McBoo Halloween Pails

Sit down kids and listen to a scary story: Every once and a while back in the day, around Halloween night, McDonalds would give kids Halloween-styled pails with their Halloween-styled Happy Meals (frightening stuff in there!) to go trick-or-treating with, so you got to know that for a dork like myself, this probably had my name all over it, and it sure did. Despite how dorky you may have looked carrying one these around trick-or-treating, at least the old McBoo pails they used to send us home happy with actually had something to do with Halloween. Usually it was a pumpkin, a ghost, and witch, and I know I definitely had the pumpkin one with the queasy "ga-harsh!"-looking face, and probably still do somewhere, burred out in the garden, waiting to rise again!

But here's the real scary part. The new 2013 McDonalds Halloween "McBoo" pails (which aren't even called that now) are just crass marketing tie-ins for Angry Birds and some other junk they think girls will go for. What a shame.

Happy Halloween!

Squeezit Drinks

Everything about the "Squeezit" drink looks and sounds wrong these days, but there was a time in the 1990s when "Squeezit" literally just meant a sugary juice drink. They exist more or less as a fact of life now, but they were brand new back in the 90s, and that meant rather demented 90s advertising. Let's say it was a hot summer day. You'd rip off the wing-nut-shaped cap, suck out the little dab of juice that would always end up trapped in the cap, and the basic idea was you could squeeze the main contents out of the plastic container into your mouth. It was the drink that did the work for you, and to most 90s kids, that's all we really wanted. Because you know, "work."

Now if that sounds rather lame, that's because it was, but if you were a kid out there enjoying the perils of the backyard Slip-n-Slide, one of these could really hit the spot. The commercials on the other hand had these colorful and stylized animated Squeezit bottles getting suspiciously worked over by the kids and not having a good time in the process (or perhaps so, if you prefer it that way). I don't have to tell you what's wrong with this picture now, but I swear it didn't look like it at the time!

I remember the bottles actually had the faces on them too. 

Popsicles and Ice Pops

The northeast is in a sweltering heatwave, and that means I'm thinking popsicles, and all things cold and sweet. When it comes to summertime refreshment, three frozen staples come to mind fast, the first being the Fla-vor-Ice popsicle sticks. They came with that infamous "saw blade" serated edge that was damn near impossible to rip off even with your teeth, especially without hacking a lip or mascerating the end, and especially without at least having a little bit of air at the end to work with. (You know what I'm talking about.) Despite being hard to open, they still taste amazing. The red and the light blue were the best, and yes so was the pink one, even if it was socially unacceptable for me to get a pink one. They always came in those big sheets with like a hundred in the box, so if it took you some time to get one finished, the others would be nicely melted. I always enjoyed letting them melt right down to a liquid before sucking them down until all that was left were the little streams running up the sides. (Once again, I know you know what I'm talking about. I can't be the only one to see these things!)

The second frozen summer treat of the typical 90s childhood usually came in a fishnet bag. The were like popsicle links, with two tubular juice pops connected in the middle. Whenever they were passing these out at the daycare, I always wanted to be lucky enough to be given a whole stick, but often they had to be broken in half down the middle and split between us. If that was the case, they came in two genders. One had a rounded bottom with a smaller opening at the top, and the other had a lipped bottom with a larger opening. They didn't taste as fruity as the Fla-Vor-Ice pops, but the grape and the green apple ones were probably the best. Either way, I could down a million of them on a hot afternoon, and still can, and I will never forget the distinctive sound these made when you had to snap them in half. It was like breaking a bone: *thh-pop!*

The double-stick popsicle was probably the most frequent of my refreshment retreats all those summers of yore, and only because they were cheap at the local 7-Eleven. But despite being my most frequent treat, these actually annoyed me. Even a single stick popsicle is better than one of these, and that's what's annoying about it because you'd think doubling it should make it twice as good, but it doesn't. First of all, there's no way to really hold the thing. The sticks are too close together to hold both, but the whole thing is just too heavy to support it on one stick, so you end up uncomfortably groping your fingers longwise aorund two sticks! Secondly, they were always a million times too cold and rock solid to discern any flavor out of them after you broke a chunk off with your teeth and endured that instant brain freeze they'd implant. Lastly, there was no way you could evenly break one in half. It was like breaking a wishbone. They'd always crack off at the top, causing one side to be tiny and the other side to be this odd L shape. Now maybe it's just because I've had a million of them, but there's just too many things wrong with this whole concept to really win me. Besides, they came in like three flavors and none of them were all that sweet.

The Doublemint Gum Jingle

Old Spice's new bar soap commercials have rekindled my desire to hear classic 80s and 90s commercial jingles, which anyone over twenty right now will immediately remember. For those not privileged enough, there was an innocent time not so long ago when nearly every commercial had these corny backing vocal groups harping on whatever was selling over strings and piano, as if to imbue anything common and ordinary with that oh-so radical kick of fresh, filtered "life!"

Yes, the world really did at least once pretend to be this jolly, and you might even get the illusion that these were simpler times, and yeah, that's because they were. Usually these jingles were so incredibly "upbeat" they would soar into this positivity-crescendo by the end played over random shots of people just smacking tennis balls and splashing in the pool, and were almost impossible to watch without lifting your arms up and shouting "yeah!" or "I can do it!" to whatever the tagline was. And of course you'd sing along. It was hard not to sit up and take notice. From Kitkat bars to Rice-a-Roni there were many jingles I loved, but one has been stuck in my head for probably way over a decade now. One so cleverly written I'm still mystified by it. I'm talking of course about Wrigley's Doublemint Gum, which played throughout the early 90s in one form or another:

Think about how brilliant this is. Everything is doubled except the "no single gum" part, get it? Trust me, once it's in there, it's going to be in there for good, so you might as well start counting all the things that are "doubled up," including that two-piece blonde who shuts the car door with her... "double-ness."

Hey babe...  My breath is fresh but I'd still pop a whole pack of Doublemint for ya....  

Wait, what was this commercial about?  

Jurassic Park Crunch

I know it's taboo to do two dinosaur-related posts in a row, but in honor of the fact that one of my all-time favorite movies is being re-released to theaters in 3D, I decided to do something Jurassic Park related. Speaking of which, does anyone realize that it has been 20 years since the first Jurassic Park came out? My mind!

In any case, my dreams had finally come true in 1996 when they finally, finally! announced that Jurassic Park was finally getting a sequel. I had spent the three years previous in complete and utter dino-mode, showing much adoration for anything JP related, or even just dino-related. I had virtually grown up on Jurassic Park games, books, school supplies, bed sheets, toys... you name it, and waited day and night in anticipation for a sequel. 

By the time good old "The Lost World: Jurassic Park" came out, I had grown a few more braincells and could appreciate it in a different way. The trailers really amped up all anticipation with scenes of giant steggies crossing a river and hunters bagging dinosaurs down in jeeps, and even the title "Lost World" made it seem like it was going to be even more epic than the first. And in many ways it was. Whereas I remember being 6 and utterly enjoying the first Jurassic Park (not even being scared), I was about 10 when The Lost World came out, and I was on the edge of my seat. Up until then, it was probably the most intense thrill ride of a movie I had ever been on. Even then I knew the premise was dumb and how incredibly ludicrous the ending was, but hey, at least the anticipation got me and my brother begging for its cereal. 

That's right, The Lost World had its own cereal, called Jurassic Park Crunch, from General Mills, and I desperately think they should bring it back, whether or not they ever decide to release Jurassic Park 4 from the top secret military vaults (or wherever they're hiding it). It was one of those things that I only barely remembered until I searched for it. The stuff actually did exist and indeed wasn't just some fantastic dream I had once or something. I remember there being marshmallow dinosaur eggs that dissolved in the milk and "hatched" dinosaur shapes or something like that. Unfortunately I didn't know it was a limited-time thing at the time, or else I probably would've bought the store out of it!

Luckily, I can always turn to Mr. Breakfast to refresh my memory about all things cereal related, and he says that as far as Jurassic Park Crunch is concerned: "The marshmallows came in "prehistoric marshmallow shapes" comprised of 3 dinosaurs and a dinosaur egg." Thanks to the magic of the internet, I also have pictures of what those 'prehistoric' "sweetened whole grain oat and marshmallow" pieces I had once shoveled into my mouth actually looked like. The catnip oat pieces were shaped like little footprints. The marshmallows were a pink triceratops, a striped raptor-looking dino, an egg, and a green T-rex-looking dino. 

The box also reveals that "If you hear this box roar, you could win a Lost World Adventure!" I had totally forgotten about that, but it's probably because ours didn't. I guess it meant you'd get to cut in line at the Universal Studios Jurassic Park ride or something. In any case, they should definitely bring this back, even if it's just for the Jurassic Park 3D re-release. The boxes alone are going for 15 bucks on ebay!

Time to Make the Donuts...

There are two things us north-easterners have come to depend on, and one of them just left carpeted us with 30 inches of snow after a week of 60-degree temperatures. But if the total undependability of our weather is one thing we can depend on, the other would have to be the absolute certitude that you will find a Dunkin' Donuts every mile down any road you happen to be on. "If you miss the Dunkies... you don't even hafta banga U, theh's anothah one comin' up heeah on the right." (And they beat the hell out of Starbucks, so why the hell not?) I am just lucky enough to live in the capital of the Dunkin' empire itself, with two within a stone's throw of my house, so I grew up on donuts and munchkins. Ahma New Englandah bawn and bred. 

Yes, there's reassuring certainty in driving by the "Dunkies" every day, which is probably why this old nostalgia bomb I'm about to drop on you was so right in its time. This will harken you back to a time when you thought about Dunkin' Donuts for their, well, donuts, rather than for their cheap (and therefore better) coffee. You may remember that throughout the 80s and most of the 90s, DDs hired a live-action Mario-looking guy to be their mascot. He was an enthusiastic donut maker who would diligently rise out of bed early in the morning every day with the groggy existential crisis of his endless work routine, summarizing it with his monotone catchphrase "Time to make the donuts ..." before dutifully donning the apron and happy face to offer up "service with a smile" before retreating back to his gloom for another day. This man's name was Fred.

 

So here's the reason why these Fred the Baker ads ran for so many years: we are Fred, and he is us. Most of us have to get out bed in the morning, slap ourselves in the face in the mirror, jump in the car, and go toil out there in the world to make a living every day. You see? We all got donuts to make. But it's not all gloom, because sometimes we're also the people putting in the order for the box of twelves, trying to play a good game of mix-and-match for optimum variety... cream-filled, jelly-filled, chocolate covered...etc, chased down with one of those big boxes of Munchkins. And so we know that in some odd way it's worth it if we find any way we can to enjoy ourselves while we're doing the slog, just like Fred. Or we don't, and we quit and go work at the BK ball pit.

Remember this box art?

These ads formed some of my earliest memories about Dunkin' going all the way back to when I was a Munchkin myself, and I was surprised to learn they actually played all the way up until 1997 when they finally decided to "retire" (or perhaps more likely "lay off") their long-suffering, ever-committed (and perhaps commit-able) donut maker. They even had a "free donut" day when they decided to put this bit of marketing genius out to pasture, and I do remember this and many other "free donut" days growing up.

My favorite has always been Bahston Cream. Pahk the cah. 

Old Pizza Hut Ad

For me and probably anyone else who ever owned the original Land Before Time in its first run on VHS, this ad for Pizza Hut was emblazoned into our very soul and some of our earliest memories, watched repeatedly every time we popped in the first five minutes of the Land Before Time. It's about this fat mom stopping to give her son advice about being a "polite little boy" before sending him off to a "birthday party at Pizza Hut," intercut of course with scenes of how literally he takes her advice, doing everything his own way while still making her proud of her "little angel." Yeah right! we think.

It's not an exaggeration to say that I have this thing memorized to this day, and yet I haven't even seen it in years. That old red car pulling up, the plucking piano melody, the kid's bunny and bowtie, that rocking "PARTY!" soundtrack, the haze throughout... all burned somewhere into the neurons of my brain forever, sizzling like hot cheese. It's a completely accurate portrayal too of a very familiar problem, being a boy and getting that invite to some girl's birthday party at a cool location. There's always that decision to be made going in: "If I go, I get to eat pizza. But then again, she's a girl. How is that fun?"

From there on out, everything he does makes perfect sense: stay cool, stay away from the girls, and amuse the other kids who, like you, were also pulled into this by the lure of free pizza. Poke holes in your napkins and wear them as masks, pig out, stretch your pizza cheese, hang a spoon on your nose, construct a straw aqueduct around the table, become the life of the party, and if your antics win you a certain little admirer, wipe her kisses clean off when you get back out to the car! All in all, a day well spent, a problem averted, and even your mom is none the wiser. "Yuchchk!!"

I'm lucky to still have the old VHS, so I can see this thing the same way I grew up seeing it (yes, I actually still have a working VCR).

Wildberry Pop Tarts

So COOL cuz they're HOT!

Finally. After years of beating my tastebuds numb to the tune of strawberries, white frosting, and sprinkles, they introduced the Wild Berry Pop Tart some time in 1995, and Pop Tarts never looked so rad. This was a toaster pastry for a new generation! With its swirling blue lines and purple coating, it looked nothing like any food I had ever seen... like something an alien would eat, even if it didn't taste all that different.

They instantly became my Pop Tart of choice, although my all-time favorite remains the cinnamon one. The best always came covered with frosting, so that even the little edges had a drip or two running the grooves. But every now and then you'd probably get one with just a smear on the top, and usually that culprit was the plain old strawberry. These things sat at the bottom of my lunch bag for many years and I couldn't get enough of them. My mom even declared me the "Pop Tart King" after I downed four in a row (and this was back when they only had 6 per box!).

And despite the cost, I was just doing my duty. Because according to the commercial, only Kellogg's had what it took to tame the "wildberry," and they very clearly indicated that you might want to bite them before they bite you.

These days, I think I've had my fill.

Berry Berry Kix

It has two "Berry"s in the title, and little berry shapes on the spoon, and I used to love it. Three things immediately come to mind when I recall Berry Berry Kix, the first of which being the tongue-twisting song in the old commercial: "I love those little very berry, those very berry Kix, a very very berry berry bunch!...etc." Secondly, I remember the commercials usually had these parent-whipped kids offering up fuzzy slippers and cleaning the garage just to get their parents to buy them some, and how that always seemed more geared toward the parents. I guess that's the way Kix was in general.

Just reading the Kix box as a kid could improve your vocabulary... from the slogan "Kid tested, Mother Approved" (which had a very adult-like "focus group" feel to it) to the "No Added Colors, No Added Flavors, No Artificial Preservatives." I could barely pronounce half those words, never mind understand what they meant. And it's not like that was the small print or something. That was practically their advertising slogan: "No Artificial Preservatives!" sprawled out in big letters on the front. Let's face it, the grups were feeding us starchy-sweet puff cereal by making our parents think we wanted it, which, I got to admit, worked for me. I liked Kix because they convinced me and my parents that "kids love it."'

That said, at least Berry Berry Kix was more colorful and had these little berry-bunch-shaped pieces in there, so I guess they sort of had kids in mind when they came up with it. And just like I convinced myself to like it, I convinced myself that "reds" actually tasted like strawberries and the "purples" actually tasted like blueberries, but of course they were no different. I used to literally bite them off one by one. Sadly though, however fondly we may remember those berry-shaped pieces, they're most likely going to be confined to memory. The powers-that-be actually took the little things out in recent years. That's right. Pick up a box of Berry Berry Kix these days and all you'll find is Kix-shaped pieces colored red and purple! What sense does that make? How can it be Berry Berry Kix without the very berry bunches?

Bitches...

Gimme a Break

Kids of the 90s fiercely believe that these new "crunching" Kit Kat commercials just don't hold a...well, Kit Kat, to the "real" Kit Kat commercials. You remember of course... the ones with the song! Give us a break and bring back the Kit Kat song!

Now I was never a big chocolate eater, and I never begged my mom to buy one of these in the grocery store checkout lines, and I don't think I've even seen a full-sized one since the 90s (just the "minis" in the Halloween bags), but that song at least made me want to go crack one. Seriously though, do they even still sell the full-sized?

 Here's the whole song in a very retro commercial:

"Gimme a break, gimme a break...

Break me off a piece of that Kit Kat Bar!

Gimme a break, gimme a break...

I wanna take a break with the Kit Kat Bar!" 

7up Spot - The "Uncola"

It's a clear soda, it's kind of citrusy, and it's not Sprite. Any other guesses? The answer is obviously 7up, the official "uncola." I have no idea what "7up" means, but their "Spot" ads peppered the 90's and contributed yet another big-shoed, shades-wearing cool dude that wasn't a pink drummer bunny... just a red circle with legs. But you know what? I'll take any role model I can get.

As a kid seeing this, I always used to think the 7up Spot was supposed to be a bottle cap or something. But whatever it was, there's perhaps no "clearer" representation of the 90s than the process of changing a typical "stain your teeth" cola into crystal clear sparkling citrus refreshment, and that's what these little guys were all about. (Just think about it for a long time in a dark room, and it will come to you.) Now imagine all the uncola adventures these guys could go on! I certainly used to... 7up Spot: The Movie! Rated G.

There were so many of these I had a hard time picking one out. They merchandized the hell out of this guy too, with video games, toys, telephones, you name it, and it all comes down to the fact that spiky shades are unbelievably rad, and you know it. They definitely made me want to drink more clear soda... or excuse me, "uncola."

Lucky Charms Marshmallows

Whales? Whatever.

This year marks the 20th anniversary of the rainbow marshmallows in your bowl of Lucky Charms. That's right. Thanks to whoever screwed up back in 1992 one day and poured too many colors into the "purple horseshoe" mold, we've had those stale marshmallow "rainbows" ever since. As a kid, I didn't pay all that much attention to what marshmallow shapes I was picking out of that cat nip they told me was the "toasted oats," so I didn't really notice how much the lineup has changed over the years. And if you've always been a marshmallow sniper like me, I assume you haven't either.

But based on my very detailed Wikipedia research (and this page), if you were a kid twenty years ago, and picking out the marshmallows, you were probably looking for "pink hearts", "yellow moons", "orange stars", "green clovers", "blue diamonds", "purple horseshoes", and "red balloons". A lot has changed though. These days, kids (and you) are picking out "yellow pots of gold", "orange shooting stars", "blue moons", "rainbows", and "green hats" instead... along with the same pink hearts, red balloons, and purple horseshoes as before.

But do you see what happened? Basically, we forever lost the "yellow moons", "orange stars", "green clovers", and "blue diamonds". (Evidence here... 13 seconds in, you'll see the marshmallows that used to be.) They did bring back the "green clovers" for a while... but even those have fell by the way.

This was because in the 90s, they decided to introduce a new marshmallow every two years. It started in 1989 with the "red balloons" (which is technically the 80s, but close enough). Then it was the "rainbows" in 1992, the "pots of gold" and the "blue moons" in 1994, the "green hats" in 1996, and the "shooting stars" in 1998. To make room for this TNG of marshmallows, the old color guard had to be put out to marshmallow paradise... a place so wonderful, none of them would ever think to come back.

Rest in pieces.

Personally I would've preferred to keep them all. What's the big idea General Mills? Just keep adding marshmallows and you won't need to keep filling the boxes with that oat-flavored packing material that takes up most of the box. Marshmallows rule.

So a moment of silence please for the Lucky Charms marshmallows that have gone before us....

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!

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!

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... ...

The Pizza Head Show

The look of terror.

The Pizza Head Show was a series of commercials for Pizza Hut in the 90's, and I loved every single one of them. They always had this naive and very stale slice of pizza with a "freshly kicked-in-the-groin" (Mr. Bill ripoff) voice whose sole purpose was to get chucked around and preyed upon by this bully pizza cutter named Steve. There was also this complicit narrator who sounded friendly but reveled in the thing's torture. Throw in all kinds of crazy slapstick, copious terrified reaction shots of his bug-eyed olive eyes and gaping red pepper mouth, and the ultimate destruction of many a model red-roof Pizza Hut locale, and you have all the ingredients for a perfect piece of unforgettable 90's television wackiness.

My brother and I even invented a whole slew more ill-fated adventures for this most unappetizing slice, probably even more humiliating than anything they put him through. So now when anyone says, "Sure he is!" all I can think of is deceitful big-brother-like sadism. Love it. 

Freezies and Fumes

My favoritest.

The smell of boiling diesel gas automatically awakens my sweet tooth, and you want to know why? It's because that's exactly what the ice cream truck smelled like when it came sputtering to a stop along the street when I was a kid. It's funny how that tingle-toned "Do your ears hang low?" doesn't harken back sweet thoughts, just the burning gas. Either way, summer was made for Popsicles... that's not an 80's or 90's thing, that's an eternal thing (but for some reason I still think they were better then).

We were fortunate enough to live on the end of an L-curve at the time, which meant we had much more time to grab some fast cash and run out to meet him somewhere along the perimeter. Those other kids who only had one side facing a road usually met up with us in our yard once he stopped. The old guy (always old guys) would pop open the hatch and the whole menu would spill out on the back in colorful, hand-drawn illustrations easy for kids. My brother and I loved the snow cones and Popsicles the best... especially the ones shaped like cartoon characters and the classic "red white and blue" rockets (shaped like uhhh... red rockets). And because like the kid on Seinfeld said, I was a "funny fuck" even back then, I used to love the ones with jokes on them, where the bottom of the stick would say something like, "How did the square become a circle?" And then you'd eat down the Popsicle and the other end would reply, "He cut the corners!" 

No cymbals? Okay, how about this one... "Why did the window go to the doctor?  Because it had panes!" Or this... "What did one tomato say to the other when rolling down the hill? Don't worry, I'll ketchup!" Or...  "What do you call a frog that's illegally parked? A toad!" 

Yeah, the jokes were corny, and yes, the smell of burning diesel is not what you think of when you think of sweets, but that was all a part of that classic summertime charm I will never forget. The one big regret I remember having about moving to the new house in 1991 was that the ice cream truck would always skip our street. And whenever he did make a run on it, he really was running. Seriously, they could have got him for speeding. 

Okay you tough crowd, here's one... [reads] "Why is life like a penis?" "Often gets hard for no reason... Whoa! Whoa! Not appropriate!"

Don't Taste Like Apples?

I might have been alone in this (judging by the commercials), but I thought they kinda tasted like apples...

Seriously, you always heard them ask the question: "Why do they call them Apple Jacks if they don't taste like apples?" But that's not even the half of it, because not only are they called what they're not, they're advertised as not being what they're not. Maybe this was reverse psychology or something.

And all this attention on the word "apple," but what about "jacks?" If apples are nowhere in the equation, then the real question ought to be "what the hell is a jack, and why are we eating it?"

Because we do?

Grand Theft Lunchbox

I was not one of those kids who did the school lunch deal, which is probably why I've lasted this long. Thinking back, my heart goes out to all those kids forced to eat that stale cheese (with pizza built somewhere into it), meat nuggets of mystery, and the ever-nefarious "brownie" that all seemed to invariably land wrapped in Styrofoam. In many ways though, being a lunchbox kid was worse socially than it was gastro-intestinally. On the mean streets of the lunch room, a war was brewing between the trayers and the baggers, and you did not want to be on the wrong side of that table.

In my day, we didn't have no fancy Vitamin Water to take to school, we had a juice box, and if we didn't have a box, we had a a device known as a thermos that took up all the room in your bag and crushed your sandwich. Opening this juice box was a piece of work, and involved a process similar to poking a baseball bat through a sheet of Saran Wrap. If you poked too soft, it'd never go through. If you poked too hard, you'd have a geyser of punch in your face. With a Thermos though, once you dropped the straw inside, that was it for your ability to extract liquid unless you took the top off and guzzled it like a loser... (guilty as charged). I had a traumatic experience asking a teacher to get my straw out of a thermos... I don't want to talk about it.

I also don't want to talk about the traumatic time I learned what a boy is not allowed to bring to school plastered all over his lunchbox and thermos. See, I was not all that bright, and my mom used to send me to school with this... I don't know... Snoopy or Sesame Street thermos or whatnot... (I know right?). Well I wasn't really aware that such a thing was frowned upon in them thar parts... by the other boys. (I know... I'm sorry, ignorance is no excuse, I should've known better...). Well, you can be sure they LET ME KNOW... and it was... well, let's just say, therapy has been good for me. I BEGGED my mom for something... ANYTHING "cooler" than Big Bird... and holy shit! She got me this red plastic lunchbox that came with F'KIN AWESOME futuristic car stickers you could plaster all over it! It even had a helicopter for good measure! I was set for life. 

Well almost, because you see, you pull up with your new, shiny, badass, cool kid lunchbox and rev its engine in the wrong parts of the cafeteria, and you find out you suddenly have all new problems on your hands. Suddenly they're all asking about it. And then the only thing you got to worry about is, the thing getting STOLEN. (Which luckily never happened to me, but I swear... they asked... and they tried... but I was vigilant.) I had to watch it like a hawk! But that didn't mean I still didn't get jacked. 

Food was another story, because if you came in with something good, all the trayers wanted a piece of it. I swear, opening that lunchbox on any given day was like driving a Viper through a real seedy part of town. If you got up to get a napkin, you could only expect that someone has jacked your chunky peanut butter sandwich. And you know that if they went for the sandwich, it was only because someone else had already taken the DUNKAROOS! I'm telling ya, it was a tough boy-eat-banana-world, devoid of mercy or respect, but to us elementary schoolers, it was a place we called the cafeteria.

Of all the years I spent fighting in the war, only one battle turned out me: 1, bully: 0. Every day I came in, this other kid would take my lunch. If I came in with any sort of candy, it was his. If I came in with a granola bar, it was his. If I came in with nothing but a sandwich, he'd take it and pull out the meat. Every day I had to surrender something. So one day, I decided to get even. My mom (bless her heart) gave me confectioner's chocolate to bring in... the real nasty 90% pure ground cocoa kind. Sure enough, the moment he saw chocolate he snatched it up and took a bite. This kid practically puked! His face went sour and he spit it out in a napkin. "Sick! What kind of chocolate you eating man?" I don't ever remember him stealing my lunch again.

I love you mom. 

Kid Vid vs. The Egg McMuffin

Kid Vid was the ultimate gatekeeper. You want in on the Burger King Kids Club? Well, if you're over 4 feet tall, fuck you! (Or so the sign said at the BK play place). Thank you Kid Vid for keeping all the non-little-person pedos out of the playplace! (I tried to make a molestation joke about the older gentleman's "play place" I stumbled upon once in a BK bathroom, but... nah). Kid Vid was what every 90s kid wanted to be... needlessly accessorized! Future goggles from Star Trek, antennas, ray guns, fingerless gloves, shoulder strap and mounted tech thingy, watch, walkman?, sneakers, and only ONE knee pad... RADICAL! Burger King was Blast Processing your fast food experience! (And that ain't no diarrhea joke!) Forget McDonalds and the stupid big-hipped clown! Kid Vid is totally EX-CELENNNNT! Plus, he had his own cult, and you could be in it!

This has fueled my suspicion that BK has always been better than McDs. Since we can't really judge based on the quality of the food they sell on their respective kids menus (because seriously), McDs mascots were a bunch of magical pudgy PUSSIES compared to the awesomeness that was Kid Vid and his lazers! There, I said it, and I am not ashamed. Clearly Ronald McDonald was and still is evil beyond comprehension, but a worthy adversary nonetheless for Kid Vid and his heroic Kids Club in what should've been the ultimate fast food showdown! Unfortunately, Kid Vid and other relics of 90s radicalness bit the dust while the evil Empire of the Clown still reigns taco-supreme. Maybe someday things will become rad again and a true hero will rise from the flame-broiled ashes, but for now all we can do is dream, and resist! Seriously, while BK was making you a king or queen and signing you up for world domination in the lazer-crazed hotshot futureworld Kids Cult, the best McD's could do was make you sit on uncomfortable Hambuger-shaped plastic stools and get you raped by Grimace in the ball pit (that's what happens when Kid Vid ain't there to gatekeep). Well... okay... McD McPlayplaces were usually better than BK's, so maybe it might've been worth it.

My story isn't as much fun as that, but just as traumatic, because it has to do with the food. Let's just say, I did my part in the war effort against the Clown and embodied the spirit of Kid Vid in all his glory, but it has left me battle scarred to this day. Case in point, to this day I still can't eat eggs, and it's all thanks to McDonalds and their dreaded Egg McMuffin. They activate my gag reflex. Sure, I could probably eat an egg white, but I can not eat that gritty yellow stuff they tell you is the baby chick. It's not that I'm a persnickety vegetarian or anything, it's because the taste, the texture, the smell... it calls up the wet McMuck within.  Besides, I do like the sausage part of the McMuffin (probably because it had as much Styrofoam as the container and was as plastic as the Happy Meal toys), but something about that egg just made me wanna hurl. I could never understand how people could eat that which smells like a fart. Yuck! And yet, I was still forced to eat them (eggs, that is... let's not get started on what my brother did to me on the reg).

I was also condiment-intolerant. If you were buying the eight-year-old me a hamburger, you'd be wise to just repeat the following into the drive through talkbox: "two all beef patties... hold the sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, oinions, ketchup, mustard... leave the sesame seed bun." Spare yourself the headache and make it simple, otherwise, "no thanks, you can have it." And if it was hotcakes for breakfast, no syrup please. It was "too sweet." But my dad wouldn't hear any of this. Real men eat everything! So he'd buy me one of those Egg McMuffins every weekend when he had us, and every weekend I had to come up with ever more increasingly convoluted ways of removing the egg part without him knowing. Somehow, at some point, I had to pick off the egg and toss it with the wrappings when he wasn't looking. This usually involved me sticking the egg part in my pockets or hiding it somewhere in the backseat to fester and stink and be found at a later date hardened and crusty. Yuck! My mom was a bit more subtle and let us be picky, knowing that we'd come around eventually. Sorry mom, still can't stand eggs!

So screw McDonalds and your McDonaldland despotism. At BK, you can always "have it your way." The King was always a benevolent monarch. Long live the king! It's how Kid Vid would've wanted it. Seriously, the PTSD of being forced to eat Egg McMuffins against my consent is just... too much to bear. You never recover from the trauma. The spirit of Kid Vid once again reigns victorious in each and every one of us when we boldly say enough is enough and resist the Clown and all other food tyrants at all cost!

But then again, they did come with a tiny Hotwheels car, so... kinda worth it.