Secrets, Lies and Firetrucks
Andrea Barber as Kimmy Gibbler, Jodie Sweetin as Stephanie, Candace Cameron as D.J.
Kimmy Gibbler is excellent at creating distractions. I feel like 50 percent of her screen time in the original series was dedicated to her doing something ridiculous to get the adults to pay attention to her while D.J., Stephanie, and Michelle tried to get away with something dastardly.
She shows this skill off especially well when her ex-husband, Fernando, comes over for the world’s only Netflix and chill that was actually just Netflix and chill. They fall asleep watching a movie, so the next morning, she has to rush him out of the house. (How the two of them both fit on that tiny little couch for an entire night is beyond me.) While he drops from the roof, Kimmy Gibbler regales everyone with the facts of her personal grooming regimen which, let’s be honest, are extremely riveting. This allows Fernando to almost inconspicuously fall behind the dinner table.
The Kimmy Gibbler and Fernando story line fits well with this episode, which seems to be about lying to people — just as Kimmy Gibbler and Fernando are lying to both Ramona and themselves about not getting back together — but it is really about getting stuck in the past. Anyway, after Fernando (looking studlier than ever in his race-car-driver onesie) lets Ramona drive one of the race cars, Kimmy Gibbler gets all mad at him, but he just turns on that accent and his Spanish charm and in no time Kimmy Gibbler is making paella in her panties. They make out again, and Kimmy Gibbler has to admit to the sisters Tanner that she and the ex are back together, something that no one thinks is a good idea (because he’s gay).
But, like I said, this episode is really about dwelling in the past, which is symbolized by the sofa that has been sitting in the Tanner’s living room since the late ‘80s. First of all, let’s stop calling it a sofa, because that is sort of like calling one of those tiny ponies at the petting zoo a stallion. That is a love seat, if it is anything, and it can barely fit two people comfortably, much less three.
No one ever sits on that sofa, though. It’s like the star placed atop the Christmas tree: It lets you know when and where you are, but it is completely useless. The couch is something we see in the background when things happen. No one ever really does any living in that living room. It exists so that scenes can cross from the kitchen to the front door — and sometimes, if there is not enough room for an activity to occur in the kids’ rooms, it happens in the living room. Why do they even need that love seat? It serves about as much purpose as the elliptical machine in my living room, which I hang my clothes on before I iron them.
I started on this whole couch thing because Danny is upset when he finds out the dog ruined the couch. Why upset? Because it was the focal point of so many incidents. This kicks off a whole string of meta commentary about the differences between Full House and Fuller House, which culminates in a game of poker where Jackson beats Danny’s full house with a fuller house.
Get it? See what he did there? No, really. Do you get it?
Danny is in town for a Good Morning, San Francisco reunion show and Kimmy Gibbler asks, “Isn’t it kinda sad when they drag out the old cast for same lame reunion show?” Danny replies, “Not when the show is a classic and the cast is beloved by millions.” When I heard that, I thought this might just be a case of the show silencing the haters, but the meta humor continued.
To make Danny happy, Stephanie gets the old couch reupholstered with the exact same fabric as the original couch. “It’s exactly the same!” Danny shouts when he sees it. Isn’t that just a metaphor for this show as a whole? They could have gotten a new couch or put some new fabric on the old couch, but they didn’t bother. They just recreated the couch in its entirety so that generations of Tanners can continue not to sit on it for time immemorial. I don’t know about you, but I’m more likely take a seat there now that I know slutty Stephanie has hooked up with like 19 guys on it after eating pot brownies and watching Gremlins 2.
The couch also starred in Max’s storyline. After Comet Jr. Jr. Jr. Jr. the Third eats the couch, Max tells D.J. that the baby did it so he won’t get in trouble. She looks at Max and is like, “I know you’re lying to me,” but doesn’t bust him, which is the most un-D.J. thing that she has ever done. When that lie gets him out of trouble, Max decides to start lying to his friends, and says that he can get them all a ride on a fire truck because his dad was a firefighter (and a very fine looking one at that because there are no ugly men on Fuller House).
D.J. can’t be bothered to help her son with this because she already missed the teachable moment by not caring that he was turning into a mild sociopath. She also had to do inventory with Hunky Vet Matt. This leaves me with several questions. Why does a vet have to do inventory? Don’t they have office assistants for this work? Why is her clinic in Chinatown? Is that why they had to eat Chinese food? And since when are fortune cookies only about the food at the restaurant?
The meal must have gotten D.J. all hot and bothered, because she literally jumps Hunky Vet Matt. They make out and then she goes home, where she and Kimmy Gibbler moon in bliss about reaching first base like they are once again 14-year-old virgins and not women who have clearly had sex at least a few times because they both have children. Stephanie just glowers nearby, pissed because there is absolutely no reason why she can’t get laid in a town where single dudes far outnumber single chicks.
When Spencer and Danny find out that Max lied about the fire truck, they go down to the fire station and eventually persuade the chief to let them borrow one of the trucks for the afternoon. So, Max is vindicated in front of all of his friends. Yes, this episode is all about going back into the past and how the power of nostalgia — much like the couch and Fernando — is preferable to moving on to something new and exciting. Since all of the old episodes of Full House taught us a lesson, what is the lesson we learned here? Well, if you lie and your dad is dead, people will help make your lie a reality because they feel bad for you. Great lesson, kids.