I just changed my Facebook profile picture because, according to my family, no respectable woman would be interested in me if she were to see the old one.
I thought the photo was adorable, myself. It was taken when I was eight years old. In the picture, I'm wearing a grey sweatshirt with graphics of a checkered flag and some sort of "USA" logo on it. Presumably, the shirt promoted a racing event, but I couldn't tell you which one. Or why I even wore the shirt -- I wasn't a fan of auto racing then, and I'm not one now.
Sadly, the shirt is no longer in my possession, but I hope it found a nice home at a Goodwill store somewhere.
Really, what makes the photo so precious, from my perspective, is my hairdo at the time. It's thick, it's lustrous, and it sticks straight up toward the ceiling. I had the Cosmo Kramer look before Cosmo Kramer existed on TV. I'm kind of proud of that.
I chose it as my Facebook profile picture for three reasons: 1) I'm a private person and I generally don't share photos of myself online (which is why you don't see the Shane/Kramer pic here); 2) I have a self-deprecating sense of humor -- I like to poke fun at myself, and it's rather easy to poke fun at eight-year-old Shane (it's like I'm bullying myself!); and 3) I really do believe it's a cute pic, and that I was even more loveable then than I am now.
My family strongly disputes the latter point. They don't find the photo to be adorable at all. They find it to be absurd at best and, at worst, a major obstacle to finding love.
"Why did you post that picture on Facebook?" they asked me. "You look ridiculous in it."
Keep in mind, these are the same people who snapped this picture and thought enough of it to display it in a photo album for the past 27 years.
"How could anyone not like eight-year-old me?" I reasoned. "Looking at myself, I just want to give myself a big hug!"
"Shane, no woman wants to be with a man who has a goofy photo of himself as a child as his Facebook profile picture," they countered.
Is that really true, though? I know women ask for a lot in a partner -- good looks, job security, a sense of humor -- but I didn't realize that an appealing Facebook profile photo is also a requirement.
I'll tell you this much: If a woman were to demand to see my Facebook profile picture on a first date -- like she's a TSA agent checking my driver's license to ensure I'm legit -- I'd walk right out on her. I'd have nothing to prove to her, and neither would eight-year-old Shane.
I polled my Facebook friends to gauge the validity of my family's theory, that women would be turned off by the photo. One longtime acquaintance -- female -- mostly disagreed, writing, "Perhaps some girls [wouldn't be interested in me after seeing the picture] but would you be interested in those boring girls anyway? Cool chicks dig Kramer hair."
Another, male friend openly wondered whether I was using Facebook to pick up women.
As I mentioned at the top, I succumbed to family pressure and changed my profile picture to a more current photo. We'll see what kind of effect it has on my romantic life going forward.
I didn't realize how many Back to the Future-inspired tweets I'd published until I wrote one last night about Old Biff's meeting with his younger self that I thought was rather amusing. Of course, no one retweeted it or favorited it, but that's neither here nor there.
I figured I'd compile all of those tweets here, if for no other reason than to ensure that I don't recycle old jokes in the future. Because it's pretty clear that I'm going to be writing more tweets about the Back to the Future movies in the future. Enjoy!
Old Biff should've also told 1955 Biff to sign up for Twitter/Instagram as soon as they're invented so he can have his choice of usernames.
I attended a Noel Gallagher concert last week. It was the eighth time I'd seen him live, both as the lead guitarist for Oasis and as a solo artist.
He is my favorite musician, and since he's from England, it's a rare treat when he comes across the pond and puts on a show here. He tours the U.S., on average, once every three or four years. He hasn't spoiled me as a fan, and I like that. By comparison, Dave Matthews Band announces a summer tour once every two or three weeks. They will circle the country six times this summer alone. I'm sorry...seven times. More dates were just released.
My latest Noel Gallagher concert was staged in a general admission venue, with a capacity of 1,500. In one respect it enhanced the experience because it was intimate, and I was able to maneuver myself relatively close to the stage. On the other hand, I had to stand for a total of three hours, and I couldn't stand it.
I arrived to the venue at 7:30 p.m., a half-hour before the doors opened, and stood in line. The concert was scheduled to begin at 9 p.m. By 8:53 p.m., my lower back was throbbing. It was an unfair reminder that, at the age of 34, my peak years of standing amid a sea of excitable music fans are long behind me. I was fantasizing about the curb outside the venue, and all of the wonderful ways I could sit on it, by the time Noel took the stage.
Once he started playing his guitar, I was able to mentally block the pain I was feeling. I was really entertained by the opening song and was dancing in that awkward "I can't dance so I'll bop my head, tap my foot and slap my hand against my thigh" sort of way. But the fans in front of me were moving to the music as well, and they started shifting their position and, as a result, obscuring my view of Noel. I'm 5'6" so I had to constantly stretch my neck to the left, to the right, in whichever direction necessary in order to best peer through the crowd in front of me and see the musician I paid to see.
For those of you who are taller than I am, let me take a moment to explain to you how difficult it can be to be my height. Those around me are not really sensitive to the fact that I'm smaller than average, and they are not very accommodating to me. In fact, I usually have to accommodate them.
An example: when I'm with friends, and we want to take a group photo. This is rarely handled in a diplomatic manner. "Hey Shane, you're short, can you stand in the front, please? You're such a tiny person, and we don't want you to be hidden in the back behind all of us, your friends, who tower over you. That's great, thank you. Wait a second...can you kneel down toward the ground? It's just a precautionary measure. Again, you're short, but we can't run the risk of your head blocking someone's neck or chin. Thanks, buddy."
If I have to stand in front for a group photo because I'm short, it stands to reason that I should stand in the front for a general admission concert. That's just my two cents.
What really bothers me is when fans stand up at a seated venue during a concert. There's no need for that. You paid for the seat; use it. Get your money's worth out of it. The music will sound exactly the same whether you're sitting or standing. I'm certain of it.
Boy, was I irritated when I attended a festival in Central Park last fall. There were no seats, but everyone, including myself, was very comfortable sitting or lying on the grass. I was able to enjoy the music of fun. and Carrie Underwood while sprawled out on my blanket. I was really having fun (no pun intended). Then No Doubt walked onto the stage, and everyone stood up. I couldn't believe it. Here we were, relaxing on a lawn -- a Great Lawn -- and it was all ruined because tens of thousands of people felt the need to get on their feet for No Doubt's infectious brand of ska-pop. And they remained standing for a headlining set by Jay Z. That's more than two hours of standing for no logical reason. That night, I had 99 problems and searing leg pain was one.
Back to the Noel Gallagher concert: I had discomfort in my back from standing, and I had discomfort in my neck from stretching. Physically, I was falling apart. Fortunately, Noel had the cure halfway through his set: a semi-acoustic performance of "Champagne Supernova," which served as a cue for several fans around me to light up a joint. "Where were you while we were getting high?" indeed.
I'm certain the marijuana was for medicinal purposes, because they had to have been in as much agony as I was. I don't think I inhaled the smoke, but I did suddenly feel a whole lot better about myself, though I developed an intense craving for Doritos.
I don't mean to complain. It was an awesome concert, one of my personal favorites. I'm actually seeing Noel Gallagher again next month. In a seated venue. While I'm looking forward to the show, you better believe I will be sitting down for every minute of it.
By now I'm sure you've heard the news that Netflix is close to ordering 13 episodes of a Full House spin-off that would reunite Candace Cameron Bure and Andrea Barber as D.J. Tanner and her best friend, Kimmy Gibbler. This was my initial reaction:
Far be it from me to tell John Stamos, who will produce and guest star in the update, what he should or shouldn't do with a show that has brought joy to millions of fans since 1987. But I have a nagging suspicion that the spin-off will tarnish my memories of the original.
Full House is on my list of my top-ten favorite TV programs of my lifetime. Maybe top five, if I'm feeling generous. I've seen every episode dozens of times -- nay, hundreds of times. The show was the perfect answer to the question, "What would happen if a broadcaster, a Bullwinkle impressionist, and an exterminator-turned-advertising professional-turned-radio DJ-turned-nightclub owner who moonlights as a musician were to raise three girls in San Francisco?"
As fondly as we remember the children on the show -- and their adorable catchphrases, like "How rude!" and "You got it, dude!" -- I was more interested in their dad and uncles. Uncle Jesse, especially. He was my generation's Fonzie. (This was all but confirmed in a season-three episode that guest starred Scott Baio as an old friend of Jesse's.) He wore a leather jacket, had lustrous hair, had sexy girlfriends, was a frontman for a rock band, and was friendly with Tommy Page and the Beach Boys. The Beach Boys were even nice enough to grant Jesse permission to record their song "Forever," resulting in the single greatest moment in the show's eight seasons:
How can the spin-off possibly attempt to recreate this kind of Full House magic? In my opinion, it makes little sense to try.
Some things are better left in the past. Full House is one of those things. I don't want to relive the show; I want to leave it exactly as I remember it. A Full House comeback feels a bit like my first true love re-entering my life and telling me, "Shane, let's get back together, but only for a limited run. The chemistry won't be the same, and the dialogue won't be as entertaining, but there will be plenty of nostalgia! What do you say?" I'd say no.
Incidentally, the spin-off, Fuller House, shares the title of an episode from the original series. In the episode, Jesse prepares to move out of the Tanner household following his wedding with Rebecca. But Michelle become emotional, then Jesse becomes emotional, and eventually his bride decides that they should both live in the Tanners' attic.
Here's a timeline of how this unfolded:
- Jesse and Rebecca return from their amazing honeymoon.
- Jesse packs his belongings for the big move.
- Michelle doesn't understand the concept of marriage, and so mistakenly believes her entire family is moving with Jesse.
- Michelle's family sets her straight, and she throws a temper tantrum.
- Jesse and Michelle have a heart-to-heart talk.
- Michelle gives Jesse a pink pig doll.
- Jesse gives Michelle a framed picture of a pink bunny from a wall in his bedroom.
- Michelle cries.
- Jesse cries.
- Rebecca suggests to Jesse that, instead of starting a new life together in a home they can call their own, they live in the attic of a residence overrun by children who attempt to ruin marriages by refusing to let anyone leave.
- Everyone lives happily ever after in the fuller house.
Even by early-1990s sitcom standards, this was a stretch. I am willing to suspend disbelief for a TV show. I've watched Saved by the Bell, The Hills, The Bachelor, Monday Night Raw and Mets baseball over the past 20 years. I am an expert at suspending disbelief. But an attractive woman voluntarily offering to move into an attic with her new husband, above her co-worker, a struggling stand-up comic and three kids who can't mind their own business? I don't think so.
I speak from personal experience. I've asked five women over the past 10 years to move in to my family's attic with me. They all said no. They were not swayed by Jesse and Rebecca's story. It's just not realistic!
Knowing that Stamos will make appearances on Fuller House, the spin-off, I'd be interested in learning whether Jesse is still living in the attic. If he is, after 20+ years, we'll know for sure he failed as a musician.
Unless he can somehow convince the Beach Boys to make another music video with him, in which case I will most definitely watch the spin-off.
