A real date.

RACHEL: A real date.

A conversation so dull, even inanimate objects can join in.

They drink some champagne in desperation for something to do, before staring awkwardly at each other for a while and talking about squinting. The dialogue is so sparkling, it could win a Tony for best stageplay:

RACHEL: I like how you're giving a little wink.

BEN: Am I? It's more like squinting right now.

RACHEL: No it's just like, cos I dunno, the sun... I've got the sun...

BEN: Yeah, you've got the worst of it. I have a hard time with my... my eyes.

RACHEL: I'll have nice... um... lines.

BEN: Really? Crow's feet?

*AWKWARD SILENCE*

BEN: God, it's nice out here.

RACHEL: It IS.

"Can we go home yet?"

"Rachel is beautiful and we have good chemistry, but the conversation was kind of lacking," says Ben, simultaneously winning both the "Least Accurate Description of Chemistry" and the "Understatement of the Year" awards.

"LOOK A BEAVER DAM!" he says, pointing at a pile of wood in a desperate effort to inject some excitement into the proceedings.

Ladies, if you're on a date with a guy and the most exciting thing that happens is that he notices a pile of logs, you're in trouble.

Meanwhile Rachel sadly misses an opportunity to make a joke about beavers and instead returns to blinking.

"She's tougher to read than the other girls," Ben says, charitably.

DO YOU MEAN BORING, BEN?

I'm assuming about 11 hours pass over the adbreak because by the time we return it's pitch black (Christ knows how they filled that much time with only one bottle of champagne and a beaver dam) and Ben is leading Rachel through the woods, perhaps to a clearing where he will behead her while shouting "A REEEEEAL DAAAAATE!" before disposing of her body in the picturesque river, purely for something to do.

But no, he takes her to a log cabin to indulge in some more awkward banter.

"This is the first one on one date where I'm a bit confused, it's not that my guard's up with Rachel there's just something I can't put my finger on," muses Ben.

HOW MANY CLUES DO YOU NEED, YOU IDIOT? SHE'S BORING.

Time for Act 3 of "Awkward Date", in which the repartee can be summed up by this one picture:

Back at the Moselle Mansion The Women are all getting excited about the next group date, except for Patti Stanger who is annoyed everyone is constantly breaking the two drink maximum rule at the mixer.

"I could organise a better date than this guy."

"What do you think he's looking for from us on a group date?" asks Kacie B, in a rare moment of not whingeing.

"I think he's looking for someone who can be friendly with everyone," says Emily.

"YEP THAT'S ME ALRIGHT. NOW HAND ME MY KNIFE."

Back at the Cabin of Boredom, Ben is struggling so hard to continue a conversation with Rachel he's practically yawning in the middle of sentences. Which is OK, because Rachel is only talking in non sequiturs anyway:

I can't wait to see this on Broadway.

The conversation turns to bad relationships and Rachel starts explaining her worst flaws, which is always a good way of winning someone's heart.

"For me in past relationships it's something I'm not good at, it is something I've struggled with," she says.

"What is?" asks Ben, completely confused.

"Communication," she says, thus somewhat proving her own point.

Ladies, if your date makes this face at you, start talking about football.

Clearly this is not going well. But still Ben avoids hitting the ABORT button on this date, or the EJECTOR SEAT button next to it, which would have been more interesting to watch. No, in fact he gives Rachel a rose, which at least means we can finish this arse-tearingly boring evening and move on to the group date which today is taking place in a field.

"The group date card said 'let's see if you're a good catch' and I absolutely think I'm a good catch," says Blakely, who has seemingly forgotten that she is a 34 year old Hooters waitress.

Suddenly Ben gallops up on a horse, sending The Women into paroxysms of hysteria, not least of all Lindzi who, in case you've forgotten, loves horses.

"My heart kind of melted when Ben rode up on a horse, I mean clearly I like horses so..." begins Lindzi.

But this date's not about horse riding. No, instead the Benchelor and his harem will spend the day indulging in that romantic, age-old sport - FLY FISHING. Not only will they all spend a magical day half submerged in water throwing sharp hooks around, they also get to wear fashionable fishing gear like this:

On a positive note, this is more clothing than Blakely has worn in about 25 years.

"It's really hard for me to see Ben with other women, because we have a connection," starts Kacie B. AGAIN.

Because she can't be left unacknowledged for longer than 30 seconds, Kacie B calls Ben over to teach her how to fly fish.

"See how your wrist is going? Not a whole lot of arm, just give it the right amount of wrist," says Ben, as Blakely runs over shrieking "PICK ME, I KNOW HOW TO DO THAT!"

"Oh, you were talking about fishing."

"I know this is a fishing day but let's be honest, it's not about catching trout, it's about catching Ben," drawls Courtney The Model who, if nothing else, proves that she recognises a good visual metaphor when she sees one.

"I've never fished before but catching a fish is probably not a whole lot harder than catching a man," she slags, simultaneously making herself look like a harlot while denigrating the global fishing industry.

"I love spending time with Courtney, I don't know what it is - she just kind of gets it," says Ben, completely oblivious to the fairly obvious fact that Courtney is utterly hideous.

But at least they have one thing in common - their love of intellectual discussion. From the "you have great hair, no YOU have great hair" conversation of episode 1 to the "you look hot, no YOU look hot" discussion of episode 2, when Ben and Courtney are together it's like a veritable meeting of the minds.

"Mustard's my favourite condiment," he says.

"Me too - dijon," she says.

"Oh it's got to be spicy or dijon," he says.

"I was going to say that," she giggles.

SUDDENLY - the score swells with dramatic violins, the sky darkens and people turn in shock, horror registering on their faces. Somewhere deep in the bowels of the Pentagon lights start flashing and a siren wails. A security operative's mobile phone beeps with a message. His face freezes in abject terror but he pulls himself together, racing down hallway after hallway, barking orders like "ISOLATE SECTOR H!" and "LOCK IT DOWN!" to various terrified personnel before bursting through a door marked "DO NOT ENTER". Six marines draw their revolvers on him and shout "FREEZE!" but he knows this message is too important to worry about his personal safety - he pushes through the angry men and thrusts his mobile phone into the face of the bespectacled chief officer behind the desk.

FUCK.

As the US Armed Forces prepare for their raid on Utah, Courtney perfects her "I'm a cute wittle five year old" routine which, inexplicably, Ben seems to find attractive.

"Yay, I caught a weally big fishy wish for Benny Wen! Yummy num nums!"

Everyone manages to avoid punching Courtney in the face and they all move on to a hotel for cocktails and canapes, and a chat with some girl I have never seen before in three whole episodes. Ben decides to impress her by telling her he's been in love FOUR TIMES.

"FOUR? You're 28, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"That's a lot, do you fall in love easily?" she asks, reasonably.

"Nooo!" he laughs, as if it's completely normal for someone to have fallen in love FOUR TIMES by the time they're 28.

"I mean that's since high school so that's 15 years, carry the two... that's pretty normal, I think," he says.

Just to be clear - THIS MEANS BEN IS COUNTING RELATIONSHIPS HE HAD WHEN HE WAS 13.

Suddenly Samantha, aka Lady Gaga, bursts in to lodge a formal complaint with Ben about not having had a solo date yet.

"I have such CRAZY feelings for this guy, I feel like I should already have a RING on my FINGER," she blurts in what could be mistaken for an audition for Fatal Attraction 2.
"I've been on THREE group dates, what are you OBSERVING?" she trills at the Benchelor, more than a little hysterically.

"To be honest, the group dates you've been on, you've been highly emotional," he snaps in what is obviously a complete lie - if Gaga had been anywhere close to "highly emotional" she would have taken at least some of Courtney's screen time.

"I'm wondering if you can continue to hang and be a part of this, I'm wondering if you're even here for me," he continues, as it dawns on Samantha that perhaps her strategy has backfired.

Trying to keep that p-p-pokerface.

"And THAT'S why you continue to be on group dates," he concludes, like an angry stepfather punishing his teenage daughter for drinking nanna's whiskey.

To hell with the rose ceremony, Ben, let's just punt this pop star right now.

"Based on your track record, I think we should probably end this," he says, somewhat mystifyingly.

Has anyone even SEEN Samantha on screen in the last three episodes? Has she even done ANYTHING? It can't be that she's boring - Rachel talked about crow's feet for 20 minutes and got a rose, for christ's sake.

Nevertheless, the die is cast - Samantha complained about not getting enough attention from Ben so he punished her.

THIS sort of complaining, on the other hand, is OK.

And so off trundles Samantha in a flurry of hysterical tears. Let's just hope Ben doesn't have a pet rabbit.

Meanwhile, Courtney seems to have really made herself at home in Utah.

Undeterred by Samantha's recent dismissal, Kacie B has YET ANOTHER whinge about having to share Ben with the other girls, and he somehow manages to not push her off the balcony and move on with his life.

"Today I wanted to kiss you so bad in the river... er, the creek... er, I mean... VAGINA VAGINA VAGINA!" shouts Ben.

Not to be outdone in the moping stakes, Courtney combines both of her superpowers - behaving like an annoying five year old and acting put out - and managed to beat Ben into complete submission.

The whole "creepy towel" thing probably helped, too.

"I had a weally gweat day today," she says, sucking her fingers.

"I was surprised at how well you did!" smiles Ben, not at all minding the weird father role he's worryingly slipped into.

"I caught a fish!" she giggles.

Then Ben reads her a story, rubs her tummy and tucks her into bed with her favourite teddy. But not before she launches stage two of her attack, titled "When I'm not with you, I feel funny in my tummy".

"I'm having a rough time, I'm feeling down a little bit, I've lost sight of us a little bit," she whinges which, translated into English, means "GIVE ME A GOD DAMN ROSE, MOTHERFUCKER."

The deal is sealed when Courtney pulls her classic power move - the duck face:

"See how badly my self esteem is hurt? SEE IT?"

It's an impressive performance from Courtney, but her powers must be waning as it takes her at least eight goes at the duck face to get Ben to fetch her the rose.

Wow, she really IS a model.

Fortunately, Ben is a total moron so dutifully gives Courtney the rose in order to stave off her pending mental breakdown.

Things are getting far too exciting here, let's move on to Ben's solo date with Jennifer, a contestant absolutely no one cares about.

Continuing in the tradition of "Dates that could be the basis of a scene in Mission Impossible", Ben takes Jennifer to a giant underground cave and makes her rapel into it.

And here you thought bikini skiing was the worst date ever - try tandem bikini spelunking!

"I'm scared of heights," says Jennifer, displaying something of a lack of understanding of what a cave is.

Come on now. Scaling bridges, skiing down streets, rapelling into craters - who the fuck IS this guy? James Bond?

But Jennifer has to TAKE THE PLUNGE and DIVE INTO THE UNKNOWN to impress Ben, so with bad metaphors and dreams of quadraplegia dancing in her head, she strips down, straps up and jumps into the abyss.

Remember girls - if you're scared for your life, just ignore your own instincts. As long as it impresses the guy you're with. You can deal with the medical bills and life long debilitation later.

"I need someone who is flexible," says Ben, as Blakely divebombs from the top of the cave shrieking "I CAN PUT MY LEGS BEHIND MY HEAD!"

Meanwhile, if you thought this date couldn't get any worse, they then go to dinner in the middle of a rainstorm while discussing their "daily structure" ("I'm a nine to five girl, eight to four," Jennifer says) followed by a country music concert.

Would rather do this.

Of course he gives her a rose.

"I have a little piece of Ben that no one else does," swoons Jennifer, which explains why there's blood dripping from her jeans pocket and why Ben is now screaming in pain. It's only little, he won't miss it.

Back at Goon HQ, Courtney is beguiling everyone with her unique and original tales of how she "has heaps of guy friends" and is "more comfortable around guys than girls", which will certainly help cement her position as female viewers' favourite character on the show.

"I'm just not used to being around SO MANY WOMEN," sighs Courtney, who clearly

a) lives on the mythical planet of Testosteronia where women don't exist, and

b) takes longer than three whole weeks to get used to new situations.

I understand though because, for models like Courtney, it's really unusual to be around lots of women all the time.

Really very unusual.

I think it's just about time for the rose ceremony party, don't you? In a (large) nutshell (like say, a coconut):

Emily wages war on Courtney, describing her as "a statue made of marble. It's really beautiful but it's cold and it's hard on the inside." Other similes Emily could have used include: a statue made of ice, something else made of ice, a badly microwaved frozen burrito.

Emily sits down for a chat with Ben and, remembering Chris Harrison's warning, avoids discussing the weather. Sadly though she forgets the warning of all sane women everywhere: "Don't bitch about the girl the guy you like likes because he'll hate you for it". Her thinly disguised whingeing about Courtney's two-faced behaviour makes a huge BANG! sound as it backfires spectacularly.

Courtney hears that Emily has bitched her out and spontaneously turns into Charlie Sheen, shrieking "WINNING!" at various intervals and angrily spitting tiger blood.

"She talked about ME? I wanna rip her head off and verbally assault her," says Courtney, a plan which raises two potential problems:

1) Ripping Emily's head off would constitute ACTUAL assault, rather negating the need for any verbal assault, and

2) Ripping Emily's head off would kill her or, at the very least, render her unable to hear anything, making a subsequent verbal assault somewhat pointless.

And of course, this is ignoring the fact that Courtney already launches a verbal assault on EVERYONE every time she opens her mouth.

"She's on my LIST," threatens Courtney, leaving everyone wondering who else is on there.

She REALLY hates Kool Aid.

"Can you just look at the craziness outside?" exclaims Rachel, staring at the rainstorm. Unfortunately everyone is too distracted by the craziness inside to give a shit.

"I don't start fights, I finish them," says Courtney through gritted teeth as she storms over to Emily's couch and commences a session of heavy staring.

"Your girlish ways are no match for my duck face."

Sadly Emily proves herself to have no cajones whatsover, and starts fretting and crying and OH GOD GIRL, GET A GRIP, YOU'RE BEING THREATENED BY A FIVE YEAR OLD WITH A DUCK FACE.

Time for a drinking game! Down a shot every time someone says "emotions run high", "the stakes have been raised", "it's getting hard", or anything other than a straight "yes" to accept a rose, ie: "absolutely", "of course", "definitely" or "JUST GIVE ME THAT GOD DAMN THING!". Drink a double every time a woman whispers sub-audibly when accepting a rose.

For some reason known only to the producers, Blakely gets a rose. As IF Ben is going to marry a Hooters waitress. No one marries Hooters waitresses, that's why Blakely is 34 and on a televised dating show.

Everyone is shocked when Emily gets a rose. Oh MAN, now she'll just keep fighting with Courtney every episode! Oh, right...

Everyone gets a rose except Monica who is kicked out into the snow - bur not before grabbing Blakely's number on the way out.

Of course she did.

Now that's over, Ben can reveal the next exotic location on the group's itinerary - PUERTO RICO!

OMG!

"Oh, I was just there two months ago," says Courtney, disappointed at receiving a free tropical holiday to somewhere she's already been.

BITCH, PLEASE.

"Well... we're all going back," says the Benchelor, prompting another round of cheers and glass clinking.

"I can go higher than anybody!" gurgles Courtney, raising her glass.

Let's just hope someone has the foresight to slip some arsenic into it.

---

WANNA RELIVE THE PAST? GO BACK AND READ Episode 3 | GO FORTH AND READ Episode 5

The Bachelor episode recap: S16 E3

2012-01-23T10:20:00.049-05:00

Having left the bright lights of the Sonoma cheese shop behind, the Benchelor takes his harem to his home town of San Francisco where HANG ON, WHO IS THIS BITCH?

Oh, right.

Thank goodness, it's just his sister. I thought "The Women" (as Ben lovingly refers to them) might have had some extra competition to worry about there. LET'S HOPE THAT DOESN'T HAPPEN AGAIN.*

*Note: It might happen again in about 35 minutes.

Julia, who is no doubt extremely proud of her brother for signing up to be a man whore on national television, asks the Benchelor how things are going and gives what might be the best response ever when he tells her "the girls are incredible":

"Really?"

She also gives the correct response when told that "There's one girl called Lindzi, she rode in on a horse":

"YES SHE SOUNDS LOVELY."

Ben's startling lack of perception and understanding of women is evidenced again when he tells his sister "There's a model called Courtney, you would really love her".

Ben goes on to describe Emily the epidemiologist as "a science nerd", as opposed to AN ACTUAL SCIENTIST, and Jennifer as "an accountant - but she's super attractive".

"Just because you work with maths doesn't mean you have to be unsexy!"

After two minutes with Julia we realise she is far too sane to take up much more screen time so we quickly exit to some posh hotel where The Women are squealing about nothing in particular and drinking iced tea.

KIDDING! They're drinking champagne, of course. What do you think this is, normal everyday life where people don't drink alcohol first thing in the morning?

Someone accidentally rubs an old, dusty bottle of pinot grigio and out pops Chris Harrison in a puff of smoke to give a speech that will ensure The Women go batshit crazy over the Benchelor for the rest of the episode.

"When you get time with Ben, wherever it is, take advantage of it - it might be the only time you get before the next rose ceremony," he advises, as The Women narrow their eyes and start sharpening their claws.

Actual image from The Bachelor producers' storyboard for episode 3.

Chris announces Emily the epidemiologist (aka the one wot knows about science and that) has been chosen for the first solo date of the day.

"There are a thousand things going through my mind," she says, which is a nice change from all the other women who typically only have one or two things in their mind.

"Does smiling like this make me look prettier and more vulnerable, or just drunk?"

"I wonder if Chris Harrison is single."

"I hope no one's noticed that I look like Patti Stanger."

"Who the fuck am I?"

"I'm sure the date with Emily will be boring," shrugs every female viewer's favourite contestant, Courtney the model.

"Some of these women are really well educated but, and I always say this, 'book smart' can be a little boring."

Right on, Courtney. Just TALKING about books makes me fall asleep, which is why my head hit the keyboard three seconds after this and I only woke up in time to see Emily running towards Ben on a pier as he exclaimed "I've been in every nook and cranny!". I can only assume he was talking about Blakely.

Then he announces they're going to be climbing up San Francisco's Bay Bridge, because crapping your pants in fear while having your crotch bruised to hell by a harness is the perfect way to spend a first date.

"This is all about diving headfirst into the unknown," says Ben, displaying a worrying lack of understanding of how to climb a bridge.

"If Emily and I can climb to the top of the Bay Bridge together, there's no telling how far we can take this relationship."

I'd say about THAT far.

"I feel like I want to die," gasps Emily, which is not unlike something I'd say if forced to go on a date with Ben, bridge or no bridge.

Emily braces herself and starts the slow trek up the side of the bridge with nothing but a couple of wires to break her fall, as I stare slack jawed at the TV and squeak "Are you serious?"

This chick better get a fucking BUNCH of roses at the end of this, for real. How one manages to remain charming, attractive and personable while clinging to a carabiner for dear life I do not know.

Honestly, they're REALLY going to the top? The TOP, top?

Just to reassess: Courtney went on a picnic, Kacie B got dinner and a movie and Emily gets to strap on a fluoro safety vest and hard hat and climb to her potential death. Just making sure you got that.

Meanwhile back at the Casa di Chardonnay, The Women are just hanging out doing the usual - you know, mapping the trajectory of the planets with their telescope - when they miraculously spots Ben and Emily 10km away on the side of the bridge.

"I can't see them, it's so dark outside! Are they near the big TASCO sign or what?"

"Oh no, but Emily's afraid of heights!" they all chirpily enthuse.

HELLO, SHE'S 160 METRES ABOVE SAN FRANCISCO BAY. EVERYONE IS AFRAID OF THAT.

Back on the bridge, Emily's freaking out and refusing to move any further so The Benchelor does the only thing he knows how and kisses her.

Sadly, Emily doesn't fear-vomit into his mouth but kisses him back, and because Ben's saliva is some sort of magic elixir that cures all anxiety she dutifully resumes her charge up the bridge of death, all the while quipping metaphors about how bridges and near fatal experiences are just like relationships.

They finally get to the top, they hug, no one dies, it's magical.

Yeah great, but now you have to get down.

"If we can accomplish this, there's nothing we can't do together," grins the Benchelor, echoing the sentiments of bridge maintenance workers the world over.

"Hey Bob, wanna get married?"

After an afternoon of almost dying, they pop off to dinner where Emily admirably eschews drinking an entire bottle of whisky for a sensible glass of wine.

Strangely, this doesn't stop her from telling Ben all about the time she almost dated her brother on the internet.

Despite this admission of near incest, Ben gives her a rose, pashes her and sets off at least $25 worth of fireworks. Result.

Back at Pinot Grigio HQ, The Women are trying to decipher the Benchelor's latest group date invitation.

"It says 'let's cross something off our leap list', what do y'all think that means?" drawls Kacie B.

Here's hoping it involves another bridge.

As it turns out it involves "snow skiing", in the middle of San Francisco, in summer. Cue Tim Allen "whuh?" sound effect. SKIING? ON SNOW? IN SUMMER? IN THE CITY? BEN, YOU SO KER-RAZY!

They all pile in to Ben's whizz bang super car, which is so technologically advanced it is basically Knightrider's KITT on steroids. Check out the amazing "wallpaper" feature:

WOAH.

Ben shows just how super incredible this feature is by pressing about 57 buttons and navigating through 13 different menus to change the photo to Blakely.

"I'd rather see Rachel's picture," sniffs Monica, who seems to have forgotten what happened in episode 1.

I guess we can't blame her, there WERE about 26 bottles of pinot involved in the lead up to this moment.

They finally reach their destination, where Ben reveals that the top item on his "leap list" has always been to cordon off a city street, cover it with trucked-in snow in the middle of summer and piss off an entire block of residents by "skiing" down it all day.

Everyone was thrilled to lose their parking space for a day, because it was for TV.

They all promptly take off their clothes, strap on skis and begin THE STUPIDEST GROUP DATE EVER, YES, EVEN STUPIDER THAN THAT KIDS' PLAY THEY DID IN EPISODE 2.

Really?

"Everyone is stopping and staring, it's the weirdest feeling ever," says Monica, who seems confused as to why blokes are suddenly congregating on their roofs with eskys full of beer.

Attention Monica: This might be why.

Meanwhile, back at Goon Mansion the Benchelor's latest solo date invitation has arrived - it's for Brittney, who will obviously be going on a tour of San Francisco's kitschiest tourist spots, as heralded by the crappy souvenir Ben included with the envelope.

So, Alcatraz then?

Because there hasn't been any drama in this episode since Emily almost fell off that bridge and killed herself, the producers decide to create some by getting Brittney to speculate that she might not have a good time on her date with Ben.

After the shock waves have dissipated and the paramedics have finished reviving all those who spontaneously fainted at this awesome announcement everyone commences a period of awkwardly smiling at each other, much like amateur actors do in a stage play when someone's forgotten their lines. This is possibly because they ARE amateur actors who have forgotten their lines.

Staged? This? Nooooo. OK, maybe.

"Wow, a date, I didn't see that coming," says Brittney, while desperately trying to look as though she hadn't read all about it in the script the producers gave her the day before.

"You guys are going to have an awesome time, you're both... so cool," ventures Emily, before shouting "PROMPT!"

We leave the Women's Temperance Union Amateur Dramatics Society there for a moment to catch up again with Ben and The Women, who by now have finished showing their arses to innocent San Franciscan bystanders and are sinking piss at a tiki bar.

Well, Kacie B isn't. Instead she takes The Benchelor outside to whinge to him.

"It's hard to see you with other women," she complains.

"All you have to do is just focus on that beautiful evening that we had," says Ben, before finishing with "And try to forget that you're the last thing on my mind when I'm pashing 16 other women every episode."

"Whatever, babe. Now go make me a sandwich."

Back at the Chardonnay Players' opening night performance of their new show "Brittney's Struggle", Brittney is explaining her decision to - DUN DUN DUNNNNN! - leave the house.

"These circumstances are not for me, I really don't want to be in a house with 25 girls," she says, which is totally understandable given that she elected to be on a TV show in which 25 girls share a house.

"I didn't know what I was getting myself into," Brittney says as she packs her bags, which is fair enough because The Bachelor has only been on for 16 SEASONS.

As Brittney begins her sad walk back to a normal, breakfast cocktail-free life, we head back to the tiki bar where Blakely has discovered the one thing that's sure to turn any many on - bitching about other women.

"They all HATE me, they're very spiteful and very jealous," she spits.

"Tell me more, I just LOVE hearing about your problems."

"What I would truly hate is for this to be too hard for any of the girls to the point where they might leave," says The Benchelor, which is A TRULY AMAZING COINCIDENCE because look - here comes Brittney up the garden path with her travel bag for Act 3 of "Brittney's Struggle".

TOTALLY UNSCRIPTED DRAMA.

Brittney buggers off home, Ben gives the group date rose to Rachel the hoarse voiced (as opposed to Lindzi the horse lover and Blakely the horse faced) and we all move on to the second solo date, otherwise known as the "you were my second choice after Brittney" date.

This time it's with Lindzi, who Ben clearly thinks is 10 years old as their first stop is an ice cream shop followed by a tour of City Hall. Which is locked up for the night, natch, but Ben has a key. Double natch.

"I DON'T KNOW WHO THIS GUY IS, BUT HE'S KIND OF AMAZING," gushes Lindzi, as though Ben is just a normal guy who always carries around a key to San Francisco's City Hall on his keyring and isn't actually on a TV show.

Once inside the weirdest date ever gets weirder when a group of leather-clad men jump out of nowhere and start shrieking. I hope it's a band of Californian ninjas come to steal Ben's key to City Hall, and that there's a lot of POW!-ing and THWACK!-ing to follow. But no, it's just some band I've never heard of.

"That's right, I'm being paid a shitload for this."

After 10 minutes of awkward dancing Ben and Lindzi head to a speakeasy bar where Ben raps on the door and mutters "a horse of course" through the keyhole. I assumed he was just describing Lindzi to the bouncer but it turns out that's the password to get in. Clubs these days!

They make their way to the back for dinner where it becomes obvious not only that they've enjoyed more than their fair share of pre dinner drinks, but that neither of them has seen a bottle of shampoo in some time.

It won't happen overnight, but... no actually, it probably won't ever happen.

United by their mutual disdain for hair products Ben and Lindzi kiss, he gives her a rose and, because they've only danced awkwardly in one crazy place tonight, he takes her to a piano sales showroom to waltz to David Gray.

"That one over there comes with a free stool and a 24 months interest free payment plan."

Meanwhile, is anyone else like... ew?

Sales of Zovirax have skyrocketed since the beginning of this episode.

"I DON'T THINK THERE'S ANYTHING THAT COULD RUIN TONIGHT!" gushes Lindzi, giving the world's biggest cue for something to come and ruin tonight.

Remember how earlier I said The Women might face some extra competition this episode? THAT.

"Here's to a positive, drama free night!" smiles Courtney, clinking glasses with everyone at the rose ceremony, giving the world's second biggest cue for something to come and bring some serious drama.

Cue theme from Jaws.

But first: it's rose ceremony time which means there's some serious boob heaving, teeth flashing, hair flicking and general sucking up to do in the pre-ceremony drinks fest. In a very large nutshell (like say, a Brazil nut):

Having not scored a date this episode, Jennifer launches into a military grade charm offensive at about DEFCON 12, heaving and flashing and flicking all over the place - but sadly misses out on any sucking, up or otherwise.

Meanwhile, the mysterious steering wheel hands of death get closer...

DUN-DUN... DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN...

Who could it be? WHO IS THIS HARPY DRIVING ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY TO TAKE BRITTNEY'S PLACE AND UCK WITH THE WOMEN'S SHEE?

Oh. It's just "Shawntel", a loser from a previous season of The Bachelor.

"My feelings for Ben are very strong," says Shawntel, who can say this unequivocally as she's seen Ben on television.

While Shawntel gets ready to crash the party and cause total mayhem, Ben and Nikki play a round of sexy trivia with the question "Garden path or back alley?"

Surprise!

"Nikki bless your heart you're so sweet, but YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT," scoffs Courtney The Model, before attacking Lindzi for looking "up and down" at another girl. The irony of this seems to escape her.

As usual, Ben takes Courtney upstairs to tell her how wonderful she is at exactly the same time as everyone else is dissecting just how horrible she is in the other room. Ben is SO perceptive.

"I don't feel threatened by ANY of the other girls here," smugs Courtney, mere seconds before Shawntel waltzes through the room on her attack mission.

Countdown to Courtney's melt down in 10... 9... 8...

Even Lady Gaga is all "WTF?"

And she's not easily surprised.

All The Women undergo a rapid process of ghetto-fication, waving their fingers around and saying things like "BITCH NO YOU DI'NT!" as Shawntel busts up to the Benchelor and sits him down for a private chat.

Toooootally private.

Having not seen Shawntel's previous season of The Bachelor I am completely confused as to who she is and why she wants to join the show again, or how Ben even knows her save for off the television. So let's ignore all of that and just watch the other women's reactions to her arrival:

It's like a really bitchy Brady Bunch.

Angry that their group of 16 strangers is now a group of 17 strangers, The Women become what is known in scientific circles as "batshit insane" for reasons that are not entirely clear.

"This STRANGER just walks in, it's unfair!" says Rachel. Because obviously the rest of them are all such close friends now, having known each other for at least a week.

"Well her thighs are thicker than mine, that makes me happy," says some girl I have honestly never seen before. (So you know, her thighs might be thicker but at least people remember her name... Just sayin'.)

"BRAD REJECTED YOU, MOVE ON WITH YOUR LIFE YOU LOSER!" helpfully suggests Elyse, who has clearly had training as a counsellor.

"WE DON'T WANT TO RE-USE BRAD'S DUMPSTER TRASH!" shouts RuPaul, who obviously still hasn't found his way to the Drag Race set yet.

"YOU'RE A CREEPER AND YOU DRAIN PEOPLE'S BLOOD FOR A LIVING!" shrieks Rachel, which rather silences all other conversation.

CUE COURTNEY'S MELTDOWN: "I watched him talk with this girl and I'd just rather check out now I DON'T NEED TO FIND LOVE LIKE THIS!" she wails.

It's lucky she's so well adjusted.

"So Shawntel rides in on her high hearse, no pun intended," says Nikki, who rather misses the point of what a pun is.

Chardonnay Mansion has been consumed by a veritable tsunami of tears and tantrums, with virtually every woman freaking out on a nuclear level for no real reason. Time for Chris Harrison to appear and sort this shit out.

He makes problems go away.

Chris hands out some Valium, tells everyone to calm the fuck down, and demands an immediate rose ceremony. Good call.

Clearly Ben has taken some psychotropic drugs to get over the stress of Shawntelgate, as he gives the first rose to Courtney, who then pretends she doesn't want to accept it.

"Tonight was heavy for me; I saw you talking to whats-her-butt and it was not easy," says a drunk six year old who has accidentally wandered near the microphone. Oh no wait, that's Courtney's voice.

"On a scale of one to 10 I feel like I'm going to throw up," says Jaclyn, inventing a brand new numeric system that's sure to take off.

"If Ben chooses Shawntel over me, it will not be pretty," she continues.

I think I'll leave that one there.

We get to the final rose and Chris Harrison's valium is obviously starting to wear off as The Women are getting shrill again and starting to beat each other with their shoes. Can we hurry this along?

"Before we go any further I'd just like to say a few things," says The Benchelor.

"FUCK," yells someone in the back row, which is possibly the most intelligent thing anyone's said all night.

As soon as The Benchelor begins his speech, Erica passes out and falls to the ground, putting the final nail in the coffin of Ben's future career as a motivational speaker.

Everyone stands around and watches as Erica lies on the floor, saying helpful things like "Your lips are turning blue!" and "Do you need some orange juice?". Fortunately Emily the epidemiologist is there to confirm that she doesn't have a disease.

"Nope, it's definitely not ebola."

Finally Erica recovers from her fake fainting disorder and gathers herself for the final rose showdown with Jaclyn, who kind of looks like a bloke, and Shawntel, whose name kind of sounds like a bloke.

Will Erica's trip into the unconscious be enough to trigger Ben's empathy switch?

Will Jaclyn's threat of physical violence, and sheer muscle mass to make that threat a reality, be enough to frighten Ben into voting for ~~him~~ her?

Will Shawntel, who drove across the country to proposition a guy she's never even met, score a rose by managing to be the LEAST crazy motherfucker in this show?

They're all so tempting, it's hard to choose.

As it turns out, it IS too hard to choose - so Ben decides to dump all three of them and keep his rose for his nightstand.

Good call, Ben.

Shawntel runs away crying, Jaclyn storms off to the toilets to angrily adjust her codpiece while Erica collapses again, spewing forth torrents of tears, but the true indicator that things are awry in the house is this:

Is that... WATER?

Join me tomorrow for a recap of episode four of BATSHIT CRAY-CRAY!

---

Go back and read Episode 2 | Go on ahead and read Episode 4

Why Adelaide needs an IMAX

2012-01-14T19:30:00.003-05:00

My heart was pounding, my mind racing, my breathing fast. I didn't want to look down but couldn't resist. Eight hundred metres below me lay the desert sprawl of Dubai, and certain death. I adjusted my grip on the window of the 160 storey skyscraper I was clinging to, and took a deep breath...

Well OK, so it was actually Tom Cruise facing death on the side of that skyscraper, not me. I was sitting in the two-storey cinema stuffing my face with popcorn and watching his new film Mission Impossible IV.

But I swear that's what it felt like. Never have I experienced borderline vertigo while watching a film until now. Until IMAX.

Save for climbing up Dubai's Burj Khalifa (the tallest building in the world), smashing a window and popping out onto the ledge for a quick look around, watching MI4 in an IMAX cinema is about as close to being international daredevil spy Ethan Hunt as you could ever hope to get. (Or Tom Cruise, for that matter, who actually DID HIS OWN STUNTS. Blimey.)

Remember Adelaide's IMAX? It shut down in 2002, because all it ever screened were weird documentaries about whales and dinosaurs and no one went. Which is sad, because it's probably going to be the future of cinema.

With its giant screen (typically 16 metres tall, about double the height of a regular cinema screen), greater resolution projectors, ear thumping sound and stadium seating that allows for wider views and a more immersive experience, IMAX is cinema turned up to 11.

It used to be a novelty, but in recent years it's surged in popularity thanks to some blockbuster films released in the format like Avatar, Inception and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. MI4 has at least 30 minutes specially shot on IMAX cameras, as does upcoming Batman film The Dark Knight Rises – director Chris Nolan chose it over shooting in 3D. (If ever there was a death knell for 3D cinema, this is it.)

When you watch an action flick like that on that giant screen, it's not hard to understand why many are predicting IMAX will be the next big thing in cinema – literally.

The clarity of detail in MI4 is simply incredible. Sweeping shots of Moscow, Dubai and Mumbai are so crisp you'd swear you were flying over them in a glass helicopter. The beads of sweat on Ethan's face practically drip off the screen. You can almost feel the heat from the explosions.

As traditional cinemas continue to shrink - grand old theatres like the Chelsea and the Capri, swallowed up by suburban multiplexes - and home televisions grow bigger and bigger, going out to the movies is starting to lose its gloss. What's special about paying $70 to cram your family into one of 15 small cinemas to watch a film you could probably download at home and watch on your gigantic flat screen?

Going to the cinema should be – it used to be - an experience. IMAX brings that experience back. If only Adelaide still had one.

This article was first published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail's TV Guide on January 15 2012.

Communal dining? Eat me.

2012-01-14T19:30:00.002-05:00

“Do you have a Chinatown in Australia?” the woman asked, noisily slurping up wads of noodles from her plate.

We were in one of New York's most famous restaurants, a Chinatown icon renowned for its yum cha, or “dim sum” as it's called here.

I didn't know this woman, nor her five friends who also shared our table - all Americans of a certain age – and figured I must have misheard her over the clatter of steamer trays and Cantonese shouting.

“Pardon?” I said.

“You know, Chinatown – does Australia have one?” she repeated.

The rest of her party raised their heads from their bowls of fried rice and looked at us expectantly across the table.

I wondered how big they thought Australia was. Or if they were even aware it was a country.

“Yes,” I replied, as waiters whizzed past with trays of steamed dumplings.

“Australia has a Chinatown, one big one right in the middle. Everyone catches shuttle buses there once a week for dim sum, all 20 million of us. The waiters are kangaroos.”

At least, that's what I wanted to say. Instead, I held my tongue while my partner politely told the table that yes, Australia has many Chinatowns, located within its many major cities.

“I've been to Australia,” the woman continued, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary.

“Have you been to Adelaide?” asked my partner as I jabbed him under the table.

“Oh yeah – Uluru,” she said, shoving more noodles in her mouth.

Such are the joys of communal dining, otherwise known as “ruining dinner by sharing a table with people you probably don't want to talk to and never want to see again in your life”.

"Isn't it GREAT that we get to share a table like this?"

In a town where eight million people are frequently forced to cram into restaurants not much bigger than a walk-in wardrobe, communal dining is something of a cultural necessity in New York.

The first time it happens is a humbling experience. You and your partner will enter a bustling restaurant with a queue of waiting diners trailing out the door, but will miraculously be seated on a huge round table all to yourself.

You will congratulate yourselves on how obviously important you are, to have received such a plum spot in such a busy place. And then five minutes later another couple will be shepherded over and seated next to you.

You'll look at each other awkwardly, smile, and then each will spend the rest of the evening pretending the other doesn't exist.

I'm sure there are exceptions to this scenario - people who relish this sort of interaction with strangers as some sort of spiritual exercise, who see it as a way of expanding their world view and plugging in to a wider social consciousness.

But they're also probably the type of people who wear Birkenstocks and dreadlocks and say “dude” a lot. Or the type who wonders whether Australia has “a Chinatown”.

To be fair, I've backpacked solo around south east Asia and most nights dinner and a chat with strangers was a very welcome thing. Disclaimer: I also wore Birkenstocks then.

My point is that as with most things, it's all about etiquette. Reading social cues. You can't just plonk yourself down next to a loved-up couple trying to enjoy their dumplings (so to speak) and start quizzing them about Australian geography. You have your piece of table, they have theirs. Pretend the lazy Susan in the middle is Switzerland.

True New Yorkers know the rule about communal dining is the same as for the subway – sit down, shut up and don't make eye contact. And keep your dumplings to yourself.

This article was first published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail on January 15, 2012.

Australians: We're all rugged and shit

2012-01-13T09:47:00.004-05:00

Meet "Craig N", Yelp.com reviewer. He tried a meat pie at an Australian-run pie shop in New York's East Village, and didn't like it much. AUSTRALIA, THIS IS YOUR FAULT.

I really don't understand nyc's fascination with things Australian.

Yes, they have an accent. Yes, they seem all rugged and shit. Yes, they surf. Yes, they were a penal colony. That isn't actually relevant but I just like saying penal. But quite honestly, I find nothing that outstanding about their food, politics (do they have any?), or atmosphere.

What I would like to see more from Australia is more platypus and less blondes.

This sentient review has inspired me to make the below range of new tourism advertisements, which I will suggest Tourism Australia start running on American billboards as soon as possible. Let's be honest, they can't be worse than Lara Bingle's effort.

The Bachelor warning: oh no!

2012-01-12T10:58:00.003-05:00

So I'm going to Miami this weekend for a holiday in the sun surrounded by much better looking people, and because I'll be busy stuffing my face with Cuban sandwiches and cocktails I won't get to recap The Bachelor episode 3 for a whole week.

Cue the guy on the left: OH NO!

I realise this will be devastating news to many of you, but all I ask is that you hold on until Monday January 23 when I resume duties.

In the meantime, this should get you through. Just put it on repeat - I have.

Jack White buys an elephant head

2012-01-11T09:37:00.007-05:00

Today I thought "I wonder what Jack White's up to these days" and Google answered - he's buying elephant heads on reality TV.

The guitar god and object of my lusty affection stars in a new episode of the History Channel's American Pickers, a show in which two blokes scour garage sales, auctions and rubbish dumps for treasures and then sell them for profit.

Why is Jack on the show? Because he wants to buy a giant elephant head, of course.

"Ever since I heard 'Rag and Bone', this was my band!" - yeah good mate, because after they released that they didn't do anything for four years and then broke up. I BLAME YOU.

Meanwhile, Karen Elson's really gone downhill since the divorce, eh?

"You're going to Photoshop this, right?"

The Bachelor episode recap: S16 E2

2012-01-10T09:07:00.055-05:00

This week sees the 18 remaining personality disorders head to Ben's Californian home town of Sonoma, which sounds a lot to me like a brand of sleeping pill. Do not visit Sonoma while operating heavy machinery.

Uh-oh.

Apparently Ben wants to introduce the girls to his winery, despite the events of episode one suggesting that involving these women with more wine-related products is not a good idea.

Too late.

"I wonder what my father would say to me in moments like this," the Benchelor muses.

"What the HELL are you doing acting like a tool on national television, son?" is my guess.

The babe buffet cart arrives and they all tumble out, trilling sentences involving the words "super", "excited" and "super excited", and because it's only 10.30 in the morning, Ben opens some more bottles of wine.

"I'm gonna need a top up here."

Time for the first date - it's "Kacie B", which sounds rather like the name of a one hit wonder pop star from the 90s. Her one song would have been called something like "I'd Like 2 Love U" and would have had a video filmed entirely in front of a green screen.

Kacie B and Ben head off on their date while all the other girls stay in the mansion to read philosophy and discuss 19th century Russian literature and dissect modern feminism. OK, actually I mean to drink wine.

"Seriously, where did all the wine go?"

"There's something I want to show Kacie that's really personal," says Ben, and I hope he's talking about the contents of his underpants.

"It's something I hold near and dear to my heart," he continues, and for Kacie's sake I still hope he's talking about the content of his underpants.

They head out on the town and gee, doesn't Sonoma look fun?

Now I know why it sounds like a sleeping pill.

Ben shows Kacie all the exciting sights of Sonoma, like the glittering lights of the cheese shop:

THRILLING!

The parallel parks on the main street:

EXCITING!

An empty courtyard:

ELECTRIFYING!

And the local pub, where they play the lobby piano badly. Fortunately, like the rest of Sonoma, the place is completely deserted so no one is bothered.

It begins to dawn on me that Sonoma might have recently been devastated by nuclear fallout, a suspicion that gets stronger when two apparent survivors - the only other people in town - stagger out of the darkness towards Kacie and Ben in search of food and water.

"Run! Save yourselves! There is nothing for humanity here!"

Seizing the opportunity for looting, Kacie and Ben head to Sonoma's now deserted toy shop where Kacie enthuses "Ben brings out things in me I haven't felt in a long time!"

Not since the age of about three, I'd say.

Unbeknownst to Ben, Kacie also takes the opportunity to arm herself with a huge stick, which will come in handy when they start arguing over the last of the water.

TRUST. NO ONE.

Sadly it's not a self defense ninja stick, it's a baton made for "twirling". I dunno, it's some crazy American crap girls do at school. Anyway she throws it around a bit and makes Ben walk down the street with it, and after a few minutes of playing with his stick they're at dinner.

"I'm a hopeless romantic, that's how I was raised - in the SOUTH," Kacie winks.

"I need to see THE SOUTH... the REAL SOUTH," Ben smirks.

"You need to COME to THE SOUTH - I'll show you THE SOUTH," says Kacie before they both shout "VAGINA VAGINA VAGINA!"

But all this dirty talk is nothing compared to the thrills that await them at the super popular Sonoma movie theatre:

Even on tight-arse Tuesday no one goes.

The cinema has kindly agreed to interrupt their season of Flubber to screen home movies of Kacie and Ben. Yes, you read that right. Ben has taken Kacie to the cinema to watch videos of herself as a child. Anyone else think this sounds like something a serial killer would do?

"I don't want to spoil the ending... but she dies."

Unsurprisingly, watching home videos of Ben's late father puts something of a dampener on the evening so they go back to the mansion, where the girls are getting ready for a "group date" with Ben. This sounds a lot kinkier than it is. Unless you invite Blakely the 34-year-old cocktail waitress, which Ben did.

"I'm gonna try not to let anything get between me and Ben, but who knows what may come in my way," says Blakely.

Yeah, who knows.

GROUP DATE TIME! Ben takes 11 of the women into the middle of Sonoma, where no one will hear them scream, and executes them one by one. Not really. He actually announces they're going to have to audition for roles in a play written by a bunch of local children.

"Um, is the execution option still available?"

Totally awkward and not fun at all group date in a nutshell:

"I LOVE children!" enthuses Jennifer, until they ask her to act like a weasel.

"BITCH YOU BE PLAYIN'?"

Jenna is instructed to act like a gingerbread man and fails miserably, but her tan gets good reviews.

"Wait, a PLAY? Didn't you say we were going to be in PLAYBOY?" says Blakely.

Vote 1: Citizens Against Rompers.

Meanwhile:

"Mom told us to stay away from women like you."

Seizing the opportunity to watch some jiggling boobs without having to lock themselves in their bedrooms first, the kids tell Blakely to "jog in slow motion". Ben high fives them all.

Meanwhile:

Blakely is a woman of many talents.

"It's really important for Ben to see me in a different light today, so I'm going to put my trust in the kids," says Jenna.

Yeah. You might want to rethink that.

Blakely answers the question "What do you get when you cross a gingerbread man and a hooker?" with this:

Don't put it in your mouth, you don't know where it's been.

Finally the play - "Prince Pinot of Bachelorville" (of COURSE this was written by kids) - gets underway at the town hall, and the audience goes wild.

Their faces say so much.

Somehow every character in it is scripted to kiss Ben, including the weasel, the pig, the donkey and the tree. So, just like The Bachelor then.

Through some sort of plot twist, Ben has to dress as a sheep and then take all his clothes off (of COURSE this was written by kids).

"Holy shit, this is better than Flubber at the Sonoma cinema!"

"This is the first time I've ever been attracted to a sheep," says Jaclyn.

I'd say the feeling is nearly mutual.

Back at the mansion it's been at least two hours since anyone had a drink, so the Benchelor pops some champagne and Samantha immediately runs off to the toilets, perhaps to hide from the giant phantom meringue that's started haunting the place.

Run, don't walk.

Meanwhile, Ben displays his stunning lack of perception by telling Blakely "I feel like everybody really likes you" at exactly the same time as everybody is bitching about her around the pool.

"I'm just blessed in some places," Blakely says.

Yes, we've seen both of them.

"For someone like me who hates *BEEP*, it's just very difficult to be around Blakely all the time," bitches Samantha. Fun game: Fill in the blank! Did Samantha say:

a) "Blakely",

b) "horse-faced cocktail waitresses",

c) "Hilary Swank lookalikes", or

d) "vaginas" ?

Back to Ben, who is busy pashing Jennifer in the spa - it seems her Tony-worthy performance as "the weasel" really WAS a turn on. Grandmas, empty movie theatres and rodent impressions, that's what gets this guy going.

Oh, and boobs. Which is why he also pashes Blakely, and then gives her a rose. Jennifer cries, because she doesn't understand that she's on a reality TV show where one guy makes out with 18 women for three months.

Meanwhile:

No time to wonder about that now, it's time for another solo date - this time with Courtney. Hey Ben, what does Courtney do again?

"She's a model, for crying out loud!"

Oh that's right.

"I've decided to bring scotch along today," announces Ben, which I think is advisable given he's going on a date with Courtney - I hope he has at least a litre.

Unfortunately for everyone it turns out he's talking about his dog, Scotch. Never mind, I'm sure wine will be involved at some point.

Ben, Courtney and Scotch head off leaving all the other women to bitch about how she's fake and rude and how Ben will soon find out for himself what a cow she is.

Ben and Courtney, meanwhile, pick up their highly intelligent "You have great hair, no YOU have great hair" conversation of episode one.

"You look really hot driving this car!" laughs Courtney.

"You look better riding shotgun!" fires back Ben, pithily.

They sit down on a riverbank, the Benchelor pops another bottle of wine, and all of California considers stockpiling pinot grigio in case the state's supply runs dry by the end of the week.

"Courtney's the full package, it's almost too good to be true," sighs Ben in what a cynic might describe as FORESHADOWING OF THE PLOT.

Even Scotch knows Courtney is a bad idea.

Ignoring all the warning signs, off they pop to dinner which tonight is being held in a local fire hazard:

Candles and haybales - the perfect mix for a fiery night of passion.

The Benchelor tells Courtney all about his wild past as an "internet advertiser".

"I had money, and my life was all about excess and partying and travelling and I got to live it up..."

"...and I didn't really cope because having fun and partying was my escape, so I gave it up..."

Suddenly Courtney can wait no longer to hear her the sound of her own voice, so starts banging on about exes and "trust issues" and "being genuine" and "a-ha moments" - thus creating her own cue to yell "A-HA!" and kiss the Benchelor.

"I would have said 'abra-cadabra'."

He gives her a rose, she moons over it in her stupid three-year-old voice, everyone consistently fails to kick over one of the 57 candles and set the vineyard alight and we move on, bitterly disappointed, to the rose ceremony.

Rose ceremony in a nutshell:

Lucky Courtney already has her rose, as it looks like she's become possessed by that phantom meringue that's been menacing the house.

It's coming for YOU.

The Benchelor says "near and dear to my heart" for about the FIVE MILLIONTH TIME THIS EPISODE. Late drinking game - grab a bottle of pinot grigio and drink it down in one.

Lindzi reminds Ben that she likes horses. WE FUCKING KNOW.

"It feels nice to wear real makeup because usually dirt is my makeup," farm girl Lindzi continues.

As opposed to this makeup, which just LOOKS like dirt.

Meanwhile, who invited RuPaul?

You better WERK.

Not to mention,

Not content with already receiving a rose, Blakely sets her phasers on stun and begins stage one of Operation Dignity Destroy, repeatedly hunting Ben down all over the house and locking him into awkward conversation. The first mission is a success, with the Benchelor telling her "I was impressed with you on the group date, I thought your audition was perfect."

Just a reminder.

The Benchelor somehow finds someone other than Blakely to talk to for a while but his plans are soon foiled when she uses her superhuman hearing to track him down to the hallway.

"Sorry, didn't we just talk like, a second ago?"

Fortunately for Ben, Blakely soon finds someone willing to talk to her all night:

"So, do you come here often?"

At long last Ben sits down for a chat with our favourite crazy blogger Jenna, who immediately attempts to rectify the sad lack of accidental fires in this episode by throwing her fur coat onto a candle. Sadly her plan is foiled by Mr Safety Conscious. Darn.

"I want to be honest here," says Jenna. "I feel like a guy."

The correct accompanying sound effect for this photo is: CRICKETS.

"I don't want you to think that I'm not, cos I might appear as if I'm not, I mean it's hard like, you know, there's only you so, it's like waiting around for you and it's totally worth it but it's not like a girl, if that makes any sense," says Jenna.

It doesn't.

Fortunately Jenna is interrupted by someone else who's possibly not a girl:

"STEP OFF, IT'S MAMMA'S TIME TO SHINE."

Jenna runs off crying for the second episode running, everyone blames it on Blakely who then tries to impersonate a piece of luggage:

Blakely is virtually indistinguishable from an old bag.

Detective Ben shows off his superior perceptive skills for the second time this episode by musing: "I don't know what it is but the mood of the party is shifting, these women seem to be getting a lot more emotional."

Hmm, I wonder why that could be...

~~Under direction from the producers~~Entirely of his own free will, Ben seeks out Blakely to judge for himself whether her suitcase impression is good enough to go on The X Factor.

"I don't think Simon Cowell will dig it."

Next stop on Ben's crazy tour is Jenna's bedroom, where she has thrown herself under a doona to cry about not being a girl. Or something. Any sane man would run out of that house as fast as possible and not look back, but not the Benchelor. He's not sane.

Meanwhile, IS THIS SHIT STILL GOING? CHRIST.

Everyone gets a rose except for some blonde girl I've never seen before and... oh god no, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

"I'm in shock! I came here looking for love! I feel sick! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" she shouts into the night sky, tears streaming down her face.

"NO REALLY, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Jenna cries at exactly the same time as me.

Yeah really Ben? You're going to turn THIS down?

"I'm MORTIFIED. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING," she shrieks, before spontaneously combusting in a puff of Vicodin and ash.

We're gonna miss you, you crazy blogger.

---

GO BACK IN TIME TO Episode 1 | OR GO FORTH TO Episode 3

The Bachelor episode recap: S16E1

2012-01-09T15:09:00.065-05:00

Ever since Australia's Next Top Model finished in October, there's been a hole in my life.

The kind of hole that can only be filled by making sarcastic jokes on the internet about skinny girls doing stupid things in crazy outfits. Preferably on a Monday night.

What LUCK then that ABC America has started screening season 16 of The Bachelor, a show that's pretty much the last word on skinny, stupid and crazy.

Well, almost. The skinny part, anyway.

So in the spirit of my ANTM and Australian Idol recaps, I bring you: THE BACHELOR SEASON 16 - THE RECAPPENING.

He has no idea what he's in for.

So apparently this year's Bachelor is San Francisco winemaker Ben Flajnik (pictured above), a reject from last year's series of The Bachelorette who proposed to some bird in the final episode only to be turned down in front of an audience of millions. If you feel like watching the exact moment a man's heart breaks while his dignity simultaneously exits his soul, you can find the clip on YouTube.

But now Ben's back and ready for love, and by god he's going to find it (or at least a semi decent shag) because now he's THE BACHELOR, lord of the singles in the Kingdom of Crazyland, with 25 women all vying for his attention.

He's obviously a catch, because he wears a suit even when in a dinghy in the middle of the ocean...

...can count up to 10 just by staring at his bare feet for a few minutes...

...does manly things like occasionally carry a big wooden pole around...

...and keeps hookers locked up in a metal container in his backyard.

Wait, no, sorry, I just made that last one up. Pity though, because that would have made for a really exciting twist in the final episode!

"I've never juggled 25 women," Ben says, revealing one of the few talents he doesn't possess.

Fortunately, he CAN look wistful in the countryside while putting his hands in his pockets.

He can also canoe naked.

Let's meet some of these women, shall we?

There's Lindzi HORSE from HORSE Seattle, who's HORSE really into HORSE horses. Did I mention she liked horses? I feel like that's going to be pertinent later on. Anyway poor Lindzi is looking for a new cowboy to saddle up with after her last one broke up with her by the following text message:

I really wish I could say I'd come up with this, but it's for real.

And then there's Lyndsie (same name, different stupid spelling) who comes from London and drives a sports car with her name on the side in case she forgets which one is hers when she parks at WalMart:

Sadly, her career as a criminal getaway driver was short lived.

Then there's Amber, a "critical care nurse" who has a neat way of ensuring continuing business:

"ARE YOU HURT? CRITICALLY? GOOD."

She promises to bring Ben home to Nebraska for some "beef nuts" which look a lot like KFC but are actually fried bull testicles.

So pretty much exactly like KFC, then.

And there's Nikki whose hobbies include jogging, getting married and cow sitting:

Maybe don't stand too close to Amber.

And Courtney, who likes to spy on people on the beach:

"Oh yeah, put your sun lotion on, yeah, gotta be sun smart these days... ooh..."

And Jenna, who is a "blogger" from New York.

Pfft. Get a real job, Jenna.

It's funny how similar "blogging" is to "checking Facebook while getting drunk in the afternoon".

Jenna apparently writes about love and relationships, which must make for interesting reading as she describes dating as "a constant battle in my head".

"I'm taking charge and I never will stop until I get what I want. Ben, I'm coming for you," she says ominously.

In other news:

"Have you seen this boy?"

There's also Shawn, who not only is named after a bloke but has a five year old child who will no doubt really enjoy the 16 weeks at grandma's house while mum flaunts herself on national television.

And then there's the one Ben will actually propose to in the end - Jamie, who raised her four younger siblings in a trailer with no money after both her parents disappeared somehow (aliens?) and is now a nurse with very pretty hair.

I'm calling it - EPISODE ONE, NOTE THAT DOWN, BITCHES.

Enough of all these montages, it's time for a night of cocktails, canapes and crazy - THE FIRST NIGHT PARTY.

The Benchelor is there, looking weirdly like a cross between Chachi, Ted from Bill and Ted and your Year 11 formal date.

"WA WA WA, EXCELLENT!"

He bangs on a bit about his emotions and relationships and his dead dad and hummingbirds and you know, it's all rather boring, which probably explains why host Chris Harrison looks like this for most of it:

"Hummingbirds, WTF?"

But then the crazy parade starts - a seemingly endless cavalcade of girls in bad prom dresses spouting weird catchphrases and anecdotes at the Benchelor in an effort to "make an impression" on the way into the party.

Now, I don't know where in the outer lying regions of taste some of these women found their dresses, but I think it's safe to say there are some stars of the adult entertainment industry shivering naked somewhere in the world tonight.

Suddenly a dark brown object launches itself out of the limo and onto the Benchelor. OH GOD, IS ONE OF THE ALIENS THAT STOLE JAMIE'S PARENTS COME TO FINISH THE JOB?

No, it's Amber Bacon.

"My name is AMBER and my last name is BACON, my friends call me THE BACONATOR," says Amber Bacon.

In other news:

"Have you seen this meat product?"

"DO YOU LIKE BACON? COME ON. DO YOU WANT A TASTE? A SAMPLE? IT'S CANADIAN BACON!" she shrieks as the Benchelor awkwardly kisses her hand.

Funny, Amber thinks her friends call her "The Baconator" because of her last name, and not because of her pork-coloured, fried skin.

Then there's Elyse who is apparently a personal trainer but forgets to mention this, so her parting words - "Make sure you find me later, I'm going to make you sweat a little bit," - are more ominous than sexy.

Gosh, Jenna looks angelic and completely sane, doesn't she?

She's not.

"I love what you said last season, how good things end badly," she says, before burying her face in her hands and beginning what proves to be the downward spiral of her sanity that lasts the rest of the episode.

"I mean... good things don't end unless they end badly. I screwed it up. But I want YOU to know that... it's a good thing and... it doesn't have to end. Yeah. Yeah."

Your new favourite character.

Next up is Courtney the over-confident who bowls up to the Benchelor, calls him "cutie pie", touches his hair seductively and then slurs "I'M A MODELLLL". Yeah, we hate Courtney.

Then OH MY GOD IT'S LEANN RIMES! Oh no wait, it's just some PhD student. Pfft.

You can try to resist, try to hide from my kiss...

Actually, it's possibly best you do try to hide from Emily's kiss as she's an epidemiologist and studies the transfer of disease.

"I have something to give you," she tells the Benchelor, and I secretly hope she means herpes.

She squeezes some anti bacterial gel on his hands (no, seriously, she does) and then announces she's going to give him "the first kiss of the night". I still hope this means she's going to give him herpes. (Just quietly: why did she need to disinfect his hands before kissing him? What did she think he was going to do with them?)(Actually, don't answer that.)

Suddenly it's Samantha, who for some reason thinks wearing a sash reading "Miss Pacific Palisades" will fill the Benchelor with lust.

If only she had a texta and some white-out she could transform that thing into something that really would get his attention:

There stands a winner.

Then there's Casey who zzzzzzz%^$2gyddwy7w. Sorry, fell asleep on my keyboard for a second there. Must be Casey's electric personality.

Next out of the limo is this hat which, annoyingly, hasn't been able to rid itself of its host body for the evening.

"I would SO have a chance with this guy if this bug eyed freak would just take me off for one second."

Hopefully the Benchelor can look past that and see the hat's inner beauty.

"This hat is a clue as to where I'm from!" chirps the hat lady.

Enter Shira, an actress of undisclosed age.

"Ask me about wine, I know EVERRRRYYYYTHING about wine," she slurs, suggesting that she at least knows how to drink it.

Speaking of wine, the Benchelor's going to need some for our next bachelorette - 72-year-old Sheryl, who's thoughtfully brought her own transportation:

"There's a story behind this!" she laughs.

Please GOD let the story be that she is a contestant on the show.

"I watched the show all last season," she says.

Yes...?

"And I fell madly in love with you," she continues.

Yeeeess...?

"I know you're a family person, and so am I," she continues.

YEEESSS...?

"And in that limo is my granddaughter Brittney, and I would love to have her meet you."

This.

"I love grandmas," sighs the Benchelor as he watches Sheryl hobble into the party. So maybe she DOES have a chance.

But then in walks Nicki the pretty brunette dental hygienist from Texas. She looks like a real contender - until she starts talking. At Nicki's clinic the dentist doesn't use a drill, he just gets Nicki to stand in the corner and read the newspaper out loud.

Remember Londoner Lyndsie with the personalised sports car? Turns out she's not just a prat with a stupid car, she also a prat who writes bad poems.

"I'm hoping to find my knight in shining armour, and hopefully I'll find it in this gorgeous great farmer AHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" she shouts while giving him a boyish punch in the stomach.

Things that blokes find sexy #334: Loud chicks who write comedy poems and punch them.

Now meet Jennifer the accountant, who decides the best way to introduce herself is by telling the Benchelor how many times she's been arrested. Zero times, as it turns out. What a conversation starter.

Best in show goes to 25-year-old student Anna who either a) has no idea where she is or b) couldn't give less of a shit about Ben as she walks straight past him into the party saying nothing at all.

"What? This is how I normally get into parties."

A few more women turn up including one who announces she misses her dog, another who looks frighteningly like Debra Messing and another who clearly doesn't have any future plans for Ben at all:

"What, marriage? Oh well, you know, if YOU'RE into it..."

Meanwhile, Brittney's nanna is a total hit inside at the party, impressing all the girls:

Suddenly, there's a clip-clopping of hooves and then, emerging from the darkness it's... it's... OH MY GOD, IT'S A HALF HORSE, HALF WOMAN!

Fuck.

"Nice horse!" the Benchelor yells, which makes a nice change from his usual choice of animal when yelling things out at strange women.

And with that, the parade of the damned is over and it's time to move inside where the 2012 Squished Breast and Shiny Dress Festival is in full swing.

Of course by this time about six hours have passed and the producers have had to call for reinforcements of pinot grigio:

Lucky they deliver late night.

Hat lady has fallen asleep in the corner, LeAnn Rimes is setting up the karaoke while Brittney's nanna is telling stories about the war after having drunk all the sherry - it's the perfect time for the Benchelor to steal out with Rachel, who wastes no time in asking if he's found his future wife yet. Well, he HAS been at the party for at least 10 minutes, come on.

"I won't go the wifey thing until I'm down on one knee," he says in what appears to be English but can't be confirmed.

Because that went so well last time.

Enter Nicki, the human dentist drill from Texas.

"I YAM SEW BUBBLY, LAFE'S TEW SHAWRT TA BE SERIOUS ALL THE TAHM!" she drawls.

"That's the thing, um... *ahem* you go through all these little, er... tragedies in life and it kind of makes you just, um..." struggles Ben, while Nicki glows and bubbles and drills away.

"HE IS HONEST HE'S GENUINE HE'S SINCERE HE IS EVERYTHING THAT I WOULD WANT IN A MAN!" trills Nicki.

Did I mention that Nicki is divorced at 26? I can't think why that marriage didn't work out.

Enter Lindzi, who starts talking about horses AGAIN. Well, she said "I used to ride to make a living", so I ASSUME that's what she was talking about.

Then she announces she "tried to make wine" once by squishing store-bought grapes with her feet.

Meanwhile, inside, all the women are totally convinced that Brittney bringing her grandma is a masterstroke of strategic planning. Because we all know how impressed young, single men are by women who appreciate their elders.

Sadly it appears that, at some point during the party, Brittney has been replaced by a wax figurine, so nanna Sheryl has to do her talking for her.

"Er, is there a string I need to pull or something?"

I might not be an expert on these things, but I feel that if the best thing your date can think of to say to you is "Lovely grandma!", you might not be doing so well.

Suddenly - the floor shakes, the heavens roar, all the windows blow open and in walks Chris Harrison WITH THE FIRST IMPRESSIONS ROSE.

"Woah, the first impressions rose is stressful," says the Benchelor.

This rose - which will save the recipient from elimination - is to be given to the girl who has impressed Ben the most so far.

Everyone's trying their best to get noticed - Shawn gets out a soccer ball and starts kicking it to Ben (well it IS called a BALL gown), Dianna blindfolds him and feeds him lollies one by one (no, really) and in a drastically misjudged attempt at flirtation, Elyse forces him to do push ups.

Even the hat has stepped up its game:

"WEAR ME, WEAR ME HARD!"

But nothing compares to LeAnn Rimes the epidemiologist who performs a rap about diseases. She describes this as showcasing her "gangsta" side.

"Love is like disease, always spreading, you can get it from a friend, you can get it at a wedding," she stammers, while the Benchelor reacts in the only way possible.

I feel you, bro.

Oh hi, Courtney. Are you still a model?

"I'm at a point in my life where I'm a model, I travel the world," she says, before reminding us again that she's a model.

"I'm a nice, normal, Italian-American, Scottish, Native American," she continues.

"I'm Italian Slovenian..." starts Ben, under the misbelief that Courtney actually cares.

"You have great hair," she interrupts, purely to hear her own voice again.

"You have great hair too," he says, thus concluding The Most Poignant Conversation Of The Evening.

With the pinot grigio stocks running dangerously low, and the women starting to turn dangerously mellow, it's time to inject some crazy back into this party. You know who to turn to.

No, not her.

Not her either, but good choice.

Yep.

"YOU don't feel ANYTHING for Ben at ALL? NOTHING?" Jenna shrieks at statuesque blonde Monica, outraged that someone feels indifferent towards someone else after meeting them for approximately three minutes.

"Do you not feel the urge to GO HOME? What keeps you HERE?" she continues, before slagging "THERE ARE WOMEN WHO AREN'T HERE FOR THE RIGHT REASONS! I AM NOT HERE TO PARTY!"

As it turns out, there are two things keeping Monica there, and they're both stuck to Blakeley's chest:

"Her teeth, her beauty, her eyes - GOD!" gasps Monica as she drapes herself over Blakeley.

"If you're the only thing I get out of this then I have LIVED!" she says in vaguely Shakespearean fashion.

It's certainly unorthodox behaviour but you have to hand it to Monica - she's found a novel way to pick up women. Monica, we salute your resourcefulness. Jenna doesn't, though.

"She's making me CRY, and she is SMILING. What human being is like that, who can make someone cry and smile? It makes me SICK," Jenna says, glaring at Monica while hooking up a new bottle of pinot grigio to her IV drip.

"I don't want to be drama!" Jenna wails as she hands her ticket to the conductor on the bus to Crazytown.

But it's too late. The Battle of Jenna and Monica has begun, a war so fiercely fought it will be the subject of books, plays and puppet shows for decades to come.

"I feel like you don't like me," Jenna spits at Monica.

"We're both women, we're both here..." says Monica.

"MAYBE WE CAN SHARE A TAMPON SOME TIME!" yells Jenna, in what might well be the best way to shut down any argument ever.

"No one's EVER talked to me like that," Jenna weeps, I assume referring to Monica's description of her as a woman. That WAS harsh.

"I can't deal with this, I try to be nice, and they're not nice to me," Jenna blathers, I assume referring to how she accused Monica of being fake with no emotions.

"I will NOT cry because that girl does not deserve ANY TEARS," Jenna continues.

Fortunately she's feeling better by the time the Benchelor rolls around (who? Oh right, that guy), enough to impress him with this rousing speech:

"I just feel like you, but, no, that makes us, if we could be more nervous but you could, we could all be more nervous but the way you're calm like, we're like so nervous but calmness in a little bit, so it helps us."

Succinct.

"I'm hoping Jenna can find the strength and stick this out," reads Ben off the script one of the producers has handed to him. This bitch is getting a rose if it kills them.

Jenna locks herself in the toilet to cry and talk to herself (it's marginally more interesting than talking to Ben), Ben gives the first impressions rose to Lindzi (well, she did ride in on a horse for christ's sake) and after 13 hours and 2700 litres of pinot grigio we are finally ready to roll on in to the rose ceremony, otherwise known as the Annual Duck Face Convention:

Sadly there's no wine left, so Monica grabs Jenna and wrings her out into an empty bottle just in time to see Jamie get the first rose.

WHAT DID I DAMN WELL SAY?

Some more girls get roses, then some more, and then the huge mystery of whether crazy psycho Jenna who's the only good reason to watch this show will get a rose is concluded WHEN SHE GETS A ROSE.

This girl is not impressed.

For some reason, everyone is suprised. HAVE THEY NEVER WATCHED REALITY TV BEFORE? In a totally shocking move, Monica also gets a rose, ensuring round two of the Battle of Jonica.

Tonight's rejects include: the loopy Londoner, the silent student, the premature bride, the killer nurse and Canadian Bacon. Maybe he's vegetarian?

Until next week, let's give the final word to our favourite new blogger:

---

SCREW THIS ROSE CEREMONY, LET'S READ Episode 2.

The reality is: we still love reality TV

2011-12-27T18:11:00.000-05:00

Aussies prefer drama to reality TV? Bollocks - it's all how you read the data.

After writing this blog recently on how Australia's end of year TV ratings were dominated - nay, verrily greased, spanked and whipped into submission - by reality shows I was quite surprised to read this story from today's Adelaide Advertiser: "The reality is, we prefer a good drama".

"Hooray," I thought. "We're not such boring thickos after all!"

Well, wait a minute.

The article cites figures from Roy Morgan Research that show that while three of the top five rating programs for the year were of the reality genre, viewers were most "engaged" with the two drama offerings - Downton Abbey and Packed to the Rafters.

"I will not stand for misleading ratings figures."

The article implies that although reality show Australia's Got Talent had the most viewers in 2011, Packed to the Rafters was actually more popular because "three quarters" of its audience said they specifically tuned in to watch it each week, whereas only "half" of AGT viewers did. More than 40 per cent of AGT viewers said they only watched the show "because someone else in their house did", or because there was "nothing better on".

Similarly, the article suggests that Downton Abbey was actually a more popular show than The Block for the same reason - more than 70 per cent of Downton Abbey viewers tuned in specifically to watch it, whereas only about half of The Block viewers did.

It can't have escaped attention that AGT, Rafters and Downton Abbey are all on Channel Seven, while The Block is on Channel Nine, although I'm not necessarily suggesting any bias here - the research only looked at the top five shows and three of those happen to be on Seven. So be it.

But I did note the article failed to mention that Ten's reality show Masterchef, the year's fifth most-watched show, had more than 60 per cent of its total viewership tuning in specifically to watch it. You can see this information in Roy Morgan's press release.

That's not a far cry from either Rafters (about 72 per cent) or Downton Abbey (about 73 per cent), the figures being used to support the argument that Australians are finding drama more "engaging" than reality TV.

Hmm.

And if you go by sheer numbers rather than percentages of audiences, many more people - almost double - tuned in specifically to watch Masterchef (2.86 million) than did Downton Abbey (1.9 million). Call me crazy, but I reckon a greater number of actual viewers might suggest Masterchef is a more popular show.

Furthermore, Masterchef performed well in Roy Morgan's third measure of "engagement": whether or not viewers would say they "really loved" a show.

Rafters was the most loved show, with 2.3 million viewers saying they "really loved" it, but Masterchef came in second with 1.75 million, streets ahead of the supposedly more popular Downton Abbey at 1.25 million.

So I guess the reality is the headline on the Advertiser's story - "Reality is, we prefer drama" - is a tad misleading.

And we really are still a nation of reality-TV-loving thickos, as suspected.

Australia gets Punk'd by Karl & Lisa

2011-12-27T10:05:00.004-05:00

Is Channel Nine's 'Today' show faking YouTube "bloopers" for viral publicity?

Last week YouTube released a list of the top 10 most watched videos in Australia during 2011, and this moment from Channel Ten news Adelaide came in at number three:

Firstly - I'm going to take some of the credit for this, along with my former colleague Matt Gilbertson, as we were the first ones to get hold of the clip and feature it in our weekly "Sunday Bitch Slap" gossip video for Adelaidenow on February 12, 2011:

After the Bitch Slap got traction on news websites all over Australia and Heggen's gaffe made it on TV news all over the globe, Ten realised how funny the clip was and uploaded it to their own YouTube account - four days later - where it's now attracted more than 7 million views.

Heggen herself swore the gag wasn't a set up, but a genuine prank she decided to pull on Mark Aiston. The truth is immaterial now as the clip has been a viral success for Ten, which is all that really matters.

But this kind of free, fast-spreading publicity has clearly been too great for other networks to ignore. Whereas bloopers were once a source of great embarrassment for TV hosts and newsreaders, relegated to the in-house "Christmas reel" and hidden from the public eye at all costs, thanks to video sharing websites like YouTube and Buzzfeed they're now so valuable that networks are releasing them publicly.

And, I suspect in the case of Channel Nine's Today show, manufacturing them.

"Haw haw! I make $500,000 a year!" (source: Adelaidenow 2009)

Today launched its YouTube channel IWakeUpWithTODAY in January 2011, and since then has been steadily filling it with dubious on air "oops" moments like this one, from August:

Even Lisa Wilkinson looked like she didn't believe in that one.

Then there was this, from November, in which Karl Stefanovic "accidentally" steps into shot during Richard Wilkins' entertainment segment. And then stays there for the duration, laughing, like a true television professional would:

"I felt exactly like a rabbit feels when it crosses the road and they see the headlights and they know they can't do anything about it, I was frozen," he says.

Firstly - THE PHRASE IS "LIKE A RABBIT IN THE HEADLIGHTS", KARL. IT'S NOT THAT COMPLEX A POINT.

Secondly - sure, I believe that a gold Logie winning presenter with 17 years of television experience would feel like a rabbit in the headlights when caught on camera. Sure, why not?

Oh hang on, I know why not - BECAUSE IT'S COMPLETELY FAKE, THAT'S WHY NOT.

Luckily Karl is so natural and convincing, which is why he was able to pull this on air stunt in April:

Admittedly, that's less of a faked-up blooper and more like one-minute-seventeen of FOR GOD'S SAKE, HAVE A COLD SHOWER YOU PATHETIC MANCHILDREN.

But hey, it's viral content, right guys? Clickety clickety click! Doesn't matter if it's offensive, stilted and dumb! Clickety click!

Here's another clip from February in which Karl, a father of three, manages to turn a discussion about breast feeding into a juvenile joke about tits, and then clumsily drops a blatant innuendo about the "long stabby thing" he keeps by his bed to fend off intruders:

Despite this "blooper" being about as manufactured as Lisa and Georgie's smiles during this whole segment, Karl's long stabby thing got coverage pretty much everywhere. Here. And here. And here. And - oh well, just Google it.

David Koch's attempts over on Seven's rival program Sunrise are pathetic by comparison.:

Kochie, Kochie, Kochie. You can't just TALK about number twos. Be more like Karl and actually PRODUCE them on air. THAT'S viral content.

Hopefully this trend will die soon and the networks will realise that bloopers are only funny when they're ACTUAL bloopers, not sad attempts at innuendo by presenters who can barely suppress their smirks, like toddlers pretending not to have eaten all the easter eggs you thought you hid at the back of your wardrobe.

Bloopers like this:

Or this:

Or these:

What do you think? Has viral video killed the blooper reel?

Supermarket smackdown: America vs Australia

2011-12-23T10:27:00.009-05:00

Our local supermarket here in Manhattan is just like our one back home in Australia - if our supermarket back home took crazy pills and was actually located on another planet.

For one thing, our new supermarket is full of cheerful, smiling staff who stop to chat to you and offer you help, rather than surly, bored teenagers who look at you as though you've just asked them to write a 2000 word essay, even if you've only asked where the toilet paper is.

"Hi miss, do you need any assistance today?" said a cheery young man in a visor as I stared at various punnets of ice cream yesterday, trying to find the fat and sugar free version. (TIP: That doesn't exist in America).

"Er... no thanks, I'll be fine," I said, a bit taken aback, accustomed as I am to the Australian version of customer service, ie: none at all.

"OK well my name's Dion, and if you need any assistance today you can just ask me."

BLOW. ME. DOWN.

Not only that, my new supermarket sells bison:

When you have a visiting chief to feed.

You can't tell me that's not impressive. I've got no idea how to cook it, but I rather fancy the idea of making a bison burger. And then eating it while wearing fur.

Our new supermarket is so great, even Australian indie musicians are launching new product lines in it:

Where would I go, what would I do...?

Although they're perhaps not all that on top of their labelling system:

Sure, glazed apples are meat, whatever.

Hang about, isn't Bob Evans vegetarian? That rather stuffs up my plans for this new packaging:

It would have been such a big seller.

Our American supermarket also has four self-service checkouts so you can scan your own items and nick stuff more easily, plus they sell live lobsters out of an aquarium in the deli section. (TIP: don't try and combine these two things, it only ends in pain.)

But the final argument for why our new American supermarket is much cooler than our old Aussie one:

They're not just ANY lemons. They're FANCY.

My date with The Daily Show's Jon Stewart

2011-12-18T13:02:00.005-05:00

You know how they say the camera adds 10 pounds? I think it also adds about 20cm in height.

Almost everyone I've met from television (with the exception of Bondi Vet Chris Brown, who is enormous) has been surprisingly petite. Former Australian Idol co-host James Mathieson is so tiny he is almost birdlike. Good News Week's Paul McDermott looks like a toy version of his TV self. And I've never met Matt Preston but I assume in real life he probably resembles an underfed jockey.

Which is why I shouldn't have been surprised last week when I saw Jon Stewart bound out onto the set of The Daily Show and barely clear the desk.

Still definitely would, though.

I was at a live taping of the satirical American news program inside Comedy Central's “World News Headquarters” in Manhattan's midtown-west, a cold, windy, bedraggled district perched on the banks of the Hudson River.

Getting into the hugely popular taping had been a feat in itself, taking months of organisation and an entire afternoon queuing for tickets in near-Arctic conditions. Such was my determination to see Stewart, a super-sharp (and super handsome) political comedian (whose charms I have written about in lustful tones before).

Clearly I wasn't the only crazy fan. An hour before show time a young female producer addressed the waiting crowd with the rules of the taping: no food or drink, no toilet breaks and no creepy questions for Jon.

“If it sounds creepy in your head, it's going to sound 200 times creepier in front of a studio audience,” she warned.

I immediately abandoned my marriage proposal plan.

After being hustled through a series of airport-style security gates we finally made it into the small studio. And out bounded small Jon.

According to website CelebrityHeights.com (god bless the unemployed, who have time to create such resources) he is just 167cm tall. This rather put a dent in my romantic fantasies, until the show began and I realised why I still love him.

Stewart's enthusiasm, both for comedy and politics, is even more obvious in person. During our taping he got so involved in his interview with a Republican strategist he extended it through the adbreak to make it available on The Daily Show website. Later, while watching a pre-recorded piece one of his “reporters” had done, he was thumping the desk with laughter.

During a Q&A session with the audience, which didn't make it on the show, one person asked Stewart why he didn't serve free pizza and soft drinks for his audience like Jerry Springer did.

Another asked him what he'd change about the American government.

“So this is the divide I have to bridge with this audience – how would you change the US political system, and where's the frickin' pizza?” he joked.

Funnily enough, that divide is exactly what The Daily Show does bridge in every episode. It blends informed political discussion with silly humour, making it the perfect blend of high and lowbrow, accessible by everyone.

Plus it has a spunky host. What more could you want?

This article was originally published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail's TV guide on December 18, 2011.

Sorry, 'Angry Boys' just isn't funny

2011-12-18T10:30:00.004-05:00

Aussie comedian/ writer/ actor/ director Chris Lilley's show Angry Boys premieres on HBO next Sunday (January 1).

Given his last series, Summer Heights High, did reasonably well with American audiences, there's already been a fair bit of hype.

I'll be very interested to see how Angry Boys fares in America, particularly with regard to Lilley "blacking up" to portray an African American rapper. But mostly I'm interested to see if people find it funny, because I certainly didn't when it premiered in Australia earlier this year.

Having not laughed once in the first two episodes, I initially thought I just
didn’t "get" Angry Boys. That was confusing, because I’ve always loved the understated mockumentary humour and character work Lilley previously did so well in We Can Be Heroes and Summer Heights High.

Not a boy. Not angry. Not funny.

Angry Boys is basically a third instalment of those shows, using the same sort of humour and even some of the same characters. So why isn’t it funny?

While Lilley’s previous shows both had a sharp focus that made them believable as "documentaries" – We Can Be Heroes followed five nominees on the path to the Australian of the Year awards in Canberra, while Summer Heights High was a fly-on-the-wall look at life in a public school – Angry Boys feels more like a random collection of character-based sketches.

It’s made with the feel of a documentary but, apart from a loose connection between each of the characters, it seems to lack a thread to pull all the parts together.

Where is it all going? Even the title doesn’t really make sense. What is it supposed to be about?

The fine balance of silliness and realism that Lilley got so bang-on in his previous shows is also awkwardly handled in Angry Boys.

On one hand you’ve got American rapper S.Mouse with his hit song "Poo on You", which is so ridiculous as to be completely unbelievable, and on the other you’ve got prison warden Gran, whose interactions with her juvenile detainees seem so close to real life, they’re more heart-rending than humorous. I almost cried at the end of episode two, for goodness sake.

Call me crazy, but I just couldn’t laugh at a victim of child abuse spending his first frightened night in jail.

How will American audiences react to Lilley donning "black face" for his portrayal of rapper S. Mouse?

Then again, maybe I wasn’t supposed to. Lilley has played with that sort of jarring comedy before. Many viewers were shocked when Pat died on We Can Be Heroes, in what was a truly emotional moment definitely not designed for laughs.

So you have to wonder if this type of awkward, unsettling, realist humour is what Lilley really wants to do, and if involvement from greater commercial interests such as co-producers HBO and the BBC have ruined the mix somewhat. If you’re trying to sell to new mainstream markets in the US and England, maybe you have to throw in the odd poo joke, not to mention the odd American character – so people understand you.

The problem is this weird blend of silliness and ultra-realism makes Angry Boys feel like a cross between something like Fast Forward and Australian Story – an awkward combination.

Lilley’s magnetic screen presence and incredible characterisations mean there’s still something fascinating about Angry Boys but if it’s a comedy, it’s certainly not as we know it.

An edited version of this article was originally published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail's TV Guide, on May 29, 2011.

11 cool famous dudes in uncool Christmas outfits

2011-12-16T12:49:00.013-05:00

This week Matt Damon sent bloggers into overdrive by appearing on the US Today show in an extremely dodgy Christmas-themed knitted vest:

Still would.
But I'm not sure why anyone was really all that surprised.

Damon's not the first cool, famous guy to ever don gay apparel for the holiday season. Let's not forget:

JIMI HENDRIX

Jimi Hendrix wants to come down your chimney.
The world's greatest guitarist and one of the coolest musicians who ever lived dressed up as Santa for this 1967 photo shoot. He was probably high.

SNOOP DOGG

"Mizzle Chrizzle, ma nizzle, fo' shizzle."

Only Snoop could wear a giant knitted jumper with a snowman and love hearts on it and still look like he could kill you. Meanwhile, it's obvious that snowman is smoking Christmas chronic.

JAY Z

It's ya boy - S to the C!

Jay Z is loved by the entire city of New York. He's married to the hottest pop star in the world and is about to become a dad to one of the world's coolest children. He is human kryptonite to the cool-reducing powers of the Santa hat.

BOB DYLAN

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

Bob Dylan is so cool, he released the world's worst Christmas album, AND dressed up as Hobo Claus in his music video, and people still think he's one of the coolest musicians in history.

RYAN GOSLING

"Hello. Would you like to turn me on?"

I haven't got a Christmas tree this year, I've got a Gosling. It looks really good in the corner of the room.

JAMES FRANCO

"Hello. Would you like to unwrap me?"

I haven't got Christmas presents this year, I've just got a Franco to put under my Gosling.

KANYE WEST

"Ima let you finish, but this is one of the best jumpers of all time."
While mere mortals are instantly reduced to dag status in the very presence of a knitted Christmas jumper, Kanye manages to actually put one on and still look pretty awesome. Then again, he's proved he can also wear a woman's shirt on stage and still look cool, so he's probably not actually human.

DAVID BECKHAM

"Should I have bought that matching sock and tie set?"

It's generally agreed upon that Becks is a pretty cool dude, until he opens his mouth and says something. Or wears a natty Christmas jumper like this. Still, you would, wouldn't you?

FLEA

"Give presents away, give 'em away now!"

One of the best bass players ever, Flea loses absolutely no cool points for hitting the stage with the Red Hot Chili Peppers dressed as the jolly man in red. Although it is slightly disappointing that he didn't just opt for a Christmas stocking on his wang instead.

And finally:

JAKE GYLLENHAAL

Mmmnnghh.

Merry. Fucking. Christmas.

Overheard at the bagel cart

2011-12-16T11:29:00.004-05:00

Ordering breakfast at the bagel cart on my corner this morning were three young, female students from the university dorm down the street.

Let's say they looked like this:

Just your normal, every day university students.

After ordering their various bagels and egg sandwiches, their conversation went like this:

GIRL 1: Oh my god this cart is so great.

GIRL 2: I LOVE this cart.

GIRL 3: Me too.

CART GUY: You want hot sauce?

GIRL 1: Yeah, hot sauce is great.

GIRL 2: I LOVE hot sauce.

GIRL 3: Me too.

CART GUY: You want mayo?

GIRL 1: Yeah, I like mayo.

GIRL 2: Oh my god I LOVE mayo.

GIRL 3: Oh my god me too!

Then they took their breakfast and walked back to their dorm, probably to read more Foucault and Derrida and chat about other condiments they like.

I'm not so Gaga over the Lady anymore

2011-12-09T20:30:00.005-05:00

I defended her when she wore that dress made of meat.

I rallied against people who claimed she was “just another Madonna clone”.

I even applauded when she arrived at the Grammy Awards in an egg and claimed she'd been “incubating” in it for three days.

But after what I saw this week, I just can't take it anymore. I'm officially handing in my Lady Gaga fan club membership. And it's all because of a lollipop.

Sure, fine, whatever.

Let me backtrack a few years. In 2009, just before she became a mega huge pop star, Lady Gaga was the support act for the Pussycat Dolls at the Adelaide Entertainment Centre.

Back then Gaga only had a couple of hits and I barely knew who she was. I was there to review the Pussycat Dolls, but ended up writing the whole article about her.

I remember watching this platinum-haired pixie storming around the stage in a crazy mirrored frock and go-go boots, belting out these super-glossy future-pop songs on a piano, only to be followed by the spray-tanned, silicon-enhanced stripshow of the Pussycat Dolls.

They looked like they'd stepped out of a cheap men's magazine. She looked like a pop star girls could be inspired by. My admiration for her was instant.

She wasn't just a weirdly-dressed spectacle with catchy tunes; she preached a message of acceptance, empowerment, self-love and positivity. No matter your ethnicity, sexuality or appearance, everyone was welcome at the temple of Gaga.

But this week I saw the true temple of Gaga - Gaga's Workshop – and her booming dance music was barely audible over the sound of cash registers ringing.

Gaga's Workshop is a special, limited time only “pop-up boutique” that launched last month in New York department store Barney's. It looks like Adelaide's Magic Cave as designed by Willy Wonka and Andy Warhol, and is filled with every type of Lady Gaga merchandise you can imagine.

And I mean EVERY type. Snow globes, stuffed toys, bath foam, sunglasses, T shirts, keyrings, playing cards, candles, yo-yos, handbags, teacups, iPhone stickers, tape measures (yes, really), hair bows made out of real hair and $575 children's leather jackets with “GAGA” emblazoned on the back in glitter. I felt like I'd walked inside a giant Lady Gaga showbag.

But it wasn't until I spied the lollipop painted to look like the star's face the irony hit me like a studded-glove smack to the face – WE were the suckers.

Here we all were, embracing Lady Gaga's “love thyself” philosophy and celebrating being “born this way”, while simultaneously being sold vastly overpriced lipstick and hair pieces. Not to mention bits of plastic manufactured in China for presumably a fraction of Gaga's price tag. I guess it's easier to feel good about the way you're born if it's not into a poor family in Guangzhou.

Things weren't just overpriced, they were ABSURDLY overpriced. A single gingerbread cookie painted with Gaga's face was $18. A plastic Christmas ornament in her likeness was $25. One pair of plastic goggles clumsily covered in black lace and superglue was $295. I imagined a team of workers sitting in the storeroom with glue guns and bedazzlers, tearing open boxes of cheap crap from China and having a huge laugh.

Seriously, now? $18?

The whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth – worse than the one I imagine you'd get if you actually tried to eat her $25 “rock candy earrings” - and I left without buying anything.

Gaga has announced that 25 per cent of proceeds from the Workshop will go to her new Born This Way Foundation which, according to its website, is “a movement to build a brave new world where humanity is embraced, individuals are empowered, and intolerance is eliminated”. Whatever that might mean.

There's been a lot of press about the foundation focusing on anti-bullying strategies, although there's been no hint of what that might actually involve. Perhaps all will become clear when the organisation is officially launched in 2012. When it does, it certainly won't be lacking in funds.

In the meantime, I'll try to get over my shattered love affair with Lady Gaga. Let's call it a bad romance.

---

You might also be interested in reading my dissection of Lady Gaga's latest music video for Marry the Night.

This article was originally published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail's Sunday liftout on December 10, 2011.

A peek inside Lady Gaga's Workshop

2011-12-05T12:16:00.006-05:00

Apologies if I seem a little Gaga obsessed lately, it's just that a) I find it difficult to ignore someone who's seemingly captured the zeitgeist and b) she's been troubling me a bit lately, testing my admiration of her and such.

I felt immensely let down this week by her new Marry the Night video, which was ultimately a pastiche of artistically shot vignettes pretending to have a deeper storyline. It was confusing, derivative, and most disappointingly, boring. Rather like the song.

And then I visited "Gaga's Workshop" at Barney's department store, where the star has taken over a section of the fifth floor to... well, I didn't know what. Until I went in, and realised her "workshop" is more like a "sweatshop" - at least, it looks like half the items in there have been made in one. From keyrings, to snowdomes, chocolates and Christmas tree ornaments, there is nothing Gaga has not put her name (and a hefty price tag) on.

I know that 25 per cent of proceeds are going to the singer's Born This Way Foundation, an organisation that supposedly supports "youth empowerment and equality by addressing issues like self-confidence, well-being, anti-bullying, mentoring and career development". Whatever that means - 75 per cent of the proceeds are still going somewhere else. I'd assume that's to Gaga's wallet.

I'm writing my Sunday Mail column on it this week, so you can wait until then to read all about it. In the meantime, here's a video I shot of Gaga's Workshop.

I'd be interested to hear from other Lady Gaga fans - what do you think of the star? Has your opinion of her changed over the years?

Lady Gaga's Flashdance flashback kinda sucks

2011-12-02T17:32:00.019-05:00

I really like Lady Gaga's new song, ~~The Theme from Flashdance~~ Marry the Night, it's really original and unique and doesn't sound anything like What a Feeling by Irene Cara.

It also has a really ~~mind-numbingly boring~~ quirky and exciting 14 minute video to go with it, which premiered on prime time TV here in America last night. Because event TV is for wusses, I didn't tune in. Instead I watched it online, because internet TV is for... well, geeks like me.

Anyway here are my minute-by-minute reactions to Lady Gaga's new video:

00:01: Pop the Pringles, we're off.

00:02: THIS THING IS 14 FUCKING MINUTES? Sigh. Get me another tube of Pringles.

00:12: Gaga's near death on a stretcher being wheeled through a hospital. Perhaps she has a head injury, as she's babbling incoherently about truth and reality and being an artist, kind of like those drunk guys you see on the subway.

00:26: Atoms and particles? Quantum physics? What the fuck is she on about?

00:38: "My past is an unfinished painting, and as the artist of that painting, I must fill in all the ugly holes." So what, she's going to time travel? This video might yet get interesting.

00:55: STYLE ALERT! Everyone in this picture is apparently wearing "next season Calvin Klein":

I worry for the fashion industry.
01:37: "That girl on the left ordered gummy bears and a knife a couple hours ago..." Gaga blathers.

02:07: A doctor who looks about 10 years older than Gaga bursts out of nowhere and says "I remember when I delivered you!". Have we already travelled back in time?

02:35: The doctor checks some scars on Gaga's back.

02:38: WHERE IS THE FUCKING MUSIC?

03:07: Now Gaga's crying, "I'm gonna be a star" she weeps in her hospital bed. Not with this pile of shit you won't, love.

04:47: Borrowed pop culture reference #336: Black Swan.

05:07: Now we're in an apartment, and a girl is putting Gaga to bed. Are they going to continue the Black Swan theme and show a bit of wild lesbian sex?

05:14: No, they aren't.

05:19: You would never get a principal role with a dodgy leg lift like that.

05:38: Now she's naked in bed on the phone, and there are French subtitles and WHERE THE HELL IS THE MUSIC?

06:03: She obviously got some bad news on the phone, because now she's rubbing records on her breasts and covering herself in Cheerios. No, really.

06:30: Now she's in the bath, dying her hair green. Still no sign of the actual song. What is this all about again? What's my name? What year is it?

07:04: Oh look, it's Madonna circa 1983!

07:49: Think I'll just run to the kitchen for some more Pringles.

08:15: Right then, what did I miss?

That's NOT how you do a bum press, Gaga!
08:30: So... she's crashed her car in the rain, and ended up hanging upside down out of the passenger side window? Explain THAT to your insurance company, Gaga. Meanwhile:

08:51: PRAISE BE TO JESUS, SOME MUSIC! Oh wait, false alarm - it's just the theme from Flashdance.

08:53: No, wait, it IS Marry the Night. Wow, what an original sounding tune! I like it.

09:06: Gaga lights up a fag (in this case meaning a cigarette, although in her videos you can never really be sure), guaranteeing a whole generation of tweens will get lung cancer. HOORAY!

09:30: FINALLY, some singing and dancing! You know, like in those old fashioned music videos of 2010!

09:43: "I'm gonna MARRY... THE NI-IIIGHT!"

She's going to have to marry that car if she continues with much more of that.
09:58: What the? Now we're in a 1980s dance studio? Where have the wrecked cars gone?

10:06: Is there supposed to be a story here? I think it goes like this: Gaga gets a partial lobotomy and suddenly believes she's more talented than she is, celebrates by driving fast along the freeway but crashes and suffers damage to what's left of her brain, thinks she's a backing dancer for Irene Cara.

10:27: WHAT A FEE... I mean, I'M GONNA MARRY THE NIGHT!

11:14: Now we're back with the burning cars again. Is Gaga hallucinating, or am I?

11:26: No, I am.

11:42: So... now she's... er... Right.

I officially have no idea what's happening anymore.
11:51:

Nope. Really no idea.
12:27: Aw, a tribute to Heavy D, how nice.

Now that we've got a vid, what are we gonna do with it?
12:34: Gaga busts out a silent but deadly.

That girl on the left is feeling it. The one on the right got the full blast.
12:51: Which brings us to the last minute, a montage of Gaga's favourite things:

13:51: Pfft. Nearly 14 minutes and she didn't weld anything ONCE.

Should you wish to lose 14 minutes of your own life, here's the video:

Come on & see the X-rated gingerbread house

2011-12-02T16:41:00.003-05:00

Today, upon the recommendation of Time Out NY magazine, I went to the Parker Meridian hotel on W56th Street (or, if you're being both pedantic and pretentious, LE Parker Meridian) to see a Christmas display of gingerbread "art".

There are several decorative gingerbread pieces made by various local bakeries on display in the hotel's lobby, like a candy-covered house, a North Pole scene and a miniature version of the hotel itself.

And then there's this, by "Cupcake Cafe", titled "COME ONTO MY HOUSE":

Er...

Now, it's already been well established that I have something of a dirty mind, but looking at the frosting on this thing I don't think the name of this piece was an accident.

Do you need a closer look at that?

Aaaand THERE we are.

To quote Regretsy - someone REALLY likes gingerbread houses.

Coke screws up yet another marketing campaign

2011-12-01T17:20:00.008-05:00

This is how I imagine the daily morning meeting goes down in Coke's marketing department:

EXEC 1: Hey everyone, our job is to promote an insanely popular product that everyone loves and millions are addicted to that has outsold every other competitor by about a gazillion per cent since it was invented in 1886. What shall we do today?

EXEC 2: Let's fuck with it.

I'm positive Coke's marketing department comes up with dumb ideas like New Coke and the Kerry Armstrong "myths" campaign purely to justify being paid to sell a product that essentially sells itself.

Which could be an explanation for the company's latest disaster - the polar white can.

In order to rescue the polar bears, or save the ice caps, or stop climate change or something, Coke recently decided to release its flagship product in a new range of silver and white cans. Silver and white? That sounds a lot like...

One of these cans is not like the others.

I bought a six pack of this new impostor Coke thinking it was the zero calorie diet version last week, and was so annoyed I made use of the company's email form on their website to complain about it.

This is me in my spare time.

A few days later I got this reply

We've heard there has been some confusion in that the Coca-Cola Arctic Home can resembles the Diet Coke holiday can. For consumers who are used to identifying Coke by our traditional red cans, we’ve highlighted some key visual elements on our Company website that clearly distinguish these new white Coke cans from our silver Diet Coke “Holiday” cans. You can find this information at http://CokeURL.com/arctic.

See? It's easy. Before you go to the supermarket make sure you visit the website of every product you plan to buy to make sure they haven't made any dickhead decisions regarding changing the packaging they've used for more than 100 years. Sound advice.

Meanwhile, I am not brain dead. I can see that one can has the word "DIET" scrawled across it in big letters. I do not need you to highlight the "key visual elements" to help me distinguish a can that says "diet" from a can that does not say "diet". The point is, when you're rushing through a supermarket buying things, your brain tends to enter hunter-gatherer mode and makes your hands grab things based mostly on colour, which is why having two cans that are both silver and white is a stupid idea.

And I think it's fairly obvious to anyone with half a brain that if you need to release a fact sheet to explain your product's new packaging to your loyal consumers, you've more than likely got an EPIC MARKETING FAIL on your hands.

Even more than this one.

Which is why this happened today.

It's also why I got a phone call from a poor overworked employee at Coke offering me vouchers for six packs of the Coke product of my choice. Thanks, Coke! When you're ready to balls up another promotion, let us all know!

New Year's Eve - when everything is impossible

2011-11-30T16:25:00.011-05:00

There's a new Katherine Heigl film coming out in just over a week. That should be enough to get you to stay inside and keep your doors locked until Christmas, but if it isn't you should know that it also stars Ashton Kutcher, Lea Michele and Robert DeNiro. And as we all know, Bob doesn't do films like Taxi Driver and The Godfather anymore, he does shit like this:

I think it's safe to assume there was a "pussy" joke at some point here.

The film in question is called New Year's Eve, and it appears to be one of those piles of toss where five thousand celebrities get together as an "ensemble" cast to overact in 32 different plot lines that are ULTIMATELY ALL CONNECTED, OMG!

The tagline of the movie is "New Year's Eve: The one night anything is possible."

LOOK AT THAT STELLAR CAST! Wait, who are half of those people...?

Having lived through 30 new year's eves myself, I feel confident in saying this is the laziest and least accurate movie tagline ever. And that includes the one for Yogi Bear 3D which read "Great things come in bears".

Many "plushie" fetishists were disappointed by Yogi Bear 3D after seeing this poster.

In fact, NYE is the one night of the year where many ordinarily possible things actually become IMpossible. To wit:

ON NEW YEAR'S EVE IT IS ACTUALLY NOT POSSIBLE TO:

1. Get a cab at any point, from anywhere, to anywhere else, especially at 3am when you're totally rat-arsed.

2. Pay less than $10 for a drink.

3. Pash a stranger you won't regret touching in the morning.

4. Not lose half your group at the first club you visit.

5. Avoid an inappropriate touch, comment or something spilled on you by someone called Daz, Gaz, Shaz or Wayno.

6. Not feel a vague sense of disappointment no matter what you actually end up doing.

Any other suggestions? Leave 'em in the comments.

Australia: A boring bunch of twats

2011-11-29T20:03:00.006-05:00

So Australia's end of year TV ratings are in, and the list of top 15 shows for 2011 proves something I've long suspected: we're boring as fuck.

According to ratings agency OzTam, the most popular show of 2011 was Australia's Got Talent, with an average weekly audience of 1.936 million.

That's about two million people a week who willingly tuned in to watch Kyle Sandilands interact with people like this:

Yes, I know I used to do Australian Idol recaps. THAT'S DIFFERENT.

When we weren't watching twats watching other twats sing, we were watching twats renovate houses (The Block comes in at number 4 on the list) and other twats cooking stuff (Masterchef dominates the list at 5, 6, 8, 9 and 12, with My Kitchen Rules at 13).

Throw in a few instances of The X Factor (more twats singing) and Dancing with the Stars (twats spinning around awkwardly in sequinned pants) and you've got a top 15 list which is 80 per cent comprised of reality TV. And not even inventive, interesting reality TV. Just the kind of reality TV where twats cook, and sing and renovate houses.

Only three shows in the top 15 are dramas - Downton Abbey at number 2, Packed to the Rafters at 3 and Underbelly Razorat 10. No comedies made the list.

Now, I've made no secret of my love of trashy reality TV, but even I can see there's something wrong with this picture. What does this say about Australia's TV watching culture?

More importantly, what does it say about our TV producing culture?

I think it says we're going to be getting a hell of a lot more of this:

5 best (& worst) New York Christmas windows 2011

2011-11-22T21:30:00.005-05:00

Every November, retailers in New York get festive and decorate their shop windows for the coming Christmas season. But many go further than just putting up some tinsel and fake snow. Much, much further.

Window viewing is a holiday tradition in New York, and the best sights are undoubtedly on uber posh Fifth Avenue, home to the city's biggest and most luxurious department stores.

I took a sojourn up the strip, starting at the New York Public Library, to bring you my top five best and worst Fifth Avenue holiday windows. Let's start the countdown with...

THE WORST

5. SAKS FIFTH AVENUE

How the four friends laughed as Jennifer slipped in the snow and broke her leg.

Apart from the suggestion of major bodily injury, this is about as boring as one of those wood-boring insects that bores into things. I expected much more from this Fifth Avenue icon, which is why it makes the bottom five. Very disappointing.

4. H&M

Traditionally, Upper East Side women show festive cheer by sticking their arm out and looking to the left.

CELEBRATE THE SEASON. WEAR BLACK.

3. GUESS

Christmas menace.

An extra from Jersey Shore and a mugger in an anorak prepare to attack a severely under dressed drunk NYU student as she leaves a Christmas party. I think "the perfect gift" in this case would be a can of mace and a rape horn.

2. BOTTEGA VENETA

If you're wondering where someone would wear this ensemble at Christmas time, you're not rich enough to shop here.

I don't know where this bloke is, but it's certainly not New York at Christmas.

1. BANANA REPUBLIC

At first glance this looks like any other boring Christmas display - until you read the sticker on the window.

Pardon?

To quote Ferris Bueller's Day Off: So THAT'S how it is in their family.

Let's move on to....

THE BEST

5. SEPHORA

Simple, effective, beautiful - the makeup chain's window features an intricate cream and gold paper cut out of two girls in a forest full of snowflakes.

click pictures to launch gallery/enlarge

4. VAN CLEEF AND ARPELS

When I was little I had a fold-out, pop-up book that turned into an old-fashioned 19th century theatre, complete with ballerinas on a curtained stage and lavishly dressed people sitting in the balconies. Van Cleef and Arpels' five small windows remind me of that book, each one dressed to look like a miniature theatre with diamond necklaces and earrings dancing on the stage and silhouettes of fancily dressed people watching from the sidelines. Some played music and had moving parts for extra wow factor.

Watch the video of the Van Cleef and Arpels Christmas windows below:

3. HENRI BENDEL

One of the most original windows on the strip, the department store's delightfully mental display shows the Statue of Liberty come to life as a New York city party girl in high heels and a flowing robe made of jelly beans, walking her giant rein-dog up Fifth Avenue. Behind her is an apartment building, through the windows of which you can see tiny uptown girls drinking champagne and getting dressed to go out, all while Ella Fitzgerald sings Let's Take Manhattan.

click pictures to launch gallery/enlarge

2. TIFFANY

Just like their famed jewellery, Tiffany's windows prove small and intricate can be more interesting than big and bold. Framed by huge, brightly-coloured carousel pieces, each of the store's five windows contains a miniature diorama of various New York city scenes. There's a tiny spinning carousel - and also escaped carousel animals walking through Central Park - and a perfect winter streetscape of the shopfront itself.

click pictures to launch gallery/enlarge

Watch a video of Tiffany's Christmas windows below:

1. BERGDORF GOODMAN

The last store on Fifth Avenue before you reach the south eastern corner of Central Park, Bergdorf Goodman is famous for its holiday windows. And it's not hard to see why.

The less explanation the better - best just look at the photos.

click pictures to launch gallery/enlarge

HONOURABLE MENTIONS

Fendi and Cartier, for dressing their entire buildings in a glittery belt and bow respectively:

click pictures to launch gallery/enlarge

New York traffic: a symphony in F major

2011-11-19T19:06:00.005-05:00

I once almost fell off the back of a tuk-tuk rattling through central Bangkok after it swerved to dodge a chicken.

Another time, I spent three hours watching the road through my fingers on Reunion Island after our minivan tried to avoid a traffic jam by driving in the opposite lane.

In Ho Chi Minh it took me days to learn that in order to cross the street you have to make like Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade and take the leap of faith – just slowly step out into the traffic and trust that the never-ending flow of scooters and honking cars will part for you. It always does.

When it came to chaotic traffic, I always thought Vietnam won, hands down.

Yep, that wins.

But that was before I had to drive through New York's Lincoln Tunnel at 6pm on a Friday.

To clarify: I wasn't driving. No one was, really, given the entrance to the tunnel was backed up with hundreds of cars – a “parking lot”, as they would say here. My friend Kristin, a native New Yorker, was behind the wheel, taking me and my partner away for a weekend in the country.

About 120,000 drivers a day use the Lincoln Tunnel - a 2.5km stretch under the Hudson River - to commute between Manhattan and neighbouring New Jersey.

On this night it seemed like all 120,000 of them had turned up at once.

Surveying the scene ahead, Kristin started twitching. The twitching gave way to steering-wheel drumming. The drumming was joined by mumbling and intermittent swearing.

After 20 minutes of watching the lights turn green and back to red, her patience finally wore thin and she hit the horn. For about 30 seconds straight.

You know that famous scene in Midnight Cowboy where Dustin Hoffman is almost run over by a taxi and angrily shouts “I'm walkin' here!” in that quintessential “Noo Yawk” accent? Imagine him as a stressed-out female office worker, put him in a Honda trying to get into the Lincoln Tunnel and replace the word “walkin'” with “drivin'” and you're getting close to recreating my view from the back seat that evening.

“YEAH YOU CAN STARE AT ME ALL YOU WANT BUDDY, I'M NOT STOPPIN',” she shouted at the driver next to us, hitting the horn again.

Kinda like this.

The lights changed back to green and Kristin kept honking, yelling out to other drivers to join her cause.

Soon there was a chorus of honks in time with the traffic lights, with Kristin as conductor. It could almost have been high art if the symphony hadn't been punctuated with so many F words.

We were amazed. Here in America, a country we thought was renowned for violent road rage, no one was batting an eyelid at this behaviour. Attempt the same in sleepy Adelaide and you'd likely get a crowbar through your windscreen.

Suddenly Kristin spotted a cyclist, and wound down the window.

“I WILL PAY YOU A HUNDRED BUCKS TO GO SLAP THAT TRAFFIC COP,” she yelled, pointing at the overwhelmed officer flapping his hands in the middle of the nearby intersection.

Unsurprisingly he refused, but that didn't deter her.

“Here, you drive,” she told my partner as she jumped out of the car and sprinted off to berate the policeman.

Two minutes later she returned. What had she told the guy? “I told him to do his f***in' job!”

Kristin's mobile rang. It was her husband.

“Honey I can't talk, I'm honkin' the horn,” she said before hanging up and rejoining the Symphony in F Major.

“Come on buddy let's f***in' MOVE! (HONK) Get your head out of your f***in' ass! (HONK) It's a f***in' ZIPPER MERGE people, get it done! (HONK) Do I have to teach you people how to f***in' drive? (HONK) ZIPPER MERGE, YOU F***IN' JERK!”

After an hour and a half the swearing stopped, the honking gave way to steering wheel drumming, the drumming to slight twitching, and then we were hurtling through New Jersey. With a sigh and a flick of her hair, Kristin exorcised the last of her road rage demons.

“I'm sorry you guys, I really wanted you to enjoy that commute,” she said.

Oh, we did.

This article was first published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail Sunday liftout on November 20, 2011.

Why I'm sold on Auction Hunters

2011-11-19T18:58:00.005-05:00

When MTV made a reality show out of Paris Hilton's search for a best friend I thought “That's it, this genre is over.”

Then someone made Flavour of Love, about rapper Flava Flav's search for a wife and I thought “OK, they're running out of ideas now.”

Then Channel 7 launched Dinner Date and it was clear the bottom of the reality TV show barrel had some very deep scratch marks on it indeed.

From singing and dancing to dating, cake decorating, home renovation and hairdressing, there is almost no human endeavour that has not been turned into a reality show by some desperate network.

I like to imagine boardrooms full of exhausted scriptwriters, huddled around whiteboards shouting out things like “MALE ROOM: A dating game set in an Australia Post shop!” and “DOGGYSTYLE: A fly on the wall look inside a pet grooming salon!” (For the record, I would probably watch both of these).

You'd think by now they'd have run out of mundane, every day occupations to turn into reality shows, wouldn't you? Except they haven't. Which is why I am currently addicted to a show about two guys who buy abandoned storage units and sell the contents for a living.

Admittedly, Auction Hunters doesn't have the most thrilling synopsis. It follows friends Allen Haff and Clinton “Ton” Jones - the former with sparkling teeth and movie star good looks, the latter fat, bald, tattooed and resembling an extra from prison drama Oz – as they drive around America participating in storage unit auctions.

Guess which one I have a small crush on.

How it works is this: if the owner of a storage unit or locker doesn't pay their bill within 30 days, the contents can be auctioned off by the storage company.

But here's the rub, and the part that makes Auction Hunters so addictive: each unit is always auctioned off as one complete lot and bidders aren't allowed to see what's inside before they buy, save for a quick glance from the door.

To the untrained eye each unit usually looks like a collection of boxes and old furniture. But Allen, an antiques dealer, and Ton, a guns and mechanics expert, are wizards at forensically reading the scene (“Those boxes have at least 30 years of dust on them – that means money!”), or spying WW2 memorabilia at the back of a unit (“That's a limited edition 1944 German grenade launcher!”), or making out the shape of expensive equipment under tarpaulins (“That looks like a jet ski!”).

After the bidding war they dive into their units and start ripping open boxes to discover amazing hidden treasures. It's a voyeur's delight. Everything they find – from vintage pinball machines to rare motorcycle parts to jewellery – is then sold off to collectors and dealers, who cheerfully explain and value the items for the duo before negotiating a price. Reality be damned, this is reality TV!

Of course, Allen and Ton always come up trumps - last season they made an average profit of $8300 an episode, which probably explains why public interest in these auctions has skyrocketed since the show began in 2010.

I haven't yet made it to an actual auction, but I am half way through season two of Auction Hunters and I can't get enough. I've always loved auctions, markets and garage sales, but having recently put my entire house into a storage unit to move overseas I admit I may have a deeper personal connection to this show than most.

Now the question is, did I remember to pay my bill...?

This article was first published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail TV Guide on November 20, 2011.

Justin Bieber's Christmas album, track by track

2011-11-08T10:03:00.031-05:00

My first thought when firing up Spotify this morning:

"Oh look - Keira Knightley's released a Christmas album!"

She's so talented.

My second thought:

"I HAVE to hear this."

And so began 40 plus minutes of Christmas-tinted audio pain. Here are my thoughts, track by track, on Justin Bieber's new ~~holiday house~~ ~~sports car~~ ~~diamond-encrusted X Box~~ album Under the Mistletoe.

1. Only Thing I Ever Get For Christmas

With lyrics like "If you're the only thing I ever get for Christmas / Then everything I wished for has come true", I can only assume this song is Justin's ode to his new Nintendo DS3D. Sweet.

Lots of acoustic guitar and an Aguilera Genie in a Bottle style beat. Sounds like Justin Timberlake, but with less grinding and Cristal and more hand holding and egg-nog.

RATING: 3 out of 5, but only because it reminds me of N Sync.

2. Mistletoe

Imagine Jason Mraz went to a friend's birthday party at a fancy restaurant like, let's say The Ivy, and had one too many glasses of Dom Perignon before driving home and accidentally ran someone over and permanently injured them, and then was dragged into legal proceedings so expensive he was forced to sell his house, his car and all his possessions to defend himself, and finally after a five year court battle he was free but bankrupt and homeless, and was forced to stand on the street corner in the snow ringing bells and singing I'm Yours for change.

Now imagine Justin Bieber doing an impression of that. THAT is what this song is like.

RATING: 3.5 out of 5, because I like the idea of that happening to Jason Mraz.

3. The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)

The first 23 seconds of this song transported me back to 1994, a year in which my friends were completely obsessed with Mariah Carey and Boyz 2 Men and every single song in the entire universe started with a swoosh of chimes and that weird whistling noise.

And then Bieber added about 57 extra syllables to the word "fire" and I blacked out.

RATING: 2 out of 5, due to head injuries. Bonus point awarded for this version I found on YouTube (below) which altered the pitch apparently in order to avoid copyright claim. I prefer it.

4. Santa Claus is Coming to Town

This one kicks off with Justin exuberantly shouting "SANTA'S COMIN', GIRL!" which is either a joyous expression of yuletide, or the producers have somehow accidentally recorded a clip of his Christmas-themed bedroom adventures with Selena Gomez.

What follows is Justin shrieking "yeahhh, yeahhy yeahhh" in autotune over a blatant rip off of the jangly guitar from I Want You Back, resulting in what sounds like a robot version of The Jackson Five.

The thing is, the Jackson Five already did the robot thing. And it was awesome.
In conclusion: if you want to punish yourself for exactly three minutes and 37 seconds, this is the track for you.

RATING: 1.5 out of 5. Bonus half a point awarded for the official music video, in which it appears Santa Claus is actually Conan O'Brien.

5. Fa La La

I love how Justin Bieber is so WHOLESOME, you know? He's so sexually non-threatening and PURE. That's why his songs have lyrics about giving and receiving.

It's a time of year you can give it,
Give it, give it, give it all
One through 10 on your list you can get it,
Get it, get it, get it now

What? He's talking about PRESENTS, GUYS. (Just don't ask what items 6 and 9 are on her list).

Despite these suggestive lyrics, I don't think parents really have anything to worry about. Justin's clearly not mature enough to write truly explicit imagery, which is why he yells "I WANNA PUT MY EAR TO YOUR CHEST GIRL!" in the chorus.

Apparently her heart "sings to him" like "fa la la". I'm fairly sure a heart isn't supposed to do that, and could be indicative of angina. Better cut down on the Christmas pudding.

RATING: 2.5 out of 5, because Boyz 2 Men are in it.

6. All I want for Christmas is You (SuperFestive!)

When I first saw this in the track listing all I could see was "All I Want For Christmas Feat. Mariah" and my heart leapt, because how great would that duet be?

Unfortunately they meant Mariah Carey, which is more "SuperDisappointing!" than "SuperFestive!" as it means we'll never hear lyrics such as "I don't want a lot for Christmas / there's just one thing I need / A DNA TEST!"

You can fast forward the first 27 seconds which is just Justin and Mariah having an argument in scat over who is more Christmassy, in which it is impossible to tell either of them apart and sounds like this: "Ba-ba-ba-ba-doooo!" / "Ooh-ee-ooh-bee-doo-bee-dooooo!" / "DOOOO-doo-doo doo-doo-doooooo-ee-oooo!"

Then they play Mariah's original CD single from 1995 for a bit, and Justin joins in. It sounds like Christmas morning in the Bieber household, and little Justin received a karaoke machine! Now he can sing all his favourite Mariah hits!

RATING: 4 out of 5, because everyone knows this is the best Christmas novelty pop tune ever, and not even Bieber can spoil it.

This video says it's Bieber, but it's actually Mariah. OR IS IT? WHo can tell.

7. Drummer Boy

Written by Katherine K Davis in 1941, The Little Drummer Boy is a haunting ode to the birth of our lord Jesus seen through the eyes of a lowly peasant boy who is summoned to the manger and, without a gift to give, plays his drum.

Justin Bieber's version features Busta Rhymes rapping about receiving Twitter messages on his Blackberry.

I can't think of a better way to celebrate the selflessness and goodwill of Christmas than by dropping a few brand names into a shitty rap and listening to the registers ka-ching.

Fortunately, Biebs counteracts this overt consumerism with a poignant rap of his own about giving canned food to charity. You know, after you've opened your presents and shit.

Sample lyric: "Playin for the king, playin for the title / I'm surprised you didn't hear this in the Bible / I'm so tight, I might go psycho / Christmas time so here's a recital."

RATING: 5 out of 5. Top marks for comedy value. This will be the track all the hipsters play ironically on Christmas day.

(As a side note - I know the little drummer boy was poor but seriously, a woman has just given birth in a barn and you want to stand around beating a drum? BUGGER OFF.)

8. Christmas Eve

How to write a Christmas song, by Justin Bieber.

Step 1: Write the words "mistletoe", "Santa Claus", "magical", "sleigh", "snow", "tree" and "cliche" onto slips of paper and put them into a hat.

Step 2: Pull words out of hat one by one and sing them through Autotune, adding a few extra syllables to every third word.

Step 3: Make lots of money.

Also, remember what I said before about Bieber and sexual imagery? He hasn't gotten any more subtle with it:

So I'm entering the top of your roof
Them sleigh bells is ringing
I'll be up all night with you
Them carols are singing

I'm ENTERING THE TOP OF YOUR ROOF?

But is he snatching their people up?

RATING: What did I give the first song? Because this is just that with slightly different music.

9. All I Want Is You

Justin's all alone at Christmas, wrapping presents and putting the tree up by himself, and he's desperately sad because he's 17 years old and has stacks of cash and multiple opportunities for random sexual encounters.

RATING: This song made me long for U2, which I think means it gets zero.

10. Home This Christmas

If you want to sell a bazillion copies of a pop album in America, you have to put at least one country song on it. It's mandatory. I think it's actually in the constitution, right after the bit about "bearing arms".

On this album that's where some outfit called The Band Perry steps in which is not, as I assumed, Katy Perry's unfortunately-named southern cousin.

The Band Perry.

I'm guessing they're a country group, as this song is full of twangs and yowling and hay chewin'. Or mistletoe chewin', given Justin is once again waiting under some in the lyrics. Seriously, is he growing this shit hydroponically or what? He'd have to, with all that snow around. How do you grow mistletoe anyway?

RATING: I am losing the will to live.

11. Silent Night.

Sadly, a misnomer.

RATING: 1 out of 5. Point given for comedy value of Justin singing about a virgin.

12. Christmas Love

Remember poor old homeless Jason Mraz shaking his bells, trying to raise a buck on the street corner? He's back. And his lyrics have gotten worse.

Hey angel in the snow
I'm under the mistletoe
You are the one for my very own Christmas love
Tell Santa I'm cool this year
My present is standing right here.

Meanwhile:

I know this album is called "Under the Mistletoe", but seriously?

RATING: 2 out of 5. Only because I feel sorry for Jason Mraz.

13. Fa La La (a cappella version)

Hey, Justin. If I want to listen to LESS of a song, I'll just turn the volume down.

RATING: 0 out of 5. Are you kidding me? I just sat through this shit eight songs ago.

14. Pray

After all this mistletoe and rapping about mobile phones Justin turns his attention to really important things - like children crying, soldiers dying, and people who just don't have a home.

Luckily, all he has to do is close his eyes and he can see a better day. Funny, when I close my eyes all I see is black. Which leads me to the conclusion that Justin Bieber is a nihilist, and can see no end to the struggle and pain of humanity other than the inky blackness of eternal sleep. CHRISTMASSY!

RATING: 3 out of 5, just for lyrics like "I pray for the ones not breathing". Probably too late if they're not breathing, Justin.

15. Someday at Christmas

Either Justin had some invasive genital surgery between this track and the last, or this is an old clip of him singing from when he was 12 or something.

I'm guessing it's the latter, although god knows why he thinks we'd want to hear him chirping like a mouse in a Disney film. It's like trying to impress your new girlfriend by showing her photos of you weeing in the bath aged three. Not. Cool.

Also, what's with the title? Someday? Or at Christmas? WHEN, BIEBER, WHEN?

RATING: 4 out of 5, but only because I bet his mum suggested it and Justin probably regrets it now.

Everything Bagels Cafe, 3rd Ave

2011-11-03T11:42:00.028-04:00

How America is killing the earth, and a sort-of review of Everything Bagels Cafe.

Everything Bagels Cafe, 81 3rd Ave
AREA: Downtown
WEBSITE: www.everythingbagelscafe.com

SCORE OUT OF FIVE:
Cappuccino (Petra) - 1

What is the BCACB? Click here for an explanation.

View Larger Map

One of the great things about America is its almost total lack of environmental concern. Or should I say SEEMING lack, as it SEEMS people here generally value their own convenience and comfort above the good of the planet.

Buy one small item at the supermarket and it will automatically be handed to you in a plastic bag, possibly two - for strength. When plastic isn't available they'll give you a paper bag, again usually two. What's a few trees between friends?

Being from South Australia, where we have banned such sinful devices, this is such a luxury I actually felt guilty the first time I accepted a plastic bag. And then I realised how AMAZINGLY CONVENIENT IT IS and immediately started pretending I didn't know about all those choking dolphins.

There's more: order a meal at a diner and you'll likely receive an array of condiments in disposable, miniature plastic tubs on the side. They've got to wash the plates and cutlery anyway, so why not use reusable tubs too? It's a mystery that's never explained.

And then there's takeaway food orders which are always bagged up with plastic cutlery and thick wads of paper napkins thrown in by the handful, even if it's being delivered to your home where, presumably, you're not a hobo and therefore probably have some cutlery and napkins of your own.

Which brings me to Everything Bagel on 3rd Street, where I discovered why someone might actually need a stack of napkins as thick as a phone book - to mop up thin coffee.

Scientifically speaking, it's always amazed me how the viscosity of coffee is inversely proportional to its inherent spill factor. Ie: the thicker the coffee, the less likely it is to spurt out the top of your takeaway cup and injure you. This is why takeaway tea is always more likely to give you third degree burns than a latte.

And this is why I found myself using my three-inch-thick wad of crushed up trees to mop up the table, my chair and my leg after attempting to pop the top on my generously titled "cappuccino" at Everything Bagel on Tuesday.

So thin, you can almost read the other side of that advert through it.

This coffee was so thin, Lindsay Lohan got jealous.

Although this cup of sadness came out of what looked like an espresso machine I now realise I was mistaken. It was actually a machine of broken dreams, peddling tragedy to all who dared use it.

Pretty heavy. At least their bagel was excellent.

Zombify yourself in 5 easy steps

2011-11-01T16:07:00.015-04:00

One of my all-time favourite films is Mike Judge's 1999 cult comedy Office Space.

If you haven't seen it LEAVE THIS BLOG IMMEDIATELY AND DON'T RETURN UNTIL YOU HAVE.

I'm kidding, obviously.*

So I figured what better Halloween costume for me and Barilski than Chotchkies' waitress Joanna and perennial bad boss Bill Lumbergh - AS ZOMBIES! (And no, this isn't hypocritical - we live in America now, so we're allowed to join in.)

Anyway I think you'll agree our costumes ended up being totally righteous:

"BRAAAAINS! Also, I don't like talking about my flair."

"Mmmmm yeahhhhh, braiiiiiins, mmmkay?"

A grand total of two people recognised the Office Space reference, but we did get a lot of love for our zombie looks at the West Village Halloween Parade and can proudly say we are probably in at least 12 people's Facebook photo albums of the night. Score!

Anyway I found that doing realistic zombie makeup was easier than I thought. Either that, or I am supremely talented in ways I never knew. I'd like to believe the latter, but I think the former is probably more accurate.

Here's how you zombify yourself in five easy steps:

STEP ONE: Apply latex flesh wounds using spirit gum.

Stupid facial expression is optional.

STEP TWO: Using a 99 cent "grass green" lipstick that you can't understand was ever seriously manufactured, apply a sickly, jaundiced skin tone. Don't forget to rub some on your wounds to blend them in.

Again, dumb facials are optional at this point.

STEP THREE: Using black eyeliner, mascara and another 99 cent "steel grey" lipstick that was clearly only manufactured for techno drag queens and robot fetishists, give yourself some dead eye sockets and lips.

Dumb facial expressions will now start to seem slightly creepy.

STEP FOUR: Pick up your two remaining 99 cent lipsticks in horrible shades of green, wonder why they were only 99 cents for approximately 3/4 of a second, then dab them on your face to apply zombie "mould".

Sing with me now: It's beginning to look a lot like zombie...

STEP FIVE: Throw on a wig. Somehow, everything looks way more authentic with a cheap $10 wig on top.

BLLAEEERRRGHHHH!

OPTIONAL STEP SIX: Add some fake blood to your wounds. What do you mean, zombies are dead and therefore don't have blood? Shut up.

This one does.

*Not actually kidding.

6 celebrity wigs that cleverly avoid lawsuits

2011-10-31T09:22:00.018-04:00

It's Halloween in America today, which means that in a few hours normally sane adults will suddenly emerge from their dwellings dressed as cats, zombies and Snooki and spend the evening trying to drink beer through masks.

B grade celebrities are always popular costume choices, because as I discovered in my local Halloween shop last week (yes, I have one), all you really need to pull off a convincing celebrity look is a wig.

If you can find one. I searched high and low for a Donald Trump wig and all I could find was this:

I can't tell who this is supposed to be.

It kind of LOOKS like Donald Trump, but it also looks a bit like Conan O'Brien with a hernia. Is Conan a billionaire though? So many questions.

Then I saw this one and thought "When did Anna Wintour marry a soccer player?"

Tosh spice.

You can't really see on this next one, but it was titled "Alaskan Mamma".

Don't misunderestimate this costume.

I'm not exactly sure but I THINK this is supposed to be Sarah Palin. If so, it's not a very realistic costume. I found a much better one at a different shop down the street:

Better.

And look, it's the "Eurasian Traveller":

Nice, I like.

What do you mean, that's a very unlikely specific costume? No, I don't know where the other continental "traveller" wigs are. Borat? Never heard of him.

And then there was everyone's favourite pop star, "Wet Look!"

Sh-mon.

Come on, you know Wet Look. He was big in the 80s, did that song where he was dancing in a graveyard - Chiller. He used to wear one diamond covered sock. Bobby Jane? Rough Burglar? Don't Finish 'til You've Had Your Fill? No?

In the end I think the most realistic celebrity wig was this one:

Winning, etc.

Mainly because I think Charlie Sheen will probably legally change his name to "Party Guy" soon anyway, if the courts won't allow "Winning Q. Tigerblood".

OMG SNOW IN NYC

2011-10-29T11:57:00.006-04:00

Today it snowed in Manhattan for what is apparently the first October snowfall since 1952.

Being Australians, Barilski and I were mesmerised by the funny white stuff falling outside our apartment window. So I videoed it:

And then we did our own version of an American sitcom's Christmas special:

We are yet to venture out into the giant snowdome that Manhattan has instantly become, because we have never dealt with frozen rain before and are therefore rather scared.

WILL OUR FACES FREEZE OFF? CAN WE DIE OUT THERE?

Only one way to find out. But I wish I'd bought those gumboots I saw yesterday.

Nightmare (two months) before Christmas

2011-10-29T07:30:00.006-04:00

This week I received some distressing news from home.

According to my mother, her local supermarket has been overrun by pumpkins, bedsheets with eyes painted on and crappy bits of plastic in the shape of skeletons in an effort to get people to buy sugary “treats”.

If you have no idea why that would be then congratulations, you're still Australian. If your eyes lit up when you read that and you shrieked “HALLOWEEN!” then congratulations, you're probably still under 25 (it's fun being young, isn't it?). But I'm sorry, you will have to hand your citizenship back.

As I suspect most young Australians know, tomorrow – October 31st - is Halloween. According to legend, this is the day on which the barrier between the living and the dead is at its thinnest, and restless ghosts and ghouls roam the earth in search of spiritual redemption, and young girls dress up as sexy nurses and get drunk on alcopops.

I say “young” Australians will know this because for generations, we Aussies haven't gone in for Halloween. Carving pumpkins and dressing up in stupid outfits when you don't even get a day off just seemed a little too much like work to us. Not to mention the whole idea of an event in which strangers are encouraged to give lollies to children is more than a bit dodgy these days.

"And what the bloody hell am I supposed to do with this?"

But it seems the cultural creep has started and along with bad sitcoms and giant sneakers, Australia is starting to adopt yet another bit of Americana. And as our most voracious media consumers, kids, teens and 20-somethings are the first to be infected by the Halloween bug, thanks to endless US TV shows and movies about it.

Speaking as someone who now lives next door to a 365-days-a-year Halloween shop (no, I'm not making that up) I say – AUSTRALIA, GET HOLD OF YOURSELF! You don't need Halloween! It is a bogus festival that, like so many others, has strayed from its simple beginnings to become yet another celebration of mass consumerism.

As in America, the driving force behind Halloween in Australia appears to be the large supermarket chains that will welcome any opportunity to make you buy more crap you don't need. “A festival that forces people to buy chocolate that ISN'T Easter? Brilliant!”

Not even Americans understand the origins of the event, beyond carving out pumpkins and eating candy. They barely even understand the concept of Thanksgiving, which is why one recently expressed surprise when I said Australians didn't celebrate it. (See, we didn't have any starving pilgrims or turkeys and... oh, never mind).

If you want to dress up as a zombie Amy Winehouse (and PS: if you are, you're so unoriginal, EVERYONE is doing that this year) and party with your mates on Halloween then sure, why not. It seems that horse has bolted anyway.

But come on Australia, let's at least nip this whole “trick or treat” thing in the bud while we still can. The more kids that start wandering the neighbourhood asking for sweets each year, the more pressure everyone will feel to stock up and spend more at the checkout, and the more crappy plastic jack-o-lanterns will start appearing in our supermarkets every year. Do we really want another day on the calendar owned by big business, just because we liked the idea of dressing up?

Plus, have you tried “candy corn”? It's disgusting.

To Halloween – Australia says no.

This article was first published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail's Sunday liftout on October 30, 2011.

S7 FINALE: Australia's Next Top Model Recap

2011-10-26T11:02:00.079-04:00

Well this is it. After 12 long weeks, two overseas trips (three if you count the one to Cockatoo Island) numerous tantrums and countless crying fits (mostly by me), we will finally call time on Australia's Next Top Model season 7.

But not before an hour filled with awkward pauses, badly scripted jokes and footage you've already seen. BECAUSE IT'S THE OH-MOY-GOURD-AMAZING-OFFICIAL-ANTM-LIVE-FINALE!!!!!11!!!1 *

*NOTE: May not actually be live any more.

I have my beverages ready for the ANTM drinking game I will inevitably create about five minutes in.

This year's finale is extra special (yes, even more special than last year's when The Shiralee created an international incident) because it's being held at the Sydney Opera House. And look, all of Simon(e)'s fans have turned up to support her!

Isn't that sweet?

OK, here we go, the opening segment has started. While The Shiralee blabs on about how great a season it was (it wasn't) and how the challenges were so much tougher this year (they weren't) over some 12-week-old footage of various girls with bad haircuts walking around in shopping centres, let's go through the rules of the ANTM drinking game.

1. As ever, standing rule - whenever anyone says "amazing", DRINK.

2. Whenever anyone says "expensive", DRINK.

3. Whenever anyone craps on about "pressure" or "stress", DRINK.

4. When anyone says "make or break", DRINK.

5. Whenever the camera cuts to someone in the audience looking uncomfortable DRINK.

Somehow they manage to make the season highlights reel last more than four seconds, which is a nice surprise for everyone, and then we cut to Bros who is standing in front of more screaming teenagers than he's seen since When Will I Be Famous came out in 1987.

After being absent for about 32 episodes he's returned to interview celebrities on the official ANTM red carpet. Sadly none turn up, so he's stuck talking to former contestants instead, like Annaliese, who has to make her interview quick as she's slowly being strangled by a giant red bow:

That woman in the background doesn't know it yet, but it's coming for her next.

And Madeline, who had to swim to the Opera House after a freak boating accident in Sydney Harbour:

Frankly it's a miracle she made it at all.

And Neo, who thankfully has given up her slick, shaved look for a classy hairpiece from Wigs 4 U in Kilburn:

Much better, I think you'll agree.

And also this guy, who thought he was going to the 8pm performance of Phantom of the Opera but got the wrong day:

Oops.

Suddenly a Des's Minicab pulls up and out rolls Pezza, Dawson and her two personal assistants, fresh from Dawson's plastic surgeon where they were all surgically attached in order to save on tux rental.

It was expensive.

Meanwhile, ANTM is obviously more popular among the 8 to 12 male demographic than I realised:

"RACHEL YOU IS BANGIN'!"

And then our final three turn up, and what a stellar group they are. They were all so memorable in the show, weren't they? I mean who could forget Montana's magical transformation in episode five?

I barely recognise her anymore.

Or Liz's stunning Chicken Tonight advertisement from episode four?

Chicken Tonight: Halloween Edition.

Or Simone(e)'s touching rendition of the monologue from The Elephant Man in episode eight?

Winner.

It truly will be a hard task to pick a winner. No really, they all suck a bit. Can we just not have a winner this year? We can't? Bugger.

After all of this red carpet fun we're swept into the Opera House where a booming voice announces "THIS IS THE FINAL OF AUSTRALIA'S NEXT TOP MODEL!" and everyone screams with excitement... for about three seconds.

After which everyone sits in total silence watching a ponderous slideshow of past contestants' baby photos set to a creepy rendition of Que Sera Sera which, all together, is uncannily like the "Hollywood Remembers" section of the Oscars when they commemorate dead people.

Way to rev up a crowd, producers. Honestly, I've never seen anything creepier. The only way they could have made it more uncomfortable is if they'd wheeled out Hannibal Lecter to sing backing vocals.

With glacial speed, the screen lifts up to reveal all the eliminated models you no longer care about. Clearly the audience doesn't, as no one cheers for at least five seconds. I think they're too afraid to.

The modelettes pull a few awkward poses, then do an awkward runway walk. Obviously Amelia couldn't find a handbag to match her outfit so had to carry all her stuff in her pockets:

Quelle embarrassment.

Fearing possible retaliation from the Say No To Imitation Keira Knightleys Action Group, Rachel dons a plastic Hazmat suit for her runway walk:

Fortunately that group only has one member, and his parole officer wouldn't let him out tonight.

And then there's our final three, who step out on the catwalk looking like something cleaned off the floor at Studio 54 after "Free Drink Friday".

First rule of fashion: you save on materials when you buy in bulk.

"Welcome to the live finale of what has been a most amazing season," says The Shiralee.

You know what to do.

The Shiralee introduces Dawson and "the expensive Alex Perry" (DRINK!) and then asks Alex how "expensive" the finale is.

Make it a double!

"On a scale of one to 10 this is like an 11 in expensiveness," exclaims Pezza.

Yes, you can!

"We took 20 girls to the most expensive fashion capital in the world... I just don't know how it could get any more expensive," he continues.

You know what? Just do this.

Dawson announces she feels "teary", which surprises everyone as repeated Botox injections are supposed to NUMB feeling in the eyes.

"We knew the final 16 could all be top models and having AMAZING careers," she continues.

I'm afraid so.

The Shiralee reminds us all the winner has been chosen by the audience, an announcement that Dawson and Pezza take with grace.

I'm fairly sure this is what they were thinking.

Simon(e), Monotona and Liz stride out on stage, each dressed as a different brand of toothpaste in support of Dental Hygiene Awareness Month.

Fresh Mint, Cool Gel and Triple Stripe. Sarah is gingivitis.

The Shiralee announces we're about to see the girls' final photo shoot for the Harpers Bazaar cover, in which they all wore "amazing dresses" (DRINK!).

See you there soon.

Harpers Bazaar photo shoot in a nutshell:

"So much pressure's put on you, it's pretty stressful," says Liz. Drink a double.

"I've just got to not let the pressure get to me," says Monotona. Drink. And if you're not unconscious yet, try to forget that what they're doing is putting on pretty clothes and standing still for a while; that will help prevent you getting annoyed at their constant talk of stress.

"I'm really nervous," Monotona tells the photographer, who scoffs and shrieks "Really? No need!". So, at least one of them is aware of how easy this gig actually is.

The Harpers editor claims the clothes "sing" on Montana, but fails to mention which song.

I think maybe this one.

"These are the people that make you or break you," says Liz of the Harpers crowd, before continuing "Being on the cover of any magazine would be AMAZING." Drink whatever you have left. And then probably pop down the bottle-o for some reinforcements, we still have half an hour to go.

Simon(e) pairs Armani with Havaianas, instantly invents new fashion subculture - Boganista.

"Oym jist garn darn the shops, youse want anyfink?"

"There's a lot riding on the Harpers shoot because the winner's going to be on the cover, so you have to do a good job," says Simon(e), just in case you've forgotten the whole point of the entire series.

"Today we are making an AMAZING iconic cover, the PRESSURE on the girls is enormous," says Harpers' fashion editor Claudia Navone. Except she says it with such a thick accent, I'll allow those of you who want to avoid a trip to the emergency room to skip these drinks.

Liz reveals that Simon(e) is late to the shoot because "she's doing her HSC".

Meanwhile, over in the examination hall...

Simon(e) turns up in her school uniform and immediately changes into Valentino for the shoot, which basically makes me want to punch myself and never look at a fashion magazine ever again. DOES ANYBODY ELSE SEE HOW RIDICULOUS IT IS TO PUT A TEENAGE GIRL IN THESE CLOTHES FOR WOMEN? DRINK!

And finally, DRINK.

"Oh great, now everyone knows I'm here."

Back on stage The Shiralee leads us through two and a half minutes of excruciatingly dull conversation with our final three which, if you missed it, is very easy to recreate at home. Write the words "like", "yeah", "amazing", "um" and "model" on slips of paper and pull them randomly out of hat while intermittently giggling and smiling like a retarded five year old. VOILA, your very own DIY finale.

It's almost time to announce the loser, but first - IT'S TIME FOR THE FINAL PICTURE BITCH.

"The talent on the front cover needs to be able to connect with the reader, they have to be able to say 'come and buy me'," says the Harpers editor.

I think this says "Discounted - $7.99".

Meanwhile Liz looks like someone's sprinkled Nutrog on her boobs while she was sleeping and she's woken up with her very own secret garden.

Brings new meaning to having a rosy complexion.

Simon(e)'s cover shot looks less like Harpers Bazaar and more like Stoner Monthly:

OUT NOW, INCLUDING: 150 ways to boost your crop, Busty Bud Babes, and 10 Major Munchie recipes.

And Montana looks great. Again.

Back on stage it's time to announce who's going home. HINT: It's not Montana. HINT: It's Simone.

Cue applause, cue montage. Meanwhile,

Simone, take a look at your future.

The Shiralee says something else involving the word "amazing" (drink 'em if you still got 'em) and announces that Short Stack will perform their new song. QUICK!

You're going to need this.

"I know Simone is going to have an AMAZING career," screeches Dawson from the balcony.

Meanwhile, out the front of my house.

"But now we've got two incredibly hot contenders for the title," she continues.

We know, we can see them both.

Then The Shiralee introduces Short Stack to the stage, describing them as "the youngest band of their kind to ever perform at the Opera House". What kind is that, Sarah? The shit kind?

I don't know what Short Stack's performance was like because I have a fast forward button, but about half way through it looked like they were being attacked by ninjas so perhaps it wasn't as bad as I thought.

But suddenly: IT'S MONTANA AND LIZ, OUR FINAL TWO, in costume as extras from the forthcoming sequel to Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut - Legs Wide Open.

It got a bit blue after this.

Even the singer from Short Stack is scared shitless.

Try saying that after a dozen beers.

"WHAT AN AMAZING PERFORMANCE!" shouts The Shiralee.

"ARE YOU F*CKING SERIOUS??!".

AND OH MY GOD NOW IT'S TIME FOR THE FINAL ANNOUNCEMENT! Right after a few more montages, which are entirely boring except for the following highlights:

"There was a moment when I hit rock bottom in the 1920s shoot," says Montana.

Remove the word "shoot" and Montana speaks for an entire generation.

Liz reveals her worst shoot in the competition was the one for the Sunday Magazine.

Um, you're not alone honey.

"Well the media have said it and so have our die-hard fans, this has been the best season of Australia's Next Top Model and undoubtedly the best girls ever," says The Shiralee.

WOO! EVERYONE SAYS IT'S THE BEST EVER! CAN I GET A WITNESS?

...

And at last, finally, thank god, we arrive at the final announcement, but not before a few more "amazings". If you're still reading this you're obviously not drunk enough yet so off you go. If you've passed out on your keyboard or are dead, I'm sorry.

"The Australian public has voted," says The Shiralee as keyboard cat cracks its knuckles in preparation for a 2010-style finish.

"The winner," she says, as I go to the kitchen, make a cup of tea, read the front page of the New York Times and come back to the video.

"Of Australia's Next Top Model," she continues, as I defrag my hard drive, regrout the tiles in the bathroom, grow a Sequoia from seed, chop it down and carve a rocking chair out of it.

"Is," she ventures, as I kick back in my new rocking chair and wait for the sweet, sweet kiss of death.

Well, you read the news.

Any last words, Montana?

"It was such an amazing journey..."

Well that's me done.

S7E12: Australia's Next Top Model Recap

2011-10-25T10:02:00.067-04:00

For the benefit of my three readers who haven't yet heard who was crowned the winner in last night's live finale, for the entirety of this recap I'm going to pretend that it's still Monday, no one has won anything yet and everyone still cares what I think.

It's nice in my happy place.

So, back in Mondayland, our final three return to the model mansion where it's clear the ANTM set designers have run wild with the remains of the budget.

Those boxes aren't cheap, you know.

With all their stuff moved out of shot it's so sparse and empty now there's even an echo.

"It's all packed up!" says Simon(e).

"...It's all packed up!" says the echo, otherwise known as Monotona.

"It looks so weird!" says Simon(e)

"...It's so weird!" says the echo.

Such personality.

The triplet sits on the couch and reminisces about their favourite times in the house, like the time they sat on the couch and... Well, that kind of sums it up.

Fortunately The Shiralee bursts in to remind them of other slightly notable things they've done during the past 11 weeks.

"Remember the time you went to Paris?" she chirps.

*insert cricket noise here*

I might also point out - aren't models supposed to be tall? Liz FTW!

Obviously the overseas trip that no one remembers was deemed a success because - SURPRISE! - they're all going on another one, this time to Dubai.

"OMG! I've always wanted to go to India!"

"This is going to sort the mice from the men," says Monotona, as a large CRACK resounds around the nation - the sound of thousands of English teachers collectively slapping their heads.

Meanwhile, I don't think you actually need a modelling competition to sort these two things apart.

"THE BUSINESS CLASS LOUNGE IS THE BEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE, LIKE, IT'S ABSOLUTELY AWESOME, I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT," she continues, proving that all you need to impress a 17 year old is unlimited free booze, internet access and cake.

Actually, that works for me too.

The next 10 minutes is so mind numbingly dull that in order to prevent you all dying of boredom I'll just type a condensed transcript:

*** INT. AIRPLANE. LOTS OF LEGROOM. ***

SIMONE: So cool. Oh my god.

LIZ: Oh my god, legroom.

ALL: Oh my god.

*** INT. AIRPLANE BAR. ***

SIMONE: So weird. Oh my god.

MONTANA: One of us is going to be Australia's Next Top Model. Oh my god.

ALL: Oh my god.

LIZ: I don't even know who it's going to be. Oh my god.

ALL: (laughter)

*** REPEAT X 3 ***

They all arrive in Dubai, which Liz is surprised to discover is just like New York in that it isn't an island, Monotona is surprised to discover has buildings and Simon(e) is surprised to discover is hot. Because it's a city in the middle of a giant desert.

"Stepping out of the airport was like running into a huge brick wall made out of fire," she gasps.

Speaking of which, this week's photo shoot is going to be a little different...

"It's like we're in the middle of the desert and they just decided to build things around!" exclaims Simon(e).

Consider the position filled.

They get to their hotel which, as buildings typically are, is a large structure made of stone and metal. Monotona is blown away.

"It's the biggest thing I've ever seen, you can see it from like, 500 metres away," she says.

Other hotel builders in Dubai were not as shrewd.

Hey Montana, here are some other things you can see from 500 metres away:

Anything bigger than a 50 cent piece.

As it turns out their hotel IS pretty massive, so big in fact that it houses a giant underground aquarium which the staff have thoughtfully decorated with a customised scuba diver just for them.

Oh, isn't that nice.

And then he flips the sign over.

Probably better than being set on fire, though.

Oops, looks like he's got another sign in there...

Hooray!

Er, we'll just ignore this one.

We're then treated to approximately 57 minutes of the modelettes shrieking "OH MOY GOURD" as they're given cocktails, sprayed with rosewater and showed around their palatial hotel room, all of which is about as enjoyable as watching an episode of Getaway in which Catriona Rowntree is given cocktails, sprayed with rosewater and showed around her palatial hotel room.

So, pretty much any episode of Getaway then.

"YOU CAN FIT A PERSON IN HERE!" Simon(e) enthuses about the bath.

Other Dubai hotel builders were not as shrewd.

"We're going to take on the international world of modelling and push ourselves to our very limit," gushes Monotona, as if they're about to run across seven continents barefoot to raise money for cancer research, instead of stand in front of a camera pouting for 20 minutes each.

"Our butler is probably the best person I've ever met," she continues, which along with her descriptions of the business lounge (the best thing she's ever seen in her life) and the hotel itself (the biggest thing she's ever seen) brings the Monotona Hyperbole Count to THE BIGGEST NUMBER I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE.

Next thing you know they're zooming off in a limo to see the sights of Dubai.

"Oh my god look - THIS is the history!" exclaims Liz, pointing to what looks like a block of flats probably built around 2002.

Each unit comes with its own historical dual-flush toilet and ancient reverse cycle.

"I'm kinda glad we haven't been taken to history places cos I'm not a big historian," slags Simon(e).

APPLICATION WITHDRAWN.

Eventually they pull up at a history place and are greeted by a throng of men clutching mobile phone cameras. The girls interpret this as being their "fan club". Any woman who's been to the middle east before interprets this as "every day life".

Little do they know this is actually this week's photo shoot.

Eventually they're greeted by someone from Dubai tourism who promises to show them "the fashion of Dubai".

Oh... good.

What follows is the least informative advertisement for Dubai ever, in which Liz demonstrates her excellent descriptive skills by detailing her experience at the spice market: "like when you walked in this smell was so powerful and it wasn't like just one smell it was all these concoctions of all these different things I don't even know how to explain it it was so overpowering."

TRANSLATION: I could smell spices.

Not to be outdone in the intelligence stakes, Simon(e) ensures her share of screen time by sighing "I thought the women wore all black here because black is slimming and it suits everyone.".

Who else votes we do this?

But Monotona is ultimately crowned the Queen of Stupid when she tries camel-milk and guesses they must "inject it out" of the camel.

Oh, you can milk anything with nipples.

Off they trot to the jewellery market where Simon(e) spies an opportunity to be nominated for the feminist of the year award, and coos: "I'd love to have a husband who could buy me everything in here!"

Germain Greer for Generation Y.

Simon(e) hands out a few copies of The Female Eunuch and they bugger off to a gold shop, where Montana tries on a crown while the others stand and stare at her.

Some might call this foreshadowing. Not me.

Then they head back to the hotel, but not before Simon(e) delivers a seminal speech on the origins of women's subjugation that causes all the local women to rip off their burkas and dance naked and free in the streets. It's just like that scene in Sex and the City 2 where Samantha throws condoms at the stall owners, except this time there's no bored audience wishing the film was over and/or the cinema would catch on fire.

The next morning they wake up to the customary Middle Eastern breakfast of A SHITLOAD OF BREAD...

I think that's the collective noun for it anyway.

...before heading off to their photo shoot where they meet photographer Georges Antoni, with whom it's fairly certain Simon(e) will flirt outrageously for the rest of the day.

"Is my shirt open? Good."

Georges says the word "amazing" and "amazingness" about 30 times, Montana gets a giant penis strapped to her head...

"There you are, NOW you're a cockhead."

...and they're all wrapped up in layers and layers of woollen winter clothing before being shoved out into the 45 degree sun.

Melting models get their just deserts shoot in a nutshell:

Monotona looks like an alien in disguise as a 1930s detective on his way home to apologise to his wife for shagging his secretary.

It's a very specific look.

Simon(e) arrives on set late, having just come from a costume party in Pezza's hotel room to which she went as Dawson circa episode 6:

Spot on.

Simon(e) is given a basket of fruit and is instantly mobbed by customers mistaking her for a real market seller:

She DOES look authentic.

Sensing she might be losing Georges' interest, Simon(e) claims she is going to faint, which results in him ripping off all her clothes and doing this:

So, fairly effective tactic then.
As a smirking Georges carries a suddenly-not-so-ill Simon(e) back to safety to the strains of Enrique Iglesias' Hero (no, I'm not joking), everyone agrees to forget that she is 17 and he is... well, let's actually not think about that at all.

Liz steps on set and... gets in the way of Simon(e)'s storyline. So after she's on screen for 15 seconds we forget all about her and focus on Simon(e)'s resurrection for the group shot, an advertisement for black and gold brand tea towels.

Stylish AND practical.

Back at the hotel Simon(e) and Monotona are rehearsing their act for MENSA's upcoming annual variety show fundraiser to combat stupidity in the western suburbs, which this year goes a little something like this:

SIMONE: "People do milk camels, because how else do you get camel milk?"

MONTANA: "I have never seen a teat on a camel before."

SIMONE: "Yeah but people still milk them."

MONTANA: "I'm sure they do but have you ever looked at a camel and seen an udder?"

SIMONE: "I don't look for camel teats, but I just know that you can milk them."

MONTANA: "Do camels eat? I thought they just drank."

SIMONE: "No you can feed camels at zoos, I've done it."

I really wish I could say I had made some of that up. I didn't.

Suddenly a shrill ringing noise pierces the air, and all the models run screaming for the fire exit until one of them points out it might just be the phone. In a surprise akin to discovering camels occasionally eat food, it's The Shiralee advising them they're all about to go swimming with dolphins, an announcement which prompts them all to do dolphin impressions.

At least, that's what I THOUGHT they were doing...

But I know I've seen this on the internet somewhere else...

So they all bugger off to see the dolphins and...

I know. Don't worry, we're almost there.

"DOLPHINS ARE REALLY CUTE THEY LOOK LIKE THEY'RE ALWAYS SMILING!" shrieks Liz.

In other news, Liz has been offered a position at Dubai Sea World.

"THIS WAS ONE OF THE MOST FUN EXPERIENCES I'VE EVER DONE!" shouts Montana.

I think we're up to 11 now.

Back at the hotel, Georges bursts out of an ornamental bread basket to tell the girls the final photo shoot is going to "blow their mind". Distracted by her own reflection, Simon(e) just hears the word "blow", sees Georges and jumps to her own conclusion about the day's events.

"I'm going to be shooting you on top of the sand dunes," Georges continues.

"I hope that's a euphemism."

BLEEPING on the top of a sand dune shoot in a nutshell:

Everyone gets their eyebrows bleached to render them invisible, reducing Liz's facial expressions from two (surprised, demented) to just one (demented).

Simon(e) drapes herself in white sheets, looks like the lead in new off-Broadway drag musical Lawrence of A-gay-bia.

"I pray that I may never see the desert again. Mm-hmm, THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN' 'BOUT!"

Liz puts on huge gold earrings, wraps herself in a thousand dollar red silk jumpsuit and designer stilettoes, and gets the perfect shot by stacking it down a sand dune.

Nailed it.

"It was one of the most hardest shoots," says Monotona, causing both my Proper English and Hyperbole Meters to explode in a puff of smoke, shooting cogs across the room.

After the shoot Georges informs the modelettes The Shiralee has organised a "desert feast" for them all, for which they'll have to dress in Alex Perry and ride camels.

I can't tell if they're surprised or not.

What follows is a carbon copy of that scene from Sex and the City 2 where Charlotte, Miranda, Samantha and Carrie ride camels in designer clothing to a feast in the desert. Except this time there isn't a cinema audience praying for the roof to cave in and deliver them to sweet, sweet freedom. And also, everyone actually looks good in their outfits this time.

Suddenly - SARAH MAIL. The mobile coverage in the UAE is amazing, isn't it?

"It's amazing to think you started as just girls at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and you finish as models in the desert of the Middle East," says The Shiralee via video message.

"Well, bye!" she chirps, as the girls look around to discover the butlers have left with their camels and night time is approaching.

Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine.

Of course that doesn't happen at all. What actually happens is they sit around staring at each other saying excruciatingly 17-year-old things like "I know I've changed but I like, don't know what" (Simone) and "It's been the most amazing like, experience like, what we've done" (Montana) and "Oh my gosh it doesn't feel like, real" (Liz).

"I've been here since the top 100 like, I've beat out 93 other girls or something like that. Oh, I mean 96!" says Simon(e).

Consider the position filled.

Before you know it we're back in the elimination warehouse, which has undergone a transformation and now looks like the bar at the Opera House. Kudos to those set designers, they really know how to stretch a dollar.

So without further ado, let's picture bitch:

Liz looks like a Jewish grandma who's strayed too far from her tour group and gotten lost in the backstreets of Bahrain.

"Is this the way to the bazaar? I'm schvitzin' up a storm here."

Simon(e) looks like she's been bailed up against a wall by a gang of marauding fruit thieves and is about to defend herself by slinging some pomegranates.

"STAY BACK, OR I LOB A PINEAPPLE!"

Montana looks great as usual, and completely devoid of comedic possibilities, so I can't be bothered. So luckily there's this group shot, in which she looks like a bean bag that's being slowly inflated:

"WATCH OUT, SHE'S GONNA BLOOOOOOW!"

Dawson says Simon(e) is like a cross between Lucille Ball and this woman:

Which isn't really ideal in anyone's language.

Except in this photo, where she looks more like the thing that bursts out of the wardrobe in Poltergeist

Scary. As. Shit.

In her second photo, Liz looks like a deranged fashion ninja on a vengeance rampage over the theft of her neck.

"You stole my neck - NOW I STEAL YOUR LIFE."

Montana's photo flashes up on the screen and everyone practically faints from excitement, even though it looks pretty much exactly the same as the other two photos, but in blue.

Luckily Georges is there to carry them all to the sick bay.

Then all the judges announce their votes for the winner, and everyone says Montana except for Pezza who was forced by the producers to say Liz to keep some sort of interest level up.

Meanwhile:

Who is this again?

So who will it be? Let's all pretend ~~Montana~~ the nameless winner hasn't won yet, and join me again in... however long it takes for those slackers in Australia to upload the finale to the internet... for the BLAND CANYON ANTM SEASON 7 FINALE RECAP!

A final look at our finalists before the finale. Finally!

2011-10-24T10:27:00.011-04:00

After a ~~chair-grippingly thrilling~~ fairly uneventful and actually quite dull 11 weeks Australia's Next Top Model is finally just eight hours away from meandering to its logical conclusion at the Sydney Opera House (ie: a live broadcast composed of 95% long pauses, 3% dramatic looks to camera and 2% fuck ups destined for YouTube).

Sadly being in another time zone I'm going to have to guess what happens during the finale via the various tweets and text messages I'll be getting from my drunk friends freeloading off the open bar at the after party, but I'm assuming that at about 8.30pm Sydney time I'll get a bunch of these:

He really does love Lady Gaga.

While I'm waiting for the internet genies to upload the final episode to the webnet so I can download it and recap it approximately one week after everyone stopped giving a toss, I thought I'd take one last look at our final three who, according to this photo on the Fox 8 website, have obviously all been cast as the goblin king's harem in the sequel to 1980s classic film Labyrinth - Labyrinth 2: The A-MAZE-ing Adventure!

"Have any of you guys seen David Bowie yet?"

The Fox 8 website features a video of each modelette explaining why you should vote for her to win, but as I am in ~~communist China~~ the United States, it won't let me watch any of them. So I've had to opt for actually READING their answers to probing questions like "what is your best attribute?" and "what websites do you visit daily?" (HINT: the answer is Facebook).

Final words on Lizimonetana in a nutshell:

Liz is asked who would play her in a movie and answers "Audrey Hepburn or Elizabeth Taylor".

So clearly Liz's biopic will be a zombie film.

Simone is asked the same question and answers "Marilyn Monroe or Brigitte Bardot".

I can feel a whole new sub-genre developing.

The modelettes are each asked what their most memorable moment from the show was. Simone can't be bothered answering, Liz says "Dubai" (which I guess must have been in last night's episode, unless I blacked out with boredom during the episode in which they visited Dubai) and Montana says "the time I burnt my hair off". Note that nobody says "Going to Paris". So, that was worth it then.

One of the ANTM producers checks the budget for next year's show.

Simone is asked "what can't you live without" and answers "air", suggesting she is either slightly amusing or takes things far too literally, but then demonstrates something of a lack of reading comprehension with the following:

How far can YOU take an opportunity?

Montana illustrates just how unmemorable she is by claiming everyone on set thought she resembled Keira Knightley.

No, they're thinking of RACHEL. Who are you again?

Well I hope that's helped you reach your decision, Australia. Don't vote for the wrong one, or you know what'll happen - they'll eventually be deposed, made foreign minister and the entire country will go to shit.

Check back here over the coming week and hopefully I'll have some sort of recap up soon.

1001 channels and nothing to buy

2011-10-24T09:48:00.004-04:00

In 1992 Bruce Springsteen sang about signing up for cable television only to discover “57 channels and nothing on”.

Fast forward a couple of decades and the lyrics need a slight update. Now it's more like 1000 channels and nothing on. If you're watching my TV here in New York it's actually 1001, to be precise.

Yes, even here in the city that never sleeps, one of the most exciting metropolises in the world filled with every sort of entertainment you could dream up, you can ignore the outside world to spend 24 hours a day cycling through 1001 channels, trying to find something to watch.

It's clearly a much more advanced system than Foxtel, which only has 142 channels with nothing on. That's almost nine times the nothing!

But for every remote control-clicker wearily cycling through the old movies, repeats of Seinfeld, 24 hour news and Spanish soap operas with variations on the name “Amor Prohibido”, there is one type of viewer that is consistently and lovingly catered for by American cable TV – the home shopper.

Presumably they're a large audience, as there are dozens of channels populated with people called “Carole” and “Bob” whose sole purpose is to spruik things like the “Super Food Chopper” (makes a stir fry in nine seconds) 24 hours a day.

Clearly the type of person who would find 1001 virtually empty channels enticing is the same who would go for an all-in-one polar fleece jumpsuit with a zippered “hatch” on the buttock area. (Yes, they actually sell these, they're called “Forever Lazy” - see below).

I don't care how much the people "at the football match" and the couple drinking tea on the bridge were paid, it wasn't enough.

While writing this column I cycled through a few. On the Home Shopping Network you could buy the “Serious Skin Care Instagleam Trio with tote bag” for $69.95. Over on QVC they had a whole three hour show dedicated to the “Jacqueline Kennedy Collection” in which you could buy a “simulated sapphire bracelet” (how romantic), or the “Royal Colour” bracelet (I think “royal colour” means it looks like gold, but isn't) for $169.95.

On SHNBC you could snaffle a ring made of something called “lolite” with “a real European look”. WRNN was selling the “10 minute trainer” for two payments of $39.95, while SNY had some sort of device called the “total gym” that looked like it was modelled on something from the inquisition (but it was only $49.95 so, you know, bargain.)

I stopped flicking after channel 582 because I ended up stuck in the Spanish language stations and got distracted by whether Carlos was going to tell Jose about being in love with his girlfriend Marta.

Lucky Springsteen didn't write his hit in 2011. “1001 channels and nothing on except Zumba infomercials” just doesn't have the same ring to it.

This article was first published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail's TV Guide on October 23, 2011.

Worst doggy Halloween costumes ever

2011-10-21T11:00:00.015-04:00

There can be no greater indicator of a country's financial prosperity than the existence of an entire industry geared towards making comical costumes for dogs.

Which is why after an afternoon spent at my local Halloween costume shop (yes, I have a local one of those), I know that everyone at the Occupy Wall Street protests is wasting their time and should basically just go home, chill out and dress their dogs up as pumpkins.

Or S&M fetish mistresses.

This "Doginatrix" getup (10 points for the pun, doggy costume guys!) was just one of dozens on sale at the Halloween Adventure Shop on 4th Avenue yesterday for $20 a piece.

Now I'm not saying you've got problems, but if you feel the need to make your dog look like a leather-clad sexual deviant you might want to spend a bit of time assessing what's important to you. (Although dogs do bite stuff and piss all over everything so maybe a dominatrix outfit is kind of appropriate). (Note to costume manufacturers: I think most dogs already HAVE collars).

Want Rover to look sexy but not THAT sexy? Try this:

This is the gayest dog costume I've ever seen.

Oh no, wait...

I stand corrected.

Maybe "cracked out rent boy" is more your thing?

"I'll give YOU a bone, blah blah whatever just gimme five bucks, OK? Don't make me beg."

Or maybe you're one of those people who's all like "I want my dog to look like they're INVOLVED in the sex industry, but not being exploited by it."

Have I got the costume for you:

Crack baggy not included.

You know, I think the thing that stands out in all of these photos is the look of total indignity in each dog's eyes. Either that, or it's the effects of the photographer's sedative wearing off.

"You, sir, should be ashamed of yourself."

That's actually not a costume, that's a production still from the long-awaited Wonder Woman film. Christina Hendricks looks great, doesn't she? (I've always heard people going on about that woman's "puppies" - NOW I FINALLY GET IT!)

Meanwhile, if you're going to dress your dog as a character from a movie like, say, Pirates of the Caribbean, don't cheap out and get the generic "Pirates of the Seven Seas" version that makes Scruffy look like a waitress at a medieval theatre restaurant.

"Is sire having the beef or the chicken tonight?"

And for god's sake, pick a movie that people actually LIKE.

Wow, Antonio Banderas has really let himself go...

You can't go wrong with Star Wars.

Actually it seems you can.

Yep, you definitely can.

Meanwhile, I have just discovered THIS is on tomorrow, so expect further doggy costume updates over the weekend.

S7E11: Australia's Next Top Model Recap

2011-10-18T08:58:00.071-04:00

Put on your limited edition Alex Perry sunglasses-hat, slap on your Madeline Signature Collection Eyeshadow and start waving your souvenir DAWSON HEARTS BOTOX flags - IT'S THE PENULTIMATE ANTM SEASON 7 RECAP!

She just needs a bottle of tequila and she's ready to go.

This week's recap is sponsored by 30% worse picture resolution, thanks to the wonders of compressed internet video.

"Oh no, not low resolution! My bum looks really big in that!"

Episode 11 kicks off in typical thrilling fashion, with all the modelettes lying around in the living room looking like the morning after the Rohypnol launch party.

"I thought the final four or five would be Jess, Caroline, Amelia and Izzy," drawls Simon(e), demonstrating that she is:

a) not good at counting up to five

b) occasionally good at pretending to be humble and

c) kinda rude to Rachel, Liz and Montana.

"I really have to show them everything this week," gabbles Liz.

Liz has forgotten this.

Suddenly - SARAH MAIL - which this week is brought to you courtesy of Sarah's crack pipe.

"Which finalist is not on her guard? Poison ivy can be prickly, and so too the life of a celebrity. It's time to learn from someone who knows," the video message rambles.

It's OK, I translated that for you.

"I WANNA MEET MEGAN GALE!" shrieks Liz, winning the inaugural Bland Canyon ANTM Non-Sequitur Award. Congratulations, Liz.

They all get in their promotional obligations and zoom off to The Ivy to meet Dawson, where they're all fed poison and made to do impressions of celebrities. No, that would make too much sense. What they actually do is log on to Facebook and look at the Australia's Next Top Model page. Yes, they do.

"Every week we've been posting your photo shoots up and just look at the comments!" yells Dawson.

Yes, let's.

For a second I thought I had screencapped the Sunday Arts Facebook page by mistake but no, this is the right one.

Dawson explains to them all that thanks to the wonders of the internet, along with modern society's general lack of belief in a higher power and willingness to idolise anyone with pretty teeth, they are now celebrities.

"I can't really see myself as a celebrity," grins Rachel, the only finalist who actually looks like a celebrity.

If Rachel grits her teeth and puts on an English accent, she can get into any nightclub in the world.

"I would use fame to be a role model for decency," she continues.

Sort of like Britney Spears.

"Everyone will be watching you now, anyone with a handheld device that can take a photo will be watching you, you need to control your brand," instructs Dawson, conveniently ignoring the past 10 weeks in which they've slagged each other off, worn outfits made of garbage and pranced about naked in pink paint.

Brand = under control.

To help them understand that posting naked photos of themselves on Twitter is a bad thing, Dawson introduces a "celebrity that knows exactly how social media can make you or break you", and out walks Lara Bingle.

There's an awkward pause as everyone waits for the celebrity to show up, but she never does so Dawson has to interview Bingle instead.

"What are some of the mistakes you've made?" she asks, forgetting it's only an hour program.

Well there was this...

And this...

...and this...

...and this...

...and this...

And look, the internet is only so big, OK, so we'll have to leave it there. Suffice to say that if you're the subject of a news article headlined WHERE THE BLOODY HELL DID BRAND BINGLE GO WRONG?, you are probably not really qualified to mentor people on personal brand control.

Nevertheless, La Bingle gives them all a comprehensive lecture on the iPhone ("it's so easy to take photos with, you don't even need a flash") before advising them to make sure their hair is done when they leave the house in the morning, and that just about wraps up the expert advice.

Suddenly the lights flicker, all the doors slam shut and somewhere in the distance, a dog howls. Then Daily Telegraph gossip writer Ros Reines walks into the room.

So... this must be awkward.

She's there to tell the girls just how she'd fuck their lives up in the national press if they ever say anything saucy on Facebook.

"If my boyfriend cheated and you found out, would you write about that?" asks Liz.

"Of course!" shrieks Reines.

I can see it now.

After all of this extremely helpful advice the modelettes decide to enjoy some down time by throwing coloured balls at sand dunes, an endeavour so thrilling I am glad when a Sarah Mail arrives to break the tension.

You won't believe this, but the whopping budget which has so far furnished us with such mind-boggling technology as video text messages has clearly still got some cash in it, which an ANTM production assistant has thoughtfully spent on an old bottle.

MIND BLOWING.

The thrills don't stop when Simon(e) opens the bottle and finds a rolled up placemat from Barnacle Bill's inside.

"Y'arr, fish fingers be only $1 with any meal!"

All the girls fight over who gets to do the Fishy Find-A-Word, until Simon(e) breaks the argument by announcing that they're all going on an "island adventure".

Geography master Montana is first to start posturing on their next destination, saying "I immediately thought of where we'd be going, like Costa Rica..."

"...or The Caribbeans..."

Liz joins the intelligence festival by expressing disdain at suggestions they might be travelling to New York.

"Uh, I don't even think that's an island, guys."

Next thing you know all the modelettes are stuffing their luggage full of bikinis, sarongs and thongs, in what can only be described as EXTREMELY SUBTLE COMEDIC FORESHADOWING THAT THEY'RE PROBABLY ALL GOING SOMEWHERE REALLY COLD.

This can only mean one thing.

"We've been to Paris, we've been to Kangaroo Island, what on earth could be next?" gasps Montana, in what is possibly the first utterance of those two place names together in the history of civilisation.

Meanwhile, the South Australian Tourism Board gets another great advertising idea.

This cost $2.5 million.

Next thing you know they're all piling into a helicopter. So let's hope they're NOT going to New York, then.

Simon(e) surmises they're going to an island because "helicopters can fly over water". And possibly also because IT SAID THEY WERE GOING ON AN ISLAND ADVENTURE IN THE SARAH MAIL. In other news, helicopters can also fly over land.

After approximately two minutes in the air, they land - on Cockatoo Island.

"It wasn't exactly Costa Rica," laughs Monotona.

Right, because unlike Costa Rica, Cockatoo Island is actually an island.

They're greeted by the Pearly King of Cockatoo Island who explains that their next challenge is to sew as many buttons onto his jacket as they can in 12 hours so he can win the champion sash at the next Sydney Bead Enthusiasts Meet-Up.

"Get cracking, girls!"

Then he announces that the girls will be tied to a crane and dangled out over Sydney Harbour. It's a pity they're not taking advantage of the helicopter instead, because I was hoping for something like this:

Just imagine.

As it turns out, the likelihood of being eaten by a shark becomes a real possibility when it is revealed that the girls are to be dressed up like seabirds:

Better than being dressed as a seal, I guess.

Chicks dressed as birds on a crane on Cockatoo challenge in a nutshell:

"I think I'd like to channel an old Hollywood movie star like Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn," says Monotona.

Note to Montana: Saying you want to emulate Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn is like saying you want to be a model or a brain surgeon.

Liz distracts herself from her fear of heights by talking about her school exams. In other news, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Rachel gets given the least dramatic frock of the day, which won't help her win best photo but will help her win the Whistler's Mother lookalike contest:

Spot the difference.

Simon(e) does a very accurate impression of the lesser crested Booby:

"Can you see them OK?"

Suddenly Bros rocks up to tell the girls they'll all be camping on the island for the night, an announcement that shocks the girls to their very core.

"Are there like, wild animals here like, wild cockatoos?" shrieks Monotona.

No, but there are really annoying screeching Simones.

"I would rather stay in a brothel or a mental asylum than stay in a tent," declares Simon(e), obviously unaware of how easily those two outcomes could be achieved.

The girls hit the tents, the screen fades to black, they wake up in the morning and that's the end of the camping segment. Well, that was worth it. Let's take another poll:

They all get on a boat (AMAZING SIDENOTE: it's the same boat that brought them to the model mansion in episode one. I know, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?) and zoom off to meet Charlotte who is clutching some envelopes.

The thrills on this show just keep coming.

Dawson announces they're all off on "go-sees" with four Australian designers, which they'll have to get to themselves using a map.

Geography expert Rachel is the most excited, enthusing "The map was really big and the streets were really small!"

Mm, it tends not to work as well the other way round.

Stereotype-confirming navigation challenge in a nutshell:

In a shocking surprise Simon(e), from NSW, does the best in navigating her way around Sydney. Some might call this an unfair advantage. Not me.

Simon(e) makes it to Megan Gale's swimwear factory where she opens the ark of the covenant and reveals the most hideous swimsuit ever created. I'd screencap it for you but the low resolution actually improves it, so my joke won't work.

It is also in this segment that we learn that Simon(e) has double D boobs. I'm not quite sure why this hasn't been mentioned before, either by the judges (because large breasts are not usually a characteristic of top models) or by any of the photographers (who really could have taken more opportunities to make"BA-OOOBA!" noises during shoots).

Liz visits designer Camilla Franks, is told she'll probably make it "in the next few years", which is great because the finale is next week.

Simon(e) and Rachel are both told they need to work on their walk, which is funny because they've done ~~so much catwalk training this series~~ absolutely zero catwalk training this series.

Monotona accidentally crosses the Harbour Bridge and ends up going off the map, into the nothing.

Luckily, a friendly resident helps her find her way back.

Megan Gale fan Liz makes it to her casting at "Isola by Megan Gale", sits down, looks around at all the Megan Gale posters, has a cup of tea, flips through a few magazines and admires the ads for Megan Gale's new swimwear line, watches the seasons change and then realises that she is about to meet Megan Gale.

She is excited about this.

Monotona finally makes it to designer Fernando Frisoni, and is thrown for a loop when she's asked to walk. "Everything I knew about walking flew out the door," she moans.

Because there is a lot to remember, isn't there?

Simon(e) dares to lift her arms for a photo without having shaved her underarms for 24 hours, causing the photographer to faint, the designer to suffer a stroke and the entire camera crew to run out the door screaming.

Rachel has a map-related breakdown in the middle of the street after failing to navigate her way around Sydney. Coincidentally, this is exactly what happened to Captain Cook when he arrived at Botany Bay.

It's true.

And with that, it's straight off to elimination to determine who will be our final three. Can you taste the excitement, people?

It tastes like this.

For the last time the final four strides into the elimination warehouse, where unphotogenic models are hoisted up on a crane over Sydney Harbour and used as bait in the "Shark-tastic Sydney!" tourist attraction (winner Travelocity Best Sydney Attraction 2009 and 2010).

The Shiralee announces their special guest judge for the day - Bros! But he's clearly doing it for the money - the guy is so poor he's had to make his shirt out of newspaper.

EXCLUSIVE: Popped collars are back!

Shall we do it? Shall we picture bitch?

Montana looks a little like a rotisserie chicken under heat lamps at your local Coles.

SPECIAL: Only $4.99.

Simon(e)'s photo documents the split second she almost blacked out the whole of Sydney by eclipsing the sun with her big head.

Disaster narrowly averted.

Sensing that she may not make the final cut Simon(e) launches a bid for sympathy by crying.

"Do these tears look real? I'm thinking about my dead cat and everything."

Rachel looks like the new recipient of a prosthetic right arm attending the funeral of her actual right arm.

"Guess I'll have to learn to open beers with my left, now."

Liz looks beautiful, if not a little like someone mid-way through vaporising from the legs up.

"Now you see me..."

In a completely shocking bolt from the blue, Monotona is the first through to the final three. In other news, she will probably win, so you can start practising your "I'm so not surprised" face now.

And then there's Liz, which is great because I've just received my first shipment of these from Hong Kong:

Just in time for Christmas!

And so it comes down to Rachel and Simon(e), battling it out for the final spot. Rachel wishes it were a "Who looks the most like Keira Knightley" competition, while Simon(e) would prefer to be competing for the title of Biggest Bitch. Sadly though they're in a modelling competition and, as in the movie Highlander, there can be only one.

"Rachel," announces The Shiralee, as Simon(e) breaks down in tears, takes off her stiletto and starts beating her head with it.

Oh, hang on...

"I'm feeling sick about this..."

WHOOPS! TURNS OUT IT'S SIMONE AFTER ALL!

Never mind Rachel, that's what Australian television is like.

"I COULDA BEEN A CONTENDER!"

"I did feel bad that she was eliminated but I wasn't heartbroken about it because if she wasn't eliminated then it would have been me," says Simon(e), while simultaneously checking the ANTM mailbox to see if her MENSA membership card has arrived yet.

So there you have it, Australia, your top three: Simon(e), Liz and Monotona. As with all legitimate contests, such as the Olympics, the winner will be decided by text message vote at a live telecast from the Sydney Opera House next week. Gee, I'm so glad I can't go this year, it sounds really uncool and not fun at all.

Will Dawson turn up in nothing but pink paint? Will Pezza wear sunglasses on his head the entire night? Will Bros do a tapdance routine? (Don't laugh, that actually happened last year). Will The Shiralee get the winner's name right?

Leave me a comment. IT'S THE LEAST YOU CAN DO.

A musical interlude

2011-10-17T15:44:00.002-04:00

While I patiently wait for someone to upload episode 11 of Australia's Next Top Model to the interwebtube so that I can recap it in hilarious fashion, let's all take a small musical interlude and remember last year:

I can only hope something as epic as this occurs at this year's finale. If the dyslexic work experience kid isn't available to stuff up the voting count, I suggest the following to keep things interesting:

Simon(e) and Neo to duet on Ebony and Ivory as all the other modelettes parade in swimwear.

Alex Perry to make his entrance on a giant pair of sunglasses, sort of like Kylie Minogue did for the Sydney Olympics.

Sarah Murdoch to announce the winner from inside an inflatable plastic ball floating on a wave pool.

Cassy to be announced as surprise winner.

SURPRISE!

Any other suggestions?

Why VHS is better than DVD

2011-10-14T12:35:00.003-04:00

It's been sitting in a cardboard box in the spare room ever since we moved house almost a year ago, but I just can't bring myself to throw away our VCR.

After acquiring a DVD player, two video game consoles and a Foxtel box, our telly has more loose wires than Charlie Sheen – and no spare plug for our little silver tape player. So into the cardboard box it went.

Not that this is much of a problem. It's not like we're starved for entertainment in the casa di Starke. If we actually turned on one of the video games we bought at huge expense I'm sure we'd have hours of fun.

But despite our VCR's relative uselessness, I just can't bear to see it go.

Or the tapes. Combined, my boyfriend and I have about 30 old VHS tapes, ranging from the sublime (This is Spinal Tap, The Rocky Horror Picture Show) to the ridiculous (an absurd museum souvenir video of me dancing to Yothu Yindi when I was 14) and the completely unnecessary (What Women Want). (I blame my boyfriend for that one). (Yes, really. He actually bought it).

We've also got at least two copies of Monty Python and the Holy Grail (one $20 ex-rental) and a tape of Ferris Bueller's Day Off lovingly recorded off the television from around 1991, with priceless old ads still included.

I wish I knew how to quit you.

These days everything is on DVD, or Blu-Ray (whatever that is – I saw it in a shop once), or downloaded from the internet. And this is all fine and good. (Particularly downloading videos from the internet, which is better than good, it's completely ace, and I have no idea how we existed without it.)

But in the transition from VHS to DVD, I feel we've lost a lot of cool features. This is why I miss tapes:

1. A VHS tape will never stop right at the point where the detective is about to reveal who murdered the butler in the library just because it has a speck of dust on it.

2. You will never have to skip huge portions of the movie, and try to imagine what happened in them, because your VHS tape has a tiny scratch on it.

3. All playback problems with a VHS tape can be fixed by one of three simple methods. A) Flip open the top and blow on it, B) Fast forward and rewind repeatedly until the picture comes back, C) The tracking button.

4. Tapes don't force you to sit through endless government notices about pirating movies. Partly because pirating a VHS is bloody difficult so those notices don't usually exist, but mainly because you can actually fast forward a tape without getting a OPTION DISABLED notice on your screen.

5. You can stop a tape half way through and come back to the exact point you left off AT ANY TIME IN THE FUTURE. You can even take it out of the machine and watch another 10 videos, and put it back in its box and stick it up on the shelf and not come back to it for another six months – AND IT WILL STILL PLAY FROM WHERE YOU LEFT IT THE FIRST TIME. Magic.

6. If you drop a tape on the footpath, or sand, or gravel, or from a great height (say, off the side of a house) it will probably still play as normal.

7. When you're bored with a VHS, you can rip it open and wrap the tape around stuff like 1980s tinsel.

This article was first published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail's TV Guide on March 27, 2011.

TV that's sure to suck you in

2011-10-14T12:31:00.004-04:00

I might be showing my generation here, but I can’t remember the last time I watched TV without my smartphone in my hand. If you are a fellow Gen Y-er, you’ll understand this is because I am permanently connected to Twitter and Facebook and cannot knowingly let a moment of television go by without comment, preferably with some sort of hashtag attached #tvaddict.

And I know I’m not the only one – try searching Twitter for hashtags like #XFactor or #Renovators or #QandA and you’ll see viewers are having an entire online discussion around their favourite shows about things like Guy Sebastian’s hairdo and Tony Jones’ sex appeal (which, for the record, is apparently high among left-leaning first year uni students).

No matter how small your loungeroom, social media has made watching television a truly collective experience. But nothing makes for a shared viewing experience like... well, a shared viewing experience.

Last Sunday American cable network HBO aired the much anticipated season four finale of cult vampire drama True Blood, and I joined about 200 others at a New York City bar to watch it.

A die-hard fan after discovering the show just two months ago and promptly ripping through all 47 episodes (yes, that practically equals a full two days of my life, what of it?), I was more than excited to put on my official True Blood T shirt (yes, I bought one, what of it?) and join the masses for the big event.

For those unfamiliar with the show: imagine an R rated Twilight as done by Quentin Tarantino but with gallons of blood, super-violence, sex scenes and a liberal dash of homoeroticism, plus laughs, and now multiply that by at least four. It’s gory, bloody, extremely sexy and completely addictive. Which makes it perfect to watch in a dimly lit bar surrounded by fellow obsessives and gin cocktails.

Having never been to a public TV screening before, I can now say that tweeting from the couch is nothing compared to actually watching a show with a crowd that loves it as much as you do. The drama is heightened, the thrills are more thrilling, the scary bits more frightening – it’s theatre on a flatscreen.

To my surprise, despite the flowing booze and the free vodka jelly shots for audience members to down “every time someone dies” (I had four), the crowd was respectful and quiet to properly watch the show. Well, quiet until one of the hunky male characters took off their shirt (“wooo!”) or two characters hooked up (“yeeeow!”) or a vampire got blasted into smithereens (“gasp!”).

And woe betide anyone who talked – one tipsy punter who dared to ask where the bathroom was was loudly shushed out of the room.

Given the drama on True Blood is powered by sex scenes, blood spilling, supernatural special effects and comedy, it’s the perfect show for group viewing; I’m not so sure other programs would fare as well. I can’t imagine a bar full of Better Homes and Gardens fans whooping it up with jelly shots every time Joanna Griggs puts on a different cardigan, say.

Why Adelaide is yet to embrace this sort of thing, I’m not sure. There are many great shows on Foxtel - True Blood, for one – that non-subscribers are missing out on. Why doesn’t some enterprising soul start screening them in a bar and make a night of it? Television has often been criticised for isolating people and destroying social interaction – well, what a way to make it social again.

The True Blood season four finale screens on Foxtel’s Showcase channel on Thursday, November 3.

This article was first published in the Adelaide Sunday Mail's TV Guide on September 19, 2011.

What was the point of the camping segment?
	To get the girls out of the house so Dawson could use it to host one of her slumber parties
	To get the girls out of the house so Bros could use it to shoot his new video
	To get the girls out of the house so Pezza could use the floorspace to polish his sunglasses collection
	Tourism NSW paid for it