"The Bachelor" Casting Session FAIL.

I know.
It's Tuesday.

If you've come here today looking for The Bachelorette Recap and are disappointed not to see it because 

1.) it is becoming your educational and intellectual reading for the week (suck it, AOL) and 

2.) because now you have to actually go back to work, I apologize. 

I'm gonna be honest, I haven't even watched it yet. *Hangs head in shame*. 

I'm actually "out of the office" (so to speak) until Wednesday, but don't despair! I promise not to leave you hanging and will get it posted later in the week (Thursday). 

I mean, seriously, after last week we have to find out if Ben's intentions are honest or if he's really just a Courtney in sheep's adorably lonely single dad's clothing.  

But never fear, my Bachelor lovin' fans!

I do have a story for you.

Remember last week when I told you I was going to creep on The Bachelor casting session here in Minneapolis in hopes of either getting some of the skanks candidates to give me a video interview (which I had every intention of editing to make them look like the fools that they are) or at the very least talking with some of them to find out more about the casting process?

Remember how I thought it might very well turn out to be one of the most exciting nights of my life (shut up) and how I had premonitions of my vlog post going viral and Chris Harrison inviting me to the taping of "After The Final Rose" and getting to interview Des and Ben Brandon Zak Brooks? 

Oh, wait.

Perhaps that was all in my head.

Nevertheless, here's how it all unfolded.

The fact that this story is coming five days after the fact, that there is no video embedded in this post and that it's taken me this long to smile again should clue you in to what I'm about to tell you.  

You guys, I was fully expecting a casting session for The Bachelor to draw American Idol type crowds. 

Okay, maybe not quite that many people, but certainly enough to fill a Marriott parking lot with maybe a line that stretched 100 yards or so around the block.

I'm really not kidding -- on our way there we were running late and I said to my 17 year old (who was driving me in case I decided to have a couple of drinks to loosen up; it's no secret that I'm much more clever and even chattier than usual when I've had a couple of drinks, and that I won't drive after I've had only one), "Crap! I bet we won't find a parking place!" 

And then, "Okay, here's our plan. We're going straight to the bar (where most of my best plans begin) to get the scoop and mingle with all the people there, but I'm sure it's gonna be packed so stick close to me." 

And then we arrived.

17 year old, observing the empty parking lot: "Um, are you sure this is the right place?"

Me, starting to feel my rose losing petals as fast as The Beast's: "Maybe everyone is coming after work?"

Everyone wasn't coming after work.

The place was empty.

I have to give the Marriott props for setting up a reception area for the candidates with a bar and couches and tables to fill out the questionnaires, but other than a few (literally three) girls in various displays of Bachelor-type attire (i.e., tight, colorful dresses and 5" heels, extensions in loose waves), Thing 1 and I were the only ones in the joint. 

And even though I was rocking my skinny jeans and Barbie shoes and she was looking tough(ly adorable) in her black leather bomber jacket, we weren't fooling anybody. 

Next scene: The bar. The empty bar. 

Still trying to convince myself the place would get hopping any minute, I hustled to the bar to order us some drinks...and chat up the bartender*.

He was useless. 

Nice guy, but useless.

But he made a damn fine Cosmo, so I'll excuse him for that.

*Lesson I then told my 17 year old -- "If you remember nothing else I tell you, remember this -- Always chat up the bartender, especially if they're nice. They have the best information."

Enter my girlfriend Paula, looking Bachelor ready. 

She'll have what I'm having.

We're drinking fancy drinks and ready for the action to start! 

I'm showing off my "credentials" -- quotes because I have no real credentials.
It's just my YMFT business card. 

crickets.

crickets.

A few girls filtered in and sat on the couches filling out the questionnaires, and we observed. And by "observed", I, of course, mean we unleashed our inner mean girls and threw our stones from the safety of our glass house (or behind some Marriott bar windows). 

Sound bites: 

(I will not divulge who said what, but your options are me, Paula, Thing 1 OR my faithful Bachelor watching sidekick (aka - Husband) who showed up just in time for the second round)

"Well, those are ugly-ass shoes."

"Did you see her butt? That's not a Bachelor Butt. It's a double-butt."

"Even vet-techs need love, too."

"She looks like she just came from her job at Ulta."

"Not a chance, sister."

"Right, because leggings and flats just scream 'Bachelor.'"

"Oh, look -- there goes 'double-butt' again."

"Did you see her shoes? No, really. Close your eyes. Can you still see her shoes?"

"Oooh! She's good! She's so 'Bachelor'!"

"Ponytail? Really? Has she seen 'The Bachelor'?"

And in our defense, we felt completely justified in hurling our mean-girl insults -- in heavily whispered voices while leaning in close to each other so the other invisible people in the bar couldn't hear what we were saying, of course. We figured if they're willing to put themselves out there, they're opening their own can of worms. Game on. 

After about 30 minutes and three orders of Truffle Fries, I started to disappoint Husband (since we've been married just shy of 20 years, it's really about time). He kept pestering me to go out and sit next to one of the five girls prepping for their interviews and chat them up (with video camera rolling). The 50 video release forms he'd written after advising with his firm's attorney that were all ready to go in his briefcase had nothing to do with it, I'm sure.

But here's what I told him and what I'll tell you. 

The fact that I have 20 years and maybe as many pounds on these girls is of no matter to me. Popular girls scare me. Always have...always will. I flew under the radar in high school, and have spent my adulthood doing the same. If the candidates were guys (like I'd thought they would be) I'd totally do it (which is hilarious and a little perplexing because not only did I fly under the radar from the popular girls back in the day - and in the current day - I had no clue how to do the whole flirting thing, either). 

But all the candidates -- all 15 of them -- were girls. 

And there was no way I was messing with the bitches. 

But I did decide to go talk to the girls at the registration table and get the scoop (after downing my second Cosmo).

Here's what I learned:

The candidates fill out a four-page questionnaire. (Which I saw. Lame questions. And why the producers need to know if you've ever filed for Chapter 11 is beyond me. Seems like, "What's your favorite STD?" would be a more pertinent -- and interesting -- question.)

They get their picture taken -- up against a Marriott wall. 

They go into a room and someone asks them five questions, like, "Have you ever been married?" (bo-ring. See above: 'STD' question).

And that's it.

I figured for sure there'd be swimsuit competitions and contests to see how much Chardonnay they could drink before either passing out or making a 'boyfriend scrapbook' with all the words cut out of magazines. 

And then they asked me if I'd like to go through the process.

Uh....YEAH!

And then they noticed my wedding ring.

And then I was denied.

So I did the only thing I could do in the situation.

I offered up my 17 year old daughter. 

Unfortunately, there were some words about "jail bait" and "legal issues" so she couldn't do it, either. 

And, you guys, sadly, that's really about it.

I wish I had a more exciting story to tell you.

I wish I had video to show you where I'd asked the boneheaded (male) candidates these questions:

Will you have a safe-word ready for the fantasy suite?

If selected, how many condoms will you bring with you?

What is the furthest base you'll go to at a cocktail party?

If you make it to the fantasy suite dates and you get to go first, what kind of mark will you leave on the Bachelorette to make sure the other two know you've been there? 

Bachelor #1 Alex Michel puked mid-helicopter flight. If that happens to you, will you still use tongue?

I'm sorry that Minnesota is the lamest Bachelor watching state in the entire U.S. because of its poor showing at the casting session. The ABC employees told me that there actually are some cities who have American Idol sized crowds. 

Hold on. 

On second thought, I think Minnesota may actually be the most respectable state in the entire U.S. because of its poor showing at the casting session. 

Who's with me?? 

Click this box if you think I deserve a rose anyway.