Summertime in my youth was always a double-edged sword.
On the one hand, it meant no school, and long days of swimming, exploring the wash, daring each other to race our bikes without hands down The Big Hill, and endless sleepovers.
On the other hand, it meant that there wouldn’t be anything new or interesting on TV for at least four months.
Isn’t it strange, that as children we could watch the same episodes of Scooby Doo and Gilligan’s Island over and over again, and never get tired of them, but when summer showed up, and CHiPs went into re-runs, it was a major thing?
Maybe it’s just me.
So I hated re-runs. I always felt like the people making the shows were loafing, and I wanted my TV, dammit.
Then eMpTyVee came along, and gave me the attention span of a ferret, and I didn’t care any more.
Oh, this is totally unrelated to anything, but I have really nasty poison oak on my right arm, and the back of my left hand. I must have gotten it when I took Ryan geocaching last weekend. Yesterday, I scratched my arm so badly I made it bleed. I looked like I was from one of those scary movies about a guy who has poison oak and he scratches his arm so badly it bleeds. Scary!
Where was I? Ah. Reruns.
So I hated them. But, since I work primarily as a writer now, I understand that there are days, weeks, or even months, when you are just completely out of ideas.
This week has been like that. All of my creative energy is going to Arena, the ACME show, and getting ready for the sketch comedy show on the cruise.
But you know the cool thing about re-runs? If you didn’t watch every episode, the re-run would be what the geniuses at NBC called “New To You!” Meaning, of course, that they wouldn’t have to do any new work, and they could entertain a whole new group of people for free.
So guess what I’m doing today? Re-running an old weblog entry from August 27, 2001.
It’s a story that I really like to tell, and that I’d like to share with anyone who’s just showing up for the first time around here.
It’s the story of how my wife found our dog, and it’s called “Save Ferris.”
Save Ferris
I’m listening to Cake right now. Have you noticed that Cake is one of those bands that evokes a visceral reaction in people? I mean, they either really, really love it, or they really, really hate it. I dunno, maybe it’s just me.
Here’s the story of Ferris:
My wife is the coolest, ever. You know that stupid corny hallmark-card thing about someone making you want to be a better person? Well, sorry, I like to be anti and all Emo and shit, but it’s true. I love my wife more than anything, and she really does make me want to be a better person. I could gush about her for pages here, but I’m not gonna. I am going to exercise restraint.
Oh, fuck that. I knew from the moment that I saw Anne that I would marry her. Isn’t that weird? Has that ever happened to someone who wasn’t in some godawful Nora Ephron movie? And the way we met…it was all timing. My best girlfriend, Stephanie, worked with Anne for YEARS, but she never introduced us…I mean, she even babysat Anne’s kids, at MY PARENT’S HOUSE when we were younger, and she never introduced me to Anne…because, when we look back at stuff, the timing was just all wrong. We weren’t ready to meet each other. But when we did, it was bootylicious.
Anne is beautiful. I mean, she is fucking hella rad.
Hella.
Hella.
Hella.
I always joke that when we are out, people look at us and complain that there’s another hot babe with a geek. I say that I am Bob Goldthwait to her Nikki Cox, David Copperfield to her Claudia Schiffer, Sigfried to her Roy…I truly adore my wife, and that’s all I have to say about that.
One of the things I adore about her is how she has what Soul Coughing called “Boundless Love”. Anne works every day, takes her kids to school, picks them up, deals with their dad, and still has time to make me feel like I’m important in her life.
We have this fake dog poop that someone gave us a long time ago, and we have the game that we play, where we try to put the poop in each other’s stuff. Recently, I stuck it in the toe of her shoe, which was in her suitcase. She found it when she put her shoe on in Vegas. She put it in the exact middle of my bed, under the sheets, and it scared the hell out of me when I jumped into bed around 230 or something last week. My point is, my wife is cool, okay? Yesterday, when I was sobbing like a little bitch in our bedroom, she came in, sat next to me, put her arm around me, and just sat there, loving me. I could feel it. Then she gave me Kleenex, and told me that she’d leave me alone until I felt better.
So you need to know that to understand the story of Ferris.
Anne is a sucker for hard-luck cases, especially animals. One time a few years ago, she almost got hit on the freeway, because she saw a kitten running in the slow lane…so she stopped her car right there and got out to save the kitten, but it got hit by a car just before Anne could get to it, and Anne sat on the freeway, holding the kitten while it died in her hands.
She was fucked up about it for months.
So about 18 months ago, she and I are on our patio, and we hear this meowing coming from our garage. We both thought it was one of my cats, Biko or Sketch, (who are both inside cats, but occasionally get out), so we went to look…and out comes this skinny black cat with no tail. Anne immediately falls in love with him, and she takes him to the vet, to get him healthy again, while I make the “Found Cat” posters. Long story short: We thought he was going to die, the vet said he was just dehydrated, we got him shots, and Anne named him “Felix”. He has lived with us ever since, and he is one ot the coolest cats, ever.
Shortly after Felix came to live with us, a woman Anne works with told us about this guide dog she trained, who was also named Felix. She told us that Felix works for a guy up in Canada (and you can’t spell “runaway production” without Canada!), and Felix had been hit by a car, and they weren’t sure if he would be able to work as a guide dog any more. I guess when a service dog has to be retired, they give the person who trained that animal the right of first refusal as a place to live out their life, but Rita (Anne’s friend) lives in an apartment with her husband and young son. Not the best place for a 90 pound lab. So Rita asked her if Felix could come to live with us, and of course Anne said “yes”. Long story short: Felix was okay, and he’s still working with his guy in Canada. Which is great, because I can only imagine what the bond between service dog and owner must be like. I would just speculate that it’s similar to parent-child, and I always hoped that Felix would be able to stay with his guy. In the process of waiting to see if Felix would come live with us, we got on a list for guide dogs who flunk their final exam, because we have wanted a dog for AGES, and we thought that would be the best way to get one.
We are ADAMANTLY opposed to pet stores selling dogs and cats, by the way /soapbox.
Anyway, cut to Memorial day this year. We have no dog. Anne is taking the kids to Home Depot, so they can buy the materials necessary to make a grind rail (they’re all about the short boards. I’m all about the long boards. It makes for an interesting dynamic when we skate).
Funny aside: Ryan (12) and Nolan (10) were talking about how excited they were to get a grind rail, which they kept calling a “pole”. Nolan says to Ryan, “We TOTALLY have to get some grinding wax, Ryan!” Ryan replies, “Yeah, so we can wax our pole!”
Okay, so they’re leaving the Home Depot, and instead of going to the left, to get back to the freeway like they always do, Anne goes right, and passes this bus stop, where this tiny little dog is chewing on a t-shirt. Anne says that she felt compelled to stop and save her. So she did. As soon as she got out of the car, the dog ran into some Oleander bushes, and Anne spent close to 30 minutes getting her out, and took her to an Emergency vet, for some shots and to get the ticks out of her ears.
So Anne brings home this skinny, 27 pound, depressed little dog, and I must be totally honest, I was pissed. I was so mad that she had made this huge decision to take on the responsibility of a dog without consulting me. I mean, we have enough responsibilities already, you know? We really had it out. There was much gnashing of teeth, and Sir Robin soiled his armor. We finally agreed to keep her for a few days, and see how she was, and if she wasn’t any better, we’d take her to a shelter where they don’t euthanize the animals.
Well, the dog was terrified of me. She had CLEARLY been abused by a man, and she was terrified of men. “Great,” I thought, “I’m going to be responsible for a dog who never lets me pet her. Terriffic.”
And for the first 12 hours–wait, I know I’m not supposed to start a sentence with a conjunction. But I can’t spell for shit, so why are you complaining now? Jeeze. Get off my back, Mrs. Lee [9th grade english teacher who flunked me because she said I couldn’t write. I win.]–for the first 12 hours, she sat by the side door, never moving, never eating, just looking depressed. But somehow, my amazing wife loved this dog enough, and totally turned her around. Within 12 hours she was wagging her entire body, eating, chasing a tennis ball, and generally acting like a dog. And she let me pet her, and started following me everywhere around our house.
So we decided to keep her. But she needed a name…and that was very important. I wanted to give her a name from Mythology…”Athena” or “Psyche” or something. I know, lame. Deal. The kids wanted to name her “Haley”, which didn’t work for me at ALL, because in high school I had the most painful crush on a girl named Haley who treated me like Duckie…so we decided that we’d try on different names for a few days, and the right one would reveal itself to us.
Anne comes home from work the next day, comes in the door, looks at me and says, “Ferris.”
“Bueller?”
“Sort of. Save Ferris!”
Okay, there is this band from OC that we LOVE called Save Ferris. They play with our friends fairview a lot. They rule.
Anne says, “Get it? Save Ferris. I totally saved Ferris!”
I looked at the dog, looked at her sweet, marble eyes and soft little puppy-fuzzy-head, and it was perfect. Not surprising, considering that it came from my wife.
So her name is “Ferris”.
Isn’t that a cool story?
Anyone?
Anyone?
Bueller?
Bueller?
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Hellahellahella
I read Save Ferris first, then the top bit. It made a lot more sense after the latter action.
Which reminds me, George Foreman has come out with an outside grill, a GIANT version of his lean mean fatreducing grilling machine.
The thing looks like a Soviet satellite circa 1960.
Does the Wheaton house have a/c? That stuff’s really helpful, man.
…says the one who has none.
Michael – you are totally right. I don’t know how I missed that before.
Like when a little girl hides by lifting her dress to cover her face. You can’t attribute any innuendo to a child, and yet it’s sick and wrong and oh-so-funny at the same time.
“There’ll be no waxing of the poles in this house, young man!”
That is truly my most favorite entry.
Wil, write a book- PLLEAASEE?!!?
We got our cat, Boots, thanks to my uncle who rescued her from the woman she was living with who didn’t even want a cat and was leaving her outside 24/7…when she first came to us she hid under my parents bed for a day. It took lots of coaxing and Tuna Treats to get her to mingle with us, but she’s a part of the family now, and I don’t know what I’d do without her.
im hotter than her
Hella GROOVY
Hell of a better story than how I got my dog. Saw her as a puppy at my friend’s house, thought she was cute, got her, was reading ‘Heidi’ at the time (come on, I was 8!), named her that and there we go.
Give your wife a hug from me and tell her ‘thanks’ for being so cool.
I met the lead singer of cake cuz I am from sacramento and they used to play free concerts in the park up there. Some of the original members went off and started another band called Death Ray. They are pretty good too. Check em out!
word I’m looking forward to the 3somes on trek cruise..
WWDN reruns are just like reruns of any favorite program.
We love it the first time around, and, even though we know the story, we still enjoy it the second time.
a beautiful story, wil…best wishes to you both (and ferris)…
Hey Wil
From the bottem of my heart all I can say is Thankyou for a touching and tear jerkin story!
I mean it Wil, Y wont you write a god damn book!
OH dear GOD Wil. If that blog’s not a movie in the making, I dont know what is! I can imagine, you and your darling wife in the front row of the Oscars circa 2004 (we know how long these masterpieces take to complete) and I can see Steven Spielberg opening the envelope and saying “And the Oscar for best director/screenwriter/actor/producer goes to………………WIL WHEATON!!!”
Cue massive snog fest to the lovely Anne and well deserved acceptance speech.
Hell yeah!
Get writing Wil, theres definately a screenplay in you.
Jeez, What am I thinking??
*slaps head in a D’oh-like manner*
I forgot to put BEST FILM as well!!!
I will be severely punished for that particular faux-pas! (lol)
That is the worst damn story ever.
I admit some pornos have better stories.. but you really can’t compare wil to a porno.. now spud on the other hand.. his middle name is Pornboy.
I really like that story Wil. I have read it before, but only because I went through some of the archives when I found your blog. I remember it well.
I want to point out that my user name is ALWAYS Haley Comet because I am really into astronomy and one of the coolest things I ever did with my Dad (non-biological dad by the way and that never got in our way) was watching the last pass of Halley’s comet, and many other astronomical phenomenon, through his trusty old telescope.
My Dad was really into doing all kinds of out door stuff with us and I just told him about geocaching. He is really interested. As an environmentalist he has lots of great ideas for cache sites near us (Toronto).
I just felt weird reading that entery because of your comments about the name Haley. My real name is Jessica just so you know…
Oh well…Strange.
…As far as I know Halley’s comet will not be back until I am 85 (60yrs from now).
Take care and keep doing all of these great things with your kids. They will never forget it. I am living proof of that.
Wil ain’t lyin, folks. His wife is the bomb.
She’s Paulina Porzikova to his Ric Ocasek!
Though I love the unintentionally funny line “Anne is a sucker for hard-luck cases, especially animals”, just makes me laugh.
If you’re interested, the TV show Farscape has all new episodes starting June 7 at 9 p.m. Best writing and character development on television.
~frowns, and realizes he’s a Farscape whore~
When the muckety-mucks conceptualizing Next Generation came up with the idea of adding a geeky teen idol to the mix… well, in their nobler moments, I’m sure they babbled at least once about having “a role model for today’s youth.”
Wesley may or may not have been, and may or may not be (in reruns, of course, it *is* summer), but you definitely are.
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and your self with the world through this website. When you get a moment between your other projects, get motivated and write a book already!
What a great story Wil. Thank you so much for sharing it with us…again. Most of the pets that my family has owned have been strays. I have 2 cats at the moment…one is a stray and the other one I got from the local animal shelter.
Both are great cats.
Elke Tanzer said:
>>I’m sure they babbled at least once about having “a role model for today’s youth.”
Did you watch the Wesley-Crusher-a-thon on Sunday?
That boy was mackin’ on every girl he could get near. He had cheesier lines sometimes than Commander Space-ho, Will Riker.
What a sweet story… I’m a little farklempt over it!
You’re right, Wil – reruns do suck hella bad.
Hella.
Hella.
Hella.
But nothing compares to a heartwarming story about a boy and his dog (AND his wife… AND their two boys… AND a couple of cats… AND a band… AND his groupies… AND a long board… AND a grind rail… AND a Canadian dog trainer… AND…
Maybe that’s it… But I stand firm saying that nothing compares to it…
Well, maybe our boy Spudnuts…
Yeah, probably…
But nothing else…
“I looked at the dog, looked at her sweet, marble eyes and soft little puppy-fuzzy-head, and it was perfect.”
*tear*
Yes it was, Wil… Yes it was…
Wil,
You are the kind of man (note “kind”, not YOU specifically) that I want to meet and fall in love with (again). Actually, my first love was a lot like you so chances are I’ll fall in love with someone with those qualities again.
I’m no Nikki Cox but I wish I had her breasts- but not her husband. Bobcat is frightening.
You could also be Billy Bob to her Angelina.
Summer reruns DO serve a purpose: During the season there are often two shows that I like airing at the same time. I chose one to watch (of course) and watch the other one when the first one is in reruns (this goes for mid-season as well as summer hiatus). I can’t wait until the reruns of That 80s Show since until last night my Wednesday nights were booked for 10 weeks.
You and Anne are so lucky to have found each other. Fate is often an awesome thing.
Um, am I the only one concerned about Felix, the seeing-eye dog who was hit by a car? Is it just me, or is that ironic (and NOT in the Alanis-Morrisette way)
Felix the dog was hurt pretty badly, but he made a nearly-full recovery, and he went back to live with his master.
But then Felix got cancer, and he got sicker and sicker really, really fast. Rita, who trained him, went all the way up to Canada and picked him up, so she could be with him when he died.
He died a few weeks ago, and when Anne and I heard about it, we both cried a little bit, even though we didn’t know him.
Jesus, we’re total pussies.
Wil,
Awful lot o’ cryin’ going on here at WWDN lately… God forbid the Lakers lose!
Yikes! Break out the towels.
Seriously, rawk on!
Wil&Family may be total pussies, but we still love ’em.
That is, until Natalie Portman makes her own website in this site’s image, and steals us all away.
That story about the kitten made me cry. Your wife must be amazing.
I remember reading this story the first time and it still touches my spirit. Wil, Anne is a hella hella hella woman and you are so lucky to have her as your soulmate. Sounds like you learn from each other, which is the way it is supposted to be.
I have one beef with you, however. I think you stole/borrowed a line from my sig file : “the attention span of a ferret.” No worries,:) I don’t have like a trademark on it, but I know I have sent you several e-mails and that line has been part of my sig file for a long time. If you ever use it in one of your routines, I expect the proper royalties, of course. heh.
Actually, my friend Travis accused me of having the attention span of a Ferret at work the other day.
You have the coolest wife Wil!
My family bring home all the stray animals we find too, 5 cats and counting (the most recent 2 were saved from a dog last December, one had a 3rd of his tail bitten off)
Now we’re just waiting to get a new fence put up so we can go find a dog
I missed that episode.
Glad I managed to catch it on late night TV.
Creates a deeper sense of an average life of an above average person. A sense of knowing you, without really knowing you.
Makes you seem more normal-life-slightly-geeky-family-man, less Star-of-the-Silver-Screen. (Pixelated screen, in this case).
Can we write our last year’s comment again, too?
I guess my comment would be the same, I think I raved about how sweet the story is and stuff. Gives me mental cavities. đŸ˜‰
Sorry about poison oak. If you lived in Germany, you’d just have to fuss with burning nettles, and they aren’t half as bad. But you Americans always want it bigger and better.
So there you have it.
I hate geocaching with a passion. It gave me fucking systemic Poison Oak 3 days before I left for a weeklong trip to Maui! WTF?!?!
Oh, and i’m posting here because I said to myself, “Self? You shall post to all Blogs to which you link before you goto sleep tonight”. And guess what? Self-matters. (Sorry Dr. Phil and Oprah)
Cute, Wil, very cute
oh, they have lotion for poisen oak, ivy and if anyone has ever heard of “poisen sumac” it works great.. saves the arms or whatever from bleeding.
in my youth, I wasn’t allergic to the poisen
sumac around where Iived. I could hide from family
and friends, they’d never find me..
I caught a glimps of this guy on AMC Classics
movie channel… thought it was you at first,
but to my surprise,it was the karate kid, guy
mr. macchio.. being intervied regarding
“My Cousin Vinnie” (he must be about your age
isin’t he?)
you guys could be brothers…
how’s the sinus infection? later…
Dude, that is a WRONG picture.
Of course, I’m the idiot for clicking it.
Daw!
wow – i fell in love with a geek boy and he SAVED ME from New Zealand. He thinks I’m his Claudia Schiffer. Although the difference being I’m the actor and i dont know anything about computers. We were friends for a long time before i knew how he felt. Your wife sounds fabulous. I hope you have a fantastic future and I hope that mine with my amzingly compassionate man becomes as fulfilling. I’d marry him at if he asked.
By the way, how many geeks do you know that CAN spell. đŸ™‚
When my next door neighbour moved to Vancouver, I saved his goldfish from the toilet bowl, the fish appreciated it very much. I was in about Grade 10 at the time, STTNG was in it’s 2nd season or so, and being a huge fan, I named my new fish “Wil”. He committed suicide a couple weeks later.
I liked summer re-runs, since my Mom wouldn’t let me stay up to watch Simon and Simon or Fantasy Island during school.
Speaking of re-runs, tell that story about that old bag on Romper Room who never saw you with the magic mirror…I still get pissed when someone discusses that mirror…
And being an English-teacher myself…we don’t know nothin’! I once read that all English teachers are failed, or scared, writers and poets…so there you go…
Mention of pets and pussies and things up above reminds me of a ‘simplified-for-kiddies-and-with the-rude-words-removed’ version of Stephen King’s ‘The Body’ that I saw: in the notes it defines ‘pussy’ as ‘a cat’. I don’t think that was the meaning he had in mind…
I want to hear from Anne again, she sounds like such an amazing person! I’m a single mom of a fantastically funny 6-year-old girl; thankfully I don’t get any crap from the father – he hasn’t been around since the words ‘i’m pregnant’ escaped my lips. I also have a totally cool geek guy for a boyfriend, and we really take inspiration from your writings on step-fathery.
Now stop reading my post, Wil, and go spend time with your rockin’ wife!
amyt
BTW- I’m going to go look for a place on the BBS to post *my* animal rescue story.
Hey Wil, It wasn’t new to me, but I liked it just the same again. It opened an old memory, wound really for me again.
I had a dog, runt of the litter, growing up. Cute brown mutt not more than twenty pounds wet. The year I was getting ready to leave for university the little guy got liver cancer (He was 13 years old and had already lived an active full life). Liver cancer is nasty, nasty and no cure. His side swelled up and he stopped eating. As the days went by he got worse and worse until all he could do was lie there. We had to move him out of the way to open the door even by that time. Finally (he was in a lot of pain I could tell from the goopy stuff in the corner of his eyes from crying) we had to take him to the dog pound and have him put down. Broke my bloody heart. I can still see the little guy at the pound, tear stained eyes just before he was put out of his continual pain. Your re-post brought it all back again. And any man that says he has never cried is lying, posturing, and full-o-shit.
I’m a hell of a bit older now and don’t have any pets, but I am sure my daughter will convince my wife and I to get a dog or cat soon. But shit, I don’t want to go re-run that episode in my life again, but it will be all new to my daughter and it is all part of life.
I’ll shut the %#$@ up now.
Do you take requests for the reruns? Your first ever Killoggs post would take up a great deal of space, for instance, and might be new to lots of your readers :). Or (one of my favorites), when you took the boys to the beach, ruminated on the boundaries of being a Stepfather, and saw the prettiest woman on the beach :).
Hey! My family has owned and operated a small chain of pet stores for over 20 years and let me tell you this: We have never sold Dogs or Cats. We deal in food, supplies and the occasional ferret and cockateil. Since I was a child, my father told me that a pet store was no place for a puppy or kitten to grow up, so we always refer people looking for one to a breeder or shelter. Saving animals rocks, but supporting a petstore that treat pets like veal does not.
BTW – Wil, long time reader. This site rocks. My best friend and I’s lives changed when we realized that tv’s Wesley Crusher was so damn cool. We also have an inexplicable love for the TNG Episode “The Dauphin”. Imagine having that hairy beast for a nanny! Ick!
YES!!! Reruns from the first 2-3 months!!
VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE…………
C’mon Wil the posse is a begging!!!!!!!!!
Pretty please!!!!!!!
Cool story Wil, and I was so proud of myself by getting all the obscure references.
My girlfriend I are very opposed to pet stores as well. Which is why we *liberated* a ferret from a mall pet store last year, and also named him Ferris. I’m a sucker for ferrets.
You’re a cool guy Wil, you know… PET LIBERATION. ;-D
Great story, btw.
-Jessica
You are trying to be lame, Wheaton, but I swear, you may try as long as you wish, but you will
you will NEVER NEVER NEVER be lamer than ME! Infact, I’m a complete arsehead.
hey i thought of getting a ferret? i hear they smell like ass most of the time. Do you recommend one?
(snip)
Actually, my friend Travis accused me of having the attention span of a Ferret at work the other day.
Posted by wil at June 6, 2002 10:18 PM (snip)
Ok. I’m going to name my next ferret Wil, how ’bout that? Oh, and I also saved a ferret one time from a MacDonald’s parking lot. My roomie and I named him Homeless MacDonald. . .Homie for short. He was a red-eyed white.
It’s funny, but though I probably watched more television as a kid than I do now in my thirties, I have to admit that the reruns didn’t bother me then nearly as much. The truth is, at the time I tended to live and breathe the fantasy worlds of my books, and only found fleeting entertainment in tv, and yet today, even though I only watch a few shows (three to be exact), somehow I’m getting from them the same thing I got as a kid from reading. God, how sad is that?
So now that I’m depressed, I’ll end by saying that I love how much you love your wife. Thanks for the beautiful entry. And hey, it was new to ME.
dorrie6