Everywhere You Look: An Ode to Full House

 Not since Garth Brooks had I felt a connection so true, so amazing. Never had I ever felt that kind of presence, love, and warmth until I discovered the show Full House.

Full House, for me, was like one of those people you don't fully “get” the first time you meet them, and then, fate strikes and you meet them again only to fall in love and live happily ever after.

I fondly recall watching Full House every week with my brother while my dad chose to leave the room, misunderstanding our love of the show.

As I grew up, the show and I grew apart. I discovered shows here and there such as Sabrina, the Teenage Witch ( I always was a sucker for that damn talking cat) or reliving the days of Boy Meets World, until a couple years ago when the Tanner family walked into my life.

It started casually- “oh hey, look what's on!” I would sit and watch it to kill a bit of time. It soon turned into obsession, where it has stayed. It was on every morning at 9am as I got ready for school. I would get up early and made sure to finish my routine so I could tune in and check in on the Tanner family. I would sit and watch a full hour of the show before I made myself go to school. Besides, the 700 club was on after that.

When I couldn't watch the show, I taped it, and would watch it as soon as I could. Sometimes, my dad would try to kick me out of the living room so he could watch baseball. He just didn't understand. While he was watching sports I would be in my room wondering “Did Uncle Jessie finally figure out which twin was which?” “Did Danny finally pop the question to Vickie?” and of course “what trouble will Michelle get herself into next? Will she ever learn!?” Except I already knew. I had seen every single episode. That is a fact that my friends and family insist on, but I deny. Somewhere, there is still a bit of Full House gold that I have yet to discover. This doesn't, however, take away from my super-fan knowledge of the show.

First of all, I would like to talk about a few inconsistencies. In the beginning of the show, Danny had his mother come in to help take care of him and the girls. His mother returned a few seasons later- AS A WHOLE DIFFERENT ACTRESS!!!! What the hell!? As if we aren't supposed to notice? She just shrunk like 6inches and has an entirely different body structure now and has a new face. I'm not stupid Jeff Franklin!

Uncle Jessie's last name in the first season was Cochran. After that, John Stamos aka “Mr. Diva” wanted the name changed to Katsopolis because he felt his character should be more “Greek.” You can't just change names in the middle of a show because you “feel like it.” That's not how life works buddy.

And what about the stair cases? On the bottom floor there are two stair cases leading up to the second floor- one in the living room and one to the kitchen, yet scenes on the top floor only show one stair case. No matter what stair case they use, they always end up walking up the same stair case when they pan to the top floor. Explain that!

Everyone has their faults, and these faults only make me love it more,

To call me a fan would do a great disservice to my level of dedication to the show. I wasn't just a bystander, mindlessly taking in and admiring the show. I LIVED with that show. It was an EXPERIENCE. When they laughed, I laughed. Forget the laugh track, I didn't need one to tell me when to laugh. I just got it. When they cried, I CRIED.

When Uncle Jessie and Aunt Rebecca came home with Nicky and Alex, I felt like they were MY cousins.

When that boy stood Stephanie up, I was pissed. I felt like I had just been stood up. And might I say how proud I am of Stephanie for not smoking even though she KNEW it would mean not looking cool?

I commend DJ for her strong, courageous 1 episode battle with Anorexia. And when her and Steve broke up? Forget about it! SOB. FEST.

I cheered Joey on when he performed on Star Search and was right there by his side when he lost.

And where would the show be.....where would I be without Danny Tanner. His tough love taught me, Stephanie, DJ, and Michelle a lot of lessons about life...and ourselves. His family may have seen him as a “psycho with a dust mop” at times but he was usually always right. His punishments always seemed unfair, but they made you think.

In closing, I would like to leave you with the truest words ever written.

How to Have an Alter Ego

Everyone sometimes wishes they could be someone different. This is when some people go dye their hair or experiment a little bit with music, clothing, travel and so on. However, some people choose to take this to a different level and create whole different personalities. This is what we know as an “alter ego.” Do an alter ego correctly and you end up with a fun surprise now and again. Do an alter ego wrong? You end up either looking as if you have multiple personalities or you just confuse the hell out of people, leaving them wondering “what the hell was that about?” That being said let's look at the right way and the wrong way to have an alter ego by looking at a few celebrities who have gone this route.

Alter Ego Failure:

1. Garth Brooks IS Chris Gaines.
   People still like to wonder what the fuck Garth Brooks was thinking when he created Chris Gaines. At some point Garth probably got tired of doing the same old music- even though it was TOTALLY WORKING! The birth of Chris Gaines came along when Garth was set to star in a movie called The Lamb which chronicles a rock star and the emotional conflicts of life that come along with it. Garth decided to method act and BECOME Chris Gaines as a way to amp people up for the movie. The album came out and was named Greatest Hits- get it? Because Chris Gains is one of the biggest rock and roll stars you've never even heard of, and guess what? He's got a soft side. Gaines was debuted as a gentle tortured soul with a hipster gotee and hair cut. Not only was an album of Gaines' experimental music released, but he also appeared on Saturday Night Live- hosted by Garth Brooks. Garth appeared once as himself, and once again as an alter ego and sang his only song to be played on the radio- “Lost in You.”
Audiences were not “lost in Chris Gaines,” and Chris later disappeared completely. The album flopped mere weeks after it debuted and The Lamb went on an indefinite hiatus in 2001. Somewhere there HAS to be at least one scene of pure gold from that movie just waiting to be discovered and I have made it my life's mission to find this scene and bring it to light.
1. A.J. Mclean Creates an Alter Ego That Isn't Exactly an Alter Ego.

As someone who always loved the Backstreet Boys I was aware of ever move they made. They came out with a song? I already knew all the words. They came out with a new music video? I could already describe every minute aspect of it.

Which is why when A.J came out with “Johnny NoName,” I was sure to follow. What happened thereafter confused my 11 year old mind. What the hell was this?

Rather than create an off the wall character or create someone through which he can talk about his “feelings” a la Garth Brooks/ Chris Gains, he created someone with the same background info- single mom and a grandmother that died when he was young. He went all out for his back story to really reiterate the idea that this was an angsty angsty man.Not positive why he needed that background known but hey, whatever floats your boat. A.J also decided to give Johnny No Name a prison record and he would come out in handcuffs and leave in handcuffs. He never stated exactly what he was in prison for. According to A.J, Johnny was to be on “constant probation,” and was only let off to do the show. Again, why the prison record, I couldn't tell you. However, to end up in prison, one must commit a pretty serious crime. After creating the “bad boy” persona, A.J decided to give this bad boy a heart of gold. He wasn't just a criminal, oh no. He was a criminal bad boy with a heart of gold. He set up a foundation in Johnny No Name's honor and the proceeds were to go to saving music in schools. All great things, but again, was it necessary to create an alter ego to do all of this?

The icing on this glorious alter-ego cake? Johnny was British and from Nashville. How the FUCK does that happen? Who, from England, is going to say to themselves “Hey, I want to move to America. I know, I'll go to NASHVILLE!!” Johnny was supposed to be someone that A.J couldn't be on stage with the Backstreet Boys. So, all this time, you are wanting to be a bad boy British prisoner from Nashville? Of all the things you could have chosen to be, THAT was what you chose? Needless to say, Johnny No-Name followed into a kind of obscurity. He never gathered any kind of public interest enough for him to fade BACK into obscurity. That's how you know your alter ego was a major failure, when you can't even come out of obscurity. At least people know and remember Chris Gaines.

Alter Ego Success
David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust
If you want to look at a alter ego success. Look no further than David Bowie when he became Ziggy Stardust. I say “became Ziggy Stardust” because for a period of years, there was literally no distinction between David Bowie and Ziggy Stardust. David can be quoted as saying “Offstage I'm a robot. Onstage I achieve emotion. It's probably why I prefer dressing up as Ziggy to being David."
I hope Garth and Mr. Mclean are reading this and taking notes. This is how you have an alter ego bitches.
David Bowie started with creating a backup band called The Spiders from Mars-it was the 70's so it was acceptable to have a crazy ass name like that. Together they made an album called “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars.” Shitballs, that's a long name. Nevertheless, David (Ziggy?) put together two kinds of music that he was amazing at- hard rock and folk music and mixed it with a story about a fictional band with its fictional asshole egocentric drug addicted lead singer. Ziggy wore makeup and outfits that would make Lady GaGa jealous. Actually, Ziggy was the original Lady GaGa. His shows were ultra theatrical, featuring frequent costume changes, stage acts that would make Prince blush.
This persona consumed Bowie so much that he questioned his sanity and even performed interviews as Ziggy. Eventually, Bowie ended up retiring while onstage in London.

The lesson of this story is that the only way to have an alter ego is to just forget about the old you. What that leaves you with is no alter ego, and just the new whacked out version of you. Instead of wondering why you have multiple personalities, people will just wonder who the fuck you are and why you are talking with a British accent.

Dear Omaha Steaks

 Once upon a time for fathers day I decided to be an awesome daughter and get my father a big package of meat to grill for the family. It was a win-win situation- he likes to grill and I enjoy eating. It's like those Christmas gifts that you get for someone that are really just gifts for yourself.

Luckily, Omaha Steaks was running a special that was too good to pass up. I snatched it up as fast as I could, and to my delight my dad loved it. We enjoyed our Omaha Steaks package for weeks to come.

However, Omaha Steaks got “attached.” From that point on, I received call after call, and every week, my mailbox and email inbox was filled with coupons and “offers.” They just couldn't let it go. Like any fed up lover, I figured my ignoring them would tell them “Hey, I'm not interested anymore, please leave me alone.” However, they persisted. They figured “Maybe she's busy, I'll just call later.” No voicemail, just a few missed calls. Sometimes I would feign interest and pick up a call or two. I would listen to their spiel, but politely decline and tell them that I was either broke or too busy to talk any longer. I had hoped they would realize that they were not going to be getting anything out of me anytime soon and would look elsewhere, but this was not so. They just kept coming back for more. Near the end I got more frustrated and told them that it was just a one time deal and that I didn't really intend on ordering from them anymore. The operator sounded disappointed, but understood and would let me go. Even after I told them I didn't anticipate ordering from them anytime soon and that it wasn't anything personal, the calls still persisted.

After months of painful back and fourth conversations, I decided that this needed to end. I took myself off their email list, and I told the next operator to please not contact me anymore. However, every tumultuous relationship needs to end with a letter to give both people closure- which I think is what I and Omaha Steaks needed- closure. I basically wanted to tell them “hey, I had a great time, but this just isn't working.”

Dear Omaha Steaks,

We need to talk. Lately I feel like your behavior has gotten a bit out of hand.

It all started when you piqued my interest one day, and I decided to get to know you a bit, and I eventually decided to take a chance.

I intended this to just be a one time thing- one day of fun and then we would just part ways. Sadly, I do not think you see it this way.

Since our day of fun, I have received call after call. Sometimes I get missed calls, and sometimes you don't even leave a message. The calls are always the same, usually about how you've changed and how you've got something “special” for me.

Then came the mail. On a regular basis now I receive an abundance of mail, all promising me gifts- some of which sound great. However, to me, the gifts and letters are just sad attempts at getting back something that never really was.

I hope you can understand that we can't talk anymore. I hope you have a great life and you meet someone who really takes advantage of all the great things you have to offer. I just hope you understand, that that person cannot be me.

-Kelly Bigley

It was an immediate relief to send off that email, and I could only hope my pal Omaha Steaks could view it the same way. I wouldn't admit it, but I anxiously awaited their reply. I wondered if I had hurt their feelings and if I had been honest without hurting their ego. All I could do was wait. I got a short reply back that just stated that they would no longer contact me. Although they didn't say it, I knew they were hurt, but I had to do what I had to do- for the BOTH of us.

Its been about 6 months now and I have not heard from Omaha Steaks. Although its better this way, I still sometimes wonder what they are up to. In times like that, I just smile and think back to all the tasty tasty times we had together.

Bike

 I've never quite mastered the whole "wheels" thing. Roller skates didn't work out, and bikes didn't fare me too well either. My relationship with bikes has been much more tumultuous than my experience with skates.

If I could go back in time , I would convince my young self to just stay in that little plastic red car with the yellow top on it. You know, the one you had to pedal with your feet? Best thing ever, and even better, they still look the same as they always did. I loved it! I would pedal, usually barefoot, with some sort of frightened animal in my backseat just begging me to let it out while I refused to oblige. I was trying to play “house,” and quite frankly, the animals weren't doing a good job at obeying their “mom.” Those were the days......but they're gone now, only to be replaced by horrible nightmares of bigger wheeled things.

I never owned a trike. However, I rode one every chance I got in pre-school. How could a kid not love riding a trike? It felt like riding a motorcycle. There is an unsaid coolness to riding a trike that only those who have ridden one can understand. The cool breeze in your hair, everyone staring in envy, because usually the school only had about 2 trikes in the shed, which meant that when it was time for recess, everyone made a mad dash to the shed to be the first to get the trike and own it for all of recess. I ran as fast as my chubby little legs would let me. Fuck the whole “sharing is caring,” shit. If you weren't trikin' it, you weren't cool. On a trike, YOU are KING.

Training wheels were my security blanket. Often times, They were not correctly adjusted, so I would wobble down the road. They were my reassurance that I was not going to fall down. My bike also would break by me pedaling backwards. I knew that bike inside and out. I had it mastered. Until one day my parents decided it was time to throw ol' Kelly on two wheels. They took the wheels off my 4 wheeler and made me practice. Not too long after, I OWNED it. Mostly because I was much too large to be riding it, but in some ways it was because I was daring. I cut corners, braked hard and left skid marks on the road, and would ride in circles, cutting each turn so tight that I was mere inches from the ground. Well, at one point I got TOO confident and wiped out only to be left with my savage battle wounds.

Some time after this, my parents thought I was ready for a bike that was more appropriate for an abnormally large pre-teen. This frightened the shit out of me, and for my birthday coming up, I avoided the whole “bike” conversation. I awoke on my birthday to a menaching, two wheeled monster in my living room. No warning, no “close your eyes and count to ten!” I just walked out and BOOM it was there. I put on my pretend face and said how much I loved it, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't almost crap my pants. My stomach dropped and I was freaked out. To my parents' credit, it was a nice bike. The sight of it made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. It was a menacing son of a bitch. Look at it....just.....sitting there, mocking me. “ha-ha Kelly, ha. ha. I'm going to ruin your life!” It got to the point that anytime someone used the word “bike,” such as “hey, I have a great idea, lets go for a bike ride!” I would panic and come up with an excuse why such a bike ride was not possible. I would have rather rode my pain in the ass Razor scooter than my bike. I would have rather WALKED or RAN rather than biked.

To practice, I would ride in the church parking lot next door. It was a raised parking lot that led to a lower parking lot via a steep exit hill. I rode around the upper lot until I got my confidence up and then called my parents out to watch me. Well, right around the part of the lot where the exit hill was, I froze, and instead of turning, breaking, or doing ANYTHING conducive to my own safety, I flew down the side of the exit hill, down the grass, where my bike hit a rock that sent me flying through the air. I landed about half a foot from a boulder, my glasses flew off and broke, and I ended up with a bloody nose. The ambulance was called, and my Scottish neighbors brought me a towel to bleed on. The important thing was, I made the paper, and I was left with a harrowing battle tale of how I came so close to death.

Wheels and I, we just don't mix. Although I'm fairly confident that I could get on a bike without making myself bleed, I choose not to. I Just Say No. I do, however, still get nervous and panicky when I am around bikes. So if we ever become friends, please never ever ever invite me on a bike ride.