The gloomy cloud of rancid spray tan mist that hung over the group in the Bahamas has followed the gang to Indiana – despite the All-American delights being offered up by little ole Warsaw: pontoon boats, cafes without wi-fi, throwing leaves- which I often do with my friends when we’re feeling playful in autumn.
There’s nothing so glorious and exciting as the return of Bachelor season. So many sweet, sweet Monday night pleasures in the form of couch lounging, savory snacks, analyzing fashions and generally obliterating my mind in a foggy cloud of spray tan mist. Season 20 is underway, and like each and every identical season that preceded it, we have a cornucopia of fine ingredients – chief among them a new batch of contestants who apparently have never once watched the show before, or seen a helicopter.
I don’t know, was it “the most dramatic finale ever in Bachelorette history,” or two interminable hours of vapor mist – with a soupçon of boating and a whole lot of changing outfits, quiet weeping, sitting on different surfaces and talking about “connections” (intensity level options: strong, stronger or strongest), and marveling about the sheer craziness of having actually arrived at this moment in time? TOMORROW AAAAAAHHHH!
Many minutes were spent standing at balconies being pensive.