Full House

I absolutely love the hit 90's series Full House. I was just flipping through channels and was intrigued by the show's info:

A widowed broadcaster raises his three children with the assistance of his rock 'n' roll brother-in-law and his madcap best friend. Starring John Stamos, Bob Saget, Dave Coulier and Candace Cameron-Bure.

I didn't want my obsession with Full House to ever rear its ugly head in the form of a blog rant, but here it goes.  (Side note: If you somehow had any respect for my maturity as a writer, please stop reading now. And, I've got to ask, please don't read my post where I pose as Ernest P. Worrell)

This show description is wrong on soooo many levels. Let's break it down from the top. "A widowed broadcaster". Really? This is all you got ATT U-Verse. Actually, I'd prefer to get to this later. Let's move on to the first of his two assistants, Jesse Catsopolis (previously known as Jesse Cochran). "Rock 'n roll". Really? Rock 'n roll? HE WAS IN A BAND THAT DIDN'T MAKE IT BIG UNTIL BARRY WILLIAMS BECAME THE SINGER. THAT'S RIGHT. BARRY WILLIAMS. IN WHAT ALTERNATE UNIVERSE CAN SOMEONE STRUGGLE AS THE LEAD MAN IN A BAND, QUIT, BE REPLACED IN THAT SAME BAND WITH GREG FUCKING BRADY (20 SOME-ODD YEARS AFTER HE WAS FAMOUS), AND THEN, AND ONLY THEN, DOES THE BAND BECOME BIG, AND YOU STILL GET CALLED "ROCK 'N ROLL". ATT U-Verse show information writer, sir, you have some huge balls.

Madcap. I don't even know what that means. Get that word out of my Full House show info's. Unless it means "gay" (not that there's anything wrong with that), "having hair like woman" or "of or relating to someone who is likely to molest children". In which case it would be accurate... I looked it up. It means "marked by recklessness, capriciousness or foolishness". "CUT. IT. OUT."

My final rant relates to Candace Cameron-Bure's name. I'd like to get a ruling on placing a married woman's new last name on the credits for a show during which she was not married. She was Candace Cameron at the taping of the show. Do we put the Bure? Do we care? No. We don't.

This has got to be one of the lamest rants I've ever done.  Is Full House finally irrelevant?

A dick-nosed single dad does something that one of his children does not particularly care for. They argue before the 21st minute of the show, have a talk, hug and love each other by the end of the episode. In the mean time, his brother in law with a mullet follows a similar pattern with a second child, only instead of "hug" they "impersonate Elvis". His best friend with a mullet, as expected, follows a similar pattern, only instead of "hug" or "impersonate Elvis" they "tell jokes and improperly touch each other". At some point, Mrs. Caruthers grabs the best friend's ass. Starring those two twins that become anorexic whores and some other idiots who have been seen coked-out on 6th street. Yah, that's right, I saw you John Stamos.

More Information

I have just been informed that I kicked a window at a convenient store because two black guys were staring at me while I was pissing on the side of said convenient store last Friday.

I guess this could explain my vague memory of me getting into a car and saying, "we gotta get the fuck out of here."

Addendum 1 to "The Shit Show" from 8/31/2009

On 8/31/2009, I wrote:

"Friday, somewhere around 5:30, Dave and Busters
I vaguely remember stumbling into Dave and Busters in broad daylight. We were either too drunk to get into the bowling party or didn't feel like it, but the next the I remember is order a beer or vodka on the rocks at the bar and playing pool. The pool playing was a lost cause for me. I decide to try to meet some women. I have this image of myself walking up to these 3 women playing pool at the other part of the pool room. I walk up and can barely speak. I vaguely remember possibly standing behind someone. I was told later that I was talking to them and began leaning forward, almost falling. I don't believe this, but it is what I was told. I remember going back up to the bar and ordering another drink. This time I was told that I can't be served. I asked them if it was because I was too drunk. I was told yes. I saunter off with slumped shoulders, what at the time I'm sure I felt was a "victimized" look. It was honest though. I honestly felt sorry for myself that I could be served here. I believe that looking back, I can remember a larger manager type walking up from a different room. This is what we call in the bizz, "backup". They figured these three shlubs that hobbled their mangey asses in here may cause a problem. I'm assuming there was some physical aggression taking place between F and myself because I remember discussing fighting several times and I have a bruised sternum as I type this. Something happened. I remember again walking up to the bar. This time the muscle was here. I attempt to order a drink. They again tell me no, and I remember remembering that they had "cut me off." I slump the shoulder and walk back to my friends. I don't remember anything after this. I'm assuming the fact that they weren't serving me was an issue and that we felt we needed to go somewhere with more lax rules. I was told later that J had joined us in our next ride in S's car."

Since this entry, more information has surfaced regarding the actual events that occurred during our stay at Dave and Busters. All of the statements are mostly accurate, except that the actual reason we left was because were officially "kicked out". What had happened was that I, having been a little upset at being cut-off, went up to the bar with 2 or 3 pool balls and commenced to toss them into the bar area. This led to our immediate dismissal. Note that this is after I had spilled a full beer on the pool table a few minutes earlier.

And boom goes the dynamite.