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. 

Awesome Children of the 90s Ad

Children of the 90s, you got to watch this ad for Internet Explorer, because it seems like they are very well aware that we've all moved on to bigger and better things and just want to remind us that IE is still around. Please bear with some shameless commercialization knowing that I'm not making a dime from this, but am posting it here because of how awesome this ad is! You could do a "90s Kid bingo" with this ad. And the message is true, the internet as we know it is technically also a 90s invention, like many of us (unless you're like me and were actually born in the 80s...like the internet)...

 

"We met in the 90s. We are members of generation Y, as in yin-yang, as in yo-yo. Life moved a little slower. Disks were square. Desktop folders had personality. Extra storage space was just a zipper away. There was only one social network, but most of your friends died of dysentery. The only thing buzzing in your pocket was a pet, until that died too. But at least a troll was still a friend. Lunch was puzzle, not a picture. You were pumping jams, water, shoes. You didn't have to worry about a newsfeed full of farm animals. You were busy feeding wild animals. A haircut didn't cost 60 dollars. It cost 4 minutes. You really had nothing to lose. Unless of course, you were playing for keeps! The future was bright. You grew up, so did we." 

End the Overalls

For some reason parents in the 80's and 90's saw it necessary to lock their children into their pants. I don't know if this was supposed to be some kind of Puritanical chastity device or a necessary measure to combat pedos in the times of the Satanic daycares (never understood the panic by the way... all I got at my Satanic daycare was a "time out" for pulling my pants down...), but like all well-intentioned 80s-90s ploys to potentially protect us from the big bad world, it backfired royally, and once again it was only us kids who suffered. I don't know if that's the reason these particular type of pants became fashionable, but I wouldn't doubt it.

In any case, these things called "overalls" were somewhat fashionable at the time, especially for girls, but where they at least didn't crowd their style (at least for tomboys), the whole "farmer John" hillbilly look was not only trauma-inducing for anyone who wasn't a girl, but was also potentially hazardous. Once again, I speak from personal experience. I mean, as weird as it sounds, it's an immutable truth... sometimes in life you just need to be able to take your pants off, or at least be able to get at your merchandise, and that's true for everyone of every time period. These pants in question made it damn near impossible to do just that, which is why they were evil. Either that or I was an idiot kid. 

I happen to remember one panic-inducing bathroom experience at school when I was little, being unable to unhook those metal loops (this was when I was more youngish, you see). I just could not unloop them no matter how long I tried, and I wasn't going to go ask someone to "do it for me" because that's embarrassing, ridiculous, and probably could've landed that person in jail. And no, there was no zipper or anything else, which in my opinion just makes any piece of clothing a torture device. So it was either stay locked in and suffer, of somehow get out of the contraption and do what more and more ferociously needed to be done! Well, it wasn't much of a choice either way. One way or another, that baby was being born! But the seconds turned into minutes. I was standing there in the bathroom stall at school desperately tugging on the loops, furiously yanking at the clips, stomping my feet, holding back the internal surge with all my might and strength, doubling over on the wall, clenched up, sweating, every muscle straining, holding that beast back even as it was already stepping out bit by bit... just desperately NEEDING that sweet sweet release. That big put-off long-awaited ka-BOOM!... but then... but then!!

Actually I don't remember how I solved the problem, or if I even did... But one thing is for sure... one way or another... it came out... and it was most likely both horrendous and yet utterly GLORIOUS. I'm sure angels with harps descended on each side of me singing "Hallelujah." Either way, perhaps I blocked it out for my own good. It was fucking traumatic, that's all I know. Everyone talks about how great childhood was in the 80s and 90s simply because they've been able to block out things like this! This is why I implore people today to never put anyone over (or under) the age of five into these things. Maybe these were cool for guys back in the 30s, but those days done.

Girls actually do look pretty good in overalls, I got to admit, especially when it's all they got on... but what do I know about "clothing?" ;)

Nickelodeon Gak

Even if you were living under a rock in the 90s, you probably came across Nickelodeon Gak (I think that's where they got it from). It was slimy, stretchy, liquid-y, snot in a plastic cup, and it was fun enough if only because it farted when you squished it in its cup. Gak was also probably the substance that filled me and my friends' heads most of the time back then, and not just because I tried eating it once.

Sure, you could press it into things for indentations, or bounce it off the desk, or roll it into balls, but the best thing was that if you squished it into its cup, it farted! Yeah, you could stretch it over your mouth and blow a small bubble through it, or pull it to pieces and stick things on the wall with it... but just so you know, it did indeed FART when squeezed... kind of like me. Are you picking up what I'm laying down? Forget the other stuff it did! Just call this stuff the iFart of the 90s! And how appropriate that it should be, seeing as it smelled like some kind of chemical waste.

Gak lost its fun when it started getting dry and crumbly, or once it got sat on and pressed into the couch cushions or stepped on and stuck up your sneaker treads. The novelty soon wore off, but get yourself another batch and it was sticky, oozy, goo-y squishy fun all over again. And for little weirdos like me, anything that meant never-ending ripply, blurping, raspy fart sounds seemed like the only toy I'd ever really need, even if the "sound effects" weren't really up to my exacting standards, but there were a LOT of them. And just like a fart, only try to get your brother to eat it 

The Enterprise and Other Ships

I don't know when my obsession with the original Star Trek show and movies began. Legend has it that it was the only show that could pacify me as a baby. I could just be half-Vulcan. But the first real memories of Star Trek that I have came from the original movies, that is, the ones I saw (3, 4, 5, and Generations). I've already talked about my early love for Star Trek 3 as a film, so it's time to explore my fandom a little deeper... (as "deep" as an 8-year-old boy was capable of going, that is).

What I loved most about Star Trek was the ships. Maybe it was because I was already into real ships and used to say I wanted to be a "ship captain" when I grew up, or maybe I was already into Star Trek when I used to say that, I can't remember which, but those two facts were true about me as far back as I can remember. And since most of my early memories of childhood are just the Star Trek movies (seriously go watch them, you'll get the gist of what I remember about my early childhood), it seems about right. I used to draw these ships in kindergarten even, and all of them contributed to my collective life enjoyment and over-active imagination for so many years afterwards that I'd be lying if I said it still wasn't true.

In any case, I loved the USS Enterprise, the good old NCC-1701, pre-op yes, but especially when it got its slick make-over for the movies. The REFIT (and the 1701-A). I loved that blue eye-like deflector on the front of the ship, the little lit windows around the saucer, the spotlights illuminating circles on the hull, the stern "engines" (or "nacelles") jutting out the back, and namely everything else about it. I loved the ship so much I used to imitate its basic shape with my fingers (middle and thumb forming the stern nacelles, index forming the "neck"), and would just fly my hand around making warp sounds forever in a day. If anything looked futuristic, smooth, or plated with neon lights (like in Star Trek 5), I used to just call it "the Enterprise." Anything with a round shape was "the Enterprise." I once glued a bunch of plastic cups together in an "Enterprise" shape, and even that was "the Enterprise." Mom's old Buick Century became an "Enterprise shuttle-craft" once I stepped in. If we stopped off at Home Depot, well, that was just the Enterprise's dry dock. The very word "Enterprise" meant nothing to me beyond "cool-ass star ship."

Klingon Bird of Prey

Star Trek 3 may have been my favorite film just because it was the first time we get to see the other kinds of ships out there, including the downright awesome Klingon Bird of Prey. This bad boy was a kid's imaginary "finger ship" dream come true, with its neck and wings, making it a whole lot easier to make with your fingers (by turning the "finger Enterprise" upside down that is). First of all, it was green, and it had phaser canons on its wings and big intimidating "football shoulders" built right into it. I loved how the wings went up and down like a bird... low for attack mode and up for speed. And being Klingon, the ship could cloak! The Reliant from Star Trek 2 did have a slow macabre menace to it as it skirted around, but the Bird of Prey was just all around badass. Swooping down with a roar, blasting its enemies to pieces and speeding off in a huff, it was straight up gang-banger. It was like something out of the Ninja Turtles, and for the first time in Star Trek, actually "looked" alien.

Science Vessel Grissom

Then there were a few other ships that left some impression on the 8yo me, such as the defenseless science vessel Grissom, the so-called "state of the art" Excelsior, and the new Space Dock. First of all, everything about the Grissom and the Excelsior looked 80's, but in a good way. The Grissom looked like the equivalent of the 80's "econo-car" in space... small, cheaply assembled, and fitted with a hydraulic hatch on the back most likely. On the other hand, The Excelsior looked like a bulky 80's home computer, very sophisticated and showy with all its fancy new features, but you knew it was probably buggy as all hell and wouldn't work at all, or that nobody could understand how to make it work. It was the equivalent of an over-sized 80's minivan in space: heavy, expensive, and easy to break. Maybe people were just scared of new technology back in the 80s. And then there's Space Dock, which was just a giant mushroom in space, but a stunning one at that.

USS Enterprise D

I'll mention TNG only because it was on television (even if I wasn't particularly interested in watching it). Following the trend of most good things Star Trek related, TNG actually began in the 80s and carried that smooth/bulky 80s aesthetic right through its entire run in the 90s. I never really liked the chunky "cruise ship" look of the Enterprise D, although it was the toy model I used to play with, four sound effects included (lasers, photon torpedoes, warp speed, random explosions). For some reason you could pop the plastic nacelles off the Enterprise D model toy even though the ship couldn't separate like that on the show. And even if they lit up whenever you hit the button for the torpedo sound, I still would've taken a toy Enterprise or Enterprise A any day.

Looks like I've exposed the extent of my dork-hood fandom once again. Oh well.

Train Whistles

My brother was more of the train freak in our youngling years. Boats were more of my thing. But as is the case with brothers, when one has something cool, the other one is by default a fan of it too. So I found myself being a train fan very quickly, and for a while, anything somewhat train related was bound to end up on the floor of our room somewhere, resting in the carpet fibers.

One such thing you could usually find somewhere under the bed was the old-timey rectangular wooden train whistle, where you'd blow into it to make a steam-engine "wooo" like a low pitched tea-kettle. I definitely remember just walking around with the thing hanging out of my mouth, breathing in and out, and creating a "woo" "woo" "woo" over and over. It was guaranteed to annoy any adult in earshot. Afterwards, once I was done tooting my own horn, pulling away always left the after-taste of cheap balsa.

All aboard for 2013! 

A Very 8YO Me Christmas

I was always a naughty boy. I never believed in the fat man... no matter how much of a cool dude I thought The Santa Clause's "Bernard the Elf" was. (Bernard was my DUDE.) Seriously though, I loved that movie... the death of Santa Claus, the bumbling Tim Allen as a first-time Santa and longtime dimwit dad ("And THAT is exactly why you want a high-quality fire extinguisher... right in the kitchen!"), the "plain milk's fiiiine"... the E.L.F. Squad, the farting reindeer... all classic Yuletide stuff. That's more my speed. 

Now go ahead and call me "not sentimental" or whatever (like my girlfriend does), but I guess I was always just a big cynic about the whole "Christmas" thing. Probably because my parents were. We weren't religious, so for me, Christmas was always far more pragmatic than "magical." Long car rides around the neighborhood at night to go look at the people's lights were the highlights of our traditions, so if there's one thing I still love about this time of year, it's the lights. And the candy. And the presents. And the candy "reindeer poop." 

That's what Christmas is all about Charlie Brown. That's the "naughty list Christmas," and it's the best kind. And I'll tell you why... it's the most miraculous. 

Yeah Christmas for me was about jumping in the warm car to go tramp around in the ice cold evening wind for an hour or two admiring the lights around the lake, usually accompanied with a trip to the local church light display said to be one of the biggest on the eastern seaboard. Waiting in the never-ending traffic of the nighttime rush hour stall getting over to the light display as the heat in the car approached Death Valley levels... THAT was the "magic of the season!" Listening to Jerry Matthis belt out "It's the most wonderful time of the year!" five times over while dad drove us around in circles in the packed parking lot was truly the "spirit of the holidays." And it was considered a "miracle" if we found a prime spot right up front (near the nativity set). I swear, those glowing figurines always looked so charming and innocent when caught in the headlights!

Yes, Christmas was about the details of getting through it. All the little chores. One year, me, my dad, and my brother attempted to assemble the fake Christmas tree for the living room, and it took nearly the whole day. We rolled the plastic Douglas Fur out of the box, and when the trunk wasn't fitting together, my dad literally took the thing to his workbench in pieces to rig up some PVC piping to hold them in place. His explanation was that by the time the thing was decorated we wouldn't even notice it, before going off on a tirade against the "plastic Christmas tree industry" for over-engineering the thing so damn much with their "know-it-all college degrees." We stuck the pieces together, bottom to top, and set to work unfolding the branches. Then we took a step back, and something didn't look quite right. 

"Dad, I think it's upside down..." I said.

Sure enough, the tree started out small at the bottom and was exploding near the top! After a laugh, we pulled it apart, tore off all the "modifications," and put it together the way those college-educated know-it-alls at the company most likely intended. We threw on some ornaments and three hours after we had first taken it from the box, it was up, with all its pieces in the right order. Something tells me it would've been up in twenty minutes if mom was home. *knock knock*

Christmas was long hours fighting the traffic over to the mall for shopping trips, begging my parents to go this or there and joking about the empty chair for the mall Santa... ("Guess he had to hit the magical CAN!" I'd joke). The mall was always so decorated and lit up, and bustling around Christmas time. We could barely even play "the black floor tiles are lava" as me and my brother were tugged through the crowds. We could barely make it through the Radio Shack, the Discovery Store, the KB Toys... and whatever that store was that had the wooden train set you could play with right in the store... you know, all the COOL stores! No, they were "too crowded." "Too many kids." But damn it, the JC Penny and the Sears? We spent sooooo much damn time looking at comforter sets, curtain rods, and crock pots. Too damn long for the 8-year-old me... One time I got so frustrated I pulled down my pants right in the store! My brother did the same right after me, and it worked! Our parents pulled us out of there so fast you'd think we'd set off a bomb. We got a good whoppin' for that. Merry Christmas! 

Welcome to the Jungle!

Lights have always been more my bag. It just isn't Christmas until you've untangled the thicket of green wires freshly gutted from the cardboard box, and then gone through one after another looking for that stubborn one that's out in the whole set. It's not really Christmas until you rig up the lights only to find out that none of the reds work. It was never really Christmas until we had littered the living room floor with wrapping paper and the boxes of ornaments, fought over who got to use the tape and where the extra scissors went, and wrapped all the presents like tootsie rolls because I couldn't wrap a box worth a damn. Then I guess, it wasn't really Christmas until we came up from our bedroom in the morning to find waaay more gifts than were there the night before, knowing that mom and dad must've had a busy night (especially if a new Lego set was in there!). Magic!

Wow! I've been a naughty boy all year and I still got the Lego set! It's a Christmas miracle! I KNEW Santa wasn't real! 

The E.L.F. Squad though, that's legit. 

Merry Chex-Mix.