Ring Pops

If it's going to be the last one for the year, it may as well be about Ring Pops. Why Ring Pops? First of all, they were far more beautiful than any jewelry I ever saw, particularly the red ones, and they were sweet! You have to admit, these things even make actual gemstones look sumptuous, and way underdone. Don't even bother showing up with anything less, I mean, just look at the size of those stones! To borrow from Titanic, you'd go straight to the bottom!

On the flip side, the cheap plastic rings supporting those bulbous half-carat jewels (at best) were never made to fit anything bigger than a pinky, and that's if you had a small pinky. If you were ever masochistic enough to get it on your ring finger, chances are it's still there or you still have the scars, especially if you got it past the knuckle. Am I right? I know I'm right.

Secondly, this is the only jewelry a guy can wear without being a grunge-rocker or a goth, and therefore, the only jewelry I'll ever come close to wearing without feeling wrong. Actually, I think I've been accidentally married to a girl for the last 20 years because of one of these things. I think I threw it out 20 years ago... how insensitive of me.

With this ring, I be tooth-decay. See you in 2012!

Home Alone 2

I have never seen the original Home Alone in one sitting. I have seen the whole movie, but not from start to finish. The one I saw a whole lot more often (because we had it taped, and it was of...*ahem* so-called "lesser quality" than the original, and so got played more) was the sequel, Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. As far as sequels go though, Home Alone 2 actually isn't bad. In fact, could it actually be better than the first movie? YES. Hear me out people!

I mean, come on, as a kid, what's better than having the whole house to yourself? How about having your dad's credit card, identity, no spending limit, and the city of New York at your disposal? And it's all 90s tech so no one can find you. Hell yeah! Think Florida sucks on Christmas? Why not crash at the "world renowned" Plaza Hotel in instead?... on your dad's credit card! Why not indeed. Why not do it now? 

Seriously, this movie is tighter with its set-ups and pay-offs than a 40's mobster... so tight in the opening minutes that if you miss any small line of dialogue you'll be more lost in New York than Kevin is (because he's never really "lost" in New York anyway, that's a scam). The Talkboy tape recorder? Set up. The clown balloon? Set up. The "He said that if I go in there, and see him naked, I'll never grow up feeling like a real man..." ? Set up. (Trust me on that one.) After the first 10 minutes, just sit back and wait for those sweet, sweet payoffs... and boy does this movie not disappoint. They tease you about 10 times on the way out the door with the "where's Kevin?" schtick, but lol and behold, there he is in the front seat! Not gonna leave him behind this time! I DEFY YOU MOVIE to keep him in tow! 

My family's in Florida...
and I'm in... New York?

It's actually impressive how they get him separated a second time... although once again, it all comes down to his parents being idiots and not checking on him the ENTIRE FLIGHT. Besides, stopping in the airport to get the batteries in your TalkBoy is way more important than going to Florida anyway. It's not his fault. He ended up having a much better vacation anyways. You go boy! 

Anyways, here's the scene they don't show in rebroadcasts for reasons that become obvious (was probably a really expensive shot to get too)... featuring the most nostalgic Christmas song ever made: 

Someone's gotta stop kicking
Mac in the nuts.

So in the rare case of a 90s boy actually having some intelligence (Minkus doesn't count as a human being), we now find Kevin pulling the same tricks to get himself ensconced in a king-sized bed with his big cozy bath robe, surrounded by treats and bloody gangster films ("Merry Christmas you filthy animal!"), and eating two scoops of every flavor ice cream there is. He's dive-bombing into sweet hotel swimming pools (with, and then without, his shorts), paying his personal bag slave Rob Schneider in gum (glorious too... and for Schneider, sooooo deserved), and doing just about everything every kid has ever dreamed of. 

"Peet-zah."

At least... it was everything I ever dreamed of doing, but then again, I never dreamed about the "stolen" credit card getting suddenly declined, and Tim Curry coming after me to collect, and that's precisely where this paradise starts to unravel. Even still, it was enough to make me want to board the wrong flight with my dad's credit card. Throw in some (shoehorned in) retread jokes with the same bumbling robbers (calling themselves the Sticky Bandits this time, or at least, just Marv... Joe Pesci was too busy inventing new ways to swear and still keep it PG), and it was still wall-to-wall stitches from my side of the room. That's not saying much though. I laughed at pretty much anything that didn't require brain cells: 

Harry: "What's that?"

(*Looney Tunes Shenanigans*)

Marv: "That was the sound of a giant tool chest... falling down the stairs..." 

Still gets me every time! So much wholesome holiday goodness! 

Chances are, if you're like me, you can't hear many Christmas tunes on the radio without thinking about this or the first Home Alone, like the Johnny Mathis "It's Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas" or "Jingle Bell Rock." But especially this one, which was done for the movie and now you hear it every year  (update: yeah the original was taken down, but here's a pretty good cover from American Grapefruit):

Just as well, you probably wanted a Talkboy tape recorder because of this movie, like I did.

Merry Chex-Mix! 

In-Line Roller-blades

Rad (adj.): see above.

Don't call 'em roller-skates, these bad boys are "blades". Since the first couple spins I took around the block in my old blades, back in the mid-90s, I don't think I've ever been able to sit quite right. Wearing these things was like learning how to walk all over again, only this time with eight wheels under your feet and a break at your heel. Come across any slope, or even just a gradual downturn or pebble, and you'll quickly find yourself careening out of control... BUTT I guess that's what your BUTT is for (...nature's impact absorber). Now if only I wore a helmet...
 
Seriously, after your first 200-something falls, you do get the hang of it, and then you'll be damned if you can go without them. The steady ground below your feet, the presence of "friction,"... it just no longer felt right. "If the good lord had intended us to walk, he wouldn't have invented roller-skates..." said the great candy man, and I got to agree... except for the "roller-skates" part... (these things are too X-TREME!! to be "skates"). In any case, I think I went through a period in my life around the age of 10 where these were just the natural extension of my feet. I lived on wheels. My blades sat by the side door, so if I was going anywhere... "I--was--roll-ing!" (Forrest Gump everybody!)

Not me, but damn close!

At one point I could do everything in blades, like climb up and down stairs, use the bathroom (yes!), ride around on a trampoline (kids, don't try that at home), or fly down even the steepest sloping cul-de-sacs... (coming back up was a whole different story though). I even got up the guts to trick out a bit on the local half-pipe at the park, but only the kiddy one and only to the best ability a little dork like me could do... which meant a lot of back and forth on the bottom of the bevel and a lot of time on my butt. But isn't that why it's there? As I've said before, me and my butt are tight, we go way back.

The whole "roller-skating" thing that really took off in the 80's got another massive kick in the butt during the early 90s thanks to "rad" culture and the introduction of blades. Suddenly every kid on my block was either rocking a pair of blades, a skateboard, or a Razor scooter. Heck, video games like Road Rash and the very existence of Tony Hawk just became part of the lingo. Blades made their way into just about a thousand no-budget direct to VHS tapes advertising as "awesome jumps" and "XTREME tricks!" that were actually showcasing little more than the non-wipeout reel. They also made it into terrible kids' movies like "The Skateboard Kid" and... "The Skateboard Kid 2." After all, "When there's magic in your [fart], you can soar!" Yeah... all I can say about the 90s VHS craze, at least as far as skating videos and movies were concerned, is there are things more painful than wiping out on your blades.

The world would be a better place if people skated everywhere, I think. I mean, skater chicks have got to be the hottest kind of chick. Save for a bike, these were the quickest way to get around as a kid. After all, a car only has four wheels... these guys have a rockin' eight! Cool blades were definitely on my Christmas wishlist at some point, and I got to admit, I'm struggling to remember why I ever gave up my first real set of wheels.

....unless I want to count these babies.


< Here's a cool design I found on Zazzle, get it on a t-shirt! 

Lost Sonic 2 Levels

"Dust Hill Zone" concept art.

Many have searched for the legendary "lost Sonic 2 levels", spurred on by dreams of what could've been, what they could've looked like, and why they were cut from the final game. In our minds they are mythic, complete, and full of new surprises, enemies, and everything we came to expect from the original Sega Genesis Sonic games, but what is the truth? You have to admit that Sonic the Hedgehog 2 was an explosion of creativity with all its levels and enemies. I remember my cousin even joking once that it had "like, a hundred levels." The only disappointment for me was that it didn't, but what if it did?

"More Sonic" is always a good thing, and certainly something I would've wanted as a kid, so let's take a look at some of the real "lost levels" (not the fan-made false ones). We're all familiar with Emerald Hill Zone, Chemical Plant Zone, Casino Night, Hill Top, Oil Ocean...etc... but what about Wood Zone? Dust Hill Zone? Hidden Palace Zone? Neo-Green Hill Zone? ... Genocide City Zone??

It turns out that all of them were actual lost levels in one way or another, but the truth isn't all that awesome. There are two genuine lost zones... Wood Zone and Hidden Palace, but they are incomplete. Wood Zone takes place in the treetops, has few enemies, is missing some floors, has conveyor belts that don't present any obstacle, and doesn't particularly lead you anywhere, but it is interesting nonetheless. Hidden Palace has a more polished Act 1 featuring caves and crystals (vaguely similar to Lava Reef Zone from Sonic & Knuckles), but it's also only half done--the Act 2 for it just has Sonic standing around behind a pile of rocks until he dies.

So here's Hidden Palace Zone... with it's own music and everything.

And here's Wood Zone... Wood Zone actually had a slower version of what became the Chemical Plant music, this was just placeholder music from Emerald Hill two-player mode.

That's the cool part. The truth about the other three "lost levels" is more disappointing. It turns out the equally-legendary "Dust Hill Zone" was just an early working title for what became Mystic Cave Zone (pictures of Sonic in a desert level were sent out to magazines to advertise the game, under the name "Dust Hill Zone," but no such zone was ever made). The same is true for Neo-Green Hill Zone (the original was the first level of Sonic 1). It's nothing but an early working title for Aquatic Ruin Zone. Then there's the legendary Genocide City Zone, which is just Sonic falling into a blue/green abyss and dying (and thus the name?). It's not just unfinished, it's not even started. Supposedly, the Act 3 of Metropolis Zone was going to be the one-act "Genocide City", but they designed it with the Metropolis setup instead and made it the oddball "Act 3" that is is. I always did think it was strange that Sonic would go straight from the machine-world of Metropolis to the airplane in Sky Chase Zone.

Having said that, there are a lot of cool fan-made imaginings of what the lost Sonic 2 levels "might" have looked like, including interesting and detailed Genocide City ones, but that's all they are, fan-made imaginings. They also made Dust Hill into an awesome desert level, as well as a level that looks like a precursor to the (f-ing awesome!!) Ice Cap Zone from Sonic 3. But don't be fooled by imitations. These are the authentic ones (as far as we know).

Lego Islanders Ad

Part one in my month-long "things I wanted for Christmas" quadrilogy, filed under...

How Cool Was that Catamaran?

Battle of the Batteries

Duracell claims that kids don't care about what batteries power their toys, and I have never been more insulted. See, I was a dork, and yes, I did have my battery preferences. Sure I trusted the "copper top"...they worked better than Rayovac, and definitely better than Chap Stick, and yeah, they came with that cool strip you could press down on to see how charged it was, but now I'm not so sure. Now I may just have to go back to my kid-hood allegiance was with the bunny.

Depending on which mythology you believe, the Energizer Bunny started out as a man who found a genie, wished for money, girls, and "long life," and got exactly what he wished for. In my 8-year-old opinion, that didn't sound like such a bad deal (so long as the other two wishes were part of the package). If not, then it was just some toy that escaped from the Energizer labs and is reportedly "still going" to this day on the same batteries... either way, "long-lasting" is basically the theme here.

Duracell is obviously better, but nothing says 90s like a pink bunny in flip flops. And because attempts to stop him have been thwarted, he's probably still out there (somewhere) incongruously banging that drum and interrupting random commercials for Alarm Soap and Not Bacon. No one messes with a dude in cool shades.

The Oregon Trail

Let me start out by saying that The Oregon Trail was arguably the greatest computer game of all time, and that's putting it lightly. I mean, who even really knows what the real Oregon Trail was? All I know is that it had something to do with the western pioneers. Think about it... this game about the thing probably looms larger over culture than the original thing itself, because just ask any kid from the early 90s, and the Oregon Trail was just one of the coolest computer games ever made fer sure (no offense to the pioneers). And no, not (just) because you could literally die in it by pooping to death.

This game was more about survival than a history lesson, which is why it was so darn cool. I remember playing at least two versions of it: the original and the deluxe. The original had that pixelated, white covered wagon on a simple black screen, and the deluxe had 32bit renderings with the blue skies and banjo-like computer music. You could choose from several occupations like "Banker," (which meant you had more money ), "Doctor" (which meant you'd have better health), or "Merchant" (which meant you'd have more stuff)...etc. Basically, each came with their own pros and cons, and none really had everything you'd need for the trip by themselves.

So you'd pick your poison, you'd buy some supplies at the ole' timey "General Store" (pro-tip: BUY BULLETS... don't waste time buying food, it spoils!), and you'd decide when to leave (pro-tip: if you leave too late, you'll hit the dead of winter, but if you leave too early, your animals will die from the lack of grass). So you'd pick your poison once again, and finally set your little oxen off doing their two-step shuffle along the Oregon Trail with your cozy covered wagon in tow. The adventure was on, damn it. 

Along the way, you'd run into all sorts of dialog boxes... sometimes you'd have to decide whether to "caulk your wagon" and float across a river (where you'd always seem to drown an ox), or you'd all get sick and start dying off from old diseases (forget dysentery, try cholera!), or you'd have to stop to hunt, or cross another river, or you'd run into some town and decide to BUY MORE BULLETS. (I swear, if you ran out of bullets, you could not eat. It was that simple.)

Speaking of bullets, hunting was funny on the Oregon Trail. Not only were the bison the easiest things to shoot, but they also brought back the most meat, so what was the point of the rabbits and squirrels (besides points?)? Just a waste of bullets if you ask me. Another funny thing was how you could be out there dropping bison and deer dead left and right, strewing carcasses all over the place, but you could only carry, like, maybe one of them back. The real Oregon Trail must have been littered with dead bison that couldn't be "carried back"...if this game is any guide. No wonder they're endangered. 

In the deluxe version, the seasons would change rapidly... the oxen would be trudging through snow, and then through green grass... the sky would alternate between gray and blue, and the little mountains would scurry along as you came across such places as Fort Kearney and Chimney Rock. Sometimes an ox would die and you'd wish you were a merchant, or sometimes a person would die and you'd wish you were a doctor, or sometimes you'd break a wagon wheel and wish you were a carpenter, and sometimes you'd die in the snow and wish you weren't a loser, but if you made it to Oregon, it was something special indeed. 

The Oregon Trail was just another one of those games that made those clunky, slow, computers of our early memory so darn cool.

Until you died of dysentery... 

The Glory of VHS

Hazy glory.

As far as picture quality, sound quality, and quality in general goes, who could argue VHS is better than DVD, or Blu-ray? Tapes (as we called them) really weren't all we crack them up to be (literally)... they easily tore and crinkled, VCRs thought they were snacks, and every time you played them they lost focus until they became muted, fuzzy, 90's glory. And yet, these black plastic bricks with tape loops in them were still downright cool.

Remember the problems? Bits of static might show up on the top and bottom of the screen, or the picture might double-up, or change weird colors, or flip like a cartoon book. Sometimes there'd be total stoppages of film or jams which would cause the television to go into black-out "damage control" and run its white or green letters across the top, reading "STOP.... PLAY..." in a desperate struggle to get the tape spinning again. Chance are, the sound of a tape getting stretched around the loops and "cranking" is burned into your memory forever.

You hit "Stop" and the thing would literally jam to a halt, and you'd hear it. You hit "Fast Forward" and you'd see the world like a caffeine addict. You hit "Rewind" and you'd see people speedily ripping off Michael Jackson. "Rewind" actually meant that the tape was being "rewound" then... something that gets lost on modern DVDs... (I think they're using the term "fast-backwards" now). But if it's still okay to say "You sound like a broken record," maybe "rewind" is here to stay too. I hope so. "Fast Backwards" is stupid.

But besides the technical glitches that we used to hate and now suddenly love... what we always loved about VHS was taping things. In this age where anything on TV can be Tivo'ed, paused, reserved, bought, Netflixed, On-Demand'ed...etc., there really is no reason to tape anything anymore. Back in the day though, if a movie was playing on TV, and you wanted to see it again, you had to stick in a VHS and "record" what you were watching, commercials and all (or you'd sit there hitting "stop" on all the commercials). If you weren't around to catch a program you wanted to see, you had to set the timer and pray it might record what you wanted. It never did, but there was always a chance. Half the movies we "owned" were taped off the TV...always in SLP mode (or Super Long Play)... because, any other mode just wasn't super enough.

But most of all, the reason we love VHS is because, if you're a 90s kid, all your big milestones and events from your childhood are probably still recorded on them-- birthdays, Christmases...etc. That has something to do with it fer sure. We will soon no doubt think back fondly on "that old rainbow-effect" of the DVD, but for now, I salute you, VHS and VCR... may your green 12:00am display forever blink in our memory.

The BK Crown

One size fit all.

It looks like the Burger King crown is making a comeback. I can't say I ever felt like a king wearing one (at any age), but I sure felt something, so I'm glad to see it back in full swing. I remember the local BK used to have them out on the tables and in between booths, so then just as today, any kid could just wander in and get one... particularly if your parents just went through the drive-thru and they forgot to include the damn crown! The nerve of those drive-thru people.

I did have a few complaints. These paper crowns just never, ever, fit your head, no matter what "size" you made them, and they dug into your ears something fierce. But I don't know, perhaps I did feel like I was having it my way when I got my (two) hands around my condiment-free, pickle-free, lettuce-free, burger slab on two buns. And perhaps I really was king and everyone else's crown was just a flimsy paper imitation. I'd like to think so now.

Speaking of which, while I may have been king of scarfing down fast food, I sure wasn't king of holding on to those so-called "crown jewels." I probably had about 100 meals at BK in my early life, and probably about 50 of them I was "king" of... so where the heck did all those crowns go, and why did I have to keep getting coronated every time I had a hankering for fries? Wasn't I already king, or did my kingdom just stop at the boundary of the paper wrapper?

In any case, did the crown really ever go away? That would've been as depressing as the demise of the Burger King Kids Club cult... (world domination was in our grasp and the grups go take it away?) ...the nerve of those grups!

The Treasure Shell!

Here's a story I wrote for school in the 3rd grade, for which I received a well-deserved check+ and a star sticker. Because no one but me can read my chickenscratch, I'll reproduce it here for you in all its awesomeness. And just in case there's any question, please note that I copyrighted it. ;p

The Treasure Shell!
By mark  (c) October 23, 1995

Once there was a Boy, who went to the ocean. While there he explored the shore, looking for shells. He found rocks, shells, seaweed, broken glass and pennies! The pennies were old looking and leading some where. He followed the path. The pennies ended at a cave. It was very dark inside the cave. He entered slowly. It was creepy, damp, cold, and smelly. In the distance was a flicker of light!

The Boy went closer to the light. Once there, he, saw that it was from a crack in a Box. The Box was old and dusty. It had letters on the cover. Spelling "T.S." He opened the cover nervously. A blue light spurted out! So bright that it lit up the cave.

The light went down into a shape of a shell. It was standing Backwards. He picked it up. All at once he actually felt a power in the shell. The shell was the size of his hand, it had ridges on one side and smooth on the other. The color was tan and pink. It had electric power. A note said "If the magic shell did not like who touched it, the shell would zzzZAP the person". It also said "The light can blind a person." It seemed to like the Boy. So As Time whent on, he keped the shell to show others. A week later he went to the ocean. again he explored the cave.

"What a nice shell."

"I wonder what the T.S stands for in this Box?" He thought? 

Halloween Candy Hunting

I never cared much for costumes on Halloween. I remember one year wanting to go as Dr. Grant or any of the rabble of JP employees, but ended up going as a surgeon (it wasn't my idea). And no, it wasn't even a cool "diabolical surgeon" or anything, just a regular surgeon with face mask, gloves, and scrubs. I think I went as a pirate once. In other years, I think I just ran around in a black cape and top hat and tried to be... something in a black cape and top hat (probably because, no joke, I wanted to be the fucking grasshopper from James and the Giant Peach or something). Don't judge me. Remember, it was "a virgin who lit the candle" after all...

I never put that much thought into it. If I had a thing for top hats one year, that's what my costume was. What I cared more about was the candy. Oh fuck yes! Sweet sweet candy! The legal cocaine! The costume was just something I'd do so I could get at people's candy, and some years I didn't even dress up! "What are you supposed to be young man?"  "Nothing. Give me candy." I really think I had a problem. Even so, every Halloween you'd always came back with the same-old cheapo "bargain bag" variety. You always got a few handfuls of Reese's, M&Ms, and KitKats, a bunch of those Mr. Goodbars and Nestle Crunch, a solitary box of Milk Duds, and about a thousand rolls of Smarties. Usually if you dug through your bag deep enough, you might stumble on some Skittles, Laffy Taffy, Nerds, Mike & Ikes, or Dots (you know, the good stuff) but that's if you had a good night. You were almost sure to get your Mars fix though. They gave out Snickers/Milky Way/3 Musketeers/Twix minis by the bucket-load! And sometimes you'd get a few oddball throw-ins... like once (I kid you not) I got Pepperidge Farm cheese crackers. That's in the dictionary under "lame." Even razor blades stuffed inside of Snickers would be better than that!!

I was pretty much the kid in the back.

The neighborhoods you decided to hit up made all the difference in your stash, and we usually tried to hit up a few different parts of town. The housing developments were just too PC on Halloween. Everything there was pretty well lit and everyone was packing it in around 8pm. But before then it was an absolute mad scene with kids up and down the street in every direction and every house feeding their fix. It almost seemed like the holiday was only for the 5-and-under crowd though, but those were the neighborhoods with the most freakin' candy, I swear. If you wore different masks, or just covered your face, you could visit a house a few times without them even knowing it! Their front doors were like Grand Central. On a darker side street like the one I lived on, sure there was much more fun to be had in the dark and spooky bedlam of Samhain, but that was only because few had their porch lights on, so few cared whether you had a trick because they hadn't treats. Those who did, took  f o r e v e r  to answer their doorbells.

8yo me: "Trick or treat?"
Neighbor: "Oooh what are you supposed to be?"
8yo me: "I'm the one asking the questions!"

It's like, yeah yeah, hurry up grandma, make with the candy already, I got a stack of other houses to get to, and I ain't doing this for my health! Seriously, the question was "trick or treat?" Do you want to give me a treat right now and I be on my way, or do you want me to come back with toilet paper or party poppers? This is serious business. Do not jerk me around. I need sugar like Sir Mix-a-lot needs big butts. I have a problem.

Me... on candy.

And even the old ladies carrying their candy from other parts of their dang house for some reason (rather than just keeping it by the door) wouldn't have been so bad if there wasn't always such a wack of competition to fight through! I mean, you had packs of marauding 15-year-olds on bikes with nothing but a party store Michael Myers mask split between all five of them, more than likely armed with eggs and toilet paper whether they got their treats or not. I mean, come on. Go rob a gas station or something like normal teens are supposed to do, leave the candying to us kids! But at least they had the spirit of Halloween inside them. Worse were the screaming pumpkin-dressed toddlers, often being carted around in wagons and peeing themselves at the sight of anything in a mask. And yet they got the MOST candy! And they couldn't even fucking chew! Then there were the early-birds you had to contend with, those who'd already been shoo'ed away at 4pm, but who knows? The early birds could've gotten the candy worm... or a nice hard boot in the ass. And then there were the parents, usually single moms, who obviously were just using their kids as the lamest excuse possible to "get out of the house" for the evening, and who seemed to think their pumpkin-clad 2-year-olds in strollers deserved extras.

MFW I took more than one. (Or just Casper, 1995)

Is it any wonder that by the time a crazed, impatient, sugar-junkie like me shows up without a costume, a lot of those people had already had it and just ended up going "fuck off!"? Many said screw it and had already given up, just leaving their buckets of candy out on the porch in a last ditch attempt to "avoid any trouble." But in the mad pursuit of all this free candy, I was definitely tempted to ignore the "please take one" rule to my own peril, usually concerning baskets left unsupervised on doorsteps. One time when out Trick-or-Treating, I decided to take that taboo second handful on a dark and lonely doorstep, and learned my lesson for good. The psychos jumped out from behind the front door, screaming, "RAAH! ONLY TAKE ONE!!" I almost crapped myself, and almost went for the KNEECAPS! But I just ran off screaming into the night, startled beyond all reason and desperately trying to coax my shit back up my rectum. It was scary indeed. So, word to the wise: either take one, or take the whole damn basket and book it!

Mine! AHAHAHAHA!

As a result, trick or treating was actually the least cool part of Halloween. The better parts were getting to watch scary movies (Ernest Versus the Trolls freaked me the FUCK out!) while pigging out on the sweet sweet stash. And I didn't just eat it. I got freaky with it. I called it "my preciouses." I told it how naughty it was and how it had to get in my mouth as punishment! I spanked it. I rubbed it on my face. I teased it. Then I vored it like a lion on an antelope. And when it all was finally inside me, now a part of me, I'd pretend to smoke a candy cigarette and go "wow... that was.... sweeeeet." So while I was sure to regale my friends with tales of wild chases in the dark, setting off party poppers and hurling toilet paper, I never did anything like that. There was never any property damage, just a whole ton of trespassing and a sugar high that could've put me in a coma. For all I know it did.

Candy's a hell of a drug... ...

Leafblowers Rule

Here's me in the leaf corpses.

When given the task as a kid to name my favorite season and draw a picture of it, I thought for a while, and chose "all of the above." I know that's not a season, but there was just something about each of the four seasons that I liked. I probably got a C-. Okay, maybe when it comes to autumn, I get it, it's crisp, it's colorful, but I don't go nuts over the season like most do. Screw pumpkin spice creamers! And screw pumpkin-spice pie scented candles! (Well... okay... I will admit that that autumn-loving apple-pumpkin-cranberry-spice-smelling Yankee Candle store we got around here sure is a great place to make a quick stop in to mask a fart when you're at the mall with your girlfriend... Amirite fellas? True story.) So, okay, point taken. 

Anyways... What? Chick stuff... autumn... making it more cool. Oh yeah! So... is there any hope for autumn to be as awesome as the other seasons, as in, something even the 8YO me could like?

Well, when it comes to autumn, of course, the big thing on my mind is the leaves literally dying all around us, their copses being raked into piles to be trashed, burned, and jumped in by small children. Suddenly all that stuff "up there" hits the ground, you get crispy leaf corpses underfoot and blowing around, and they need picking up. It's payback for the free air, I thought. Well, you could rake them up, but come on, that's not nearly fun enough. Mankind has not always done a great job making life easier on this planet since the time of the mammoths, but one of our greatest achievements since our glory days of prehistory has got to be the "leafblower."

Don't get me wrong, it's not that they're completely useless. They may never actually get the lawn clean, and may actually end up making it worse at times, as you go scurrying around to chase after leaves in every which direction, but no, they do have their purpose, and it's a purpose that could've only been originated in a guy's head. That their actual use, and therefore why they were invented and why we continue using them, is more about, how shall I say this... allowing their users to have the most fun being an idiot while still making it look like "work" was being done. For that, I'd say the leafblower is a level of genius worthy of a Bud Lite commercial.

Every kid, raised in a temperate climate has memories of raking a big pile of leaves and jumping in them, throwing them around, and then generally needing to rake them back up... so I won't bore you with the details of that. Trust me, there was a lot of it. My dad did have some pretty ingenious ways of raking leaves though, involving a leaf blower and a big tarp. Hell yeah. So you pick one of those up as a kid, rev it on, and have yourself a little mini Wizard of Oz in your front yard. Find a pile, blow it to pieces. Make it rain! Get those leaves cornered and make it tornado! Play volleyball with a leaf, blower style, and see how long you can keep it in the air! Stick the nozzle between your legs backwards and pretend that the sheer power of your retro-rockets are blowing the front yard clean! Blast the nozzle in your brother's face and watch his mouth gape open, his eyelids curl up, and his hair fly back in the breeze! Chase your sister and really screw up her hair from behind! The possibilities are endless. The yard never gets clean, but it's sure fun.

Anyways, something about autumn (November included) always reminds me of childhood and family... perhaps it's because Halloween is around the corner (for childhood that is... I assure you, my family doesn't make me think of Halloween!), and perhaps it's because this is the time my family used to start getting together (...nice save!). Something about the fall made me think of the mundane routines in life--going shopping, going to the Laundromat, going to school, raking the leaves... and as the weather got colder, how we'd always start paying attention to things that could get us out of the cold... like all the big sales.

The second thing I picture is a gourd... not for any particular reason, other than it being a funny word, and the fact that you just can't think of autumn without picturing gourds. I have no affinity for them or eating anything involving pumpkins, and actually had a pretty daunting experience with one that I'd rather not relive (so definitely expect a post on it soon). Maybe it's just because I like the word "gourd."

You know what? I take it all back. I love the fall.

School Floor-Time Farts

Me, probably mid-fart.

I tell you, all that time on the classroom floor is a killer on your body, and boy did we ever spend a long time on the floor at school. From K to 4, we'd be down there for small group instruction time, reading time, easel time, project time, movie time, auditorium time, song time... any time they needed to call a "time." All that time, I'd just be looking up from under the tables and chairs and wondering how that vantage could've come to dominate my day, and, who stuck that gum up there? Seriously, what were they thinking by subjecting kids to this?

Anyways, you read the title right, so here it goes. Aside from the sheer uncomfortable yoga positioning they were forcing us to do on those rock hard carpets, spending so much time on the floor has its other follies such yoga stuff is known for. It also turns out that when you spend a lot of time hunched over sitting Indian-style, sprawled out, or bent over on a hard rug...etc., any disturbance or show of force when coming to a stand can cause unintentional and unexpected internal "shifts" (especially true after eating anything they served in the cafeteria). This knowledge comes from personal experience.

It was the 4th grade. I was ten. Probably around the same time as my other, far more impressive physical feat (man I was on a roll that year). The floor group thing was over and we were all to go back to sitting in our chairs like people. I forced myself up, and from out of you-know-where (and without even checking with me first), as if just to say "hi!"... out blurped this low and sputter-y "bluRRRp!" Yes. It was a real tumbler rumbler, a real beefer, a real bullfrog croaker, a real butt blunderbuss, a real... you know what? It was just a fart... not very loud, but just loud enough. I just froze. It was a pure "whoa!" kind of moment, and I didn't even know it was me for a half second. I did a mental damage report. All systems were go. Butt was a go. Jeans were a go. Awesomeness was... definitely a go! At least I could be thankful it was deployed from a half stand position because if I had been still firmly planted it probably would've launched me at least an inch into the air. "Houston, we have liftoff." But let's not exaggerate. I'm not taking Apollo 13-style liftoff, I'm talking more like Apollo 13-style explosion. "Houston, we have a problem..."

I wouldn't have thought much about it from there (well, I probably still would have...), but these two girls (who didn't like me much already) were sitting just a few feet behind me on the floor, and I tell you they had front row seats to that performance, both forced to weather the storm. One quickly remarked to the other, "ugh, Mark just farted." Now I didn't know if I should've been ashamed or extremely pleased, but I got to admit that one minute of embarrassment for 16 years of "ah! gotcha!" pride is pretty good in my book, even though it's always more of a deal breaker than an ice breaker. At least it's never a mystery why chicks break up with me. 

Five Great Forgotten Kids Films

The 80's and 90's brought us some of the best in children's entertainment, and some of the worst, but still a whole bunch of films every kid should see at least once. In the aughties, no great children's film went forgotten (aka "Finding Nemo"), just the bad ones (aka "that other one with the fish"). But when it comes to films from the 80s and 90s, it's seems not only did the bad ones get buried (The Pagemaster), but so did the greats! We remember them of course, so let's change this for the kids these days.

In that spirit, here's five "forgotten" kids films from the 80s and 90s that every kid ought to see, in no particular order--the kind of films I'll be sure to force my own kids to watch one day, whether they like it or not. This will be the first in a two part series. Now before you say anything, the list is of course limited to the films I've actually seen, which is why "The Last Unicorn" or "Flight of the Navigator" or "Your Personal Favorite" is not here.

The Land Before Time - Who could forget probably one of the saddest kids' movies ever made? Bambi has nothing on the trauma of this little Apatosaurus! After his mother's death, right before his eyes, Littlefoot goes through all the stages of grief, from outright sadness, to directionless depression, to this hardened, near-delusional obsession (searching for the "Great Valley") which drives him and all his friends right to the verge of death before, finally, the rewards of his determination suddenly fall right in his lap. The animation is lush and the score ranks among one of the most heartfelt, depressing and yet life-affirming, with just a touch of good, clean, schmaltz. But what a beautiful, and ironically, "timeless" film, so long as you just toss the sequels. 

The Rescuers Down Under - Or is that, Dan-Indah? Granted, it's been a while since I've seen this one so I can't comment on the particulars of the story, but this is the rare Disney sequel that is actually light years ahead of its yawn-fest original. With this one, there is a great sense of adventure, a real sense of danger, and spectacular flight scenes with the boy on the giant eagle. In fact, it's almost like a whole different kind of film. I even remember being spellbound by a scene involving eggs sitting in a nest on the side of a cliff. It gets forgotten because it came sandwiched between The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast and wasn't a hit like they were, but this is definitely a "Disney Renaissance" film. The animation is superb, and...well, like I said, it's been a while, but I do remember a lot of eggs in the movie, and a hungry Komodo Dragon.

The Never Ending Story - Almost every single shot of this film is jaw-dropping, and even the old-timey "creature shop" special effects work to enhance the film's own sense of magic. Let's face it, Bastian was a dork, but then he goes and lives out this epic fantasy in the life of the fearless warrior boy Atreyu...who then spends his time getting sneezed at by huge turtles, getting shot at by conspicuously "breasted" sphinxes, and getting talked at by giant rocks... and yet, every minute of their shared quest is dazzling. Every girl, and hell, every boy, cried over the death of Artax. And if your kids have gone without seeing the Ivory Tower poke out from behind clusters of rock floating against the night sky--just when Atreyu's at the end of his faith--then chances are, they're missing out on a whole new level of elation. A truly fantastic film. 

The Little Mermaid - I know... it's a girl's movie, but with an opening that has dolphins leaping out of the way of a huge wooden ship as it comes plowing through the mists and crashing through the waves, I was sold in the first minute of this classic. What an awesome ship, and later it even meets a fiery end during a terrible storm too! A Disney masterpiece, it's arguably the best "songed" Disney film, in that the songs actually tell us volumes about the characters and aren't just there to fill time. And there's actual feelings behind these characters, even the prince has a personality for a change, not to mention his very own name! Plus, Sebastian the "jah mon!" crab was just damn hilarious. You may wonder why I include it here, but there's a reason. I think what's "forgotten" about it is that it actually is a good movie.

The Secret of NIMH - Bluth's masterpiece...yeah, you can't overstate how great this film is. Perhaps its a bit dark, but so what? Ms. Brisby's personal quest is a very simple one--to save her home and her children--and yet, it's one that ends up pitting her right in the middle of a larger and more confusing world, from the cutthroat to the mystical, and yet, all of that is secondary to what she needs to get done. It's a cautionary tail about mad science, a film about overcoming real-life struggles, and an exploration of the powers beyond. And the animation? Come on, it's the Secret of NIMH--of course it's wondrous. I can't even try to knock this one... even the idiot loveless blackbird was funny.

So there's my first five greatest forgotten kids' films of the 80's and 90's. There will be more to come when I feel like it, and I promise more 90s films next time! In the meantime, go out and stream these right now, if you can, or better yet, rent them on VHS-- the way they were meant to be seen!

Our Santa Fe Alco Train Set

Before my brother and I moved into it sometime in 1994, the downstairs bedroom was called "the playroom." It had tastelessly primary-colored wall-papered walls (with cartoony dinosaurs), a spherical light fixture with a tiny "basketball hoop" around it (it was there when we moved), and a lush blue shag carpet good for losing Legos in. And there were plenty of Legos there, piled into draws... a garbage heap and graveyard for every set we'd ever built, demolished, and obliterated until it became nothing but "unorganized grabasstic pieces of ABS-plastic SHIT." (Just don't eat the peanuts out of it.) (Full Metal Jacket is the jam.) But at some point the room went from being 50% hideous color scheme and 50% Lego bricks (which formed much the foundation, believe it or not), to 50% hideous color scheme... and 50% Big Honkin' Train Set! Awwwwww yeah! Insta-boner! Thank you dad! 

This train set was propped up on a table.... a piece comprised of pure, quality, Home Depot plywood and 2X4's constructed by dad so we could work it at eye-level. I don't remember, we must have got the train for Christmas or something, but it was... the... absolute... S W E E T E S T thing a 7-year-old boy could ever dream of owning, even if they're not dreaming of it. And if they're not dreaming of it, then I will find them and they will know the consequences for their INSOLENCE!

Me.. on Trains.

Anyway, so yeah. My brother and I were huge train freaks at that age, thanks to years of watching Thomas and Shining Time Station every morning. We had the novelty wooden "train whistle" thing and the conductor's hats (I had the blue one, he had the red one), and if there was a wooden train set in a store at the mall, that was the end of any hope our parents had of getting some shopping done. Everything with us was about trains, trains, and more trains... probably moreso for my brother than me (I was also into boats), but this one was the epitome of all that relentless adoration for all things that ran on tracks.

It was Lionel's Santa Fe Alco Diesel Freight... one of their classiest-ever electric modern trains. It had a batch of boxcars, an oil tank car, a flatbed car, and a caboose... everything you'd want. And if you know me, you know I've always loved a nice sexy caboose (seriously too, I'm talking about the train car). The track was one big oval, which included a shorter line you could switch it onto, and one whole side was a ramp with a bridge. Within this oval, we of course built our own Lego city, which was mainly my doing. It's not good enough to just have a nice model train set, it has to have a small village within it too, so all the little Lego people who were hopelessly outsized for the train anyway could stand back and watch it as it went around in circles with no real destination. I remember it came with little plastic people too.

Of course we crashed that thing a hundred times. We'd set the thing up to go on a certain track, and then switch the lines with the little lever thing before it made it there, just to watch it go off the rail. Dad was never happy about us doing that, but then again, it stands to reason seeing that he probably paid for it. As to what happened to it? Well, perhaps we crashed it a few too many times. Eventually we had to pack up the playroom because my sister was born and she got our room. The two of us moved in downstairs, but by then I think our whole train fandom had given way to something else entirely. To what? I don't know. The train set was just more memorable.

String Racer Ad

Oh yeah! Looks cool doesn't it? We're talking major tangleage right out of the box, plus the fact that you could never get it to go all the way. It'd always get stuck in the middle.

Sweat Pants are Cool

Clothing really isn't that important to me, and the same was true for the 8-year-old me (except underwear choice, of course, which is top priority). If I was dressing fancy, like the "Jr. Mr. Executive" thing I had going, that was one thing. But if I was going casual, at school or at home, just a pair of sweat pants, some velcro sneaks, and a dinosaur or Indian t-shirt was all I needed (in the winter, exchange dinosaur or Indian t-shirt for dinosaur or Indian sweatshirt). And yes, I will defend sweatpants till my dying day. 

I'm a guy, so I don't know the first thing about the first thing about this thing they call "fashion," nor am I going to pretend like I do. But I know what I used to wear back in the day, and I can tell you right now, it was probably not of this Earth. Here's a little rundown of the typical getup I used to assemble on a daily basis, head to toe:

Head and accessories: a blindingly neon-ed out bicycle cap with patterns, and designs, and inevitable checkerboards. The idea was to be seen from a mile away, or boss mode, from space. Add some cheap plastic neon-green shades to these and you were styling in a way you'd never come to regret later for sure. Fanny packs only for the not-so-faint of heart (yeah, even back then). 

Sonic or Nintendo watch was also a must, especially to make your friends jealous. Might also go with a sharktooth necklace or something if you wanted to kick it all surfer brah. 

Upper body: inevitable sweater. If not, then inevitable T-shirt. Baggy clothes were in, in, in. They were everywhere, from the sweaters with the extra fuzz that the girls used to wear, to the bulky "Fresh Prince" rapper-style white T's that hung down to the guys' knees, and the cotton windbreakers you could wear around the house. They usually came in a few basic colors too: white, neon green/yellow/pink (even for guys), and girly "pastel" (if you squint your eyes, it could be any color). Mixed in were random shapes or patterns, black splotches, or some other middle-class "urban" pastiche.

Lower body: sweatpants and velcro sneaks, because shoelaces = work. I wore sweat pants probably 90% of the time, but don't you mock. It was actually fashionable, and really fun to fart in. Everyone was wearing sweatshirts and sweatpants (and headbands) because... we all just became joggers I guess. My sweat pants cache came in a variety of colors I could hopelessly mismatch with my t-shirt colors (again, not a problem in the 90s), basically comprising all the primary ones (except yellow, I was NOT that dorky!). I preferred black though... after all, it goes with anything. The waistbands were snapable and perfect for a good old fashioned wedgie. Although I will say, looking back, sweat pants were never much help in the restroom.

Clothing back then sure was comfortable, and in any situation, no matter how awkward. And that's what being a guy is all about, being comfortable no matter how awkward, just like the Hanes commercial said. Maybe that's what being a 90s kid is all about too.

Doyouthinkhesaurus

Timmy was dork.

Like most 90's kids, I've spent a good third of my life thinking about Jurassic Park--learning only from years of a slow and painful maturation that there's more to it than all those awesome big-screen dinosaurs wreaking serious havoc. In fact, it's about people too. But until today, one aspect of the people side has always eluded me. I had a moment of intense "ohhhhh!!" today, because I finally got the Doyouthinkhesaurus joke.

The scene goes like this (and trust me, I have the film memorized, so I know): 

Timmy: What do you call a blind dinosaur?
Dr. Grant: ... I don't know, what do you call a blind dinosaur?
Timmy: Doyouthinkhesaurus? What do you call a blind dinosaur's dog?
Dr. Grant: You got me.
Timmy: Doyouthinkhesaurus Rex!

For the record, it wasn't the "Rex" part, and no, I didn't think it was an actual dinosaur name!

School's In Session

Whenever the school year starts up, I'm reminded of why it's good to be 24 (...because I have to be reminded). School really is "out forever," and the kid-in-me's dream is realized. However, I wouldn't have been a true dork as a kid if I wasn't also slightly excited about going back. Granted, I wouldn't have complained if summer went on forever, of course, but if I had to leave it anyways, I used to figure I might as well embrace the change. And admit it, sometimes getting back to the grind, showing off your new jeans and pencil sharpener, and flopping down on a plastic seat before a chalkboard to "learn" (rather than a couch before a TV to "veg"), has its own charms too. Learning is vital to..... Oh? What's that? The teachers are gone? ...

The coast is clear! ... School can kiss my Pog-pocketed BUTT! Woo-hoo!

I liked school, because I was a dork and I enjoyed getting teased, but back in the 90s every kids commercial made school out to be "capital-L-amo bro" and "totally not radical brah" where every male teacher was half asleep like Ben Stein, every female teacher was a decrepit relic crow of the 19th century, every bus driver was out to kill you for "the things he did in Nam" and every lunch lady was out to poison you for her own sick pleasure. NOT cool! Those adults? They just don't GET it man! "WORD!" Every kids movie made it out to be Auschwitz ("Be quiet or I'll lock you in the CHOKEY!"). It's a place where all you boys get to be "ex-cel-lennnt!" and "bad!" and "on a mission... without permission!" ...only to end up living in the principal's office (me) ...and all the girls get to be chatty, ditzy, frizzy-haired, elitist, snotty "Mean Girls"... only to end up crying in the bathrooms. Listen to Sonic: "School is LAME-O... bro!" So eat Bubble Tape!

 

WTF? Anwyays... it was inevitable, but it certainly wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Every year you just had to get back into it... back to TI-108 calculators and Weekly Readers, to colored notebooks and Trapper Keepers... back to cafeteria followed by recess, plastic trays and tater tots followed by short rope swings and blazing metal slides... back to girls with their Lisa Frank backpacks and boys with their Sketchers Hot Lights... back to classroom fish and "Great Job!" stickers, to strange clapping games and sitting on the carpet, to Crayola 45-packs, scented markers, and Sharpies you can get high from smelling... back to dorky, colorful cutouts of happy ethnically and capably diverse kids gracing the covers of everything like no other reality is allowed...

Get back to music class "recorders" and maracas, art class scrubs and sponges, gym class bean bags and "stretching stations"... back to having a desk with your name on it and a tiny shelf space underneath where you can store your notebooks, glasses case, retainer, and used gum (for later)... back to "show and tell" where the only act you really care about is your own... back to a place where the bathroom is officially called "the boys'/girls' room" and you have to sign a piece of paper just to go to it, or "bring along a friend"... 

So get back to the pecker-order, to butthead boys and know-it-all girls, to jocks who were untouchable and nerds who probably should've worn a cup that day (...ouch...) ...back to class clowns and the girls who tell on them for drawing penises on worksheets (true story), to popular girls who inevitably wanted you dead and popular boys who inevitably stole your erasers... back to front row teacher's pets and back row Kurt Cobains-in-training, to dorks who picked their nose and ATE IT and preps who sanitized their own desk every day and refused to ever step foot in the bathroom... back to quiet kids you have to keep an eye on, shy girls with no name who sit in the corner, and true aces who raise their hands in class only to burp... LOUDLY.

Yep, that's school, and you had to go back there... back to learning stuff you'd be forgetting in time for next summer.

Insomnia

I think I've been an insomniac all my life. These days I can play online as late as I want, but the 8-year-old me used to have to lie awake in bed all night under the glow-in-the-dark moons and Saturns on the ceiling, overhearing the night sounds outside and making pictures from the shadows cast by the nightlight. (It had a cover that looked like a bay window with the shades down, and late at night I used to stare at it wondering what it'd be like to live in that little house with that tiny bulb.) Yes, I had a nightlight. And you didn't?

Anyways, my brother and I had bunk beds, and mine was the top bunk with a slide... (once again... yes, I had a slide). We used to yack tirelessly back and forth for a couple hours every night... about what, who knows... stupid stuff like the deadliest poison dart frogs or the funniest lines from Jurassic Park and The Lion King. Usually a fart factored in at some point, which depending on the culprit, was then sought to be matched by the other. Ah, the joys of brotherhood. There's nothing funnier than things that go "bbrrrp" in the night!

But then the merriment would begin to wane, and sometimes he wouldn't want to be bothered. And when he drifted off, I'd be chilling with the little glow-in-the-dark galaxies and Saturns over my head, staring into the nightlight like the guy in Eraserhead, and trying to make heads or tails of what was going on outside. I'd hear things like train horns blasting fathoms away, cars passing on the road, late night concerts or whatever that strange distant music was, random cats mewing and hooligans cavorting. To my 8-year-old brain, every random sound was probably dinosaurs trampsing around, UFOs skirting up the street, random cops blowing whistles, and the monster alien Xenomorph from the movie Alien standing around biting things like fences and snapping telephone lines. All this at once, of course. The night was damn noisy.

Then I'd close my eyes and I see random images flashing through my head like everything was going on fast-forward. I'd remember scenes from movies, but they'd all be going in fast forward. I'd make up scenes that never happened in Jurassic Park and sit back and "watch them" play. I'd turn over and stare at the wall, which was a particle board slab we stored between the bed and the wall, and I'd make shapes out of the different pieces of wood stuck in it, make characters out of them and send them on adventures. I'd turn over and stare at the closet in the dark and try to see if I could make things move with my mind. I don't know if I ever got to sleep.

And of course the whole time I'm thinking about how thirsty I am. I'm thinking about that liter of soda sitting in the fridge. It's Sprite. Damn it would be good to have it. Oh, I'd take Orange Juice. I'd take water for goodness sakes. But there it is, all the way over there in the fridge, sitting nice and cold on the top shelf in the dark. I'm parched! I got to get up and get it! But then again, it's dark and scary. What's the shadow over there? Did I just hear a television switch on at the other end of the house? Who would be watching television at this time of night? If someone is up then it's not so scary. But then again, what if nobody's up? What if the television turned itself on? Or what if I'm not hearing a television at all? What if I'm going crazy? It's dark and it's scary. I better not get up. But damn am I thirsty!

Okay, I'll get up and go get it, ghosts or no ghosts, aliens or no aliens. So I slowly go to turn in bed and "KRKREECHH" goes the bed! Oh drats! I move an inch toward the slide, and "SNAP" goes the slide. "FFFSHHH!" and down I go. Every little step is like a thunder clap. I'm planning out my steps like I'm passing a lava field, because every little step is going to wake the entire world. I don't want to have to explain myself when I wake up everyone in the house. They're getting tired of me walking around in the middle of the night. But after about twenty minutes of standing around the darkness, inching one step at a time through the house, I make it to the fridge and "oh yes!" it's good. The fridge's light beams out like heaven. Oh glorious fridge light! But then the long journey back. Then the creaky ladder back up to my bunk. Then the creaky bed springs. Then... oh damn it, I gotta go!

And on and on... and on and on, and on it goes. Hours pass. You start to hear birds chirping out the window and you know it's got to be turning to daylight. Only a few more hours of this! Hooray! Enough of this torture! And right when you're just starting to enjoy yourself for the first time in ages... zzzzz. Totally out cold.

My brother would be the first one up in the morning. He'd jump up and start emptying huge crates of Legos out all over the floor, sending a cascading waterfall of plastic pieces straight into my ear holes at 5am! At that point I'd roll over and in a strained voice say "Shhh! I'm trying to sleep!"