Friday, March 11Fuller House Friday - 'Moving Day/Funner House.'
(Season 1, Episodes 2/3: 'Moving Day/Funner House.')
Another Fuller House Friday is upon us. We have much to discuss, but first, a tiny bit of gloating.
I received some good-natured ribbing last week when I said on Facebook that Fuller House Friday was the result of 'overwhelming public outcry.' I wrote the line as hint of self-deprecation, but there was a kernel of truth considering I was contacted by a few who thought it would be a fun idea. I am, after all, a guy that reviewed over 100 episodes of Lost and nearly 30 episodes of The Walking Dead. I'm always looking for new and exciting ways to make watching television feel like work.
Regardless, nobody was more surprised than I was when I discovered that last week's premiere of Fuller House Friday was the most popular CDP post in nearly two years. Far and away. Not even close. The numbers caused me to aspirate a macaroni noodle out of my nose in shock. And it had sriracha on it!
More importantly though, this revelation proved a point that myself and Full House fans have been making for weeks now. It's also the point that Pro Wrestling fans have had to argue for their entire lives: You don't understand. We get it. You are the one who does not.
So, with the recent announcement that Fuller House has been renewed by Netflix for Season 2, the CDP Board of Directors is pleased to announce that Fuller House Friday has also been renewed through to at least the end of Season 1. Can't argue with results, homies.
That being said, are you ready for the Episode 2 and 3 synopsis?
Season 1, Episode 2: ‘Moving Day.’
I have to once again say that the opening titles to this show are spectacular. They were done with love; I don't care what you think about the rest of it.
My second thought is, did Danny just leave all his shit in the house? Did he and his wife relocate to LA with nothing? There is literally not one piece of furniture, art or ravioli-zesting equipment that has gone missing since between the first episode and now. Not a bad deal for DJ: You get a fully-furnished San Francisco home that you may or may not have to make payments on, and all because your husband exploded in a fire. I have to be honest with you, at this point in my life, I'd seriously listen to an offer like that. So would my wife, I'm sure.
DJ makes a mean pancake. Quentin Tarantino directed that shot where Steph and DJ are talking and the camera is inside of the fridge. Little fun fact for you.
Also, the contents of that glowing Chinese to-go container? Marsellus Wallace's soul.
The jist of this episode is that Kimmy, Ramona and Steph are moving in, and everyone is adjusting to the new living conditions. Jackson loses his room to Ramona and has to move in with Max. Kimmy moves into the attic where Jesse/Becky used to stay/hump. Steph takes Joey's old room in the basement (which was also a recording studio). The baby moves into the backyard, where he can roam like a free-range goose and lay eggs as he pleases.
Kimmy continues to, basically, lie to Ramona and put DJ ahead of her. Seriously, Ramona has to change schools and everything; it's a pretty traumatic situation. In defiance, Ramona tells Kimmy that the Tanners/Fullers are the whitest family in America, which is a great shout-out to the less-than-diverse original run. Also, the extended shot of DJ putting an absurd amount of whipped cream on Jackson's pancakes was pretty funny.
Here's a peek into my unedited, stream-of consciousness episode notes:
"Ramona’s rightfully gonna resent DJ for Kimmy putting her in the forefront of her life. DJ has a work emergency, and Steph/Kimmy run the house. Kimmy slams Canadians out of nowhere. Wow, Max has a ton of toys. Makes me wonder how big their rooms were at DJ's old place. Tommy shits his pants."
Solid analysis right there. Cannot believe I don't get paid for this.
Jackson, still upset that he lost his room to Ramona, tries to butter up Steph into letting him share her bedroom with him, and holy balls I cannot even. There's...some depth to how weird of a request that is.
Out of nowhere, Jesse shows up to grab his guitar before heading off to LA with Becky. Jackson asks him for advice regarding the loss of his room, and Jesse tells him to hug it out. I liked that joke; basically referring to the fact that it was catch-all parenting in the original series. He also breaks the fourth wall by saying that, when they used to hug it out, he could literally hear the emotional violin music.
We get it. You are the one that does not.
Steph makes a joke about the poor credit score of a 10-year old, Jesse laughs sarcastically while eating a piece of chicken, and this got the biggest legit laugh out of me so far. Jesse leaves with his guitar for LA, but first he has to pee. Again, being able to deliver the catchphrases of the past while totally acknowledging the cheesiness is a tone they're hitting really well.
We get a reprise of the classic ‘diaper changing’ bit from the first episode. Steph says that she changed Michelle’s diaper so many times that she 'swears there were two of them.' Nice. Max’s lines are utterly cringeworthy. More on that later.
A disgruntled Jackson takes it upon himself to hitchhike to LA with Jesse, unbeknownst to anyone. Jesse and Jackson (lol) have a heart-to-heart in the car about living with women. DJ gets back from work, and...are Kimmy and Steph drinking margaritas with Ramona and Max? Children? Jesse returns Jackson (lol) and Steph is trashed.
I don't like the way Jesse and Steph looked at each other in this scene. It's creeping me out. You don't think that...no, right? They couldn't have.
Jackson sets up the heartfelt episode climax by lamenting on all the recent changes in his life: Moving into his grandpa's house, losing his room and his dad exploding in a fire. You'd have to think we'll get a similar episode with Ramona later in the season, although in her situation it's a bit of a bonus to be the product of a divorced couple. I'm assuming Kimmy and Fernando share custody, but they did say that he's on the road a lot, so...I'm overthinking this. Everyone hugs it out. Max is a sociopath.
Season 1, Episode 3: 'Funner House.'
So, let's get this out of the way before the episode even begins. Jodie Sweetin is 12 days older than me. Candace Cameron is five years older than me. I didn't feel bad for being attracted to them back in the day, and I certainly don't feel bad for being attracted to them now. In fact, I actually feel pretty good about myself, in that I'm attracted to women that are my age. My mid-life crisis is still a decade or two ahead of me, it would seem.
This is the fanservice episode. Not in that we're hitting all the catchphrases and high points from the original series. I'm talking about fanservice in the Anime sense. DJ and Steph are grown up, and in 'Funner House,' we get to see that in all its tight-dressed, tequila-shooting, Dirty Dancing-dancing glory. Let's go.
Steph has blocked Kimmy on Instagram...woah, did you spot the nice, 2-story, front-loading washer/dryer in the laundry room? That shit is on fleek!
After what I can assume is a few weeks of living together, Steph and Kimmy want a Girls' Night Out with DJ, so they wrangle Joey to babysit. I initially thought Joey made his grand entrance on a hoverboard (which would make sense), but he was actually on rollerblades (which makes even MORE sense).
DJ has to change into her dress in the car, which has to violate her uber-Christianity in some way. Speaking of which, “what if Uber sees my boobers?” says DJ, implying that she thinks Uber is a person. Despite having never gotten along once in their lives, we find out that Steph was one of Kimmy's bridesmaids.
At a club called Euphoria, which looks suspiciously like the old Smash Club, Steph and Kimmy show up with DJ in tow. Kimmy gets the VIP treatment at the club, but nobody seems to notice the world-famous DJ that is Stephanie. Whatever. The idea here is that DJ hasn't been out in a while. Steph heads to the bar, where she runs into two douchebags that get an applause from the studio audience, but I'll be damned if I know who they are. I had to pause the episode to discover that they are from Dancing With the Stars, in a sweet moment of Netflix/ABC/Disney cross-promotion. (Jodie Sweetin was announced for the next season of DWTS, BTW.)
I really like Kimmy's doughnut clutch purse. Maybe this will be a thing, like the hamburger phone from Juno. The deebs buy 10 shots for the group, which I assume cost $350. "Sisters with brothers? That's kinky hot!" they say as they fistbump. Quick, let's see what's going on back at the house before I yodel groceries.
Another sign that Max is a crazy person. On a night where he's literally not going anywhere or even leaving his room, he's wearing khakis, a tucked-in collar shirt and sweater vest. I understand that he's supposed to be Danny Tanner 2.0, but this is bordering on 'extra attention at school' -levels of quirkiness.
Joey tries some of his trademark standup to engage Ramona, Jackson and Max to no avail. I like that every kid isn't feeling Joey's shtick in the least and is individually on their tablets, which Joey promptly steals in exchange for an arsenal of plastic weaponry. Shit goes off. People die.
Back at the club, Steph tells the Ukrainians about the time her and DJ put a hole in Danny's wall (one of my favorite Full House episodes). Steph then runs into Macy Gray of all people, and I believe the wild, drug-fueled story she tells about how they met was closer to the truth than they’d like to admit. Macy must be an exceptional character actress whose backstory is that she’s been sucking down NyQuil and Ambien at this club for the last six hours, because my goodness does she look absurdly out of it.
Kimmy says the club is full of ‘Butt Candy,’ which makes me laugh for some reason. She runs into Fernando, where it is implied that they are not yet divorced. Macy begins slurring into the mic and everything starts to make sense: She’s there to plug her album. She lurches into her single, Steph gets on the dancefloor and...yeah.
I get the feeling Kimmy and Fernando are going to try to make this marriage work. Nope, never mind. Fernando’s an asshole and he has a side piece. If what Kimmy said is true, and she and Fernando used to go to this club together all the time, then why would she specifically pick this place for the Girls’ Night Out, considering that he would probably be there? She’s not good with breakup etiquette, I guess. Also, I am once again overthinking this.
Back at the house, everyone's trashing the place, and the kids open the door for a total stranger they think is a pizza guy. Fortunately it’s Joey and not a serial killer like Steve. More on that in later weeks.
Back at the club, we’re having a dance-off. Kimmy and DJ decide to do their Dirty Dancing routine that they did at their 4th Grade Talent Show, which would be a throwaway joke if not for the fact that I have heard very similar sentences from many of my female friends during drunken nights out. That was a real thing that a lot of us did for talent shows. I did a magic act and was not successful.
Damn, Macy is trashed. She’s seriously the worst, but Steph sings a duet with her nonetheless. Kimmy and DJ begin their sultry dance routine, and fulfill a longtime fantasy I didn’t realize I had until just this very minute. Also, this dance contest seems very flimsily judged, if we're being real here. Call it down the middle.
DJ and Kimmy win the dance contest and Macy calls them lesbians. Macy’s delivery of “What am I doing here? I won a Grammy!” is the worst thing I may have ever seen in all of Television. Was that the best take they wrung out of her, or did she pass out like, two seconds later so they couldn’t try it again? What is wrong with this woman? Someone tell me.
Sincere kudos to DJ, Steph and Kimmy for having an episode to be sexy 'grown ups,' while at the same time doing truly funny physical comedy. It was a comedic exhibition for the three of them, and it looked like they were having a lot of fun being goofballs. Fuller House is their show, and this was the first episode where it seemed like they took it completely over.
Back at the house, the kids try to get back at Joey by sliming him, Nickelodeon-style, but they instead slime a returning DJ, Steph and Kimmy, again fulfilling a fantasy I didn't realize I had until just now. “I loved making a mess; I think I have a dark side,” says complete psychopath Max. The End.
Oh, Mylanta! Two full episodes. Lot to take in. Still with me? Then let's go even deeper, with Cut It Out!
- DJ mentions that she watches Dancing With the Stars every week. In reality, Candace Cameron-Bure was a DWTS contestant in Season 18 and finished 3rd. I finished 2nd on Season 17, and also, a lot of people confuse me with Corbin Bleu.
- Steph mentions that she "changed so many of Michelle's diapers, [she felt] like there were two of her." This is one of those super-obscure bits of Full House trivia, but it's a reference to the fact that Michelle Tanner was played by the 'Olsen Octuplets,' eight identical babies on a union-mandated rotation, of which only two survived into adulthood.
– Apart from Dancing With the Stars, I'm not sure what connection Macy Gray had/has to Fuller House/ABC that constituted the cameo, but I’m assuming she was friends with Jodie Sweetin back in her meth days. The performance was absolutely incomprehensible.
- Joey displays an arsenal of toy weapons to the kids. "These are your classics. You got your Super Soakers, your Silly String, your slime rifles, and the granddaddy of 'em all, a Joey Gladstone-designed toilet-paper leaf-blower gun...I could have used this baby last night at Arby's."
...Did Joey just say that he crapped his pants at an Arby's the night before? Is- is he okay? Has someone been checking on Joey?
Eh, no time to dwell. Let's get Rated PG, with How Rude!
- “Jellybean-filled cauliflower my butt!” was basically gibberish but sounded filthy.
- 13-year old Jackson wants to share a basement bedroom with his sexy, sexy aunt. DJ can never find that out, or he's getting sent directly to therapy.
- Stephanie is a night person. "You know, when the clubs are going off, bottles are popping, people are hooking up...[clears throat]...their Xboxes."
- Gibbler's all about that "Butt candy." What's with all the butt stuff this week?
- The greatest Pop Culture mystery of our time: What if Uber did see DJ's boobers? Well, according to Joey, then she wouldn't have to tip.
I once had an Uber driver who told me about his parents escaping Stalin during WWII, no joke. I would have asked him more questions, but I was legally dead due to alcohol poisoning.
Hey. Hey, you. C'mere. Bring it in. Let's get cheesy. It's time for Have Mercy!
- This week in "Max and I can no longer live on the same planet together:"
- "Jackson, your room is under attack! This is not a drill!"
- "Unleash the Kraken!"
- "Here comes the tricky part; watch out for the fire hose!"
That's a baby penis joke, Max. I...get it together, everyone.
- Kimmy says that Steph is 'on fleek' and hopes it's still 'fleek to say 'fleek.'' I had to look up the origin of the word, and I recommend not looking into it unless you want to feel like you no longer understand how anything works anymore.
- DJ, on the dress picked out for her by Steph and Kimmy, "Is this for me or Malibu Barbie?" If it were Malibu Stacy, she'd also be wearing a new hat.
- DJ again, after drinking a tequila shot, "That's not Sunny D." Was that a ninja advertisement for Sunny D? You know, now that I think about it, Sunny D commercials always use that Tarantino-esque, camera-in-the-fridge shot I was talking about earlier. I think we're being subliminally marketed to.
sunny d sunny d sunny d drink sunny d its so delicious nutritious sunny d sunny d
I'm going deeper into the rabbit hole, and we're just getting started. Thanks for reading this week's Fuller House Friday. Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your weekend.
Monday, March 7I Lost Over $500 By Joining Draft Kings!
I hate Dustin Johnson. He owes me $10,000.
I should probably back up.
Prior to the 2015 US Open (the golf one), I barely knew of the existence of Dustin Johnson. I follow golf enough to know that he's a pretty successful, top 10 player as of late, but I couldn't remember specifically following him through a tournament. I certainly couldn't remember rooting for him, nor could I probably pick his likeness from a lineup of pastel-panted, polo-wearing wood-swingers. He was just a current pro golfer to me.
But gambling on sports changes the way you think about athletes, for better or for worse.
I am not a man of many vices, thankfully. At least, not a man of particularly volatile ones. My drinking has diminished considerably, I've smoked maybe five cigarettes my entire life and have no knowledge of street drugs whatsoever. My addictions are caffeine, television, sub sandwiches and pretending I'm a nice guy on the internet.
With regard to smoking, I know I dodged a major bullet there, because I am admittedly a natural-born smoker. Most of my family members smoke, I was raised in a second-hand fog (every Christmas photo looks haunted), and my Anxiety forces my hands to be fiddling with anything within reach at any given time. By all accounts, I should be a chain smoker, and I've always been fairly cognizant of this weakness. I think the invention of cell phones helped me out, though. Now, if there's an uncomfortable lull in conversation or I need to mentally check out of an anxious situation, I'll get on my phone where maybe I would have stepped out for a smoke or just pummeled a guy to death with my bare hands.
I've been self-medicating my OCD and Anxiety tendencies since childhood in one way or another, and I've just been lucky enough to make the right decision more often than not (although my liver may tell you otherwise). I try to remain as logical and self-aware as I possibly can, trade bad habits for good ones when I can, and generally just try to be the person that my cats think that I am.
So anyway, back to gambling.
Gambling is one of those things I flirted with for many years, and my results were as to be expected. Once or twice a year, the Missus and I would go to a casino in the city we were vacationing in, lose about $100 and have a great time. This is a typical casino experience for a typical couple, right? No big deal, no problem. In later years, I would make small bets here and there, but nothing serious. I know some people lose $500 on a single hand of blackjack without blinking, but that's not me. $500 is a ton of cash, which is another reason I shouldn't be doing any of this in the first place.
Last year, something happened that effected each and every sports fan in America, whether you gambled or not. It was the pervasive, omnipresent appearance of online sports betting sites like FanDuel and DraftKings. They boasted huge jackpots, one-week Fantasy leagues and pools ranging from one cent to thousands of dollars. Best of all, the whole thing was 100% legal and safe.
Well, whatever. But that's what they told us, at least.
Holy shit, the ads were everywhere, which should have been the first warning to those of us that hopped on board as to who was really reaping the benefits of legalized Fantasy pools. Every televised sport featured these ads, and they were plastered onto every flat surface and website in the world for a solid nine months.
I don't gamble online, but that was only because I felt most of it was illegal and dangerous. With DraftKings assuring me that everything was on the level, I'd be a fool to not sign up! Look at all the cash everyone was winning! I want a piece of this sweet action!
In the world of Gambling, I'm the 'I Have A System' Guy, in that I have no 'system' whatsoever. I'm basically a rube in a sea of sharks when it comes to these pools; the pros with actual systems see me coming from a mile away with my change purse and clean me out before I even know what hit me. The next time you think you have a 'system,' ask yourself the following: "Could I gamble for a living? Could I pay my water bill and buy Christmas presents with nothing but casino winnings?" If the answer is no (and the answer is no), then so much for your stupid system.
I'm mainly saying this out loud for my own education.
So, over the last year, I've put around $500 into my DraftKings account. Some nights I win money back. Most nights I lose everything. I had broken even long enough, however, to take a chunk of winnings into the aforementioned 2015 US Open, where the top prize was one million dollars.
Some of you might not know this, but I sometimes analyze and create statistics for a living. Not Sports statistics, but numbers and data nonetheless. I really wanted to win that $1 million, and for all intents and purposes, I had the skill and on-the-job experience to be one of those 'system' guys, if only for a single tournament.
The fun (or diabolical hellfire) of a DraftKings pool is to put together a team under a certain salary cap that you believe will maximize your chances of winning to the extreme. The better players cost more money, so the risk comes in taking chances with cheaper players you feel will best maximize your salaried dollar. It can literally be as flippant or as technical as you'd like it to be.
Well, for the 2015 US Open, I was going all in. I put every last penny into the $1 Million Pool, and spent the next two weeks putting my statistical analysis skills to good use. I was intelligent enough to be one of those guys, and I knew it. I crunched numbers, researched previous tournament trends and player data. I broke each player down by the run they were on and how well they performed at this particular course in the past. I even looked at recent news stories about the players in the field to see how their personal lives were doing. I was taking this seriously, and drafted my team with a careful precision you can only conjure when $1 million is on the line and you're trying to avoid doing your actual job at all costs.
Two of the five players on my team were Dustin Johnson and Jason Day, and you can look this up if you don't believe me, but they were 1st and 2nd heading into the final round of the 2015 US Open. I had somehow put together a team that not only consisted of the two tournament leaders, but three other randos doing well enough to have me high into the money on Sunday afternoon. To the tune of a cool $10,000. I'm not kidding. If everything stayed the way it was with only 9 holes remaining, I would have won at least that much. Johnson and Day were absolutely on fire that weekend.
But...here's the thing about Analytics. You can crunch a lifetime of numbers and stats in an attempt to predict the future, and sometimes you'll hit the nail on the head, but it's not psychic. Human beings are unpredictable, and past behavior is no guarantee of future behavior.
Dustin Johnson started to choke, and Jason Day got slammed with a bout of vertigo. Vertigo! I've never seen this happen to a pro golfer in a major tournament in my entire life. He couldn't see the ball. He couldn't look down without stumbling. He needed his caddie to take the ball out of the cup. He basically couldn't function anymore. He fought valiantly, but started to slip further and further down the leaderboard.
They both chunked it, Jordan Dumbass Spieth won the US Open (his 2nd Major in a row), and I finished 100% out of the money. After a year on DraftKings, they had $500 of my money, and I had nothing.
Stupid Dustin Johnson. Stupid Jason Day. Stupid vertigo. You know what? I'm glad LeBron starched your wife on national television. Okay, I'm kidding. I'm very sorry, I'm just mad is all. I'm sure he lost a lot more money than I did that day.
...Why do I do this shit to myself? I'm smart enough to know that this is how gambling works with nearly everyone on the planet, and I'm smart enough to know that, statistically speaking, I am absolutely one of those people. I'm a normal man with normal logic and normal outcomes. At what point do I have to accept that this is out of my hands? That something akin to an addiction has overridden every logic sensor in my brain that tells me this is a terrible idea? Putting my cash into a timeshare or Radio Shack franchise would be a more stable investment.
So, I'm done. I closed my DraftKings account and walked away. I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm just...bad at this. I'm undergoing a year of self-improvement and dammit, I'm not going to be that dude. I'm not going to let stupid, pointless vices control me. I'm not going to defy the odds at the craps table, or have an uncanny knack for picking the loosest slot machine in the casino. I'll never be able to take the data given to me by DraftKings and put together a team better than every other team assembled by every other smartass on the planet.
I mean, to do that, you'd need to find a way to analyze years of data. To not only create a team that will be the most successful yet efficient at the same time, but also a team that isn't selected by anyone else. Assuming there's about 100,000 people in any given sports tournament, and the field of players can range from 30-100, and the salaries are anywhere from $4000-$15000, you'd...hang on, let me grab a piece of paper, here...and taking into consideration average points per game in tournaments past...okay, hang on...haaaaaaang on....
Okay, I think I've got a system here.
I'm back, baby!
Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day.
FRIDAY: FULLER HOUSE FRIDAY (EPISODES 2/3).