I have always been a glutton for punishment.
During the summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school, my younger sister developed a love for reruns of late '80s sitcom Full House. During that summer, Full House reruns ran for a two-hour block every weekday, two episodes from 11:00-Noon on TBS, followed by two episodes on ABC Family. I sat with her and watched every single episode that aired that summer, which was easy since I didn't usually get out of bed until about 10:00, and nobody wanted to do anything until about 2:00. There were probably millions of better uses for my summer, but I was a man with a mission. I had to understand how a show aired for eight full seasons on a major network, billed as a comedy, and not have one funny moment in its history. I was convinced that at some point in time, someone would tell a joke, (Probably Uncle Joey,) and it would make everything right. There would be one incredible line, and eight seasons worth of laughter would come pouring out of my mouth. There I was, two hours a day, waiting for a show starring Bob Saget to release the line that would launch me into hysterics. That line never came. Similarly, the release from the grip of that horrible summer stuck in the house with my sister and my increasingly-psychopathic mother that I had been searching for never came. A girlfriend, a video game, a ride into town, something. I'm sure those things happened (except the girlfriend), but if they did, they weren't enough, and I certainly don't remember them. Maybe they didn't come because I was on the couch watching Full House every morning. Maybe it wouldn't have come regardless. But the fact remained, I spent that summer on the couch with my sister waiting for something that would never come, to distract myself from the fact that I was waiting for something that would never come.
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Save me, Uncle Jesse. Save me with your beautiful mullet. |
