We need to talk about our spirit animal, Victoria Lima. After watching her drunken meltdown several times thanks to the power of our DVR, we've come to the conclusion that she's secretly a Bachelor super-fan who pretended to be normal long enough to finagle her way into auditions. We're willing to bet, like, five bottles of Envolve that Victoria has a macaroni shrine to Chris Harrison in her home, as well as an underground vault of Bachelor episodes on VHS. Which is great, because it means we’re not the only ones.

Clearly, the stress of being around El Bachelor's pulsating pectorals and dreamy Spanish accent was just too much for this mere plebeian to handle, her fangirling got the best of her, and she dived headfirst into a giant vat of Franzia. We've all been there. In fact, we go there every Monday night.

Victoria's descent into hot messiness was quick — one moment she was frolicking around in a bikini with a bunch of puppies (fulfilling Juan Pablo Galavis' most sinister fantasies while doing so), and the next she was talking about the medical mystery that is Juan Pablo's hymen, and the maneuver she was gonna give it. Of course, the real clincher was when she switched from calling Juan Pablo her boyfriend (quote: "Juan Pablo is my boyfriend") to being curled up next to a toilet seat screaming, "I HOPE HE DIES."

It was kind of like watching a documentary about every imaginary relationship we've ever been in with ABC's crop of Bachelors. The only thing that would have made it a more accurate representation of our lives is if Victoria had ended the night by collapsing into a pile of pizza and and been all, "JUST LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE."

Ugh, it's times like these that we rue the day Bachelor Pad was cancelled. If anyone was born to swim around in the tepid fungal-infested waters of Bachelor Mansion, it's this girl.