Stephen's Big Day Blog

Let me start with two completely unrelated facts that you should tell everyone you know:

1) Someone just sent me the complete version of the Michael Richards meltdown, and the one part that was cut out of the version most people saw is where Hugh Laurie is high-fiving him.

2) We're on twice this week. Tuesday at 9 and 9:30 pm/ET.

In keeping with the theme of twos, this week I'm going to present to you the two-part Big Day guide to torturing your coworkers.

1) Outthinking: "The Kurt Fuller."

During this week of shooting, Josh Cooke and I spent countless hours in his trailer playing Connect Four for $50 a game. Josh and I were about evenly matched, having a good time, feeling solid about our skills, until Kurt showed up. He watched for a few minutes, and then he asked to play. Thankfully, we didn't play him for money. We played him just for "fun."

I use quotation marks because it didn't take us long to realize that the fun was over. For one thing, we learned quickly that Kurt Fuller is the greatest Connect Four player who has ever lived. You might say, "How can anyone be that good at it? It's a game with two 7-year-olds on the box. Anyone can play it as long as they're old enough to not swallow the pieces." Just understand that when the box says "5 and up," Kurt is the "and up." The man plays Connect Four like one of those savants whose brain is so full of every possible combination on a chessboard that they can't tie their shoes or say hello to you — and I'd rather play Connect Four with that person, because he wouldn't taunt me.

The mind games made you want to throw the board. Between classic Fuller backhanded compliments, Kurt gave us a reason for his superpowers: He said it was because he has two children. He said it to make us feel better (and, of course, also a little bit worse), but it made me feel sorry for the children. If our many games are an indication, Dad's style of parenting doesn't involve letting the kids win. It does, however, involve taking the time after a loss to infuriate them by pointing out where they could have won five moves ago if they had just been paying attention. Kurt is one of those guys who treats knowledge like Vicks mentholated ointment — the way he gives it to children is by rubbing it in.

After a while, Josh and I didn't feel like playing Connect Four anymore. He ended up a few games ahead of me, but I didn't want to get back to even, or look at another Connect Four board ever again. When I have children, I'll have them play baseball in the house.

2) Not thinking: "The Marla Sokoloff"

Marla Sokoloff is a sweet girl, but this week she did more damage than Fuller. But Josh and I enjoyed this method a lot more, because we were the witnesses to it and not the subjects.

One of the guys on the set, whom I will call Jarrett Grode (not his real name, but I don't want this to show up when people Google him, and also, the real Jarrett is my friend and a talented guy, and I figure he could use the plug at the bottom of this blog under "TV Guide Links") came back after a few weeks away, during which time he was supposed to get married. When he showed up, he said hello to Marla and Josh and me. Marla asked Jarrett how his wedding went. It didn't happen, Mr. Grode told her.

Let's pause the tape here and point out that "the wedding didn't happen" is what I like to call a conversational danger sign. About as subtle as "I just got back from the doctor's and he explained why I've been losing weight." It says to the alert listener, "Careful — this conversation might be heading into some nonlaughter territory." Not that it's certain disaster. Just be careful. You have a few safe responses. You can try an ambiguous "Oh, really?" Maybe "Ring! Ring! I have a call I have to answer on my cell phone." Or the recommended method: Change the subject with a "Hey, did you see ABC's new slate of comedies? The only show better than the one on Tuesday at 9 is the one on Tuesday at 9:30. And I hear that Dr. House is a racist." All of them would be better than:

"What, did she get cold feet and break it off? Ha ha ha ha."

Marla was frozen in mid-joke when Jarrett Grode — in a dead monotone only heard from prisoners of war and people telling the absolute truth — said yes, that was exactly what had happened. Josh Cooke and I had a hard time figuring out who felt worse about it, Marla or Jarrett. You probably would have been able to figure it out easily (it was Jarrett), but our judgment was impaired by the fact that we were laughing so hard. Sure, it might have been more polite to be silent, but it was like watching someone win a game with a shot from half court. Someone's going to have their heart broken, but that's why it's so special.

Which one are you? Let me know, and watch Tuesday at 9 and 9:30 pm/ET.

TVGuide.com's celebrity blogs are displayed in the reverse order that they were written, which is so that the reader can watch the author enjoy himself more and more. It would be kind of depressing to see them in the real order, from "Oh, wow! I get a blog! This will be fun!" to "Greta Garbo did not go far enough."

That's because it's a lot of pressure to come up with an interesting story each time. Here's a television secret: not every episode of Big Day [Tuesdays at 9 pm/ET, on ABC] provides the sort of exciting behind-the-scenes anecdote that meets the incredibly high standards of a TVGuide.com blog. Sure, every once in a while you'll have to wrestle a sword away from a drunken Josh Cooke before he accomplishes his bellowed intention of driving to the set of The Office and decapitating John Krasinski ("There can only be one! There can only be one!"). But that's only three weeks out of 10. The other seven, you're searching for things to put in the blog. ("Maybe if I set Cooke's trailer on fire...? I'll tell him it was Krasinski.")

This was one of those weeks. Not a whole lot happened. Pretty calm. To be honest, that was why I enjoyed it. As we were shooting this episode, in real life I was only two weeks away from my real-life wedding to my lovely and patient fiancée, Tracy. We met in college, and have been together since. You know the story. It's true love, considering how often she is ashamed to be seen with me in public. The logical human response is not to commit your life to someone you have seen fight a stranger for wearing a Red Sox jacket. (In fairness, it was in Fenway Park.) That sort of thing has happened so much I can tell I've made a mistake by the look she gets on her face — a combination of amusement and sadness.

Anyway, when this episode was shot, we had reached that stressful point in the wedding preparation when Tracy was starting to realize exactly what she was getting herself into. Both of us were having the most exciting moment of our lives together, it just wasn't the same moment. She was spending her time focusing on every detail of the celebration of the beginning of our lifetime commitment. Meanwhile, the person she had chosen for said commitment was pumping his fist and holding up a letter that ABC sent Big Day's producers, claiming that the bulge in last week's "trampy" sweatpants was too prominent and would have to be CGIed out. "Forget about the seating chart, woman! Do you know if Kinko's makes copies in marble?"

That's how it would go. She would prepare for the wedding, and I would come home and complain about the grueling 12 hours I had spent with my hand on Marla Sokoloff's breasts. "I'm doing this for you! For us! Now please, never ask me about the reception ever again."

Ultimately, though, there was something I couldn't get out of by faking sleep. That was our Pre-Cana. A Pre-Cana is a Catholic requirement in which you have to spend eight hours in a room with 15 other couples taking a class about your impending marriage. That pretty much sums up the Catholic approach to life: We go to traffic school before the wreck.

We went, and it actually wasn't that bad (for a wedding preparation) until we got to the point where everyone had to draw where they saw themselves in 10 years. I might have drawn something different if I had known the priest was going to show everyone's drawings to the class.

First, he showed Tracy's drawing, which was a man and a woman and two beautiful children. He liked it, even though, really, I think even she would have to admit it was kind of a cliché.

Then he showed my cartoon, which was a man and a tall, blonde woman. He was about to make a comment about the absence of children and what it said about our different expectations for blah-blah-blah when he noticed that Tracy is a brunette. "Steve, not to criticize your art, but... this doesn't look very much like Tracy at all."

"Oh, that's because it isn't. You said 10 years from now...."

As I kept talking, I noticed that churches are especially silent when you use the words "starter wife" in them. Tracy just had that look again.

Enjoy this week's show. It turned out to be way more entertaining than the process of making it.

After I wrote last week's blog, I planned on never having to write another story about my life. All I had to do, I figured, was just spend the next 10 weeks responding to the comments from this one. It is now seven days later and right now there are three fewer comments on my TVGuide.com blog than there are on my IMDB page arguing that I look like David Boreanaz: "However, David is much more attractive." (Words hurt, Dovercliffs.) Which is to say, zero. So here's blog entry No. 2.

For me, as for many young actors, the difference between shooting the first episode and the second episode of ABC's Big Day [Tuesdays at 9 pm/ET] was kind of like the difference between Rocky and Rocky II. If your show gets picked up, you have a lot more money, and you know it's going to be on the air. The world gets a lot brighter.

I had a new car. I was engaged. Things were good. But as we got ready to shoot the second episode, I realized I had to do the same thing I did in the first one, and there were some problems. I wasn't as hungry any more. In fact, I was getting kind of fat. The only exercise I liked to do was throwing my motorcycle helmet at the statue the city built for me. I think I fought Mr. T at some point, but I get really confused about the differences between Rocky II and III. Was there an exhibition fight with Hulk Hogan? No. I'm pretty sure about that.

In any case, before I shot the second episode, things needed to change. Particularly the part about gaining weight.

So, like Rocky, I picked up a deranged trainer to get me back in shape. Mine was a former British special-forces agent who ran me through hills, which is almost as mind-numbing as chasing poultry.

With Rocky, as he does those insane workouts, you think things are going to be fine, but you aren't sure until you see him running through the city and all of those children are following him and going crazy. You can tell it's going to happen from the clothes he's wearing. It's back to basics. He's a hero again. In sweatpants and a crappy shirt, he's giving those kids a memory that will last a lifetime.

And that relates to this episode and the clothes you see me wearing in this picture.

I am wearing this outfit because an angry bridesmaid has dressed my character in the most humiliating way possible. And at first — in real life — it really was embarrassing. Look at it. Even if it's for a fictional character, it's still a real, grown man who has to wear a shirt with jewelry attached to it. After a while, though, I kind of stopped noticing. It's like when you say a word so many times it loses its meaning.

It was at this point that Josh Cooke and I both had a several-hour break during shooting. We noticed that there was a pitch-and-putt golf course across the street. You know the type — the tiny Par 3 jammed into city property, where the only natural hazards are bus stops and the families sitting at them. I figured, "Why bother take the outfit off? They don't have a dress code, and I'll just have to put it back on again." I did not play well. I was having significant problems with my swing — you try reaching a full range of motion with enough rhinestones on your shirt to spell out the word "diva."

I will admit that there was some angry swearing. That usually isn't a big problem on golf courses, since the only other people you see are golfers who are yelling the same words over you. But it was in the middle of one particularly creative rant that I noticed several horrified mothers at the bus stop glaring at me as they realized that, despite the use of hands and elbows, it was physically impossible to cover both of their children's ears and eyes at the same time. They were left with the Sophie's Choice of which of their children's delicate senses was most important to protect from the screaming devil in "trampy" sweatpants.

Most of them went for the "hear no evil" option, and that meant you could look over and actually lock eyes with the distressed and confused child in that rare moment when it is both creating and repressing the same memory. I'm not telling this story to say that it stopped me, or even slowed me down. I am telling it so that it might explain why years from now, when you come across this episode in reruns, the person sitting next to you is weeping uncontrollably without understanding why.

And to say that just like Rocky, in sweatpants and a crappy shirt, I gave those kids a memory that will last a lifetime.

Oh, yeah — this week's episode is great. Watch the show and post a comment. But I'm warning you — if next week doesn't work out, I'm just going to respond to the comments on the My Boys blog.

Hello, dedicated TVGuide.com reader, my name is Stephen Rannazzisi. You can see me on ABC's new comedy Big Day. The show premieres Tuesday, Nov. 28, at 9 pm/ET. Each episode covers a different half hour in a single wedding day. It's kind of like 24 without explosions.

The show was created by Josh Goldsmith and Cathy Yuspa, a married couple who used to write for King of Queens. We have a talented cast: Marla Sokoloff (The Practice) and Josh Cooke (all three episodes of Four Kings!) are Alice and Danny, the bride and groom. Wendie Malick (Just Shoot Me) and Kurt Fuller (really, who cares? I've already gotten bored of giving everyone's credits, and to be honest, I'm not sure what else he's done. I think he was in Wayne's World, but he doesn't like to talk about it) play their parents. Miriam Shor (look it up) is Becca, the maid of honor, and the hilariously nervous Stephnie Weir (I really think the Red Sox overpaid for that Japanese pitcher) is Lorna, the wedding coordinator.

But enough about them. They didn't have to write a term paper for TVGuide.com, did they? No. Let's talk about me. I play Skobo, the groom's best friend, also known as "the breakout star" of ABC's new comedy Big Day, premiering Tuesday, Nov. 28, at 9 pm/ET.

When I was approached to do the blog, I didn't know what I was supposed to write about. Then I decided to let you in behind the scenes. By "behind the scenes," I don't mean "in an actually revealing TMZ.com kind of way," but rather "in a superficial Byron Allen way." Let's begin, shall we?

It's a great job, working on television. But it's still a job, just like yours, TVGuide.com reader, with one significant difference being that I never take time off my job to read about yours. (I've been meaning to talk to you about that — maybe you should get back to work, huh? Well, after the blog. But if you stop reading now, remember, Big Day, Nov. 28, Tuesday, 9 pm/ET. Go online and have your TiVo take care of it now.) I wasn't really sure what to expect on the first day, when I pulled my 1995 Ford Escort into the parking lot of the set. I was excited — well, as excited, as anyone can be when he's driving a 1995 Ford Escort. I sat in the car, thinking that if this went well, I wouldn't always be driving out of the lot with people staring at my car.

Since the wedding day begins the morning after I spend the night with the maid of honor, I begin the show shirtless in bed. Staring at the cracked plastic of the dashboard, I visualized the looks of barely restrained awe in the crew as they gazed at my physique. I practiced some false modesty ("No, no. All natural. Just good genetics, I guess."), while thanking fate that I was born in a world with television cameras. If this were another, more backward time, I would only be seen on murals, instead of ABC's new comedy Big Day, premiering Tuesday, Nov. 28, at 9 pm/ET.

Appropriately rehearsed, I headed into the set. After I got my shirt off, I decided that I would take the risk of not being taken seriously: I decided to do some pushups before the take. Appropriately pumped, I leaped into bed, ready to do the scene.

Just as I pictured, the crew gazed at my physique — even the director. Then he stopped shooting. He pointed at me. "Can we do anything else?"

And so it was that before my network television debut, I found myself with a crew of people gazing at my physique, as they shaved my chest and painted abs on my stomach.

At the end of the day, I walked out to the parking lot. It didn't go as I thought, but it's still pretty exciting, being a part of ABC's new comedy Big Day, premiering Tuesday, Nov. 28, at 9 pm/ET. When I got to the Escort, it wouldn't start. We had to call AAA. I rode out of the lot in a tow truck. At least one wish had come true.

(Please watch the show, will you?)