It was a Thursday night, my senior year of high school, and I sat down to watch the new episode of Cheers. It was a typically funny episode, focusing on dimwitted Woody and his equally-dimwitted girlfriend, whose name happened to be Kelly. Yup, just like me. In this episode, it was Kelly’s birthday, and Woody had to come up with a gift. Problem was, Kelly was filthy rich, and Woody just wasn’t, so he decided to come up with a gift that would be from his heart. So it was that at Kelly’s birthday party, the time came for Woody to unveil his gift to her. So he sits down at the piano, and then…[sigh]…this happened.
The moment wasn’t even over before my brain started screaming inwardly, “Oh crap. Oh crap crap crap crap CRAP.”
Next day at school, guess what everybody started singing as soon as they saw me. I went the entire day hearing that damnable song every time I turned around. And since Cheers was popular, the song remained in consciousness for a while…and it still has. To this very day — and it’s gotta be 25 years since that episode ran — I will still occasionally find someone whose memory will be jogged, and they’ll get this very specific gleam in their eye, and they’ll ask, “Hey, were you ever a fan of the show Cheers?”
To which I will sigh, and say, “Yes, I loved the show, and if you sing it I will break your arm.”
This threat is never taken seriously.
And that is the day a sitcom ruined my life.
(Via Ken Levine, who is, at the very least, an accomplice in this crime.)
The world is full of women named Lucy, Michelle and Rita who have exactly the same complaint about the Beatles. And please don't get me started on how women named Alice must feel about Elton John and Jefferson Airplane.