Molly Pennington

Based On Her Persona, If Corinne Were A Man, She'd Be The Next POTUS

I drank caffeine, ate candy, ignored What to Expect While You're Expecting — and nothing bad happened.

The Bachelor seduces us because of its titillating alignment with larger American culture. We wouldn't have predicted we'd find anything meaningful in reality television and yet, now that a reality star is set to helm the country, we know we must've missed some bigger connection somewhere along the way.

Josephine sang us out on Episode 3 with a self-styled show tune she performed for Nick.

Ten days after my first due date came and went, I looked in the mirror, screamed, and basically died. Overnight, my stomach and hips had become covered in cherry-pink stretch marks, veining out as if my entire torso had fractured.

Your hometown is not just some rando locale where you grew up. It's your entire identity, basically. It's the setting for your self-made reality: "This is who I am," chirps Raven. That's why Nick just goes with "Milwaukee" instead of saying godforsaken "Waukesha" when the cops grill him about where he's from. Because Nick is someplace you've heard of. We go muddin,' go to church, go shopping, and go to school with the four remaining bachelorettes on the ever-illuminating Hometown dates.

Time for "The Women Tell All" Which Usually Gets Its Own Episode, But Whatever, ABC, Let's Do This. This is actually a Corinne Rally. And it's pretty terrifying to see "Make America Corinne Again" hats and T-shirts and a bunch of "I LOVE RAQUEL" signs because . . . a reality show star is actually president right now. Remember? This is how it starts! And we don't need a bunch of additional political angst right now. Because if Corinne decides to run, you know they'll vote for her.

Nick's Heart: Is it Even Real?

Nick seems most happy when scampering tipsy across the sand. 

I've been checking out Flex Form technology and Radiant designs where I can get Aztec stripes on my tampon wrappers. But what I really need to know is if there is an overnight pad that doesn't have freaking wings attached to it. I hate wings. These flypaper-level stickiness, rip-the-color-off-your-undies flaps should not be called wings.

This teensy little Bachelor episode is only an hour long, but it's one enormous, platinum vagine tease from start to finish.