Suddenly, he's just not that attractive anymore.
Maybe it's the raging indecisiveness?
The constant crying?
The doe-eyed expression when he knows he's busted?
Oh, wait! I know!
It's the gene called jerkus ginormous that's been recessive until now!
Unless you've recently emerged from under a rock, you know what happened last night on the season finale of The Bachelor.
I think the programming manager at ABC accidently put Jerry Springer: The Slightly Classier Version in the time slot where The Bachelor was supposed to be.
I wanted Melissa to be the one. I really did. I think she's adorable and would be a great wife and mom. But even before the limos started their dramatic descent to the hilltop, I just knew he would choose Molly. Now - if you've never watched before, here's a tip: The girl to get out of the first limo? Is not the future missus.
So, I almost sprayed Diet Coke out of my nose when little Molly was in the first car last night.
I almost choked when "After the Final Rose" came on and Sir-Cries-A-Lot showed his posterior (in the figurative sense, of course. Or it really would've been like Jerry Springer.)
I have a tip for Molly:
Conjure whatever bit of FloJo you have and say "Holla!"
'Cause the boy ain't right. He just ain't right.
1 day ago