It was bound to happen. I mix up a dose of my antihistamines and decide to play a game of channel surfing–of course I’m asking for trouble.
Picture it, Texas, 15 mins ago, a girl turns her television on. She does little channel surfing and for a few minutes she’s stunned and confused.
There’s a group of familiar faces on the screen, a family she often spent her Thursday evenings with.
But they’re something different.
The sweaters are ill fitting, there is no elevator styled saxophone music decorating their mannerisms, and their faces…they seem old, bloatier and jaded.
“I thought I was looking at a scary lost episode of The Cosby Show.”
After beating her face with the remote and then examining her television set closer, she has an ephinay–almost as strange as the one she initially inferred.
Yes, people that’s what was happening on the television set, and that girl…was me.
Despite Oprah never being invited for a cameo (Fresh Prince did though) with the Huxtables. I guess they didn’t know Oprah played Jazz, Oprah was “kind enough” to let them reunite on her show.
From the little I’ve caught just now, I can assume two things:
The Huxtables wont set foot on a set that DOESN’T look like their Brooklyn digs.
And the audience is really just waiting for David Cassidy to take his shirt off. EEP!