MySpace


MySpace.com | rss | sign in
Bob Saget



Last Updated: 12/10/2009

Send Message
Instant Message
Email to a Friend
Subscribe

Status: Single
City: LOS ANGELES
State: CALIFORNIA
Country: US
Signup Date: 6/27/2006

Blog Archive
[Older      Newer]
 /  / 
Friday, November 20, 2009 

Thanksgiving is a time of family. A time of reflection. A time of giving. And a time of stuffing. It is a time when a man or woman, sometimes a slightly intoxicated man or woman, crams their butter-coated hand into a turkey's butt. If this act were to be done to a live turkey, the person performing that act would immediately become famous, if they weren't already. They would be in all the headlines, on several talk shows, and asked questions like: “What were you thinking?" What was going through your head?--” If there were video of this act, that person could instantly win ten thousand dollars on “America’s Funniest Videos.” I don't mean to be crass. Technically, it's not actually the turkey's butt. It's more of his 'back hole--' or if I may be more detailed since my father was knowledgeable in the world of poultry, the turkey’s 'two back holes'-- one larger 'back hole' that's really just the under side of the rib cage, and one above the turkey's hangy dangly thing that our family would cook, serve, and eat, but never discuss what it was exactly. When I was younger, my dad would joke with me that I should put that thing under my pillow and that night, the turkey butt fairy would come. I loved my dad more than anything but his sense of humor frightened me. For me, Thanksgiving is also a time of un-stuffing ourselves. As the year winds down, we prepare ourselves to empty out the year that has passed and fill ourselves back up with the year yet to come... We think about the people in our lives that we love, that we lost, that we have yet to meet… Please ignore this paragraph. I was just trying to get my Rabbi turned on if he read this thing. When I drive past a house during the holidays, and I see the smoke billowing out of a fireplace, I know, that inside that house, on that kitchen table, there's a turkey carcass, open winged, open legged, it's body ripped apart and eaten by the entire family. If that turkey could talk, it's last words would probably be, "I'll see you all in hell!! And which one of you ate my hangy dangly thing that used to be my ass!! " But thank God, turkeys can't talk. They can only gobble. And they are a bird. A very nervous bird. You'd be nervous too if you knew that one day someone was going to cut off your head, and fill your butt cavity with stuffing. Although I know a few people that would welcome it. I can almost them reading this right now, saying to themselves out loud, "You got that right!" The holidays are about people. All people. Caring about the people in your life. Even though you may not see them anymore, talk to them anymore, have driven a wall between you and them that is irreparable… You know that one day… if you have enough money... they will come back to you. Unless that have what my dad used to call ‘integrity.’ If you had friends that are no longer your friends, perhaps it was the time to let them go. I've known people that only liked me for what money I had. I call those people, "Honey." So as this time of thanks unfolds, be kind to each other. And be kind to the turkey. Think about the sacrifice he has made. If we give thanks, and bless this turkey for giving of himself, he won’t curse us as we feast upon and eventually digest him. We all make sacrifices. That too is part of the holiday spirit. The giving, the receiving, the stuffing, and the excreting. Sometimes if it’s your old Uncle Nate, it winds up being right there on the sofa. That’s where slipcovers could come back in vogue. Perhaps only during the holiday weekend. I don’t know why, but I picture Uncle Nate wearing an old beige suit with the pants buckled up way over his stomach, just below his breasts. I do have a wish for you all. May all your holidays be filled with the blessings that life can bestow. And though, for all of us, in different ways, this has been a tough year, try to remember something my father taught me. Something I reflect upon that occasionally has helped me through a tough time… That at your moment of suffering, somewhere in the world, some unsuspecting turkey is about to have a fist full of gravy shoved deep into his ass. So when you ask me, "Why do you love Thanksgiving, Bob? Is it the memories of the traditional Pilgrim garb of square buckles and square-toed shoes? Is it the festive holiday colors of brown and orange? Is it the cornucopias on the table with odd varnished vegetables we have never eaten...?” I can look you right in your eyes and tell you with complete certainty why it is that I love Thanksgiving... It's the stuffing. Huffington Post
10:05 PM 
15 Comments
(Add Comment) |
Translate
Tuesday, October 06, 2009 
Hey MySpace friends...

So I'm starting this theater tour that I'm excited about, and not just cause I'm easily excited.  Adding a lot of cities to see all you guys, and say inappropriate stuff that you can't bring kids to unless they have a really good fake ID.  

The gigs are listed on here on myspace, but it's probably easier to go to BobSaget.com if you wanna see where and when I'll be where and when.

Hope to see you out there.  It's gonna be fun.

Sending my best...  

Bob


8:07 PM 
5 Comments
(Add Comment) |
Translate
Wednesday, July 29, 2009 
Hey MySpace friends...

My Facebook page has videos not on my MySpace page...

Go to http://www.facebook.com/bobsaget

Sending you my best...

Bob
1:55 PM 
1 Comments
(Add Comment) |
Translate
Saturday, July 25, 2009 
Bob is using twitter now and you can access his official twitter page through the widget here on myspace or by clicking here.
5:35 AM 
0 Comments
(Add Comment) |
Translate
Friday, July 06, 2007 
I come from a family with major mortality issues. Every couple years someone in the family died. My dad taught me to appreciate the moment more… One of the last things he said to me was, "Don't go nuts like you always do when I'm outta here." He was a wise man. Kind of like Yoda. Except taller. And less ear hair.

Anyway, I started thinking, what if… What if I only had twenty-four hours to live? And not like in a shitty riddle where you can rub the genie's lamp and ask for a hundred more wishes, but truly, what if I knew my time on this earth was up in twenty-four hours? Maybe my doctor told me I had some weird disease I got from his colonoscopy tools, or maybe Anthrax got popular again and a contestant on "1 VS 100" shook my hand with it. I wouldn't care about the tangible stuff-- settling business affairs, making sure there was nothing incriminating in my house to bite my legacy in the ass—F- that, I've just been told I've got--

Twenty-four hours to live:
I gotta spend time with the people I love. My girlfriend, my daughters, my mother….Shit, what if they all read this? Should I see my daughters first, then my girlfriend, then my mother? I'm not neurosing over it. I'm gonna get all the people I love, go rent a private jet—this is no time to think about expense or the ozone—Get out the Amex, shove all my bitches on a plane and fly west. That's right, west, to Hawaii, where I can gain three hours in paradise. (I'm assuming, for the purposes of this diatribe, that I get credit time the more west I travel.) But I do have to be realistic…I have to tell them all my situation. There's tears of course when I break the harsh news, 'cause I love them all and they love me, but it all turns into huge laughs once I start pouring the Dom and lighting up the Cohibas. Now, with travel time I'm still left with…

Twenty hours to live:
And I'm in Maui. We all get the best house on the beach we can on such short notice. Everyone's having a blast with hot Polynesian girls dancing on the beach-- We all eat a giant roasted island pig while watching a surfing instructor throw my mom out on the waves. She has the time of her life, wipes out violently, smashing her face on the rocks, but isn't hurt in any way—We get it all on videotape and have it Fedex'd to "America's Funniest Home Videos," in hopes that after I'm gone she can win the ten thousand dollar prize. After a good laugh at the premise, we all get back on the plane. That little Maui trip left me with…

Seventeen hours to live:
And now we're enroute to Fiji. I've always wanted to go there and I'm on borrowed time, heading further west. It's a ten hour flight so we bring some of my favorite movies to enjoy, the "Star Wars," "Indiana Jones," and "Lord of the Rings" trilogies as well as "Kill Bill 1 & 2" for the kids. They all enjoy an unlimited shellfish buffet while my mother sits reclining, icing her calves, still in recovery from her surfing adventure. My girlfriend and I go to the over-sized bathroom at the back of the plane to enjoy our last fleeting moments of romance as the "Raider's of the Lost Arc" theme booms in surround sound. We're thrown to the floor as the plane touches down in Suva, Fiji and I've got…

Seven hours to live:
A ten hour flight, and a fun flight, with the core group of people I love. I bound off the plane in exotic Fiji. The weather is amazing. We are greeted by hot Fiji goddesses who drape us all in island flowers and serve us fruity island drinks. My Blackberry's message alert goes off and I check it for some of my last emails. It's then that I notice that it's the next day here in Fiji. We didn't go back in time at all, instead, we moved nineteen hours AHEAD!!! If you go far enough west, you end up moving forward in time. You learn something new every day.
I die instantly.
5:24 PM 
8 Comments
(Add Comment) |
Translate