The Bachelorette season premiere: I object!

• ABC.com
• The stolen lamp is less bad than his hair.

There are certain things in life you never imagine you’ll have cause to complain about. Like not getting the shingles, that awful, burning herpes rash that plagues the elderly (and, if you’ve had the chicken pox, ALREADY LIVES INSIDE YOU). Or - speaking of burning herpes rashes - like an episode of The Bachelorette not being long enough. Never ever in all my days toiling on this hell planet did I think the Bachelor/Bachelorette, a franchise known for its grueling two-hour episodes, would leave me wanting more misery. Then last night’s hour and a half season premiere happened and it’s like, where the fuck are the home-town vignettes (online apparently)? How am I supposed to hate these guys if I barely know them? Still they found the time to squeeze in a psychotic infiltration of the Bach compound by some a-hole from Emily’s season. There’s roughly a 100 percent chance that scenario was manufactured, but that wouldn’t make me feel any more comfortable being left alone in a room with the guy.

Speaking of guys, let’s speak about guys!

Well, first, Andi. That’s sort of a guy’s name. Andi is a prosecutor from right here in Atlanta. She very much loves “putting away bad guys” - ooh, the black and white simplicity of it all - but not enough to not quit her job and be on TV instead. The point is, young ladies, your job is important, but not as important as finding a mate. But mostly it’s not as important as being on the cover of US Weekly a bunch of times.

Andi’s sister accompanies her to L.A. to pump up her ego a little, but gets the last laugh by not telling Andi that both of those evening gowns are the worst. “I don’t know what I did to deserve 25 men flying across the country to meet me,” Andi says. Of course the answer is literally nothing besides fly across the country to physically be there as well.

But they’re here and that’s all that matters, riiiiiiiiiiight?

I don’t know that I have anything to say about every single one of them, but let’s make fun of some of the more memorable ones.

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Marcus. Andi immediately likes Marcus because he’s hot. Then later he’s like, “PLUS I can speak Polish and German,” but, for real, all he can say in either language is that he doesn’t speak much Polish or German.

Chris. Chris is a farmer from Iowa and it’s easy to remember who he is because he looks like Matthew McConaughey except with less upper lip. Farm equipment accident probably. He is also a very close talker, but I’m not sure if that’s related.

J.J. JJ is a “pantsapreneur,” which might be the most gruesome example of portmanteau since “edutainment.” The point is he designs pants and wears bow ties. If you want to not hate him, you can take for what it’s worth that his third favorite movie is Wet Hot American Summer.

Marquel. Marquel introduces himself and seems a little uptight with all of the “miss” and “ma’am” business, but then he stages a cookie tasting exclusively to make a joke about black and white cookies and all of a sudden he’s a regular Jerry Seinfeld.

Tasos. I’m pretty sure he’s in high school and works at the Game Stop near my apartment. He’s “worldly” enough to know there’s a bridge in Paris to which people attach padlocks to represent everlasting love, but not worldly enough to know that he put he and Andi’s padlock on an open scroll in the iron work so someone can literally slip it right off. “A LOT of planning, A LOT of creativity.” He said that. About this own idea.

Cody. I mean, his hair is this, right?

Rudie. These were my discourteous Rudie notes: “Oh god, fuck Rudie. Fun attorney humor? GOD he fucking sucks.” Apparently Andi agreed. There is no such thing as fun attorney humor.

Jason. The saddest doctor in all the land. His hair tells a different story, but I’m not sure what story it is. But it has something to do with a little girl.

Nick V. First-impression rose guy. He has like 30 siblings, so that was probably the first time in his entire life he’s ever felt special.

Dylan. Is it just me or did Dylan’s hair get wetter as the evening progressed?

Emil. Emil. E-M-I-L. Like, Eh-meel? No. Just pronounce it like you’d pronounce rectal intercourse. That’s better.

Craig. This good-time Charlie gets my first-impression rose. He explodes out of the limo with a shaken-up bottle of champagne and fucking blows that shit everywhere because he’s a rockin’ fucking party animal who doesn’t play by the rules - but then he transforms into a squishy creature who squints a lot and likes hugs. He’s so weird and I love it.

Bradley. Runner up for my first-impression rose. Opera singers are so well represented on this program! He looks vaguely like Charlie Sheen but the difference is that if Bradley had his own show I would definitely watch it.

Nick S. Aw, look. He wore the same suit he wore to his eighth-grade dance.

Eric. I actually liked his Peruvian doll ice-breaker and I’m not just saying that for the reason you think I’m saying that. Seriously, though. Sad. He seems nice and handsome.

Patrick and Andrew. I’m giving these two a joint entry mostly because I wanted to see how their names will look together when we have the wedding invites printed up. I mean, these two fell fast and hard for one another! Andrew thinks Patrick dresses well. Patrick thinks Andrew is “more my caliber kind of guy.” Maybe they got confused when they heard they’d be competing for someone named “Andi”?

Josh M. A baseball player or a cyborg version of a baseball player created by a government entity that accidentally made something that’s just slightly too perfect in a way that’s disturbing. I mean, I don’t know.

In the end, no one got drunk enough and Andi sent home some people (especially ones with pretty lady hair) and kept way too many others. Let’s continue the journey with a full two-hour episode next week, shall weeeeeeeeeee.