I wrote this at the last minute for a writing class. It's for a sitcom called DO OVER. I missed the class where the teacher showed it and gave us the parameters for the assignment. But I found it on YouTube and winged. I didn't follow standards, protocol, formula... nothin'. Nobody liked but me. I thought it was fine. I'm the only one. Teacher deemed it inappropriate. Girlfriend said my opinion doesn't need to be heard.
If you're an adult male over 30 who wishes you could go back to the beginning of puberty knowing what you do now about life, then Do Over is the perfect show for you. It's the story of a 34 yr old guy whose life and hair are in free fall, who gets knocked unconscious and sent back in time 20 years. All the current shows aimed at men in a state of mid–mid life crisis go the opposite way: men over 30 acting like eternally pubescent boys. And being an eternally pubescent adult male I get the joke in that approach. But being semi retarded in the maturation process isn't nearly as fun as these shows make out it to be. But to go back to being a sex crazed 14yr old again with all of hard earned knowledge that I have about substance abuse and the female species sounds like a lot more fun than being a developmentally challenged adult. And Do Over is the fantasy show come true for any red blooded adult male with a pulse and a libido left in their slowly dying carcass, like me. I can relate to the creators of this show. In fact I had the exact pair of black and white checkered Vans, parachute pants and Members Only jacket (though mine was gray, not blue) that the main character wears on his first day back to High School – Jesus I was cool. To be able to go back to High School wearing my collar up like a Yale graduate and have a second shot to get in all the girls pants that were out of my league is a semi – grown adult males wet dream. But, like the main character, Joel, I'm sure I'd regress back into fumbling cave man grunts when trying to talk to the girls that wouldn't screw me the first time around, break out in fits of anxiety at having to take Algebra tests again, and cry when sent to the principals office just like I did the first time around. And therein lies the comedy of the show that the current crop of emotionally stunted adult male shows play off of as well: that boys don't really grow up. God I hate Algebra.
So there it is. Whatever. I did it in like an hour. I'm not fuckin' Leonard Maltin.