Welcome back to Carly’s Into Bach! Let’s, in Becca’s favorite words that already make me want to eat a chunk of drywall, “do the damn thing.”
The cameras pan in on a nice morning in the Dude Mansion. David is making what appear to be BOMB-ass omelettes for everyone, and Jordan is snarking that making breakfast is boring. Wrong call, my dude. EVERYONE likes the guy who makes breakfast! Fuck, even Garrett, Parkland Truther could win me over with a nice plate of waffles!! (Just kidding. I’m not a demon.) Read More
Welcome back to our newest feature, Carly’s Into Bach, where we recap the latest Bachelorette episode which we probably watched through our fingers while cringing. Let’s jump right into Week 2!
The episode begins with a montage of many white dudes whom I could not tell apart if my life depended on it, interspersed with footage of Becca riding a bike near the beach. Ocean metaphors abound: something like “I just have to go with the flow”, “ride the wave”, etc. So creative, y’all! The preview for the evening features Haunted Ken Doll Jordan looking even more aggressively tanned and Botoxed than Week 1, and Simple Garrett— bigot, Parkland truther, and probable season winner— looking wide-eyed and Just Happy To Be Here. Read More
Hello and welcome to our newest feature, Carly’s Into Bach, in which we recap America’s Guiltiest Pleasure (besides racism)! Let’s dive right in and, as Becca will say at least 400 more times in the next 2 hours, “do the damn thing.”
The premiere begins by replaying the Becca/Arie Airbnb Ambush, which is just as horrible as the first time and makes me want to barf. Chris Harrison should be ASHAMED for orchestrating this trainwreck. (Ed. note: Obviously I know that Chris Harrison is physically unable to feel anything remotely resembling shame.)
Present-day Becca says, “Everything I envisioned for the future was changed.” We’ve all been there, gurl! Life’s a bitch and then you find a new man who hopefully sucks less, as they say!
At the end of 2017, like many of us, my body was not my own. After a whole month of Friendsgivings, work Thanksgiving, regular Thanksgiving, holiday happy hours, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Years Eve, and New Years Day, I was trapped inside a meat prison of my own making. You know the old anecdote about a parent who catches their teen with a cigarette, and makes them smoke a whole pack of cigarettes to learn their lesson? That was me, except I was both parent and teen, and the cigarettes were imported cheeses.
Finally, after 27.5 years on the planet, I had finally eaten enough cheese and carbs, and drank enough champagne, that I was ready to commit to at least 45 years of just lettuce and tap water. But since the “president” is going to blow the whole planet to smithereens WAY before then, I decided on a more realistic short-term goal: one month of semi-paleo “clean eating,” via the Whole30 program. “Gotta make a change! This is rock bottom!,” I said to myself, as Karma rubbed its hands together gleefully. Read More
Last year, almost to the day, I predicted that Christmas 2016 would be our last, because the “president”-elect would have blown up the entire earth by Christmas 2017. Well, folks, there’s a first time for everything, including my being wrong! (Don’t get excited– it will probably never happen again.) But since the void has not yet embraced us all in its eternal grasp, another holiday season is upon us. Grab a glass (or mug, or bowl, or funnel…) and get thee to the liquor cabinet! It’s been a busy year, and we’ve all earned a drink. Read More
Last week, I was in a minor car accident because Florida drivers, including myself, are sent straight from whatever circle of hell involves flaming bees in your anus. Thankfully everyone involved is totally fine, but my poor Hyundai will be in the shop for almost 3 weeks. So this week, I rented a car to transport myself to and from work.
And by “car”, I obviously mean “2017 Dodge Caravan”, because what else would happen to me at this point? I made my reservation online, for the “smallest and cheapest car” and showed up to retrieve it. Read More
Something awful is happening, and for once, I’m not talking about fashion trends or Republicans.
Starbucks has released a brand new “limited time” amalgamation of sprinkle-infested cream, corn syrup, and shame. They are calling it… the Unicorn Frappuccino® Blended Crème.
My body is no temple– I once drank so much turquoise offbrand Four Loko that I peed blue for two days– but SWEET MOTHER OF GOD, LOOK AT THAT THING. Am I the odd man out here? Are other people excited by the idea of drinking 16 oz of frozen, teal-and-fuschia-dyed heavy cream?