I beg your pardon, MTV, but if you’re going to try and convince me for one second that this chick isn’t Loyda from one of the past episodes we’re going to have some big problems. Either way, let the recap begin. Meet Ashley. She’s 20 years old. Gulp. And she, my friends, is quite possibly the first Catfish who’s looking to pull the gotcha gotcha on herself. Ashley is from the part of Georgia that I’m pretty sure still thinks there is a civil war going on and probably does old-timey reenactments on the regular. As a side note, I have yet to find the proof (i.e., the receipts) that the civil was is, in fact, over. I shall ring up Mary Todd Lincoln and ask her what that status of the war is and if she has theater plans any time in the near future as I’d love to see non-Hollywood perform some form of a skit that ends with a bang. Either way, here’s the pickle with Ashley. She met “Mike” in a chatroom 7 years ago when she was 13 years old Safe. At 13 I don’t think you can consider it a “chatroom” as much as a “floating rape tank.” You want to know what I was doing when I was 13 years old? Asking Santa when my ding-dong was going to grow and possibly sprout a downstairs afro. I mean. What. However, Ashley was busy chatting it up for 7 years with Mike, but the one thing is that with every picture she sent to him she photoshopped it so that all of her fat could just fly right off and, well, now she’s scared that Mike won’t love her for the “real her.” The “real her” by the way is fuptastic.
Now I’m not so sure why Ashley is freaked the F out about meeting him and showing him her “weight.” I mean, it’s been 7 years. Any chance you could have squeezed in a diet here and there and then, presto chango, no “lies” were had. I’m not trying to be mean and I know losing weight is a pain the b*tch wagon, but there are alternatives. These alternatives, of course, include things like “eat the toothbrush” and other fun games like “lick the escalator railing in hopes of the flu!” That always is a great jump start to any weight loss plan. Regardless and irregardless all at the same time, Ashley didn’t lose the weight, but she did sadly lose her dad a year ago. And, to top things off, she found out she was adopted, but the only thing the she knows about her birth mother was that she, too, was overweight. Score. Ashley, sweet-cakes, are you listening to me? I have a surprise for you. I found your birth mom. I know, who knew I would be able to help you with this? Her birth mom is, of course, Selena’s killer. I mean the resemblance is uncanny. I swear if Ashley just lost the weight and then braided her hair into a rat tail she’s be singing “bidi bidi bom bom” until the gun when off. I mean, people don’t assassinate like they used to. That’s a good thing. Saved it!
The other issue that is getting Nev and Max all into a sissy-fit is that Mike has only sent Ashley three pictures of himself and has done so only in the past year. So she was basically talking to a ghost for 6 years. This all sounds normal. When Mike finally sent his pictures over they were these nasty body builder pictures with a thick brown tan and bleach blond hair. Basically it was every picture in a barber shop hanging on the wall in the mid 80’s. My guess is that he’s an 80 year old barber who just scanned in the old photos. I’m going on record, folks. Ashley is all “Ohh la la” when she looks at them and you can even see beads of sweat forming in her chest tattoo cleavage. So many things were wrong with that last sentence. Nev and Max let Ash (bye bye ashy) know that the pictures that Mike sent are most likely not really him and that we have a case of a “double catfish.” You know Ashley totally heard “double cheeseburger” when he said that. Moreover, what’s with the sign above the stove that just says “Cheese.” I mean, there’s part of your probably right there. When your home decor is just pictures of food words, you know you’re suffering from a case of “the fats.” Either way, Ashley is the Catfish in this situation and Mike is most likely the Catfish too. Obviously the 3rd unspoken Catfish in this episode is Nev’s unruly chest hair. Don’t eat whilst watching this show, is a good general rule of thumb.
After about 11 seconds of “investigation” they find a “real” picture of Mike and they describe him as “satanic looking.” Now there’s an endorsement. I’m not sure what was wrong with me because I totally missed the fact that in the picture he had a box over his head and I actually thought he was missing arms. So, well, there’s that. But then I was, oh wait how does he text her? Then I realized that maybe he did have arms. Then I got real deep and was all, “Maybe we all have arms.” The More You Know. Somehow through the pointless investigation that was probably already uncovered during pre-production, they get the phone number of Mike’s sister and let me tell you she is quite the ball of energy. However, since she was from New Jersey I just assumed she was hungover or drowsy from a little too much Plan B. All she kept saying was, “My brother is very private.” Like, private enough to go on national television? Because, uh yeah, no one on this show seems to know the actual definition of private. And she won’t answer the question about what kind of shape her brother is in. It’s like, keep it in your pants Nev!
They bring this info back to Ashley and she’s a bit nervous. To my surprise she was still nervous even when Nev was explaining the picture of Mike with a box on his head. It’s like, relax his head isn’t an actual box. After a brief and awkward chat with Mike via the telephone he finally decides to allow them to all vacation in sunny Jersey for a few days so they can meet. I think I lost track of time or fell asleep for a spell because I don’t remember much of anything else happening and when I started to focus again all I could see was Nev answering the door in a quilted apron and then ironing shirtless. I immediately closed the laptop over my head in hopes that Jesus would come and get me so I can be done with all of this. Alas, I am still here but do have a nice keyboard print on my forehead.
After a night of parting at “da club” in NYC for reasons that don’t make sense to me they all go back to Jersey the next day to meet Mike. For some reason I’m not nervous this time, although right before they rang the doorbell I did yell out my final guess, “It’s the dead adopted dad!” However, it wasn’t. Ding dong….and enter Mike…the dude from the picture with the box on his head. He’s a little on the morbidly obese size and his teeth are rivaling Max’s for “smokers yellow.” Ashley keeps hugging him and saying how nervous he is. You know he had to be completely nervous because he didn’t even notice that Ashley was 3 times the size of her pictures. Hashtag, love. Everything seems to be going well and they’re chatting up a faux-storm when suddenly Mike mentions that he wants to start a relationship and have Ashley meet his parents. Then there is just about a minute of awkward silence. Max brings Ashley outside and she admits that she isn’t attracted to him, doesn’t have feelings for him, and is disappointed that he is so big. Hi Pot? Yeah, meet Kettle. You two will have a lot to talk about.
In the end, we’re forced to basically watch a Catfish breakup. It’s actually sad. I felt a little bad for Mike because he was totally putting all his money on Red 9 with Ashley and she can’t seem to figure out why she, a morbidly obese person, is not attracted to another morbidly obese person. Max seems to think it’s because Ashley needs to learn to love herself first and, well, that’s the story she sticks to when basically telling Mike that she won’t be seeing him anymore. So do 2 Catfish’s cancel each other out? I’m not good with “the math.” However, things take a turn “a month later” when Nev and Max video chat with Ashley and she says that she’s not afraid to go out anymore and officially booked her trip to go and see Mike to give him a second chance. Say what? Either way, can’t Lap-Band just fix all this and they can live happily ever after? Now I know you are all going to have a lot to say about Ashley so, well, have at it.
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