Helsinki Syndrome

Some seasons you’re on top of the world, the cock of the walk. You’re out there grinding, from the backrooms to the bars, rubbing elbows with everyone from the highest of highrollers to the lowliest of lowlifes. It doesn’t matter if they’re fronting a couple stacks of high society or they’ve barely got a sawbuck to their name; they’ve taken their chances on the boards and you’ve put them in the books, just waiting for that final rose to be accepted so you can figure out how much of that couple mil’ you’re sitting on is going to clear.

This ain’t one of those seasons.

No, this is one of those times where all colloquialisms would indicate that I was on the receiving end of a night in the Fantasy Suite with Chris Harrison and Jimmy Kimmel – and that I’m certainly not emerging in the morning to film a montage implying I got my jollies.

(Which, side note, this bookie ain’t buying about Raven for a second. She was pretty clear on her stance that she’d never had an orgasm in her life prior to her night in the Basically Public Sex Room, and clips of her playing in the snow the morning after aren’t going to make me believe that fact has changed – especially when she hasn’t specifically stated it. And, for what it’s worth, doll, you don’t need a man – or anyone else for that matter – to help in that department. Allow me to paraphrase at least one ancient Greek sage when I say: [wo]man, know thyself.)

But even the blindest of squirrels can occasionally find a nut. On a season where Jimmy the Geek robbed me of a regularly-scheduled Bachelorette announcement, Chris Harrison robbed America of a watchable Bachelor, and I robbed myself of credibility by stating in print that Danielle M. was a front-runner and that Corinne/Taylor getting eliminated on the same two-on-one was a done deal, “Women Tell All” was a night of redemption for ol’ Clint Jackson.

If you look at the lines, they speak for themselves. Corinne and Taylor were at each other’s throats shortly after the opening gun, Liz was a huge payout on both first in the chair and first to cry, the shark costume certainly qualifies as Alexis’ shark-themed gift, Rachel was our eliminated guest of honor, and the final tally for “nanny” mentions was 9, making holders of both the under and over sweat bullets until the credits rolled. I’m not usually one to toot my own horn, but: beep beep.

So it was a good week financially speaking, which has been hard to come by in the era of Nick. Thankfully there’s only one more episode left in his tyranny of terror, but that doesn’t mean things’ll magically reset for your friendly neighborhood reality bookie. The Geek and Harrison put me in a sizable hole this time around and they’re anxiously waiting to start piling on the dirt. They caught me flat-footed out of the gate, but even if they hit the ground running next season I plan on already being one step ahead of them. All I need is an ally – and I think I know just the guy.

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