I am officially lowering the cone of silence.
WWDN now ends its broadcasting week. We will return on Sunday night, or Monday morning. Please tune into the soapbox, or enjoy some quality programming at I-Mockery or Unrealistic Expectations.
And Mrs. Wheaton will be enjoying a full-on, super-cool facial, massage and pampering treatment, compliments of the awesome posse, here at WWDN.
Have a wonderful weekend, everyone. Happy Valentine’s Day. 🙂

As a step-parent, I have this strange set of ever-changing boundries that I have to respect with my step-kids.
On the one hand, it sort of sucks, because I don’t think I’ll ever be as close to them as I want to, even though they live with Anne and me. On the other hand, I totally respect and understand their limits, and I am not about to force myself on them, or force them to have a relationship with me that they aren’t ready for. For example, I don’t ever want to be called “dad”. I’m really happy just being “Wil”, because they’ve alread got a dad. I’ve made a point of that, over the years, and I think that it has made things easier for the kids, because I’m not putting them in an uncomfortable position of having to choose who they love more, or who they want to be around.
The other side of that is that I sometimes feel like my influence on them is minimized, and that they aren’t “getting” the same things that they’d be “getting” if I was the only father-figure in their lives.
But sometimes, things happen, and I really see myself in them, and it’s just awesome.
Anne and I worked long days today, and we realized that there was no food in the house when it was time to fix dinner, so we decided to go out to eat.
Normally, I’m not a big fan of the dining out experience. Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid the being a waiter part of being an actor, and I think restaurants scare me, because I know I’m “The Curse, Part 4” away from asking if anyone would like to know what the “soup du jour” is, and then sighing sadly when my answer, “that’s the soup of the day”, doesn’t elicit the peals of laughter that I was hoping for.
But when there’s no food in the house, and I don’t want to order pizza, our options are limited.
So we put the kids in the car, and we headed out to a local eating establishment for some grub. While we were there, a couple of things happened, and I totally saw myself in both of the kids, and it nearly brought tears to my eyes.
But it didn’t, because I’m a bad ass, and I’m cool, and tough, okay? Okay?!
Okay.
So we’re eating underneath this picture of Jack Nicholson, the one where he’s holding a magnifying glass, and his teeth are huge, and his chin is pulling a Leno.
I point at it, and I say, “Hey, guys, do you know who that is?”
Ryan says, “Drew Carey?”
“No,” I reply, “it’s Jack Nicholson.”
“Oh,” says Nolan. “I thought he was dead.”
Then they look at each other for a second, and explode into laughter. Of course they know Jack Nicholson, they tell me. They were totally messing with me.
Which is something that I would do.
Later in our meal, Anne is telling the kids that the exterminator came to our house today, and he left some traps in the attic…she then tells the kids, “So, later tonight, you may hear: scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch…” And she SLAMS her hand on the table, and shouts, “BAM!” which she immediately follows with this screaching “EEIPPE!” noise.
Ryan looks at the table across from us, and he says, to the couple who is staring at my wife, “I don’t know this woman. I am so sorry.”
Which is something that I would do.
After dinner, when we’re back in the car, Nolan says, “Wil, can we listen to Jimmy Eat World?” I tell him no, because it’s in the CD player at home.
He follows that up with a request for Tool, and a request for Bad Religion.
I inform him that both of those CDs are also at home, and Ryan says, “How about Cake? Can we listen to Cake, Wil?” He begins to hum “Comfort Eagle” to himself.
J.E.W., Tool, Bad Religion, and Cake. Every last one of them bands that I listen to.
Oh, and a few days ago, Nolan was on the phone telling his friend, “You should never wait to tell your mom that you love her.” He waits, while his friend presumably asks him why, and tells him that you never know what’s going to happen to someone, so they should always know that you love them.
Which is totally something that I do.

Last night, we all took a trip down memory lane, to the glory days of Universal Studios, when Conan The Barbarian was so cool, they gave him his own stage show, housed in a cool-looking castle.
Back then, they actually shot movies at the Universal lot, and, if you were lucky, you could take the tram tour and actually see as much film work as you’d find on an average Vancouver street these days. I remember not being able to ride the tram down one of the magical backlot streets, because they were filming this movie with the kid from Family Ties, where they drove this cool car, and some stuff happened. It was a long time ago, so I don’t completely remember.
Anyway, back in those glorious days, before runaway production ruined so many lives and dashed so many dreams, taking the backlot tram tour would actually put you, the lucky tourist, in the movies!
You could ride across this collapsing bridge, and go through an actual avalanche, from the Six Million Dollar Man. You could ride through the actual Red Sea, parted by the commanding voice of our tour guide, with the help of his trusty driver.
Jaws, the real Jaws, would actually jump out of the water at the tram, with only the skills of the aforementioned driver to save tramloads of “Maui 1980”-shirted tourists from certain doom.
Of course, facing the dangers of the movies was exciting and all, but that was nothing, after you’d driven into an actual Cylon Spaceship, and faced down the wrath of the Imperious Leader, with a little help from this guy named “Apollo”, from the real Battlestar Galactica. It was the first real “event” of the tram tour, and it was my absolute favorite part. Even better than the Psycho house, or 1313 Mockingbird Lane.
Once, when I was doing that whole “Teen Idol” thing, I was invited to Universal to host Nickelodeon’s Kid’s Choice Awards. It was there that I met, and developed the hugest crush ever on, the one and only Debbie Gibson. (Who, in a bizarre twist of six degrees of separation, is good friends with one of the actors who I just worked with in ‘Neverland’. She told him to tell me “Hello”. Rock.)
Anyway, while we were at Universal, shooting segments for the awards show, they took us into the actual Cylon Spaceship, and let us experience it, “behind the scenes”. I got to put on the Apollo helmet, pick up the balsa wood gun, and lip synch, “In the name of the federation, I demand the release of the humans!”
It was beyond cool, even though I was like 15 or 16, and should really have been too cool for the whole thing, especially since I was hoping that Debbie Gibson would get lost in my eyes, and not be able to shake my love.
But, alas, the romance was not to be, and, although I did my best Apollo, they wouldn’t let me put on the whole costume and do it for real tourists.
The closest I ever got to being on Battlestar Galactica was running around the Enterprise, which wasn’t as good a consolation prize as you’d think.
A few years later, I read in the paper that the Battlestar Galactica attraction was gone, replaced by, get this, an escalator, that would transport tourists to the bottom of the hill, where they could wait in line for lame attractions like “ET’s Adventure” and something stupid from An American Tale. Billed, at the time, as the “world’s biggest escalator”, it failed to impress me the same way that balsa wood gun and FX smoke-filled room did.
Although I hadn’t ridden the backstage tour in years, I knew immediately that I would miss it forever.
I never went on studio tours again like the ones I did when I was 16.
Jesus, does anyone?