Ready to Murder my Boyfriend – JUSTIFIABLY!

After this terrifying (yet hilarious) night, I just might murder my boyfriend -- JUSTIFIABLY.  #humor #boyfriend #cops #terror #funny

So then…I shout, “Fine!”

And then he shouts, “FINE!” — slams the door, gets in his car, and drives to work.

I seethe.

We’re in the middle of a big argument and he bails just to go to work? Where are his priorities?

He works at night, so it’s already dark out. I head to the kitchen.

I’m so mad at him, I can barely eat dinner. But it’s pasta and chocolate chip cookies, so I suffer through. In fact, I’m such a martyr, I suffer through several helpings.

I replay the argument in my head.

I was being logical, reasonable, rational – raising excellent points and substantiating them with clear, concise examples.

He was being a jerkfacemonkeybutt.

Normally we get along fine – we’ve been living together awhile now – we’re in our 30’s with good jobs, a decent house, and a pretty chill lifestyle – we’re laidback and laugh a lot.

But when he’s being a jerkfacemonkeybutt, I find him to be insufferable and quickly catalog every tiny thing about him that drives me insane.

As I walk through the house putting away the laundry, I notice things like:

This is the stupidest shirt ever. Why does he wear this shirt?
Seriously, can he not put his dishes IN the dishwasher instead of the sink?
I suppose the trash can was just too far away for this soda can.
Why is his golf club IN the house? That’s stupid. He’s stupid.
Ugh, look at his shoes. His shoes are annoying me.

I watch TV. I note how all the boyfriends on TV are so much better, nicer, funnier, smarter, and sweeter than my boyfriend.

I do a little paperwork, polish off the last cookies, and head down the hallway to the bedroom.

Just then I hear a loud THUMP CRASH!

My heart stops. I freeze.

It’s close to midnight. He’s not due back til 2:00 am. I’m not expecting any visitors.

What the hell was that?

Is someone out there?

I had whirled around when I heard the noise, so my legs and arms are all akimbo in the hallway – but I’m literally frozen solid like a fossilized dinosaur mid-run when the glacial apocalypse hits.

Fight or flight? Fight or flight? My heart is hammering.

I muster up my courage and dart toward the sound. The front door is WIDE OPEN.

WIDE OPEN TO THE BIG BLACK SCARY NIGHT.

I rush to slam it shut and lock it.

I lean against it, breathing hard, arms spread out against the door to keep the bad guys out.

Oh shit, what if they are already inside and I just locked them in here with me?

Panic!

I run to the kitchen for a huge knife and the portable phone.

Do I search the house?
They might be hiding somewhere inside.
They’ll jump out and murder me.
Do I run to my car in the driveway?
There might be more of them outside.
They’ll jump out and murder me.
I’m surrounded!

I pause in the kitchen holding the knife in front of me — leaning forward, concentrating fiercely to try to hear where they are.

Outside, I hear rustling – are they trying to get in the house – or is the wind whipping the tree branches and leaves around?  Are coyotes out there?

Inside I hear creaking – are they walking around – or is this old house settling?

More rustling — more snapping, crackling – are those footsteps? Is someone banging on the window?

I’m seriously in a panic. I have no choice. I have to call 911.

“Hi um I’m really scared I think someone’s trying to get in my house or maybe they’re already IN my house and I’m all alone and it’s pitch black out there and I keep hearing them trying to get in the house! I don’t know any of my neighbors. I’m afraid to leave and afraid to stay. Can you please send someone just to check to make sure no one is here? I’m really scared. I’m all alone! Did I say that? Did I say I’m alone? I’m really freaked out!!”

The dispatcher takes my address, asks a few questions, and says she’ll send a squad car over to make sure nobody’s trying to break in.

I position myself halfway between the front door and the back door, so I can make a quick escape, depending on the direction I’m attacked. I brandish the butcher knife in one hand and the phone in the other, waiting for the police to arrive. I dare not move in any direction. I am frozen.

I wait and wait and wait.

I could be dead by now. Seriously dead. What the hell, police officers? It doesn’t take much time to murder someone – I could be long dead by the time you get here.

Out of desperation — I call jerkfacemonkeybutt. I wail into the phone about the people trying to murder me – and infuse my tale with an accusatory tone since clearly it’s HIS fault that I’m in this predicament. Not sure how exactly, but damn sure, nonetheless.

He tries to calm me down and says he’ll come right home from work.

About 20 minutes later, he comes in the front door.

I’m still standing in the same spot, eyes WIDE and WILD, knife hand thrust forward, phone hand near my ear.

He advances to give me a hug. My face recoils, my knife hand waves him off.

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He’s already forgotten all about our earlier argument. He’s like that.

He always says men are like microwaves – they get mad – then zap, it’s over. Women are like crockpots, simmering and stewing that anger all.day.long. He’s right – I’ve been simmering and stewing and sweating here in the same spot, my Safety Spot, literally terrified to go anywhere or do anything until the police come to verify no one’s breaking into my house!!

I don’t even deign to answer the question about what’s wrong.

He quickly searches the house and reports back that no one else is here.
He says it doesn’t look like anyone’s tampered with the doors or windows.

“The door was WIDE OPEN! WIDE.OPEN! Someone OPENED the door! And they’re out there still! They’ve been making noises and banging all night! ALL NIGHT! I want the COPS to check this whole place out!!! YOU don’t know what to look for! The COPS will find them!!”

Full-out high-pitched hysteria.

He knows well enough to quietly sit down and wait it out with me.

After a few tense moments, he asks, “When did you call the police?”

“Almost 45 minutes ago! And they’re still not here! I could be dead by now! DEAD!!”

“Huh. That’s a long time.” He grins. “You shoulda called Dominos Pizza. They’d be here in 30 minutes or less.”

I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL KILL HIM RIGHT NOW.
I WILL BASH HIS SKULL IN WITH THIS PHONE AND STAB HIM IN THE GROIN WITH THIS KNIFE.
THIS IS NOT A LAUGHING MATTER.

I glare at him with such pure loathing, that stupid grin slides right off his stupid face.

The doorbell rings.

The cops are here!

THANK GOD!

They’ll search the premises – and check the perimeter – and find evidence that vicious criminals were trying to break into my house – and secure the area so no one can ever harm us!!

I rush from my Safety Spot to open the door. “You’re finally here!” I exclaim.

Two weary cops stand there. One says, “Yeah, sorry it took us so long to get here. The winds are so strong in the Valley tonight, we’ve been answering calls all over the place about doors blowing open. So what’s your situation here?”

***
Oh.my.freaking.God.

I can FEEL my boyfriend behind me, laughing his ass off INTERNALLY. He’s not uttering a sound, but his shoulders are shaking that telltale sign of inner mirth.

And if these cops were not standing right in front of me, I swear I would stab him immediately and repeatedly. And I would not feel one tiny bit of remorse.

I’d just fling the bloody knife to the floor with a flourish – like a rock star drops his mic – then shout “Peace out” – and drive to the store for more cookies.

— Darcy Perdu

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(Have you ever scared yourself absolutely silly? Any funny cop stories to share? Can YOU catalog all the annoying things about your significant other right after an argument?)

HUGE Funny Surprise When I Opened My Baby Book!

Mom cleaned her attic & mailed me my Baby Book!  Imagine my SURPRISE when I looked inside and saw...uh-oh  #funny #baby #babybook #pregnancy #humor

So then…I see the package on my front step and jump with excitement!

My older sister Dawn’s helping our Mom clean out her attic, so she’s mailing my Baby Book across the country to me!

What? A book about ME?

That’s my FAVORITE topic! I can’t wait to see the photos and notes my Mom penned about the mini-me!

I rip open the package and see a sweet little old-fashioned baby book.

ADORABLE!

I gently open the book to see my name lovingly inscribed there. Awwww.

I tenderly turn the pages – which are EMPTY.

COMPLETELY EMPTY.

What!?

I call my sister. “What the hell, Dawn?! My Baby Book is EMPTY!”

“Well, you were the THIRD child out of five,” she says. “Our parents were pretty busy.”

“Oh, easy for you to say. You’re the second. Is YOURS filled in?”

“Um…yes,” she admits sheepishly.

“Well, why’d you even bother to mail mine if it was EMPTY?”

“I dunno,” she retorts. “I’m mailing Mom’s attic stuff all over the country – I don’t have time to open everything! Just be glad you got a book at all! The 4th and 5th kids didn’t!”

It reminds me of the time my friend Angie confided a secret:

One night over drinks, Angie says, “I lied to my daughter.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Well, the damn teacher asked the kids to bring their Baby Books to school so all the third graders could ‘get to know each other,’” she says, sipping her mojito. “What the hell do they need to do that for?”

“Uh-oh,” I say, smiling. “Sounds like someone’s a bit defensive.”

“Damn right I’m defensive!” she says. “I never made a Baby Book for her! I have one for my first kid – it’s packed with all sorts of his photos and crap – but by the time I popped out the next kid, I didn’t have time for that! I was chasing a toddler and trying to grab my baby off my titties long enough to sleep for an hour!”

I’m laughing because she’s acting out her words, boob-pulling and all!

“So what’d you tell her?” I ask.

Angie looks guilty. “I told her it’s packed away and I’ll have to get it out later.”

“Um…okay?” I ask, “So how—”

“I bought a new one!” she says boldly. “Yep, I just marched into the store and bought a brand new Baby Book. I found some old baby pics of her and glued ’em right in.”

“You did not!” I laugh.

She nods emphatically.

“But how’d you fill in stuff like ‘What was baby’s first word?’ or ‘When was baby’s first step?’ How can you remember so long ago?”

“I just made shit up!” She slugs the last of her mojito and motions to the server for another. “First word? How about ‘ball?’ First steps? I dunno — a year maybe? So I put 11 months. She’s a go-getter so she was probably early. Why not boost her self-esteem a little?”

Angie dips a chip and continues her rant, punctuating her words by pointing her chip in the air:

“First baby food? Sweet potatoes! Favorite baby food? Apricots!”

“Apricots?” I interject. “Are you sure that’s a baby foo—?”

“Shut up, Darcy! She’ll never know!” she laughs. “Favorite toy? How about a green ARMADILLO!?”

I gasp-laugh. “What if she asks to SEE the green armadillo!?”

She says mournfully, “It was accidentally sucked out of our minivan window when we made a sharp turn into Disneyland.” She makes sorrowful puppy eyes.

“You just made that shit up right now!” I accuse her.

“Yes, yes, I did. And I’ll tell her the same thing if she asks me. ‘Cause I love my daughter — but I didn’t have time to create a damn Baby Book back when she was a baby! And I’m sure as hell not gonna let her walk into that classroom empty-handed! So I made the whole damn thing up and passed it off as totally real – and she bought it – hook, line, and sinker!”

Angie looks me straight in the eye, defiantly – almost daring me to object to her deceitful little ruse.

I clink my glass to hers, smile, and say, “Honey, you’re an AWESOME mother!”

— Darcy Perdu

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(And yes, I’ve changed her name for this post — and her daughter does not read my blog, so the secret is still safe!)

(Speaking of secrets, here’s the HORRIFYING & HILARIOUS SECRET everyone knew but me…)

(Did you make a Baby Book for each of your kids, with the exact same attention to detail? Would you “fudge” some things like Angie?  Do you still have your OWN Baby Book? I have mine. It’s empty. Did I mention that? COMPLETELY empty. I’m not bitter or anything. Cough. Should I mail it back to my Mom so she can make up some shit about me?)

Is My Coworker ACTUALLY a Robot? You Decide

I SWEAR This Guy in My Office is a Robot - Do You Agree? #funny #office #robot #humor

So then…Lou (our Finance VP), Henry (our Operations VP), and I approach the gate just in time to hear that our connecting flight home is delayed 30 minutes.

My face crumples in frustration.

Lou’s face twitches in aggravation.

Henry’s face is expressionless because he is a robot.

No, seriously, I have long suspected Henry is not actually human. Always punctual. Never goofs around. Follows all the rules. Never shows emotion. Always approaches problems logically.

Totally serious and buttoned-up. I’m pretty sure he has an Iphone app to schedule his poops.

When the Sales & Marketing crew and I are hootin’ and hollerin’ and carryin’ on, Henry steadfastly ignores us and quietly does his work.

When Lou’s Finance team is stressin’ and sweatin’ over the budget numbers, Henry methodically completes his tasks.

When the salty sailors among us spout profanity at missed shipments or demanding clients, Henry piously looks away to continue his duties.

When we take a longer lunch to celebrate a huge purchase order, Henry remains in his office, writing another Policy & Procedure (most likely regarding maximum time allowed for celebratory lunch breaks.)

He is robot or he is Vulcan. I swear by it.

So now the 3 of us have 30 minutes to indulge in WHATEVER WE WANT — so we quickly scatter, agreeing to meet back at a central table in the food court.

After 2 boring days at the corporate conference and several hours on the first flight, I know what I’m craving – but I can’t locate any hot pilots in an empty travel lounge –

So I settle for second best – the ice cream kiosk. Come to mama, you sweet, creamy bowl of devilish deliciousness!

I plop down at the table with my over-the-top hot fudge sundae just as Finance Lou approaches with his little luxury – a stiff drink. A double, no less!

As I inhale my sugary carbs and Lou savors his liquor, I can only imagine what constitutes a “guilty pleasure” for Henry.

And here he comes, with a roast beef sandwich with lettuce on whole wheat bread.

Well, of course.

He chooses something nutritious and appropriate.

He is a robot.

Just as I’m laughing to myself about our choices, Henry reaches down into his briefcase and pulls out…a small bottle of HOT SAUCE!

(He travels with his own bottle of HOT SAUCE?)

He slathers the spicy sauce all over his sandwich, takes a huge bite and beams — hot sauce dribbling down his chain.

Ahhh, Henry, you’ve restored my faith in your humanity.

Perhaps you are not a robot after all!

— Darcy Perdu

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(OK, quick, you’ve got 30 extra minutes at the airport – what do you do? Massage kiosk? Those weird oxygen bars? Book/magazine? Favorite food or alcohol? Horny flight attendant? Do tell!)

FUNNY NEW BOOK FEATURING SOME OF MY BUDDIES!

Motherhood May Cause Drowsiness Book

If you like funny stories about the tumultuous trials and tribulations of motherhood, this is the book for you!  Motherhood May Cause Drowsiness, edited by Lisa Nolan, features some awesome writers and hilarious tales.  Read Lisa’s post to learn more about this new book!

You’ll enjoy awesome stories like Why Moms Are Too Tired for Sex (Lisa Nolan), 10 Reasons Why a Sleepover Sucks: A Cautionary Tale (Kathryn Leehane), Into the Wee Small Hours of the Morning (Kathy Radigan), Bedtime is Sucky Time (Kate Hall), Sleepless in Menopausal Motherhood (Marcia Kester Doyle), and more!  You’ll laugh – you’ll cry – you’ll love it!  Pick up your copy on Amazon!

Is This Tutor Messin’ with Me? Oh yes. Yes, he IS, that little…

Am I paranoid?  Or is this guy totally messin' with me?  #funny #tutor #homework #humor

So then…my son Tucker slips through the dining room door into the kitchen and whispers, “Mom, I think the tutor’s asleep.”

I look up from the crockpot and whisper, “What?”

We both tiptoe to the dining room door, ease it open a crack, and peer through to see the Biology tutor sitting at the table before an open book, chin on his chest, head down, eyes closed.

Tucker and I look at each other and suppress a giggle. We ease the door shut, then scurry to the opposite end of the kitchen to confer.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I dunno. He was kinda quiet so I looked over and he was sound asleep!”

“Did he just doze off in the middle of a sentence?”

“No, no, he was explaining something, then I started filling in the worksheet, and the next thing I knew – ‘’ (he mimes shutting his eyes and snoring, getting progressively louder and more dramatic with his snores)

“Stop that!” I say, laughing softly. “You’re gonna wake him up!”

“Well, shouldn’t he be awake if he’s going to help teach me Biology?”

Hmm, good point.

“OK,” I say. “I’ll go wake him up. You stay in here and pretend to get a snack or something. I don’t want to embarrass the guy!”

Tucker happily invades the pantry for a snack.

I ease open the door and clear my throat.

Nothing.

I don’t want to startle him. He’s a very nice man. He teaches science at a school in another district during the day – plus he and his wife have 3 kids, including a new baby — AND he tutors after school – so he’s probably exhausted.

And let’s face it, Biology is not exactly riveting.

If I were a Biology tutor, I’d fall asleep as soon as you opened the Biology book, much less if I had to discuss it!

In fact, I’d fall asleep as soon as you said the word, “Biolo— ” Zzzzzzzzz.
See? It just happened.

Now if I were a tutor on the “best TV series to binge-watch” – or the “relative composition of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream Flavors by deliciousness of ingredients” – or the “statistical likelihood of Ryan Gosling’s car breaking down outside my house, in a rainstorm, and needing immediate medical attention and a warm bath” – I’d be WIDE AWAKE for the entire session!

So I certainly don’t blame the guy for falling asleep, but I should wake him.

So I cough.

Nothing.

I tiptoe out of the room, then walk back in, very loudly clicking my shoes on the floor. The tutor does not move.

Good God, I hope he’s not dead.

That’d be incredibly awkward.

I have delicious French Dip beef simmering in the crockpot, more homework to supervise, then a slew of shows on the DVR. Tonight’s schedule is not ideal for an untimely death in my dining room.

Next Thursday, sure. But tonight, no. Definitely not.

I approach the slumbering tutor so I can call his name, but then I realize I don’t KNOW his name!

That may sound odd since he’s been tutoring Tucker for about 6 sessions or so.

But he has a very thick accent and when he introduced himself, I thought he said his name was Farooq Malik.

But then the next time he came, I could swear he introduced himself to my friend as Marooq Falik. Or maybe it was Malik Farooq?

I’m terrible with names anyway, especially if the names could be interchangeable. If you tell me your name is Henry James, I’ll likely call you James half the time and Henry the other half!

Two of my friends both have a “v” in their names so I’m constantly calling them by each other’s names – and I’ve known them for years!

I once knew a Carla that I routinely called Sharon because oh-my-God-you-guys, she just seemed like a Sharon, you know?

So whenever I try to address the tutor, I hesitate, stumble, or mumble. I think he’s on to me.

Recently, I asked him something, and said, “Right, Malik?” and he corrected me by saying “Farooq.” And I could swear he’s corrected me the opposite way too. And he’ll smile mischievously, like he knows that I can’t keep his name straight.

So now I don’t know if I just have a bad memory –

or if he’s just Farooq-ing with me.

My son comes back in the room with chips and sits down.

I cough and say, “Mister…Malik? Farooq? Hello?”

He opens his eyes, shifts in his seat, glances at the book, then looks at Tucker and calmly says,

“And that’s the difference between prokaryote and eukaryote organisms.”

Wow. Didn’t even skip a beat.

Nicely played, Farooq.

Or Malik.

Or whatever the Farooq your name is!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Are you terrible at remembering names too? Any funny tutoring stories? IS he just messing with me? And should I serve strong black coffee whenever he tutors?)

You’re Gonna SNURKLE When You See The Email This Guy Sent Me!

So then…I snurkle – which, as everyone knows, is a cross between a snort and a chuckle.

When you see why, I think you’ll snurkle too.

I send this email to a colleague (let’s call him “Bob”):

Could you be more PACIFIC?  #Funny tale of email gone awry!  #humor

His response:

Could you be more PACIFIC?  #Funny tale of email gone awry!  #humor

Um…OK.

Like this?

Pacific - Ocean 429

Malibu Beach is just 20 minutes from my home. I could literally be in the Pacific Ocean in a flash! Does he want me to hop in with my laptop to reply?

Or does he mean like Chandler Bing:

“Could you BE any more pacific?”

Pacific - Bing 265

Yes, Chandler Bing, I COULD be!

Here I am surrounded by Pacific Islanders.

Pacific - Islanders 429

We shall dance on the beach by the light of the moon, roast a pig, and drink Kava made from the ground root of the pepper shrub.

Now, I don’t know this particular colleague “Bob” very well — but I do know that he is educated — and English is his first language.

So what’s up?

It’s possible he means, “Could you be more specific?” – but that can’t possibly be the case since my email clearly outlines the specific information I’m requesting.

So I can only surmise that my email happened to arrive on his computer screen at the exact moment he realized he was dissatisfied with my ethnicity. “Hmm, I’m not diggin’ her CandyAss Caucasian vibe; I wonder if she could be more Pacific. Let me ask.” So he fired off that email.

I’m not sure exactly how to respond.

Should I reply: “What do you mean?”

Or just write “Sure!” and send him the photos above?

Or perhaps, “Please be more Atlantic.”

Or “Please be more specific.”

Or maybe just toss out something random like, “Please be more Presbyterian.”

Or something annoying like, “Please be more accurate in your email responses.”

But I certainly wouldn’t want to offend, since there’s a chance he did mean to write “specific” – and something got in the way – like spell check or day drinking.

So I shall let you decide the best response.

If someone wrote you an email saying, “Please be more pacific” – how would you reply?

— Darcy Perdu

to your Humor Board!
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(When you saw his response, did you snurkle? How would YOU respond to his email?)

DIED Laughing at This Email He Sent to Me - not QUITE sure how to respond!  #funny #email #office #humor

Chillin’ in Beverly Hills with Hollywood Celebs!

So then…we hustle inside the Paley Center in Beverly Hills for a private screening of two new fall TV shows.

“Wow! Are you that well-connected in Hollywood?”

Uh, no.

I just happen to have a teen daughter who fell in love with the sneak preview of Red Band Society TV show about teen hospital patients – and used her resourceful, nimble digits online to find out Paley’s hosting a private screening followed by a live interview with some of the cast! $20 per ticket!

Paley Show Board 429

So Chloe, 14, grabs her two pals and off we go to Beverly Hills!

Paley Center Sunglasses 429

They don’t actually travel with giant sunglasses like this – I’m just trying to protect their anonymity. But now that I’ve SEEN how cool this looks, I’m going to insist they wear giant sunglasses to ALL future events!

As we watch the pilot of Red Band Society, Chloe and her teen gal pals wonder which of the dreamy teen boys who play the PATIENTS might be interviewed afterwards.

Paley Red Band 429

Um…turns out – none. Two of the show’s NURSES are interviewed. The teen boys are back in Atlanta still filming.

Oops.

But no fear, the actor and actress playing the nurses are engaging and funny. If you have teens or tweens, they’ll probably enjoy this dramedy about teens in a funky, unique hospital. Red Band Society on Wednesdays on FOX.

So I’d like to tell you about the other show we’re sneak-peeking – it’s called Mulaney.

Who’s Mulaney?

Well, you remember Stefon, one of my favorite SNL characters played by Bill Hader?

Paley - Stefon 429

Well, Bill co-wrote all of Stefon’s lines with John Mulaney. Lines like:

New York’s hottest club is: Heeyyyyy!
Description: Built from the bucket list of a dying pervert, this Battery Park bitch parade is now managed by overweight game show host Fat Sajak.
This place has everything: Tweekers, skeevies, Spud Webb, a child, and a Russian guy who runs on a treadmill in a Cosby sweater.
Bonus: The bouncer’s a bulldog who looks like Wilford Brimley, and the password is “dia-beat-us!”

So you’d almost expect the co-writer to look as hip, crazy, and whacked-out as Stefon’s character, right?

Paley - Stefon Hands 429

Nope.

THIS is John Mulaney.

Paley - Mulaney 429

He looks like the most straight-up clean-cut white guy in the history of white guys.

Honestly, it’s like he’s a cross between a Boy Scout and Snow White – pure as the driven snow.

Paley - Mulaney Broadcaster 429

A Midwestern broadcaster maybe? – or a Mormon junior accountant?

I would buy insurance from this man!

Paley - Insurance 429

I can hardly believe this mild-mannered fellow co-wrote the hilariously borderline offensive Stefon lines.

So the new TV show Mulaney is an “ensemble comedy series about a rising stand-up comic trying to take his career to the next level and the friends and mentors who lift him up, hold him back and push him around.”

Mulaney’s hired as “a writer by self-centered comedy legend Lou Cannon (Martin Short) — but still tries to be there for his roommates Jane (Nasim Pedrad from SNL) and Motif (comedian Seaton Smith) – and friend/dealer Andre (Zack Pearlman), a trust-fund baby. Mulaney’s counseled by Oscar (Elliott Gould), a 71-year-old gay veteran of New York who’s seen it all.”

Paley Mulaney Cast Total 429

After the show, the whole cast comes out to answer questions. They’re all funny and charming, but alas, none of them are teen boys, so they’re not quite as appealing to Chloe and her pals.  But they enjoy the interview anyway!

Paley Mulaney Martin & Mulaney Laughing 429

Martin Short and John Mulaney

“So what’d you think, Darcy?”

CONS: The sitcom beats are a little predictable. Sample:

Mulaney: I don’t think I’ll ever be booked on Letterman.
Other person: What makes you say that? What did the Letterman booker say?
Mulaney: He said “You’ll never be booked on Letterman.”

You can almost HEAR the rim shot.

I can’t stand sitcoms who follow that tired punchline formula. I call it the “My brother NEVER visits me. Knock Knock. Who’s there? It’s your brother!” cliché.

(Now you could accuse me of just critiquing the show because I’m so profoundly jealous that I’m not a TV comedy writer myself — and that I’d probably give my right arm leg spleen to work in entertainment… and you’d be right. Ha! BUT…I will say I saw some positive sparks in the show too! And I think it has some great potential, as seen below…)

PROS: Our Boy Scout Accountant may LOOK like a mild-mannered and straight-up white boy – but he is actually a bit dark and perverse – which I like. I like A LOT.

In one scene, Mulaney’s apology to another character goes something like this:

Mulaney, with disturbed expression: “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m a little rattled. I saw a wheelchair on the First Avenue L platform. It was lying on its side. No one was in it. That’s a bad thing to see. (pause) Something happened there.” His expression turns optimistic: “You HOPE it was a miracle…(pause)…but probably not.”

He acts the scene superbly and it’s obvious this is a bit from his stand-up act. But that’s what makes Mulaney unique – his own special perspective on the world.

I hope we get to see a lot more of that type of humor throughout the scenes with other characters – and not just in the few minutes of stand-up he performs on the show.

Yes, it’ll be more difficult for the show’s writers to weave comedy monologue lines into an ensemble sitcom – but I hope they accept that challenge, rather than rely on the old tired shtick of most sitcoms: “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that hat!” Cut to: character wearing that hat.

Paley Mulaney Comedian and SNL Girl 429

As for the other characters, I’m hopeful they’ll become a little less “one-note” as the series continues. Typically a pilot episode needs to hit the character traits a little hard so the new viewers know what to expect, but I hope the writers trust us enough to move beyond caricature to character. This will make it much less predictable, more authentic, and vastly more enjoyable.

So there you have it: my first TV show review! I’m now supremely qualified to be invited on-set to ALL Hollywood TV shows to interview cast members, review programs, appear as an extra, raid the craft services table, and sneak into the dressing rooms to take selfies with napping actors.

So spread the word to the Hollywood execs: I’m ready for my close-up!

— Darcy Perdu

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(If you watch Mulaney TV show premiere on FOX on October 5, let me know what you think! Have you found any new fall shows you like yet? What are your favorite comedy sitcoms of all-time?)

Spotting Hollywood Celebs in Beverly Hills! #funny #TV