You’re telling me this wouldn’t be a hit?

Random, awesome fact of the day:  John Stamos is the spokesman for a charity called Project Cuddle.  This was brought to my attention when I was sent the following link to an article that describes The Greek God’s hopes to create a Full House movie that would take place during the “first few years” of the series (aka the last few years of the 80s).

For those of you who choose not to click on the link, Johnny Amazing has dreams of a feature film that would star not him, Bob Saget and Dave Coulier, but instead three current stars (this is NOT to say Stamos is not a current star.  He is.  Probably the biggest star in the world.  Except Susan Boyle.)  He has some solid ideas about who should play the three men of the Tanner household.

Uncle Jesse

The only person cooler than John Stamos?

He’s been a stoner freak in one of the best shows of all time (the brilliant Freaks and Geeks), James Dean, a friend/enemy of Spiderman, a drug dealer, and he’s even made out with Sean Penn (as Harvey Milk), something Storelli couldn’t make happen last month.  It only makes sense that the next logical step for James Franco would be to play the most epic character ever created, Jesse Katsopolis.

Danny Tanner

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh...... Kelly Clarkson!

He’s played an idiotic boss (Michael Scott), an asshole news anchor (Bruce Almighty), A 40 year old virgin, a mentally challenged weather reporter (Anchorman) and was a Daily Show correspondent.  In all of Hollywood, there is perhaps no better person to play Danny Tanner than Steve  Carrell.  Just imagine the awkwardness with which Carrell would tackle DJ Tanner bringing home boys.

Joey Gladstone

Michelle Tanner will have a lot more street cred at school

Let’s be serious.  I would go see this movie simply for the chance to see Tracy Morgan’s take on the Gladstone staple “Cut. It. Out!”

There you have it: the three male leads for the Full House movie, as imagined by John Stamos.   In the next issue of irrationally awesome sitcom to movie remakes, we will cover who will play Carl Winslow and Steve Urkel in the Family Matters movie.

A JSF Hit List: The Lonely Island and We Are Scientists

I had been a fan of The Lonely Island way before they made me jizz in my pants.  (Note: if you have never seen the video for “Jizz In My Pants,” that sentence is exceedingly awkward.  Almost as awkward as when I was hanging out with some high school friends around Christmas time and one of the girls said, “I just ate a grape,” to which I obviously asked without hesitation, “And jizzed in your pants?”  Silence ensued.  She had not seen the video.)

The Lonely Island, consisting of Andy Samberg, Avika Schaffer and Jorma Taccone, are behind, well, pretty much anything funny on SNL in recent memory that doesn’t involve Sarah Palin.  In addition to “Jizz In My Pants,” they are the masterminds behind the following gems (*warning* explicit language):

- Lazy Sunday (It’s the chronic(what?)cles of Narnia)

- Dick in a box (Still the best present I have received from Justin Timberlake.  Wait, what?)

- I’m On a Boat (Next time I have the opportunity to be on a boat, I am going straight tux.  Good things happen when you wear a tux)

- Macgruber (While it is almost blasphemy to make fun of Mcgyver, it’s also damn funny)

But none of these are the reasons I first heard of The Lonely Island.  No, that has to do with the brilliant directing by Schaffer in four music videos for one of my favorite bands, We Are Scientists. Sure, I love their music, but their ironic back and forth banter during live shows is what really does it for me.  You can click on the link above to hear the band’s music, or you can just take them at their word and imagine what their sound is:

According to their myspace page, the band sounds like:  The Chipmunk, the Grouse, the Peacock, the Tiger, the Condor, the Hawk, the Pegasus, the Turkey, the Cougar, the Hedgehog, the Penguin, the Turtle, the Coyote especially, the Heron, the Phoenix, the Unicorn, the Cow, the Hippopotamus, the Pigeon, the Vulture, the Crane, the Horse, the Porcupine, the Weasel, the Cricket, the Hummingbird, the Prairie Dog to a lesser extent, the Wolf, the Crocodile, the Hyena, the Quail, the Whale, the Crow, the Jaguar, the Rabbit, the Woodpecker, the Deer, the Kingfisher, the Zebra, the Dog, the Dolphin.

That’s right, the Coyote especially, and the Prairie Dog to a lesser extent.  But to summarize, they sound great.

Schaffer takes four of their songs and pairs the music with lasting images that are hilarious, beautiful, and, well, hipster-iffic:

1.  “The Great Escape“, off 2005′s With Love and Squalor.

- Remember that kid who moved in next door to you in middle school and all of a sudden was over at your house all the time, at the bus stop with you every morning, and hanging around with all of your friends?  Or maybe you were that kid?  Either way, that’s what this video is like.

2.  “Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt,” from Love and Squalor.

- Because being chased by an upright person dressed as a bear is almost as terrifying as getting chased by a real bear.  How big was the bear you ask?  This big.

3. ” It’s a Hit,” from Love and Squalor.

- It was a hit.  Great song, great video.  And who said hipsters don’t like sports?  Or violence?  Or anything?

And my personal favorite, the ridiculously good song, and better video,

4.  “After Hours,”  off 2008′s Brain Thrust Mastery

- Who hasn’t been a double date where one of the girls is less attractive than the other (and ages seven times as fast)?

Mouse War 2009 is trumped by a 6 overtime THRILLER

Mano a mouso

I came face to face with the enemy of 2009 last night.  No, not Bernie Madoff (though somewhat similar in appearance).  Fievel.   The leader of the kind of army who stages surprise attacks under the cover of the night, steals the opposition’s rations and takes shits at their headquarters.  The kind of army who must be destroyed (or at least removed).

It all started when I was just trying to be responsible and pick up after myself.  Gathering some loose papers and popsicle wrappers from the coffee table, I walked into the kitchen having absolutely no idea what was about to go down.

Leaning over the garbage can to make my deposit, a flash of brown on the white plastic lining at the bottom of the receptacle alerted me that I was not alone in the kitchen.  Fievel!  Oftentimes wars are won not by a great maneuver, but rather as the result of a tactical error.  Maybe he could have climbed out if he had more time, and if he had not been up against a much larger foe.  Who was smarter.  And more of a ninja.

I dropped him off in the garbage can on the corner a couple blocks away, still in the tied garbage bag.  It may seem cruel, but I am not worried- I think Fievel can chew his way out of a garbage bag.  I mean, we’re talking about a mouse who ate through plastic to get to a caramel cream (who wouldn’t?).

Are we mouse free?  For the time being, it seems to.  But only time will tell.

Speaking of more evenly matched wars, Syracuse and UConn are in the third overtime of an epic Big East tournament quarterfinal on ESPN.  I was at MSG last night to see the Orange take down the Pirates of Seton Hall.  Seton Hall, by the way, has to be one of the most bogus Division I program in the counry.  Their uniforms are as ugly as their games, their mascot is a goofy pirate (below), and their cheerleaders look like they are cast members of MTV True Life: I live at the Jersey Shore (“cheez bawls.  Steak sandwiches.  We pretty much own this joint!”).  The male cheerleaders had my new haircut, and the females had thick thighs and surely thicker accents.   That was mean.

Killer boots man

But Seton Hall is not the story here, dude!  The Orange and the Huskies are putting on a ridiculous show.  It’s now 12:35 a.m, and UConn just missed a shot at the buzzer to send us to the 4th overtime.  This is the first 4 overtime game in Big East Tournament history, according to Bill Raftery, who managed to spit out this fact between seizures and yelling “The kiss!”  He also happened to be Seton Hall’s coach from 1970-82.

12:48- We’re heading for overtime number 5!  Unbelievable.  I’m getting tired just watching them.  When the clock reads 0.0 (for the 7th time this game), 65 minutes of play will have been completed.  Can we go to 6 overtimes?  Is that even possible?  Regulation ended an hour and twenty minutes ago when Eric Devendorf hit a three at the buzzer that was waved off upon review.

Devendorf has fouled out, as has UConn’s front line.  It’s 108-108 with 58.4 seconds left.  Wow.  36 seconds left, a recent sub for UConn just hit a jumper.  110-108.  Johnny Flynn from Syracuse just hit two free throws.  110-110.  15.1 seconds left, timeout UConn.  My palms are sweating.  Worse than when I executed Fievel’s capture.

We’re going to 6 overtimes!  I have no words left.  I want to stop writing.  I want to go to bed.  We’re heading towards 70 minutes of basketball, or for you math majors, 7/4 of a game.  According to Raftery, the longest college basketball game was 7 overtimes, between Cincinnatti and Bradley in 1991.  So now you know, and knowing’s half the battle.

Syracuse just hit a 3 pointer to open the 6th overtime, and amazingly, that is their first lead of any overtime, which is baffling.  UConn looks exhausted, and the Orange have seemingly caught their second wind, and now lead 115-110 with 2:40 left.

Hahahaha Paul Harris from Syracuse just got absolutely Sprited trying to dunk, but recovered and put in an And 1.  On that note, this entry is over.  I will give you the final score, when and if the game ends, but I am tapped.  Right now it’s 118-112 Syracuse with 2:12 left.  If I had to work as hard as either of these teams in Mouse War 2009, I would have surrendered the apartment.

It’s over.

Start time: 9:36 p.m

End time: 1:22 a.m

Final scores:

Syracuse 127, UConn 117

My apartment 5, Team Mouse 0

Randy Moller: The follow up

Randy Moller is such a golden god that he deserves another post, including a link to his greatest hits.

The above link is to the Panthers’ site that is updated each time he spouts out a fantastic goal call, so you will never have to miss a Randy Moller gem again.  Bookmark it.  Right after you bookmark John Stamos Fever.  Wait, you surely have already done that.  Unless you are the person who recently found the blog by typing “how to reduce a fever” into a search engine.  I doubt they bookmarked it.  This is not the place to come for that information.  Sorry to that random peruser if his or her fever was exacerbated in any way from this site.

And if it wasn’t, they should check their pulse.  Because if Randy Moller’s goal calls don’t get your blood flowing, not much can.

Oh, and one final note:  MaineCoast12 will surely shed a tear when he sees one of Moller’s greatest goal calls: “He shoots he scores!  Take me down to the paradise city!”  I rest my case that Moller is the greatest hockey announcer ever.

He shoots!  He scores!  Mmmm that IS a TASTY burger!”

He shoots, he scores! Laces out, Dan!

Want to pick up a girl?  Use a movie quote.  (This may be slightly to moderately successful)

Want to make your friends laugh?  Use a movie quote. (This may be very to extremely successful)

Want to create the best signature goal call in the history of the NHL on radio*? Use a movie quote.

(* This statement is, of course, absolute assumption, as I had previously never heard another NHL goal call)

Thanks to my uncle Mike (and the Dan Le Batard show), I am now aware of a genius at work near the southernmost point of our great country.  The play by play announcer of the Florida Panthers, Randy Moller, is making goals by the Florida Panthers among my favorite plays in sports.  If he announced Red Sox homeruns like he does Panthers tallies, I don’t think I would ever miss another Sox game on the radio.

You see, with help from the suggestions of listeners to the Dan Le Batard radio show, Moller, a former 13 year NHL vet, peppers goal calls with references from some of the most quotable movies ever.   Examples of his work:

“He shoots, he scores!  Make me a bicycle clown!”  (Kid yelling at Vince Vaughn in Wedding Crashers),

“He shoots, he scores!  Pay dat man his money.”  (John Malkovich as Teddy KGB in Rounders), and my personal favorite

“He shoots, he scores!  Who is your daddy, and what does he do?” (Arnold Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop).

Not to be lost in the shuffle is the fact that the picture at the beginning of this glorious youtube compilation of some of his best calls makes him look like a confused gym teacher with sex offender facial hair. . . or a former hockey player.  But it only adds to his aura when that flashes on the screen before he launches into his goal calls of glory.

As Randy Moller is surely a reader of John Stamos Fever, I’d like to suggest the following gems for him:

“He shoots, he scores!  I invented the paino key necktie.  I invented it!” (Will Ferrell as Mugatu in Zoolander)

“He shoots, he scores!  You play ball like a girl!” (The Great Hambino in The Sandlot)

“He shoots, he scores!  Get busy living, or get busy dying!” (Morgan Freeman as Red in Shawshank Redemption)

“He shoots, he scores!  I’m going to murderball you!” (Jonah Hill in Knocked Up)

“He shoots, he scores!  SWEEP THE LEG” (Cobra Kai dude in Karate Kid)

“He shoots, he scores!  Sloth love Chunk!  (Sloth in The Goonies)

“He shoots, he scores!  You’re out of your element Donnie!”  (John Goodman as Walter in The Big Lebowski)

“He shoots, he scores!  Dorothy Mantooth is a saint!”  (Vince Vaughn as Wes Mantooth in Anchorman)

“He shoots, he scores!   I caught you a delicious bass!”  (Jon Heder in Napoleon Dynamite)

“He shoots, he scores!   Throw another shrimp on the barbie!”  (Jim Carrey as Lloyd in Dumb and Dumber)

“He shoots, he scores! Rocky loves Emily.  Rocky loves Emily!”  (Colt and Tum Tum in 3 Ninjas)

“He shoots, he scores!  This is your wake up call, Bohdi!  I am an F, B, I, AGENT!” (Keanu Reeves as Johnny Utah in Point Break)

There are, of course, thousands of these.  I’d go on but I’d love to hear some of your favorites, oh loyal readers.

And I need to keep my next pick up line a secret.

Uncle Tony Perkis Says . . .

Lunch is canceled due to a lack of hustle.  Deal with it.

Congratulations, you've just joined the 76% of Americans who forget to stretch before any physical activity

 

 

 

The fact that this picture exists still makes me happy

The official John Stamos Fever 5 step method for finding love:

1) Log onto internet (you are reading this, so you’re already ahead of the game)

2) Go to google

3) Type in “black bear”

4) Go to second page of results

5) Find the following picture:

That's how big the bear cub was. It's science.

I can think of so many things to say, but sometimes the best things are those left unsaid.  Anyway, that’s love.

A-Rod’s pink lips do not deserve to be on any of these delicious bottles of beer

Watching Alex Rodriguez on Sportscenter talk about how the pressure of a $252 million contract led him to take performance enhancing drugs reminds me of the time I took performance enhancing drugs after reaching $7.25 an hour for my work study job back in college.  His was the richest contract in sports history.  Mine, the maximum amount students could make per hour.  Yes, we were both living the dream.  Perhaps the only difference, besides a few hundred million dollars, is the fact that, without a shadow of a doubt, A-Rod wears lip gloss.  His lips are WAY too pink for a normal human, and it almost makes me want to not have HD TV.

Also, he claims not to know what his performance enhancing drug was.   I know exactly what mine was, and is: beer.  It enhances my performance in every way.  When I drink, I become funnier, better looking, smarter, and more popular.  I also become delusional.

Don't drink the beer! The beer has gone bad!

I doubt A-Rod has ever even had a beer, besides the time when he spit it out, captured on film above (the caption is a shout out to the Los Man and MaineCoast12 who both pointed out my regrettable exclusion of Can’t Hardly Wait from the post on Chick Flicks).  But if he ever wants to try it, I recommend he follow the JSF endorsement of the best beers to drink straight from the bottle.  Everyone knows the ultimate canned beer is PBR (Bud Heavy is the runner up), and out of a keg, well, Natty Ice always starts the party with a bang, and then ends it just as quickly when people start blacking out accidentally.

In first place, without question, is the High Life.  The beer itself rules.  The girl in the moon on the logo rules.  The shape and feel of the bottle in your hand rules.  The fact that it truly is the champagne of beers rules.  Everything about High Life out of a bottle rules.

Just living the dream . . .

The second best beer to drink straight out of the bottle is the classic Sierra Nevada.  Sure, the beer is delicious: a classic IPA from NoCal.  It goes down smooth and leaves a somewhat bitter, but satisfying aftertaste.  The bodega around the corner from my apartment sells Sierra Nevada 22 oz.  This counts as both a bottle and an awesome deal.  But even more important is how fantastically artistic and sexy you will feel while you hold the bottle.  I mean, this thing is a work of art.  It makes me want to drop everything and head for the California hills, where life is tinted in a glorious shade of green with yellow and orange accents.

If I ever meet a girl who looks like you, beautiful Sierra Nevada bottle, I will marry her

A close third place, especially in warm weather, is the classic Corona with a lime.  There is perhaps nothing better than sitting next to a lake with a cold Corona in your hand.  Besides, of course, watching A-Rod self-destruct.

Without a lime, Heineken would be in this picture

Bloody nipples are terrifying, and world records are hot

I came to three very important realizations today:

1) I will never, ever, run a marathon.

The route of the New York City marathon passes my apartment 7 miles from the start, and each of the past two years, I have stumbled out of my bed at 9 in the morning to walk outside and watch as men and women run past, their spirits and energy levels still high.  Seeing these runners always makes me think in the back of my mind, This would be a great challenge, maybe I should look into doing it. Then, both years, I looked down and saw that I was still wearing my Halloween costume from the night before (both marathons were run on the Sunday after Halloween), and decided that running 26.2 consecutive miles probably just wasn’t for me.

The text I received from my buddy Ploof today really helped cement my desire to never run:  “[My girlfriend and I] ran the marathon in 4 hours, 40 minutes.  Two hours of which I ran sans shirt due to bloody nipples.  3 hours of which my upper thighs needed to be wrapped in vaseline coated ace bandages due to chaffage.”

This marks the first time that bloody nipples have caused me to decide anything in my life.

2) I made a horrible, horrible mistake when I failed to include Joe Esposito’s “Best Around” in The Karate Kid in my top movie songs list.

While overall the list dominated, failing to include this song, in this movie, is borderline inexcusable.  Especially when I actually break into the song at least once a week, “You’re the best around. . . NOTHING’S EVER GONNA KEEP YOU DOWN,” at random times.  It really fits in any situation: I can keep equally pumped up to play a basketball game or make a sandwich when I start channeling my inner Joey Esposito.

3) This Sunday I am going swimming.

Not having hot water for 8 days (the streak ended yesterday) apparently wasn’t enough to chill me to the bone, so I am going to take the Polar Bear plunge into the Atlantic Ocean on Super Bowl Sunday.  I’m shivering now just thinking about it.

Mosher and I will be joining two epic guys I work with, Storelli and Corrigan, along with thousands of others, in an attempt to set a Guinness World Record: http://www.longbeachpolarbears.org/

Two important considerations go into this.  First, if we do in fact set the world record, we have the option of purchasing an official world record certificate. Is it a rip off?  Probably.  Will it look awesome on my wall? Undoubtedly.

Second, as always, frozen nipples > bloody nipples.

On the temptations of being Uncle Jesse, and the awesomeness of Either/Or

Everyone knows that even though he was a wonderful husband, father and of course, uncle, Jesse Katsopolis had a wild side.  Now, this side didn’t make it onto ABC, and it sure as hell doesn’t show up now on ABC Family or Nick at Nite, but he was the front man and namesake of a band that hit the national stage when their Beach Boys-cover “Forever” earned them a record deal and cross-country tour.  It’s only common sense that he hit the bottle hard, and often*.  Being on the road, away from the grounding influences of  the Tanner household, long nights at the bar after a show in front of a raucous crowd would turn into longer nights back in the hotel, where Jesse’s room served as a meeting place for the Rippers and their groupies.  As he was committed to Aunt Becky, he would drown his loneliness with Jack Daniels rather than dive into the willing arms of the nearest Amber, Tiffany or Melusina (the Rippers, riding the coattails of their front man, enjoyed a bevy of Greek women who wanted, nay, needed to be in Jesse’s vicinity).  After these long nights, Jesse would stumble out of bed long after Danny and Becky had titillated viewers on Wake Up, San Francisco. He would look himself in the mirror and know that while the fans needed him, there were four women back in San Francisco who needed him more.

Inevitably, however, he would become bored with just sitting around drinking, and whatever room he was staying in would become the most sought after drinking game in town.  Now, we all remember the great Kings game of 1989, where the final king was not revealed until the very last card, and one round where Jesse drew a 9 (9, 9, Bust a Rhyme) lead to an eight minute rhyme during which ninety-seven words were invented and immediately added to the English lexicon.  Then, of course, there is the legendary Rippers Beer Pong Tournament of 1991, where Jesse made 17 shots in a row, including one blindfolded.  But perhaps the greatest gift that Uncle Jesse gave us was when he invented the drinking game “Either/Or”**.

The rules of the game are as simple as its name.  One person asks an either/or question.  For example, “Uncle Jesse or Uncle Joey?”  Starting with the player directly to the left of the person who asked the question, each participant answers which they prefer.  There are absolutely no clarifying questions allowed.  After each player answers, the originator answers his or her preference.

There are three possible outcomes:

1) All those who answered the opposite the originator owe a drink.

2) If no one agrees with the originator, (s)he drinks.

3) If everyone answers the same as the originator, it is a social.  In this case, as everyone would obviously say Uncle Jesse, everyone would take a drink.

The person to the left of the originator now asks a new question, and the game continues.

This game completely, utterly and without fail, gives me the fever.  If I had my way, I would play Either/Or everyday.  You can play it with or without drinking, so it is always available.  You can play it at your house.  You can play it with your spouse.  You can play it on in your car, you can play it at a bar.  You can play it in the park, you can play it after dark.  Ok, I’m done rhyming.

* Please note: this, and most other forthcoming assertions in this menial essay have been determined through reading Uncle Jesse’s body language over a variety of seasons, in a wide manner of situations, a la Simon Baker on The Mentalist. The only difference is while Baker just reads the script every week, I can actually do this.

** This game was actually introduced to me by a co-worker, but I have to imagine it was invented by Uncle Jesse, as it is almost too awesome for a mere mortal to create.