OK, so this is a first for us here at the blog: We’re going to attempt to do a little live blogging. (I say “us” as if I have some sort of huge staff around here. … Wait a second. THAT. WAS. AWESOME. Best accidental TWSS ever.)
What exactly is live blogging, you ask? I have no idea. But for the purposes of this site we’re going to go with: updating the site with a running commentary in real time while watching the season finale of the most awesomely corny show on television.
Will it work? Will Brad pick Chantal? Will I spill my pina colada wine cooler on my laptop?
Tune into ABC and this very page at 8 p.m. and find out.
8:00 p.m.: BREAKING NEWS: Brad Womack is a cheddar log.
8:04 p.m.: My wife just noticed Brad is wearing the same color undershirt as his button up. Yeah. That’s the kind of hard-hitting shit we bring here.
8:06 p.m.: Chad and Brad? No f-ing way.
8:11 p.m.: I just crapped my pants when that doorbell went off because our seven-month-old is asleep and the dogs usually go bananas when that happens.
8:12 p.m.: What the hell is the lead singer of Rascal Flatts doing with Brad?
8:17 p.m.: Get a room ladies.
8:18 p.m.: I just farted.
8:20 p.m.: And now I just threw up when I saw that woman’s whitehead on the Clean & Clear commercial.
8:24 p.m.: Emily is easily West Virginia’s best export ever. So maybe Brad should pick her. But on the other hand: Boobs.
8:32 p.m.: How in the world are they going to milk this thing for another 90 minutes?
8:47 p.m.: Chantal is wearing a wet suit that would make a stripper blush.
8:50 p.m.: My wife just said, “those two look like dorks.” To which I replied: “Yeah, but they sit up really nice in that wet suit.”
9:07 p.m.: I really want to get Emily a hat. She’s killing me fixing her hair every six seconds in this wind. I also want to get Brad a ball gag because listening to him talk is painful.
9:18 p.m.: Brad makes a hostage at gunpoint seem calm and collected.
9:24 p.m.: Cue the cornball montage. And there’s my answer to the question posed at 8:32.
9:27 p.m.: I really wish the ring guy would ask at the end of his little presentation, “So, how are we going to be paying today?”
9:29 p.m.: And now we have the diary writing montage. Classic.
9:32 p.m.: Emily’s a confident little one wearing white to this rose ceremony.
9:33 p.m.: My wife just said it doesn’t matter who wins because he sent all the flat-chested girls home and, quote, “all big boobed girls look the same.”
9:40 p.m.: He’s picking Chantal!! Oh, no, that’s just his nose.
9:42 p.m.: I actually feel worse for Emily right now.
9:44 p.m.: I’m just waiting for Brad to say to Chantal, “Why are you crying?”
9:47 p.m.: My beagle just farted.
9:53 p.m.: Wait. Is it Chantel or Chantal?
9:57 p.m.: There’s got to be something better on.
9:59 p.m.: I would have killed for little Ricky to have run out and gone, “DON’T DO IT MOM!”
Well there you go. Our first live blog. For both of you out there who followed along, I sincerely thank you. And I’ll send those checks out tomorrow.