Toot, toot! All aboard the crazy train! Your conductor this evening will be Clare Crawley from Juan Pablo's season of The Bachelor. This broad has rubbed me the wrong way since day one. She is everything I despise about being a young, single gal and here's an open letter to tell her why...
1.
Your name: Where's the "i" in your name, Clare? Did it disappear,
along with your dignity, when you stayed on the show after JP pretty much told
you (in broken English) that you were only a booty call? That's what I'm going
to assume. And from now on I'm putting an "i" in your name because
you're annoying enough without it. And anyways, Cla(i)re is a fat girl’s
name. Just ask Judd Nelson.
#breakfastclubreference
2.
You showed up fake pregnant: You sure did come out of that limo with a bang
didn’t you? Pun intended. The first night of the Bachelor is just like a first
date in real life, Cla(ire). You can’t just show up the first time you meet a
guy with a fake belly being fake pregnant because Cla(i)re, that is not normal. Even on national television compared to
someone else who shows up playing a piano bike. Still not normal. Author’s
note: Although, Juan Pabs kept you around until the finale so maybe I’ll try
this on my next OkCupid date.
#firstdatefakepregz
3. Your
smug attitude: After your little escapade in the ocean, you skipped back to the
Bachelor house and coyly made a cheers at the cocktail hour before the rose
ceremony to “making love.” You thought you were so smart, escaping to a boy’s
house in the middle of the night and getting back into bed before anyone
noticed. Guess who does that, Cla(i)re? Thirteen year old girls. Thirteen year old slutty girls. #soaknpokefail
4.
Your over accessorized finale ensemble: Chunky earrings with a rhinestone
embellishment on the single strap of your evening gown is not the
business. Sort of like how many
times you talked about your dead father’s DVD, which none of us got to see and
was like when you read a book and they keep talking about a character who ends
up having no relevance to the ending at all and I wonder why the author even
bothered to waste my time. It’s just too much. That’s you, Cla(i)re. That’s
you. #simileinception
5.
Your “honesty”: Yeah, Juan Pablo’s
a dick. We all get it. But you can’t go from zero to sixty in 2.8 seconds. You tell Juan Pabs “Hey dude. I like
love you and wanna be with you and I’m really nervous and my earrings are
really heavy but it’s worth it to me because you’re like my person and you know
where Sacramento is and I can’t wait for you to give me that free Neil Lane
ring because like I love you and like I’m part Mexican but I don’t know Spanish
so I’d get along with your family and like, Camilla gave me a high five so
where’s the ring bitch?” then he tells you, “Yo homegirl, I’m just not that
into you” and you’re like, “Fuck you, Juan Pabs. Don’t you try to hug me and
ask me to assept your forgiveness after I told you I would have your babies in
one year and two months and met your family and banged you in the ocean when
you were dating 25 other girls who were asleep 100 yards away you lying,
cheating bastard!” So there’s that.
#secondisthefirstplaceloser
And
that, Cla(i)re, is why you are the fucking worst.
P.S.
I’m back, bitches.
