Juan Pablo: Licensed Psychologist

Juan's got his fancy car gassed up and ready to go.  Check that, it's a Telsa.  Okay, so he's got his 800 pound battery packs all charged up and ready to go.  He's been planning this date all day.  Clare, I hope you're ready, baby.

But wait, Lucy's boobs are showing.  Clare who?

Horrible editing.

Oh right, Clare.  Hairdresser or somesuch.  She's open to being open about the possibilities of there being a potential of something there.  I think that's code for being in love.

It's already evident that Juan Pablo is pretty good at this El Bachelor thing.  He has the women openly thankful for the opportunity of seeing him off on a date with another chick.  I'm already impressed.  Of course it's a bit early for there to be rampant jealousy, but he's laying the groundwork.  So far so good.

Looks like Clare is hooked.  These dates are getting pretty absurd already.  A sledding and skating excursion in LA rips this out of the realm of reality pretty fast.  For his part, Juan privately foresees a stepmom in his daughter's future.  I hope for his sake he's just playing along.

I don't have a good read on Clare.  Seems lovely enough.  Well, aside from the big ol' grin talking about her dead dad.  That was strange.  There's not a great history of dead dad talk on this show, so I'm already nervous.  She does look a helluva lot like Kristen Bell.  We could be doing worse, I suppose.  That Kristen Bell thing works for me, so we'll put Clare squarely in the top half for now.

If it's one thing to know about me, know this:  I hate the private concert date.  And goddammit, it's already showing up in the first one-on-one.  Worse, I never know who these idiots are.  Josh Krajcik?  No clue.  Looks more like Jack Black after a trip to J. Crew.  Or a slimmer Hurley from Lost.  I'm being told he was the runner up on the first season of the X Factor.  Well that is something now, isn't it?

If we do have to endure private serenades from C-list recording artists doing their best John Mayer impression, I at least want some awkwardness.  Couldn't these two have had bad chemistry or something?  This is much too sweet and endearing.

Next we get Kat the medical sales rep who looks a lot closer to 39 than 29.  It's a world class dimple, though.  It didn't take long to get a private jet date worked in.  Remember the date Emily Maynard had with whatshisface at the The Greenbrier in West Virginia?  Of course you don't.  Pretty short story shorter, the guy was a human sedative and was asked to kindly step away from the unfinished prime rib.  Point is, sometimes it doesn't matter how elaborate the date is.  If you suck, you're toast.  I'm not saying Kat sucks, but you never know.

So as they're lifting off, Kat ponders their destination.  The great beaches of Miami?  Maybe the bustle and night life New York?  You know, when she really thinks about it, she could get used to flying all over the world with her 32 year old retired soccer pro.  Well, "pro" in the loose sense that he was paid to play, but not "pro" in the sense that he was any good.  I mean, retiring because you had a baby?  Who does that?  In the history of organized sports, what male athlete has ever retired because he had offspring?  How about retired because you weren't talented enough for a lower tier soccer league.  Regardless, there won't be much jetsetting on that soccer pension, so don't get your hopes up, Kat.

And what's better than Miami or NYC.  Give up?  I'll tell you:  Salt Lake City, baby.  Mormons!  Mountains!  Michelle Money!  Jef Holm!  That asshole Bentley!  The list goes on and on.  There is some seriously fucked up fascination with SLC.  No idea why they are so completely obsessed with a nothing town like this in the middle of nowhere, but I'll be damned if we don't find some new excuse to work it into the show somehow.

And where better than SLC to host the world's only ecstacy-fueled fun run.  I think by definition teetotalism excludes MDMA.  Pretty sure this is exactly how Brigham Young envisioned things when he founded this religious oasis.  It's also another example of the producers elbowing their way into large public events and forcing the audience to deal with their stupid dates.  Of course in their drug addled state no one probably noticed or cared, but if I'm paying to go to some concert -- even if it's Skrillex or some other stupid dubstep bullshit -- I don't really want to be subjected very special guests Juan Pablo and Kat having their own dance-off for 20 minutes.  I hope everyone was properly compensated for having to endure that.

Group dates are usually just a cacophony of estrogen.  Things like this usually happen:

Unidentified also-ran contestant extending her tongue in admiration of our Bachelor

Some ample opportunity for anxiety, infighting, and maybe a little light hair-pulling.  You never really know.  I do appreciate how the producers continually set these women up by suggesting something that caters to their narcissism like "sexy photo shoot!" only to pull out the rug with "but you have to dress up like fire hydrants and get pooped on!"  It's one of the few details they consistently get right.  Models n Mutts.  "Are you ready to go meet the models?"  Didn't seem subtle enough, but I laughed.

Best part of the photo shoot was definitely the emergence of Andi.  Sure I'd be a little nervous about the prospects of dating a federal prosecutor, but even with Lucy gallivanting around like Lady Godiva, this blogger is smitten with this instead:

You had me at "I'd love to pose naked with you."

I have no idea how this whole deal turns out (no spoilers here, friends), and maybe it's the three buck Chuck talking, but I'm having a hard time remembering a better prospect.  I think that makes me the official #1 Fan of Andi Dorfman.  I hope she loses so she can be on TV a lot next season as The Bachelorette.  Let's set it up already.  Trust me, I know what I'm talking about here.

So far, the ladies have been getting along swimmingly, almost like they're attending a sorority reunion, and it's kind of pissing me off.  "Can I cut in?"  "Sure!"  What the hell is that?  I was thinking the biggest misstep of the evening session was going to be former NBA dancer Cassandra dropping the huge bombshell that she had a son talked to her mom 10 times a day.  Fortunately, we were treated to Victoria's tenuous grasp with sobriety.  

I'm certain Juan Pablo didn't think he'd be called in to talk Victoria off the ledge, but they were clearly getting desperate.  For some odd reason, hairy super producer Elan Gale, all mic'ed up like he was on a covert narco raid, couldn't get through to her.  It was time to call in the big guns.  "[taps on door] Can you talk to me?"  "No.  NO."  "Okay, I'll wait for you outside."  

As with every past run-in with armchair diagnosable psychosis, the entire incident was brushed aside as if it was merely the product of the intense pressure of competition.  Hell, Juan Pablo himself admits he nearly lost his mind competing with Chris, Drew and Brooks for Desiree's heart.  Eerily similar, no?

I'm a little troubled, not so much that Victoria has a severe mental condition that requires heavy sedation and electroshock therapy, but rather that she performed so ably as to be dismissed in episode 2.  I had some high hopes for this Brazilian (and most Brazilians, really).  Sometimes casting a human trainwreck works sublimely, other times it resembles hot oil midget wrestling.  Nevertheless, in Victoria's honor, let's all pour out "not even one glass of champagne."  (sniff)

RIP "The Straddler"

We really shouldn't be losing this much hotness so early.  Maybe they need to have chaperones to keep the top talent around longer.  I don't know if that makes practical sense, I'm just thinking out loud here.

In that same vein, we lost another soldier on that hill tonight, and I'd just like to acknowledge her briefly in this space.  It was a desperately short run, but as Lao Tzu wrote (in Tao Te Ching) "the flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long."  Or maybe a tenth as long.  Whatever the case, goodnight sweet former WCTV Fox 49 field reporter Amy Long.

"This is Amy Long live here at the Bachelor Mansion sitting here with the last shred of my fleeting dignity."

She was cute, she was effervescent, she reeked of immaturity, but to quote Nancy Kerrigan almost exactly 20 years ago today:  "Why?!?"  At least we still have her tasteful Model Mayhem shoots.  9/13/13:  Never forget.

I'm starting to enjoy the "Ice Queen" Sharleen's shtick of playing hard to get, and of having country singer name in an opera singer's body.  Seems like she's a lot of work, but you can tell Juan finds her to be intriguing, maybe because they're polar opposites.  Could be this season's Jef, but hopefully with less plagiarism.

"Ladies, Juan Pablo, this is where we eliminate the show's only black chick.  Also, there's an all new Killer Women tomorrow at 10/9 central.  
When you're ready."

Next week we'll unveil the official rankings.  Still too many who-the-hell-is-thats around.

Until next time, keep your champagne chilled and boobs properly exposed.