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Seventeen and Counting

Well, I hope you all had a nice week, even though I know that is completely impossible, because it was a week spent without Ali or any of her 17 suitors. I doubt any of you are taking Ali's search for love as seriously as I am, but don't worry! I have enough commitment to go around. I am so committed that I even watched the repeat show on Sunday (but mostly because now that Brothers & Sisters is on hiatus and my local church cancelled their evening services after God instructed the deacon to stay home and watch repeats of The Bachelorette, I have nothing better to do with my Sunday nights). I also made some flashcards with Ali's suitors' faces so I could keep all those presumably straight hunks straight. Then I checked out the DSM IV from the library and spent some time on the Mayo Clinic's website looking up the correct spelling and symptoms of all major STDs. I got an HPV shot just in case. Now I am prepared for Ali to start handing out some serious roses. In a strictly platonic sense, of course. Okay, fine, so long as she uses protection she can do whatever she wants. Except with that guy with lockjaw, because that's just unhealthy. I'm ready. Are you? So let's get started following the Path to Love!

Mr. Chris Harrison, who truly has one of the oddest jobs in the world (I mean, for real, why isn't Mike Rowe calling him up?), calls all the hopeful men into the holding pen and announces the week's agenda. Frankly, Harrison doesn't look like he gives much of a shit anymore. He didn't even bother tucking in his shirt. He walks in, hollers at the gents, announces a few rules (no rose on a date? you go home), makes the cursory mention of Ali's future husband, stifles a laugh, chucks an envelope on the table, doesn't bother opening it and saunters off to go roll around in money and wait for the next round of cast-offs from The Bachelor to need comforting. On the agenda this week? First, backstabbing in the lounge, then light cuckolding poolside, followed up with a group date, and two single dates. The evening will wrap up with some undermining on the patio and perhaps some first-base action for one (or two! Heck, three!) lucky gents. Completely removing The Bachelorette from the clumsy and challenging prospect of choosing her own one-on-one date, the men open the envelope Harrison chucked at 'em and reveal that the card has Frank's name on it. Frank greets this unexpected event with an ear piercing chorus of "Yeah, baby!" and a round of high-fives from the less fortunate Johns and Seans and Juans in the crowd. He then reminds us that he is here for the right reasons, just in case we thought he was here to get out of his parents' basement for a stretch.

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