Currently obsessed with watching bad tv, having abrasive political opinions, always being right and getting the biggest laugh. She has a husband, 3 kids and a dog. You can probably find an accurate portrayal of her family by Googling “stereotypical white middle class family.” Follow her on Twitter @HeidiRochelle
Usually by the time the fantasy suites date of The Bachelor roll around I have checked out and just want to have my Monday nights back, but this season I am all in. I drank the Kool-Aid. My eyes are barely rolling anymore, guys. They’re too busy staring in abject horror at the disaster taking place on screen. It’s so bad, it’s good.
With only 6 women remaining this season things are getting downright respectable around here. I mean, only 6 girlfriends? At this point Ben could fit all of his women in a single minivan for a trip around his hometown if he so desired.
While former Bachelor farmer Chris Soules caucused in a corn field, our current Bachelor in Chief, Ben Higgins, was headed to Mexico where presidents are elected via wet t-shirt contest at Señor Frog’s. After exploring the local sites at exotic locations like a Spanish classroom and a grocery market, Ben would clear the field of wifely candidates from 11 to a more manageable single digit. He’ll be able to count all of his girlfriends on only two hands now, so let’s clap as that glass ceiling shatters.
There was a hot tub sitting in the middle of an empty field. In what world is that romantic and can you promise I never have to live in it? Ladies, if a man takes you to a hot tub in the middle of nowhere in real life, he is going to murder you.