Tag Archives: MTV

Sometimes they are ukulele players

26 May

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Catfish Season Three is now upon us. Yeah yeah yeah. I have a lot to say about it. But this is just a quick comment for starters. An appetiser, if you will.

Tonight saw Nev and Max investigate yet another “rapper”, who was in an online relationship with an “instafamous” girl from Dallas. Sh** got real.

As we all know, “rapper” sends alarm bells ringing as Nev and Max have been stung by their type before. Chances are, dude ain’t a big time music success story.

But you won’t get any spoilers here. Promise.

I did, however, just want to pick up on a comment that Max makes. “Always rappers. It’s never a ukulele player.”

Oh Max! And you were my favourite!

In my case it was a fricking ukulele-playing-wannabe-hipster-lying-assholey kinda musician.

And, no, he didn’t pretend to be someone else. He just pretended to be in love with me. He used to sing me love songs while playing that f***ing ukulele.

When he went to work in New York last summer I actually bought myself a ukulele and downloaded a bunch of apps to learn to play. I was going to surprise him. I know. I’m cringing too.

But, of course, he had a bigger surprise for me. The pizza of doom.

I’d smash that ukulele over his f***ing head. Hard.

So, Max, yes – just sometimes – they are ukulele players.

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Gossip

28 Apr

I love gossip.

There’s something about my brain. It’s just wired a certain way which means it’s fascinated with the lives of others. Hence my love affair with Teen Mom and everything else MTV has to offer me. Hence my utter devastation when I realised that The Hills was not real. Hence my excitement re people who I work with getting it on.

I’ve had my fair share of office romances over the years. Well, two to be precise. Right now I have to work with a client who I dated seven years ago. That ain’t much fun either. But the gossip I heard today about some of my colleagues is absolutely scandalous. And not exactly romantical either. The kind of scandal that I would just never create on my own. I mean, I can’t hold my drink anyway. But even if I downed a brewery full of beer, there are certain things I’m simply not capable of.

Like the thing I heard about today.

Eeeeeeeek.

Yes, there are occasions when I see through the breakup fog and get a glimpse into the lives of others. And think, “Holy f***. I’m glad that’s not me.”

Immaturity

11 Apr

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I’m allowing myself an hour of coffee and Teen Mom 3 before I do more work, before I leave for the airport, before I do more work, before I get on my flight to New York… to do more work.

It is unbelievable how connected I feel to the stories of these girls. OK, I don’t have a kid. And I’m not a fallen-from-grace cheerleader. But I’ve been let down by the person I thought loved me most. Sure, it was months ago now that it all culminated in the great pizza-eating, heart-breaking extravaganza of August 3rd, but it still hurts. And I think that’s OK, you know. I didn’t doubt that we were going to be together, get married, have babies. He constantly talked about these things. He did – not I. So as far as my head and my heart were concerned, I might as well already have that future because it was so, so real to me.

When I see the boys on this TV show act like such a**holes, it makes me mad. Falling out of love with people. Not knowing what they want. Needing space. Breaking up with the mother of their kid and then getting together with someone else three days later. But you kind of forgive them. Because they are 16 or 17-years-old. They’re just kids. They’re immature.

The question is whether they’re going to change as they get older, or whether it’s the fact they are men (or boys) that is the problem.

My ex was immature as f***. I was his first girlfriend (he was 30 when we met). Within weeks I was the “love of his life”, his “soul mate”, he had spent “his whole life looking for me”. At the time I liked hearing all these things. Now I know how the story ends, I think he was reckless and stupid and incredibly immature. How can you tell someone you are never going to leave them and then eat half a pizza and leave them? How can you then tell that person (me, I mean me) that they should feel lucky to have been in such an amazing relationship that was 99.9% perfect? The worst bit is, he thinks he is very mature – a sophisticated businessman/hipster. He is neither of these things. Well, he does business and stuff, but that’s about it.

For the sake of Mackenzie, Alex, Katie and Brianna (who is more beautiful than Halle Berry), I hope the men in their lives mature as time goes on. Because they’re stuck with these a**holes until those babies grow up. At least I’m free to try and find someone with a mental age of at least 25.

I got this

8 Oct

I’m a big fan of the TV show Catfish. My ex and I used to watch it together. In fact, when we spoke after the break up I told him I felt like I’d been Catfished. I knew that would hurt. I still do feel like I’ve been Catfished, to be honest.

For anyone who isn’t obsessed with MTV, Catfish is a TV show where people involved in online relationships track down their other online half with the help of Nev and Max (very attractive individuals who are also social media detectives). So far in every episode but one, the person at the other end of email has turned out to be someone quite different from who they said they were.

Anyway, this week’s episode was pretty damn emotional.

The dude was involved (online) with a very hot girl. They had been chatting for three and a half years and were in love. But – here’s the twist – hot girl turned out to be an overweight lady who’d been in a car accident and was left with a glass eye. Very sad stuff.

The dude flipped out and didn’t really want anything to do with her.

But Nev and Max (who I am really quite in love with myself) went back to talk to her and find out why she became a Catfish. This poor girl talked through the past four years of her life. How she had to leave high school because she had so many surgeries, how she put on 130 lbs through medication, how she lost her eye, how her boyfriend at the time broke up with her, and how she set up a fake online profile and starting talking to this guy. How his love got her through everything.

This turned out to be one of the most inspiring things I’ve ever seen on MTV. After talking through her whole story – which totally had me in tears – she smiled and said, “You know what? I got this. I’m going to be OK.”

Well, my blogger buddies, after seeing him yesterday unexpectedly through the bus window, I’ve been thinking about him a lot today. And stressing about work. And dealing with this awful cold. I saw my counsellor tonight, which was great timing because that sinking feeling was really kicking in again.

But, you know what? I got this.

Waking up alone

28 Sep

I’ve always been a morning person.

One of my favourite things is getting up early on the weekends, sitting on my sofa drinking coffee and looking out the window (I have a pretty great view in London terms, i.e. I have a view). I love the feeling that most people are still sleeping and I have this little bit of London almost to myself for a couple of hours.

When I was with my ex, I spent most weekends at his house. I would wake up super early and have to entertain myself for hours. He is not a morning person. I would read, wander downstairs, watch TV, make myself coffee. He has a fabulous house. But he does not have a fabulous view.

When we were in New York, I would get up and go out on my own. Walk along Battery Park, find a deli and eat a bagel, take a stroll around Sephora. I would get back to the apartment, sure that he would be awake and wondering what had happened to me, and he would still be in bed. The TV didn’t even work properly so I couldn’t watch MTV. Disaster.

Here’s something, I have my weekend morning time back.

But what would I really prefer? I loved waking up next to him. I loved reading in bed while he snored. I loved when he would finally wake up and wrestle my book out of my hands so he could kiss me. And, yes, I loved weekend morning sex. A lot.

So here’s what I’m telling myself: one day I am going to meet someone who I want to spend the rest of my life with, and – wait for it – he will want to spend the rest of his life with me too. For thousands and thousands of mornings, I’ll be waking up with someone. Might as well make the most of these quiet hours that I get to myself now.

Coffee. Crispy, autumnal view of East London. Teen Mom 2. Not a bad way to start the day, really.