My Confession

Ok, readers, it’s time for my confession. Much like Charlotte, I have something I need to get off my chest. I recently discovered something about myself, and, well, I just can’t hide it anymore. So here goes: I. Am. Cheesy.

How do I know this about myself? Well, Netflix recently released the entire Full House series, and, in need of some comfort television, I put it on the other night. Now, I loved this show as a kid. I thought it was hilarious. I laughed so much, in fact, that my sister used to get mad at me when we were watching it because she couldn’t hear the TV over my laughter. As an adult, though, I assumed that my tastes had matured, and while I expected to enjoy watching these reruns of a childhood favourite, I didn’t think I would find it as funny as I did as a kid.

I was wrong. I watched the pilot the other night, and when Jesse and Joey are trying to figure out how to change Michelle’s diaper, I laughed so hard I cried. And that is when I had my revelation: I am cheesy. Because Full House may be one of the cheesiest sitcoms of all time, and not only do I love it, but I actually find it FUNNY. Laugh-out-loud, tears-rolling-down-my-face, FUNNY.

(Slightly off topic, but during my viewing of Full House, I had another revelation: John Stamos has not aged AT ALL since he was Uncle Jesse. What kind of pact with the devil has he made? And how can I sign up for that pact??)

So there you have it. I am cheesy. Not only am I older than Danny Tanner, I may be just as lame and nerdy as he is.



Sigh. My sweet girls have no idea how lame I am. I wonder how long I have before they realize it and are (rightfully) embarrassed?


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