I watched just fifteen seconds of The Bachelor and it told me all that I need to know about women, television, and roses.  

A little orange-hued girl named Lacey, all done up in a prom dress plucked from the sale rack at Strawberry, greeted her if-she-plays-her-cards-right-and-maybe-drop-the-dress Latin Lover with a prescription bottle filled with Red Hots…because meeting twenty-seven women is enough to give a man a headache. Oh, ha! Women, amirite? I weep for humanity.

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