I can not lie.  I love to watch The Bachelor.  Something about watching fifteen crazy women compete for the love of one (somewhat crazy) man is a recipe for sheer entertainment.  Call me a sociologist, but I love watching human interaction… especially that of the cray cray kind.  I remember thinking that sweet, sweet Emily (a children’s hospital event planner- WTF??!! – from Charlotte, North Carolina) was a force to be reckoned with… until tonight.  I’m not sure what the hell is happening in that bachelorette (hen) house, but something bad happened.  Week by week, the girls get drunker, crazier, and somehow oranger.  Perhaps they should check the vents? Maybe even check where the closest power plant is located cause something ain’t right.  Maybe I need to fix the settings on my TV, but I think Brad may want to invest in some protective radioactive clothing.

It’s the final rose. Who should get it?

Ladies, if you did not receive a rose, please take a moment and say “goodbye.”