Preview: Scott Baio is 45 and Single

**Editor’s Note: You took her off the cold sidewalks of Auditiongasm and handed her a gig. Good taste, readers! Now please give a nice warm welcome to our newest staff writer, the thin and fabulous DrMcSteeny!!

Think Charles is still in charge? Love Chachi as much as Joanie did? Have that fantasy where your ex-boyfriends come to your door to apologize for all their wrong doings and let you rip into them on national television? Then call VH1 and tell them they’re miracle workers as I present you with Scott Baio…is 45…and Single!

First a side note. I have a sublet for the month of July. When I got to the place a few days ago I discovered there’s no cable. Apparently the girl I’m subletting from has lived there for two years without any television access whatsoever. This HAS to qualify as treason of some sort. People baffle me.

Aside from the obvious obstacle this causes for my new gig here, I’m addicted to television, so this was a nightmare realization for me. Honestly, I’d prefer not having running water. Since this lack of cable discovery, I’ve divided (and will continue to divide) my free time, between 1. the elliptical machine at New York Sports Club which has a TV attached to it, and 2.the electronics department of Sears, where I’ve recently convinced Mark the Sears employee to permit me to watch television shows of my choosing on the 52 inch plasma while sitting on a Dora the Explorer bean bag chair I swiped from the Childrens’ Furniture department. My goal for the end of July is to convince Manuel from Housewares to plug in the Westinghouse microwave so I can cook my popcorn. If you’ve ever met me before, you know that this is all true. And that Manuel is mine.

My Prince awaits.

Speaking of desperate times calling for desperate measures, let’s get to the reason we’re all here: To celebrate the fact that Reality TV times are so tough, even Chachi got his own show. For any of you who have caught the preview, you know what I’m referring to. Scott Baio… is 45…and Single (the pause between words is key, by the way). I love this title, since for once it’s a show that cuts to the chase. If only all TV shows were so forthcoming with precisely what we were in for. Lost could be The Show With No Answers, 24 could be Bombs, Dead Presidents and What’s with Chloe’s Weird Eyebrows? and Will and Grace could have been Jack and Karen are Better.

The only thing this title left out is that Scott Baio is VERY VERY Brooklyn Italian. At least he sounds it. He’s got that whole “ay, oh!” bada bing thing going on. You know the type…they call women “broads,” smoke cigars, talk like tough guys, leave the Rs off the end of their words, and seem quite convinced that these qualities somehow combine to make an attractive package. Incidentally, they’re also the type that the term “chauvinistic” derived from.

Scott is back on the small screen to figure out why it is he can’t commit to a woman and why he’s still wearing long sleeve white shirts underneath t-shirts at 45 years old, when it’s well established in the unwritten rules of appropriate attire that that’s an “under thirty” look. Oh, wait, no, the ridiculously young wardrobe is what I’M trying to figure out. HE’S just there to discover why, (say it with me now) Scott Baio…is 45…and Single. Just a hunch here, but I’d guess it could have something to do with the fact that Scott Baio…Refers to Himself…In the Third Person. God I love those pauses.

I have to be totally honest, I don’t even know where to start with this show. I feel like a cross between virgin on prom night and a dog who sat home alone all day whose master just came home to take me for a much needed walk. I’m all over the place with excitement and hope, and I quite possibly could pee on the floor. First off, it should be clarified that when they say Scott Baio is “single” they mean, “not married.” I’ve seen things all over the internet where people are bitching and moaning that the show is fake because he actually has a girlfriend throughout filming. These whiners claim they are boycotting the show. Boycott my ass, I call all those bitches’ bluffs and raise them 3 bags of Sears popcorn! Scott could have three wives, two children and a beagle on the side, and they’ll still be sitting around watching it Sunday night just like I will.

Um…Not Single.

Enough venting, back to the point. Scott IS dating a girl. He’s dating this blonde that kind of resembles Pamela Anderson, if Pam Anderson had a minor stroke, a major breast reduction and dinner. Scott seems to like her, but it’s mostly because he thinks she has a “great can” and a “nice rack.” Well, your priorities certainly seem to be lined up properly, Scotty. I can’t imagine why you’re not married. Despite the great can and rack, it seems Scott’s womanizing past has left him at a place where he is emotionally incapable of the love and commitment it will take to get married to this girl. VH1, I mean Scott, has hired a “life coach” who is going to help whip him into shape and make him ready to walk the plank…er… aisle.

Hey, why not call an acting coach while you’re at it?

Like most single guys, Scott has a posse. I guess in Scott’s oh so Brooklyn case, we should call them his Goombas: Wayne, the older brother from The Wonder Years, who has a real name, but I don’t remember what it is. It doesn’t matter anyway because as far as the world is concerned, he is Wayne for the rest of his life. Then there are three other non-actors that Scott has known since he was young.

The Goombas. Are ya horny yet?

All the Goombas are five foot five inches tall and are either married or engaged, except for the main Goomba, Johnny. Johnny is five foot five like the rest of them, only Johnny is single. He appears to be in his late forties, and has been “chasing tail” with Scott for over twenty years. One look at this guy and you know he’s gotten 99.8% of his ass based on his close association with “Charles” or “Chachi.” And the other .2% of the ass came from his cousins. Scott refers to Johnny as his “wing man,” but I think “Sloppy Fifths Man” sounds more accurate, so for the remainder of the season Johnny will be known to me as:

Johnny Leftovers

Johnny Leftovers doesn’t want Scott to get married because “Scott’s not ready.” Translation: Johnny knows that with Scott off the market, he’s is shit out of luck in the lady department and will wind up being “Johnny Left Hand”. For now though, Johnny Leftovers is a sure thing with the “ugly friend” of every girl Scott screws, which happens to equal half of Hollywood. Pam Anderson, Denise Richards, Heather Locklear… he dated those girls like a hundred years ago, but who’s counting?

I think the “screwed half of Hollywood” thing is supposed to impress us, but come on…taking into consideration that Scott was on television forever, and used to be cute once, on top of the fact that he appears to have surrounded himself with unattractive short people his entire life, it’s not surprising that Scott’s nailed so many women. The head Lollipop Kid probably banged all of Munchkin City, too. What I’m getting at is this: I’m not impressed. Want to impress me? Date a fat girl with a mole on her nose.

So the bad news for Scott is that his life coach’s plan is for him to cut off all ties with his Not Quite Pam Anderson girlfriend for the next 8 weeks, travel down his bumpy past, meet up with all his exes, and apologize when necessary (which apparently seems to be a lot). He’s supposed to find out where he went wrong and in doing so, he will discover his way to becoming marriage material. Or at least go back to getting laid by the REAL Pam Anderson. The great news for us is that starting this Sunday, July 15th, we’ll be taking that long journey with Scott, and I have to say, I’m downright ecstatic about it. For if it’s help you need Scott Baio, then don’t you fret… Dr. McSteeny is on the case!

PLEASE LOVE ME!!!

Preliminary Diagnosis: Scott is suffering from a Peter Pan Complex- he just won’t grow up. Scott’s excessively youthful condition seems to be exacerbated by his clothing selections, attraction to Barbie Dolls, and his association with at least one of the “Lost Boys.”

Prescription: Take two “accept your age” pills per day (you’re 45 dammit!), learn to admire brunettes, and avoid Johnny Leftovers at all costs.