Full House in a Minute

Thanks for all your suggestions, guys. I'm going to incorporate a lot of them into future posts. And as always, thanks for your kind words--I'm not BS-ing when I say you guys are a wonderful audience. (Er, readership?) With that in mind, snark on, MacDuff!



It's everyone's favorite TGIF show! More cutesy cute than Box Full o' Puppies. More nauseating than The Human Centipede. But you know you all loved it.

Jesse: "If I have to do this show, I'm not doing it with gentle good humor. I'm not changing diapers, shaving my mullet, or singing family friendly versions of Jumping Jack Flash while I unwind a Jack-in-the-Box."

Jeff Franklin: "Well, then you'll have to get a catch-phrase. Screw character development or acting prowess for making a character sympathetic--it's catch phrases all the way."

Jesse: "Have mercy. No, seriously. Have mercy on me. Don't make me sing another rock version of Farmer in the Dell..."

Joey: "You won't regret this! I'll live in the alcove. I'll live in the garage. I'll live wherever you want me to go--just don't abandon me."

Jesse: "I kind of feel like embracing my Greek heritage. Let's celebrate my roots tastefully."

Papouli: "Oopa!"

Michelle: "You got it, dude!"



Stephanie: "How rude! I wasn't done being the cute one."

Danny: "Aw, Steph. You know we'll always love you, even if you aren't cute or precocious anymore. And even if you did wreck the kitchen without spouting off an adorable catch phrase like I'm in big trouble, Mister."

Michelle: "Daddy, Uncle Jesse, Joey! I sent Mr. Bear to Abu Dhabi and drowned my pet fish having a tea party and scalded Dave the class bird in the shower."

Joey: "She's the cutest lil animal abuser since Ted Bundy was in knee socks."

Jesse: "Let's buy her a pony."

D.J.: "Dad, I hate the way I look! I wanna starve myself till I look like Aunt Becky or one of the models you and Joey were ogling at the gym."

Danny: "Well, the swelling violins are gonna wrap up in two minutes, so accept your Charlie Brown cheeks or zip it."

D.J.: "You know, I suddenly feel feel at peace, like when Kirk pipes in the Left Behind audio tapes into my room at night."

Jeff Franklin: "Glad to hear that you're resisting the pressure to diet excessively like so many girls in the industry. Oh, here's an exercise bike. I don't want to see you off it unless it's to complain about teen drinking."

Becky: "Hi everyone. I was thinking of dating a semi employed man-child. Joey? No, psych. Hi, Jesse."

Jesse: "Have mercy! You're gainfully employed and willing to support my part-time music career, you can defuse my occasional chauvinism with a nonthreatening humorous remark, you're hot, you've got my most favorite woman's first name ever, you're willing to do the Priscilla look in bed...the only way you could be better is if your last name was the same as my favorite brand of lettuce. Let's get married."

Michelle: "Uncle Jesse! Sing the Teddy Bear song!"

Jesse: "Uh, Becky, do you think you could also move into a windowless attic?"

Becky: "Are you serious?"

Michelle: "Uncle Jesse! Or we'll bring back the mullet. We have a production credit so we can do that now."

Jesse: "...Yeah."

Fat Fish Records: "I love your voice, Jesse, and I want to sign a record label with you. Believe me: I know music. The only problem is you're so great, I don't know who I'll be able to top you with. Ooh, anyone know the Countess de Lesseps' number?"

Jesse: "My own music video. Hmm. What video cliches should I feature? Outdated animation? Morphing? Alicia Silverstone? No, my pale bone white twins."

Michelle: "Uncle Jesse! You haven't called me Munchkin or blown raspberries on my tummy! Am I losing my cuteness?"

Jesse: "Sorry, Michelle. My inexplicably fair skinned, blonde haired twins are the cute ones now. You understand that it's someone else's time in the hair and makeup chair of life now, right?"

Michelle: "I understand. I understand that my mom's dead and no one loves my tearstained little troll face."

Jesse: "Oh, so what if the boys grow up to be spoiled motorcylists or chess club managing, cornstarch loving mama's boys--c'mon, Michelle!"

Stephanie: "Uh, Dad? I'm feeling pressure to smoke and--

Danny: "Sorry, sweetie, no time. Here, have a Nicorette patch. I've got a double date with your sister, Teddy, and Vicky tonight, and Michelle stuck out her lower lip at ALL my ties."

Stephanie: "Joey, I just got invited to a make out party. Should I--"

Joey: "I wish I could take your invite, but I'm reglueing the dinosaur Michelle wrecked. Wanna practice on Mr. Woodchuck?"

Steve: "Hey Deej. Wanna engage in some PG-13 related scrapes? Some light petting?"

Kimmy: "Or drinking?"

D.J.: "Do I look like the average teen? I'm sixteen and I have a 40 year old suburban mom-cut."

Stephanie: "Uncle Jesse? My friend Gia and I are thinking of going joyriding with some older kids we barely know..."

Jesse: "Steph? Where is this coming from--wait, joyriding? Sorry, get lost until you can produce an abused or anorexic friend."

Stephanie: "But Uncle Jesse--"

Jesse: "Not now, I'm waiting to hear back from Carnie Wilson. Hello? Carnie? If you can sneak out another of your dad's B-sides for me to cover, I'll take you on a west coast burger tour--In 'n Out, Phatburger, Whataburger. Carnie? Carnie?"

Lou Bond: "I'd like to buy this shack because of the memories. I'll pay enough for you to all get houses of your own."

Michelle: "Uncle Jesse can't live more than twenty feet from my bed. Daddy, if you sell this house, I'll hold my breath until I stop looking like a troll doll!"



Papouli: "This house is perfect place to die!"

Jeff Franklin: "Guys, we've only got one more season. Make other plans."

Joey: "The producer of Muppet Babies called. They're letting me upgrade from Animal to Kermit!"

Lifetime Movies: "Hello, Lori Loughlin? Now that Meredith Baxter Birney's lost her looks, we need a new TV mom for our martyr roles."

Danny: "Now to see if I can put my my finely honed role as America's hokiest sitcom patriarch to good use: seducing comediennes with daddy issues. Anyone know how to get a hold of Sarah Silverman?"

Sadako: "I know, I know. I'm neglecting the real success story that came out of this show."

Comet: "My agent just called! I beat out the dogs from Frasier and Beethoven to get Air Bud!"

Movies in a Minute: The Craft

Sarah: "First day in a new school, drag."

Bonnie: "Nancy, Rochelle, I saw a girl twirling a #2 pencil on her desk without touching it! Can we let her into our coven? We need a fourth--the post chanting bridge games are a bust."

Nancy: "She looks too pure to be Wiccan."

Chris: "Hey Sarah, I'm a football QB. I'm a Sagittarius, I love long walks on the ten yard line, and in my spare time, I enjoy rearranging my Rohypnol collection."

Sarah: "Oh, hey. So what's with the Goth Talk rejects?"

Chris: "The one on the far right is Nancy--we think that that's really Robert Smith with a sex change and new identity as a Catholic schoolgirl. And in the middle is Bonnie--she never washes her hair and lets it fall in her face. And that's Rochelle. I can't insult her because she's the token."

Nancy: "You shouldn't hang out with Chris. He spreads disease. I speak from experience. I'm still on my last round of Cipro."

Rochelle: "You should hang with us. We can show you the best combination of silver face jewelry and black knee socks to wear to the Marilyn Manson box socials."

Bonnie: "Come on, we're going to shoplift at the New Age store."

New Agey Woman: "Sarah, you're not like the others. You didn't steal any of my Cherokee Hair Tampons. I sense the power in you. Maybe you are a natural witch."

Sarah: "So who's this Manon guy?"

Nancy: "Manon's awesome. He's Nature, he's everything, he's all around us. He's like Marilyn Manson, Siouxie Sioux, and Anton LeVey all wrapped up in one hot package."

Sarah: "Well, I gotta jet, guys. It's been cool, but now that I've got hair extensions and gave Joe my notice at Empire Records, I want to start having a cool life. Maybe we can be...er, ah, secret friends."

Chris: "Wanna sleep with me? No? OK, cool. Just told everyone you were a lousy lay."

Sarah: "Great. Back to befriending the witches."

Rochelle: "I've got to go--swimming practice."

Laura: "Ugh. Get your nappy hairs away from me. I don't hang out with negroids."

Don Imus: "Want to come work for me? We were looking for a hot but freakishly bald racist chick--someone to be the Robin Givens to my Howard Stern."

Bonnie: "Doctor, will this experimental treatment work to cure me of the horrible burns on my body and my general shy girl demeanor?"

Doctor: "Who knows? I saw it on The Exorcist, so I'm sure it'll work."

Nancy: "STOP IT!"

Stepdad: "You sure are wearing a clingy robe, Nancy. Heh. Heh. Where'd I put my Do Not Resuscitate sticker the director gave me?"

Nancy: "Let's use Magic to get what we want. A dead stepdad and a blinged out trailer home for me, a pussywhipped Chris for Sarah, a years supply of Pantene for Bonnie, and an end to racism or a call from Jesse Jackson for Rochelle."

Doctor: "Bonnie, the treatment worked! You can wear tight tops and your hair's longer and more voluminous than ever!"

Bonnie: "Look! I'm PH balanced, bitches!"

Lawyer: "Mrs. Downs, your now dead husband had a $175,000 insurance policy."

Nancy: "Goodbye Pervy Loman, hello campy jukebox infested high rise!"

Rochelle: "Uh oh..."

Laura: "I'm bald and heinous looking and now no one but Mr. Furious will ever love me!"

Chris: "I love you, Sarah. I can't get you out of my head. Now hold still."

Nancy: "Chris tried to rape you? Fuck that shit. He was supposed to try to rape me. How come I only get a mild come on from my overweight stepdad and you get a full on rape attempt from the class Johnny Depp?"

Nancy: "Come on, Chris. You know you want me."

Chris: "Get off me. Lipstain in ebony is really hard to scrub off my junk."

Nancy: "I'm tired of being jolie laide. Time for girl next door redux! Hey Chris...Look. I can morph! I can be Michael Jackson or Tyra Banks or a Chinese woman or even Sarah!"

Chris: "Whoa. Sarah? Why don't we do it on the coats at a house party?"

Sarah: "O-kay. This is all very Single White Wiccan."

Chris: "What the fuck. You're a witch? A jealous witch!"

Nancy: "JEALOUS? You don't even EXIST to me! You're NOTHING! All you do is treat women like WHORES!"

Sadako: "So...that's why you've been throwing yourself at him for the last ten minutes."

Sarah: "I can't believe Chris is really dead. And that no one in costume could get me a better wig."

Nancy: "You're thinking of leaving the group."

Sarah: "How did you--

Bonnie: "We can read minds. And now you're thinking, I hope that's strawberry flavored lipgloss in my cotton jockeys."

Sarah: "I don't know what else to do!"

New Agey Woman: "Let's stand on the healing circle and do trust falls and chant."

Sarah: "I'm sorry, no one in the audience wants to see this. Time to go find the characters with tight clothes and oversized ankhs."

New Agey Woman: "Wait! We can do menstrual blood paintings!"



Nancy: "If I were as pathetic as you, I'd have killed myself long ago! Look at me, I'm Sarah B., lousy with integrity..."

Sarah: "Stop it!"

Bonnie: "Let's go find her."

Sarah: "OK, Mom, let's do this."



Rochelle: "Oh crap, we're hideous!"



Bonnie: "Let's go find a Twilight Zone universe where we fit in."



Nancy: "Ah! Bugs!"



Daryl Van Horne: "Snakes? Ugliness? It's been done."

Sarah: "Well, looks like I won."



Nancy: "I can fly! I CAN FLY! HE GAVE ME THE POWER!"

Sadako: "Manon, not to be confused with Red Bull."

And now a word from you

You PBS's Arthur fans will recognize this segment. This is the part where I admit that I don't actually have anything planned for today but I want to hear back from you.



What movies evoke nostalgia for you that I absolutely have to recap?

What books--YA, chick lit, or other--need to be snarked?

What pop cultural phenomenon needs to be taken down a peg--or eight?

And which babysitter have I woefully neglected to snark?

Let me know. I'm listening (and reading)!

And look for my recap of The Craft (or, Is Bald Really Beautiful?) this Monday.

As Retold by Sadako: The Secret Garden

The Secret Garden, or Yorkshire, the True Jewel in the Crown of the British Empire



Mistress Mary Quite Contrary

Once there was a spoiled little girl called Mary Lennox. She and her parents were English, but she was born and grew up in India, under the care of servants as was the wont of her rich and attractive parents. Because Indian servants are so servile, giving the girl everything she wanted, living only to make the Sahib happy, Mary grew up a selfish little pig as ever there was.

One day illness broke out among everyone at Mary's house. It killed them all, until she was the only one left. She was sent under to live with her uncle at Misselthwaite Manor in Yorkshire, a beautiful manor beloved by gardeners worldwide (and hated by lispers). Mary's uncle was a rich invalid with a large hunchback and a mysteriously beautiful dead wife.

Mary was brought to Misselthwaite by Mrs. Medlock, the housekeeper, an austere woman who dressed in black. Mrs. Danvers, still in embryonic stages, stirred.

When Mary woke up that first morning at Misselthwaite, she saw a housemaid there.

The housemaid said, "H'llo there, I'm Martha. Pleased t' make yer acquaintance. Isn't Yorkshire grand? There are b'rds 'n trees and h'ther and moors."

Mary looked at her with a puzzled expression. In India, the servants never went on like this. One never said please or thank you to them because serving the sons and daughter of Empire was a privilege. Mary often slapped her Ayah, who merely bowed and said, "Thank you, memsahib, may I have another?" But in England, even the servants seemed imbued with spirit that made the Empire great.

Martha laughed. "When I heard y' w'ere fr'm India, I expected y'to be a black! With a wee monkey face an' flea infested locks and the b'ginnings of a wee tail! I was so disappointed when you were a regular little girl!"

"You thought I was a native?! How dare you!" Mary screamed. "You-you daughter of pigs!" For in India, the worst thing to call a native was a pig. Ireland Baldwin, reading her old childhood favorite, shuddered with a barely suppressed memory and reached for some more Repressitol.

But Martha just looked at Mary coolly. "Y'needn't be s'vexed. I've n'thing 'ginst th' blacks. I've heard ev'r s'many stories about them--walk'ng on coals 'n ch'rming sn'kes and pr'viding us on the b'ttom of English social 'ierarchy someone t'feel superior to."

Mary felt foolish and curiously, as though she were about to learn a lesson about the dangers of being cross and rude.

The Secret Garden

"G'n and play," said Martha. "One of the g'rdens is locked up--been that way for nigh on ten years! Mr. Craven's wife fell off a branch ten years ago in that garden, and now n' one's t' go in!"

A beautiful but secret garden? With a death that was intriguing but not too frightening for a seven to ten year old girl, as well as appropriately bereft of any scandalous details? How very English Gothic. Young Daphne DuMaurier, following along, took careful notes.

Mary met a chattering robin redbreast and old Ben Weatherstaff, a gruff old gardener.

How she longed to find the secret garden! "My stereotype collection will be complete," she thought.

One day while digging, she found a key in the earth. The robin chirped at her. And suddenly...as though by Real Magic(TM), a covering of leaves was blown up by the wind, revealing a hidden door. When Mary went inside, she discovered the Secret Garden. Everything was cold and dark but beautiful. And perhaps--perhaps, it could be made to grow!

Dickon, or the Joys of Slumming

Martha told Mary about her younger brother, Dickon, who was twelve and whom the animals all loved. Dickon came to Mary and she showed him the garden. They made plans to buy seeds and plant and make it as beautiful as it had been years ago.

"It's wick," said Dickon, gesturing to the wood. "It's al've, and it'll gr'w as long as we care for it. Tha was right to weed the flowers to help them grow. Tha mun plant if tha wants the g'rden to gr'w."

"You must come back!" said Mary. "You must come and help me. And then you must let me mimic your sweet accent. It's ever so much more fun than imitating Hindustani--my servants in India sounded like so many monkeys gibbering."

Dickon agreed to keep coming back, bringing his tame fox and raven, too.

"I do so love Dickon," said Mary to Martha. "He's ever so quaint and never complains about having to walk five miles to the manor every day and back to work with me. I expect that when I grow up and inherit this house, I shall keep him on to bring his animals and speak in his funny Yorkshire accent for my amusement."

All of a sudden, there was a strange sound in the corridor like someone crying. "Why, what is that queer sound?" asked Mary.

"That? Er...why...that's n'thing 't all. I mun go now." Martha ran off.

A Cry in the Night

That night, Mary woke up hearing rain. "Oh, it would rain when Dickon and I were planning on planting in the secret garden. And I had come up with some special rhymes for Dickon to say in Yorkshire dialect!"

Vexed, she frowned. But she heard the noise again and decided to find out the source of the queer sound.

She walked down several long corridors into a room where she saw a small pale boy with dark eyes lying in bed. He stared back at her. "Are...you a ghost?" he asked.

"No, I'm not. Are you?"

The boy introduced himself as Colin. "I'm Mr. Craven's son." Mary told him that Mr. Craven was her uncle. "No one ever told me he had a son!"

"It's because I'm going to die. I'm an invalid and my mother died right after I was born and my father hates the sight of me because of my illness and because I remind him of her. It's all frightfully romantic."

"Why were you crying?" asked Mary.

"Because I was tired and had a headache and wanted to convey a sense of mysterious foreboding to the reader," replied Colin. "I hate most people in this wretched house--but I don't hate you. Will you come back and see me again?"

"Won't Mrs. Medlock be angry?" said Mary nervously.

But Colin explained that he always got his way because everyone was afraid he'd die if he wasn't given what he wanted. It was agreed that Mary would go on seeing Colin as long as they wanted.

Soon after, it was a nice day, and Mary decided to put off seeing Colin. "I'm going slumming in the garden with Dickon, and that's that!"

A Tantrum

When Mary came back, Colin had thrown a fit. Martha called her to come quiet down Colin.

Mary stamped her foot in rage when she saw Colin screaming and crying. But Colin said, "You're to be nice to me! Why, I'm going to grow a hump one day, you know! Just like my father. It's my inheritance along with this house and everyone in it!"

"No!" screamed Mary. "It's hysterics! That's all it is." Mary had the nurse examine his back and revealed that the back was startlingly free of humps.

"All you really need is fresh air," ventured the nurse. "That would do you a world of good."

"I once went out in the fresh air. To the seaside. But people looked at me. With their eyes. So I screamed and cried," Colin told them.

When the nurse had left, Colin asked Mary about the secret garden, and whether being there would help him. "I'm sure it would. Dickon could push you in his chair. No one would have to see us--we could be alone."

"I Shall Live Forever and Ever!"

The children made the arrangements and Colin went outside with Dickon and Mary. Dickon pushed him in his chair to the secret garden--after Colin had told every gardener to stay away so no one would discover their secret.

Colin looked at the garden. He stared in wonder at Dickon's animals, at the tame lamb, at the roses, and the daisies, and the uniquely British countryside. He marveled.

"Wench!" A scream came from beyond the wall. Ben Weatherstaff was standing on a ladder, shaking his fist. "If ye w'ere a wench o'mine, I'd give ye a hiding!" But Ben's face changed when he saw Colin. "Ye--a cripple?"

"I am NOT a cripple!" Colin gestured to Dickon to help him stand. "You see? My back is straight. And I'm as fit as an Indian rajah today and one day I'll perhaps be as fit and healthy as a right minded forward thinking Englishman. I shall live forever and ever!"

Ben took his hat off in shock. "M'ester Colin. F'rgive me."

From then on, it was decided that everyday, the children would come into the garden and help Colin get stronger and more fit. Every day Colin was brought out in his chair and Dickon and Mary took him to the secret garden. They decided they would keep Colin's condition a secret until his father came back--they did not want Mrs. Medlock or the doctor writing to tell him.

"I am sure Father will love me when he sees how strong and healthy I am!" said Colin.

"Conditional love is the best kind," agreed Dickon.

"No," Mary corrected. "Say it in Yorkshire!"

Dickon sighed. "Must I?"

The Power of Magic, or the Stirrings of Rhonda Byrne's Career

Colin was growing stronger and stronger. His face was becoming ruddier and he looked more animated. The doctor and Mrs. Medlock marveled at the change, though Colin warned that he did not want his father told.

Both Mary and Colin were eating more and more, too. "You've put on such weight, Master Colin," said the doctor. "If I didn't know that you were the invalid archetype, I'd swear on my clockwork vibrating cure for hysterical women that you were as well as myself or Mistress Mary!"

"Well, perhaps it is an unnatural appetite," said Colin haughtily.

When they were alone, Colin looked at Mary. "We'll have to eat less--I don't want them writing to my father and telling him I'm well. It is so dreadfully hard, though."

"I never wanted to eat before either. In India, I was always so hot and lazy, but since coming here I always want my breakfast."

"That must be why they never made anything great in India," said Colin, "like gardens or topiary animals or shooting weekends in the country."

Later, in the garden, the children practiced the exercises that Ben Weatherstaff had told them about, so that Colin could get stronger.

"Magic," Colin declared, "is all around us. It's simply a matter of getting hold of it. Every morning I am going to say, Magic is in me, magic is making me well! And I will use this Science when I grow older to help others. I'll tell people crippled by polio and consumption to simply feel the Magic coursing through their bodies."

"But Colin," said Mary, "what if that doesn't work?"

"It will just mean that they don't believe in the Magic strongly enough. Why, thinking is enough to make it so. I've proven that!"

In the Garden

One day, old Mr. Craven was on one of his long trips abroad when he had a funny feeling that he should return to the Manor. His trip had not yet wound down. "Yet," mused author Frances Hodgson Burnett, "I can't come up with any descriptions of ivy and roses and grass. I shall have to bring back old Mr. Craven and conclude the book."

Mr. Craven returned to the manor. He asked to know where the children were and when he was told they were all in the garden he went there straight away. He heard the children laughing. Colin ran straight out of the secret garden followed by Mary. When he saw his father, he gasped.

"Father! Look at me! I can walk! I can run and jump and play! I won't have to sit in bed and write dour Jane Eyre fan fiction! And I'm going to grow older and go to boarding school and visit India to accumulate heaps of noble titles and shoot tigers!"

Mr. Craven put his hand on Colin's fine strong shoulder and the two of them walked across the lawn together. The rest of the household shrieked in amazement to see young Master Craven walking.

Mary ran to catch up, hoping that Mr. Craven wouldn't turn her out on the streets to become a governess.

"Dickon!" said Colin, suddenly remembering, and turning back to the garden. "Don't forget to finish weeding this row of plants before you go home for the night, that's a good lad."