gratitude-a-thon day 547: saturday night on sunday

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Last night, while coughing and spewing snot and phlegm, and trying to stay warm, as the temperatures dropped and dropped, and I’m sorry, but I need another “dropped” in there to be accurate, my husband and I watched SNL 40. I’ve been watching this show since the beginning. So, last night was a little walk down a very long memory lane that spanned adolescence through the right here and right now. That is a lot of water under the television bridge, people. I had a smile pasted on my paste-y white face for much of the three hour fame fest.

The montages were the most thrilling for me. There they were, edited together–40 years of pop culture game changing memories. Those who died too young, but live on celluloid were once again on prime time. The live appearances were a lot less fun than they should have been. The Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake intro rap was a great kick off, punctation mark: Rachel Dratch as Debbie Downer. But there were too many wasted, and poor showings (Robert DeNiro flubbing lines, Eddie Murphy said a big nothing. Shouldn’t he have introduced something, or done a bit? FAIL.)

And even though Paul McCartney’s voice wasn’t what we’ve come to expect, I still loved that he sang one of my all time favorite songs, and got my groove on, anyway (plus he’s a freaking Beatle, so there’s that). I’d wished it was Paul Simon and not Miley Cyrus who sang 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover, but I was glad she had on some clothes. Celebrity Jeopardy was hilarious–Darrel Hammond’s obscene, buffoonish Sean Connery winning best contestant. I loved Adam Sandler’s Opera Man reprise, Maya Rudolph killed it as Beyonce, and Martin Short was genuinely funny, too. The Californian’s, a skit I love and my husband hates, went on way too long, but while it fell flat, I liked the ingenuity of having David Spade and Cecily Strong turn the stage into an airplane, and say Buh Bye to the cast. Yeah for Molly Shannon’s Mary Katherine Gallagher smelling her fingers, and Ed Norton as Stefon right next to the real Stefon. And I could watch Will Ferrell read the freaking phone book and laugh. Cha, cha, cha boochie.

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Jane Curtin wins freshest joke of the night. At the Weekend Update Desk, she said that she used to be the only blonde newscaster announcing fake news, and now there’s a whole station devoted to it (Fox logo coming up on the green screen behind her). WIN.

Chevy Chase looked not just old, but maybe like he is sick, which made me really sad. I could have lived without the updated Dan Akroyd Bassomatic sketch, but he was on for the Blues Brothers revival with Jim Belushi. Melissa McCarthy as Matt Foley, motivational speaker, was spot on (Gosh, I miss Chris Farley).

It was an uneven show, but damn,  I loved watching it anyway. It reminded me of the past 40 years of Saturday Night’s, and all the people I’d watched the show with, all the places I’d been, and all the things that made me do the thing I love to do best–laugh.

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