How Sweet

I have a confession that many of you will find shocking: I am a tiny bit of a television addict. It’s true, I enjoy little so much as flipping the channels and watching rubbish on whatever random channel strikes my fancy. I realize that most of you who picture me as a demure young lady who knits, reads, and goes out to do charity throughout the day may find this shocking. So I apologize for destroying your otherwise accurate image of me.

Now that we have the tough news out of the way, I have to share with you my two new favorite shows: My Super Sweet Sixteen and Busta Move, both on MTV. Hubby and I used to watch the former back in the Real World prior to our move to India so it should be familiar to many of you. For those of you who, like I used to be, are above such crassness as provided by MTV, I give you the best show about excess ever.

Sweet Sixteen is about kids with too much money and far too permissive parents who throw parties for their spoiled princesses and their friends to prove their love and sizable bank accounts. The formula always includes the pouty princess du jour demanding (and eventually receiving) an expensive BMW or Mercedes, admitting that she’s insane by believing that Eminem, Christina Aguilera, or some other famous person might actually appear at her party, repeatedly referring to herself in the third person, and finally throwing a party that she admits costs in excess of $100,000 USD (assuming her parents are cheap that is). A flight on her private jet to Paris to find the “perfect” dress and general behavior that would have any other child that age grounded and/or smacked are regular highlights.

Past favorites in the Typ0/Hubby household include Amberly, a sixteen year old with a bad boob job who brags within minutes of the opening credits that her skeezy looking estranged father is paying more than $300,000 to throw her party; Carlysia the hip hop princess who erroneously thinks she’s talented; and Priya and Divya, the Texan-Indian princesses who thought they were the queens of Texas with their hired elephant that felt “just like [her] Louis Vuitton bag.” I should note that there are guys who are featured on the show but they always manage to come off looking, if not worse than the girls, then at least somewhat sexually ambiguous.

Brooks Buford is the host of MTV UK’s Busta Move which allows its participants to share an important message with a friend or loved one through the medium of dance. I’m going to pause here and allow you to fully absorb the show’s premise – secrets are better when preceded by a really weird dance.

The first time we caught this show was a few weeks ago when a kid whose old fashioned, blue collar British father, who is also coach of his football (soccer) team, wants to ask his dad for more playing time by dancing with a bunch of cheerleaders in the middle of the game. Predictably, Dad refused to let his son play but was cheered by the thought that “at least he was dancing with girls.” Other classic episodes include the girl who hops in a pool for a synchronized swim to get back her ex-boyfriend, and a girl who comes out to her mum after a huge musical number including singing and background dancers on the streets of London.

If and when this show comes to the States I have no doubt it will be a cult classic. Between the “legendary” host who redefines camp and the losers who spill their guts after boogying down, this show begs to be watched by the Haters back home.

Again, I apologize for breaking the news to you Devoted Readers who only knew my do-gooding, lady-like, knitting self. It’s hard to believe that I would lower myself to watch non-educational programs, but alas it’s true. My name is Typ0 and I am a pretty, pretty princess who just wants to dance!