Thursday, July 08, 2004

The Self-Help Stud

Hello my peeps. I’m sure y’all are wondering where Julio is. Well, he’s, erm, well, okay he’s headed off to Hollywood to try and break into the movies. I told him it was a waste of time but he said with the state of the British film industry he has a better chance of getting struck by lightning on the same day as winning the lotto than he has of making it in the UK. I'm sure y'all wish him well.

To those of u who only watch MTV here’s a synopsis of what’s happened since I last blogged: John Kerry’s chosen John Edwards as his running mate in the forthcoming US Presidential election; Greece, yes Greece, are the kings of European soccer; Marlon Brando’s eaten his last hotdog – guess God made him an offer he couldn’t refuse (okay the last part was kinda naff).

The Olympics in Greece are kicking off in a few weeks. As usual the British team is in the papers talking on about how prepared they are for the challenge. Good, u say. But wait, what was on the back pages of the newspapers today? Click on the link
Olympian to see how ‘motivated’ some of them are. There was another picture that showed the same girl hugging another female athlete in such a position that their pelvises touched, but I couldn't find that online. Hmmm, this reminds me of a few years ago when a British female tennis sensation was profiled in a newspaper. I expected to read about her intense training regime and her plan for beating the Williamses. Nah, this girl talked about how she hopes to use her body to make more money than Anna Kournikiva. Needless to say she’s disappeared off the tennis radar since then. Instead of wasting her time on tennis she’da spent her childhood preening in front of the mirror and saving her wages from McD’s towards her imminent boob job. Can u imagine how huge (pun intended) she’d be now? She’da been Britain’s answer to Pamela Anderson-Lee-Rock-etc.

Okay, y’all remember I promised to expatiate on the advice I gave in the last blog? Well, here it is. These points have been gathered from my experiences. Read them and weep..or laugh….or do whatever u feel like doing. Here are Tunde’s extended tips on how to get over that broken-heart:

1. Don’t listen to music or watch TV. Don’t listen to the radio or play CDs or watch TV until u are sure u’ve moved on. Take it from me, as soon as u break up with someone u really cherish everything reminds u of that person. At that time I couldn’t fathom how Bryan McKnight and Babyface knew what I was going through. Lionel Richie must have also had an inkling about my feelings, and so did Ozzy Osbourne, Metallica, Ice Cube, MC Hammer, etc. Catch my drift? EVERYTHING, even those crap ass elevator music, reminds u of ur ex.
2. Take time to move on. It’s no competition, although sometimes u may feel like it is. Here’s a myth that needs to be destroyed: there’s no such thing as THE ONE. The One is whomever u end up with. Accept it. I’m giving y’all valuable advice here. Next time, u guys are gonna have to fork out mucha dinero for my book. Even if u move on b4 ur ex don’t rub it in her face by taking an ad out in the local paper telling everyone about how much finer ur new girl is. Stuff like that could come back and bite u in the arse. Some guy did this and everyone later found out his new ‘girl’ was actually a ladyboy from Thailand on a student exchange.
3. Get a decent shoulder to cry on. After I broke up with this girl I was still sullen after 2 weeks. And that was a record for me ‘cos I usually ‘move on’ with the crack of dawn. Anyways I decided the best way to move on was to sleep with as many random strangers as possible. B4 y’all look down on me I’d let y’all know that there were mitigating circumstances. U see, the nite the girl and I “officially” called it off I called my best mate Mohammed and told him about it. He showed up to mine about an hour later (as I was torturing myself with the new Babyface album) and the following conversation ensued:

Mohammed: “How u doing?”
Tunde: “Man, it’s over. I knew I shoulda ended it ages ago like I wanted to and not listened to u.”
Mohammed: “Take it easy. U know these things happen. U are a man.”
Tunde: “U don’t say. I try to tell u I’m hurting and the best u can do is affirm what I’ve known since I was born. Of course I’m a man! I took a piss just b4 u came here and I didn’t have to crouch to do so; I looked in a mirror afterwards and my facial hair kinda confirmed my masculinity also. Is that the best advice u got?! Man, I wish I were a girl right now. That way I can be sure my girlfriends would offer me some tissue, tell me how beautiful I am and we’d splurge on ice-cream and listen to Alanis Morrisette CDs.”
Mohammed: “Forget this. Let’s go out. Maybe what u need is some new arse.”

So we went out and I got off with some random girl who was, erm, kinda big boned. Okay, okay, she was at least twice my size. Sure, go ahead, laugh. U wanna tell me y’all have not done worse? Anyways, she takes me back to her’s and I spend the night, but nada happened. Honestly, nada happened, I couldn’t bring myself to do stuff. As it turns out she shared a house with 3 drop-dead gorgeous girls – which is a reversal of the norm where good-looking girls always surround themselves with way uglier ‘friends’ (aka slaves). Always wondered if they did this to make themselves feel better when they have bad hair days or a terrible case of acne. Here’s the kicker: one of the gorgeous housemates had always had a crush on me and assumed stuff had gone on with me and her friend since I’d spent the night. Let’s just say that I spent the rest of my time at university trying to convince this gorgeous girl that I didn’t have anything to do with her friend………she didn’t believe me though.
4. Channel ur aggression elsewhere. See point 2 above. Join the gym, join a travelling circus if u have to. The important thing is to find something to take ur mind off ur sorry-ass-nonexistent relationship.
5. Be honest with urself. See points 3 and 4 above. Nobody knows u better than urself…..except ur psychiatrist of course, but that’s a whole different blog. If u know junk food’s gonna provide temporary relief, go ahead and sign up for a position at ur local fast food franchise. If u act real desperate I’m sure they’ll agree to substitute ur wages for greasy food.

Okay people, now u know what to do and what not to do. I shall be looking forward to ur stories on how my methods have helped y’all - please attach a cheque made out to “The Self-Help Stud” when u do so. Tot ziens.

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