Romy and Michele's High School Reunion

Who wouldn't want to show up all of their formerly contemptuous classmates at their ten-year high school reunion by pulling up in a flashy car and wrongfully claiming to have invented post-it notes? At the time of Romy and Michele's release we may not have totally understood their impulse to lie, but as time pushes us closer in sync with their panicked 28-year old state of mind their motive comes into focus. No matter what you're doing, it's not a huge leap to assume most of us wish we had something a little more impressive to show for ourselves. Particularly when it comes to showing up those mean girls and jerky boys from high school.

We may have assumed we'd have earned a wealth of bragging rights by this point, but most of us haven't even gotten so far as just achieving plain old wealth itself. High school reunions hold a mirror to our lives that reflects a picture of ourselves we may not be completely proud of. You think you're doing alright and BAM! An opportunity arises to showcase your accomplishments and you realize you've squandered the last few years partying and spending your paychecks on shoes. Not exactly the picture you hoped to paint 10 years post-graduation.

This is a movie that only gets funnier as we get older. Many of us found it humorous as children, but the jokes ring far truer the more frequently we face similar situations. Our experiences may not be on the same scale as Romy and Michele's, but there have been countless moments of shining clarity during which I realized at the rate I'm going my college education won't pay for itself for another 5 years. Or when I'd run into an old friend who was becoming an astrophysicist or Planeteer or something equally impressive and I found my own experiences just werent adding up. Whatever the circumstances, most of us have been there. I only wish Michele hadn't already come up with that whole "I invented Post-Its" thing before I got to it. That could have been a killer embellishment for my resume.

Objectively speaking Romy and Michele are losers, but the more I consider my own lackluster autobiography the more I want to come to their defense and say they're doing just fine. Deep-voiced Romy's a low-tier employee at a local Jaguar dealership and bubbly Michele's unemployed, but their collective self-concept is disproportionately positive. In their eyes, they're two good-looking single girls living it up in LA, but to the world they're just a pair of ditsy airheads with no money, no boyfriends, and a penchant for gorging on Doritos and gummy bears.



The girls are former high school outcasts who remain best friends and roommates ten years post-high school. Their self-confidence borders on delusional when you consider their less than enviable lifestyle, but you get the feeling that they truly believe their lives are near-perfect. They watch chick flicks, chow down on candy, wear outrageous outfits, and go clubbing every night. Now that I think about it, that actually sounds pretty good to me. I'm almost willing to swap if I got to wear that ridiculous feather-laden jacket Michele's got on.



They're forced to reconsider their confidence after Romy has a run-in with former classmate Heather Mooney. Heather, an offbeat teen, grew into a high-powered successful businesswoman cashing in on her ludicrous invention of the super-fast burning cigarette. Heather clues Romy in on the upcoming 10-year reunion in Tucson, and Romy and Michele are initially fairly pumped about their chance to reconnect with their former peers. That is, until they realize just how unimpressive and mundane their current lives are. At 28, they're possibly less accomplished that they were at 18. Not exactly how they'd anticipated greeting the A-Crowd 10 years down the line.


We're treated to a series of reminisces and flashbacks of Michele and Romy's horrendously awkward high school days. The aptest part of the film is that regardless of how others may have perceived you in high school, most of us felt like this at one time or another. Teenagers are in an ongoing state of emotional insecurity, meaning most of us can relate (albeit on a smaller scale) to the daily humiliations and tribulations of the adolescent Romy and Michele characters. We may not have been humiliated at prom or had refrigerator magnets surreptitiously and maliciously stuck to our scoliosis braces, but for the most part we got the gist of their disappointments.






Romy and Michele resolve to lose weight, find boyfriends, and land killer jobs. They seem vaguely aware that if those things had been as easily attainable as they'd thought they'd probably have achieved them by now. Perhaps, though, as Romy speculates, they'd just never really tried. Two weeks seems like a reasonable goal, so they decide to go for it.



All of their last-ditch efforts fall to pieces, leaving them no choice but faking it in lieu of making it. Despite what seems to be their total ineptitude at life, they're actually pretty competent budding fashionistas. They make themselves high-powered business suits, borrow a Jag from Romy's employer, and come up with the brilliant back-story that they were the inventors of Post-It notes. Because, you know, they're businesswomen. That's what businesswomen do. They are businesswomen. Businesswomen.

Oh, and in case you missed it, they're businesswomen:



Things turn sour quickly, though, as the girls begin to bicker about their ill-fated scheme. The two have a falling out and we segue into a drawn-out and well-executed dream sequence about the reunion. The popular A-crowd girls are there in matching shiny pastel suits, all having achieved their wildest ambitions. Michele blows them away with an incredibly convincing-sounding description of his discovery of Post-It adhesive, Romy heads off with popular Billy Christiansen, and Michele encounters the once-nerdy but now-billionaire Sandy Frink.



We find it was all a dream and cut to the real reunion, where things don't go quite as they'd, well, dreamed. The A-crowd girls aren't super overachievers, but most of them are pregnant and sanctimonious. Heather exposes Romy's lie about her success, and everyone's pretty much back in their old high school roles. Except for maybe Sandy Frink, who really did turn out to be a billionaire. Not too shabby.

Romy and Michele scratch their plans, get into their signature outfits, and confront the bratty A-crowd girls. Romy tells them off, telling the girls that she and Michele don't care what they think anymore. The A-crowd tries to retaliate by mocking our girls' clothes, but they don't get too far. Turns out the one nice popular girl, Lisa, works for Vogue. Once I got over the fact she was the evil almost-stepmother from The Parent Trap, I was almost able to like her.



We're treated to a hefty dose of "Just Be Yourself!" and the girls perform one of the weirdest-ever interpretive dances caught on film to-date (set to "Time after Time"). Heather even confronts the cowboy from her high school smoking sessions, and turns out he's got a thing for her. Who knew? Our girls are brimming with pride and happiness, and it turns out they were okay just the way they were after all. Billy Christiansen, now married to Christy, shows himself as a cheating scumbag. Christy gets her comeuppance, Sandy gets his due, and the girls get a hearty endorsement for their clothing line from both a Vogue editor and billionaire investor (Sandy, again). Romy and Michele open their own clothing boutique stocked with their signature designs, and all's well that ends well. Because it all ends well, you see.





The original movie may have been fluffy, but it seems like a dense dissertation when you compare it to the made-for-TV sequel. Which, strangely, co-stars Katherine Heigl. If you're ever feeling a bit anti-intellectual for loving Romy and Michele's High School Reunion, here's a surefire cure. Just watch the follow-up. You'll be back to feeling like a Rhodes scholar in no time.

Technology We Grew Up With: On Its Way Out

It's cliche to say we came from simpler times. After all, I've said it here alone probably 50 times. Every generation invariably feels this way, but the speed of technological growth has sped up the tech nostalgia cycle considerably. In past generation-to-generation technology handoffs, much of the first generation's technology is still in circulation at the time. In our case, in a matter of a few years many of the things we grew up with have become not only unfashionable but nearly technologically obsolete.

We've adapted to new technologies so fluidly it's almost difficult to recall a time when we weren't all totally dependent on today's gadgetry conveniences. Each of us right probably has within a 20-foot radius at least a few major pieces of technology that didn't exist in during our childhood years. If it did exist, its form is often nearly recognizable from the prototypes we grew up using. You could argue that an iPhone and an early suitcase-model mobile phone are the same idea, but they have about as much in common as your TV and your toaster.

While we have seen innumerable technological advances over the years, we rarely take the time to mourn the loss of the electronics that came before. Sit back in that ergonomic chair and adjust the easy-on-the-eyes tint of your high-tech computer screen, and enjoy the ease and quiet of your high-speed internet connection as we pay tribute to some bygone technologies:

Pay Phones


Remember when you were a kid and your parents couldn't reach you every minute of every day? It was still possible to get into a little mischief when our parents weren't constantly harassing our cell phones and tracking their signals via online GPS. In our day, your parents could drop you off at the mall or movie theater with twenty five cents and you could call them at your leisure. They didn't worry about not having total control over our teenage whereabouts for an hour or two. We used to be the ones to decide when and where we'd contact someone. Oh, how the times have changed.


Having Your Own Phone Line


That's not to say we didn't have plenty to talk about with our friends. Yes, talk. It's an unfamiliar mode of communication to many of us whose brains now automatically interpret the phrase "I don't know" as "IDK". 15 years or so back, there was no texting and instant messenger was fairly new technology. If you were very lucky, your parents might award you your very own landline to communicate with your friends without tying up their lines. In an even further example of total technological obsolescence, I actually shared my personal land line with the modem. How's that for a phenomenon you don't see today? That meant I could only talk on the phone if no one was using the internet and vice versa. Nowadays, we've all got internet on our phones themselves, but back in the day it was an either/or type ordeal.


Getting Film Developed


I'm willing to venture we all took significantly fewer pictures in our adolescence than teenagers do today. The reason? Film. We paid to have every one of our photos developed; we couldn't just browse for a select few. If a picture turned out badly, none of us would know until we'd gotten the photographic evidence back from the 1-hour photomat. We'd have to divide the developed photos into two piles: keepers and duds. There was no instant gratification, nor did we immediately see the photos posted online. The aura of suspense has faded with the rise of digital technology. It's not quite as thrilling to look back and reminisce on an image that happened two seconds earlier.


Floppy Disks


Remember that little disk drive our computers used to have? Take a look around your current computer model. I'd guess the majority of us don't even have an input for these guys anymore. From the big CD-album sized originals to the more compact later incarnations, they used to be a major means of saving information to our computers. Now we don't even have an insertion slot. Sunrise, sunset...*


Purchasing CDs/Cassettes

...Or for that matter, popping them into a Walkman or Discman. Yes, they still sell CDs, but the market has decreased significantly. These days most musicians are barely making money off of record sales, especially considering pirated music downloads. For those of us who go the legal route through iTunes, we're far less likely to buy a full album and suffer through the songs that weren't good enough to be released as singles.

I'm being a bit facetious, sure, but when's the last time you burned a CD or made a mixtape for a friend? It's sadly sliding out of practice. How are we supposed to express ourselves without the art of mixtapery? I can't tell someone I love them unless I can find 12 appropriate songs, record them off the radio, and drop it in their locker. It just doesn't feel right.


VHS tapes

Once upon a time, if there was something you wanted to watch on TV but you were going to be away from home, you'd have to program your VCR. This, for its time, seemed like pretty cutting-edge technology. We kept loads of blank videotapes next to our TV and continually taped over them with movies of the week or the latest episode of Dawson's Creek. The other day at Half Price Books I saw them selling bins of 50 VHS tapes for five dollars a case. Five dollars. These were good movies, too. Clearly VHS is no longer the preferred media, but if you've got a player you could certainly rack up quite the cheap collection.


Watching Commercials


Speaking of TV (sort of), our television remote controls didn't always have a pause, fast forward, and rewind function. We sat through every last commercial. Sometimes we even enjoyed it. There's a lot about TV we'll have to miss, actually. For example, that fuzzy snowstorm static you sometimes got? Gone. Kaput. Finito. You'll never see that again. Sort of sad, isn't it? It's strange getting dewy eyed over an irritating TV function, but I'm actually a tad verklempt.


Polaroid cameras and film


Yes, it's true. Now when we hear Outkast's instructions to "shake it like a Polaroid picture" we'll just have to used our imaginations; they no longer exist in their quick-printing form. It once seemed so high tech to instantly have a copy of your photo, but that's since been rendered obsolete by digital photography. It's sad, when you think about it. That "Hey Ya" was pretty recent, but a couple of years from now kids won't even get the reference. Tragic.


Dial-Up Modems


...And that charming noise that come along with them. Remember that? All the buzzing and the beeping and the waiting for the little AOL running guy to reach his final destination of internetland? That
dial up noise is now relegated to the back spaces of our memories. I'll never forget you, Ringers. That's what I just named my modem. Posthumously, of course.



Oh, how quickly things change. Just as we're getting accustomed to one mode of technology, another sweeps in and changes the course completely. We wouldn't trade our modern technology for anything, but it's crazy to think that ten years from now, the iPhone and Blackberry may just be retro kitsch. I can't imagine what else they'll tack on to these things, but that's sort of the beauty of it. We can mourn the loss of these bygone tech practices, but there's always something new just over the horizon. My guess is the next generation of phones will also be flying cars. Just don't forget you heard it here first.

Giveaway Winner and Today's Post: Childhood Cereal Commercial Characters

First things first--I am pleased to announce the winner of the first ever Children of the 90s Giveaway: Lauren Kelly from Walk With Me on this Journey Called Life!

*Winner was selected using a randomized shuffled spreadsheet and an online random number generator*

Congratulations, Lauren Kelly!! I will contact you later today for your mailing information (or you can shoot me an email at childrenofthe90s@gmail.com when you see this), and your 90s care package should be on the way sometime next week!

To everyone else, thank you all so much for entering, and don't worry--this isn't the end of giveaways at Children of the 90s. I heard a rumor someone (okay, me) has a blogaversary coming up, so keep checking back for more fun giveaway opportunities. I can't tell you how fun it was assembling these items, and I can't wait to do it again soon!

Please excuse the interruption. Now, for today's post:

Childhood Cereal Commercial Characters

Forget what anyone says. Cereal mascots are the hardest working guys in show biz. They're arguably among the most dedicated, single-minded characters in modern media. They never can just pick up a box of their favorite sugar cereal at the local supermarket like the rest of us. These guys are constantly battling the forces of cereal-related tyranny and oppression in an eternal struggle to get their hands on the much-coveted cereal. For those of us whose parents refused to buy us sugary breakfast cereal, we could relate to their plight.

The aim of these characters was to convince a demographic of hungry, sugar-crazed children that these cereals were so desirable that fictional characters would go to extreme lengths to get their hands on them. At the time, it seemed like a fairly viable quandary; what's one expected to do if denied their sugary fuel? Looking at them now, though, I wouldn't be surprised if one of these cartoons showed up on A&E's Intervention. They're not only incredibly desperate for their fix but also seem to be going through some sort of physical withdrawal symptoms. You'd almost expect for them to airlift Honeycomb Crazy Craving to the nearest treatment facility and run a glucose IV through his furry little arm. I'm not a professional, but even I can see that guy needs some seriuos help.

These cartoon characters were by no means the only cereal advertising stars. There were plenty of live-action commercials directed at older children, but few of them managed to equal the intensity and desperation encapsulated by these sugar-starved animated critters. Many of these characters have been around since before our time, though they often been through more reinventions than Cher. You'd better hurry up and get your reminiscing in before the remaining mascots go the way of Cookie Crook and Officer Crumb. Blink and they'll be replaced by cooler, hipper characters.


Fruity/Cocoa/Dino Pebbles: Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble



When the Flinstones debuted as Post Cereal's Pebbles-brand spokescartoons in the 70s, no one could have known they'd still be out hawking cereal decades later. Throughout the years, the story lines have been fairly one-dimensional: Fred Flintstone eats Fruity or cocoa Pebbles. Barney sees said Pebbles. Barney attempts elaborate and ill-thought-out scheme to obtain Pebbles. Fred screams, "BAAAAARNEEEY!" End scene. The only thing I'm not so clear on is what Dino Pebbles are made of. That name still sounds pretty suspicious.


Cocoa Puffs: Sonny the Cuckoo Bird



Sometimes time really does bring progress. In the original 50s and 60s ads, Sonny was chilling with his grandpa. He still went cuckoo, sure, but with his grandpa. Not exactly the stuff cool kids are made of.

Ad writers wised up in the 80s and 90s, making Sonny go cuckoo with kids and eventually pressure other kids into going cuckoo themselves. Yes, you heard right. Sonny worked his way up from user to dealer. At least he wasn't trying to pull his Gramps into it anymore. He did, however, get Joseph Gordon Levitt on the cuckoo train. See evidence above.


Frosted Flakes: Tony the Tiger



Tony the Tiger may have been born decades earlier, but he probably started his amateur frisbee career in the above 90s ad. The "They're Grrrreat!" slogan has been around for ages, but in the 80s and 90s they tried incorporating some hipper phrases. They promised to bring out the tiger in us or to put the tiger on our team, but perhaps none were as resigned and half-hearted as "The Taste Adults Have Grown to Love." You know, you used to hate it, but over the years the virulence of your hatred has lessened. Buy Frosted Flakes!



Trix: Trix Rabbit



Talk about prolonged disappointment. The Trix rabbit has been up to his, well, tricks for over 50 years. It's always the same old schtick: he'd try to trick the kids into sharing their cereal, but they'd continually admonish him with the ultimate brush-off: "Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids!" Jokes on the Trix rabbit, though. In elementary school, a friend and I fed some Trix to her pet rabbit, Munchers. He totally went for it. He had no idea they were just for kids. Not a clue.



HoneyComb: Crazy Craving



This is probably one of the more frightening 90s cereal characters, if for nothing other than the sheer voracity of his need. The weird hopped-up rodent thing's name was Crazy Craving, and I believe he has since been retired. He premiered as Honeycomb's official mascot in the mid-90s, preceded by the HoneyComb Hideout gang. According to these 90s ads, you could actually become Crazy Craving if you went long enough without your fix. Scary indeed.


Cookie Crisp: Cookie Crook and Officer Crumb



This commercial lied to me. I wanted so badly to enjoy what was promised to me as the sweet taste of cookies for breakfast but when my parents finally caved and threw it in the grocery cart to quell my tantrum, it just wasn't what I'd expected. Cookie Crook and Officer Crumb had hyped it to a level they just couldn't achieve. It turns out the most inspired thing about the cereal was Chip the Dog's howling of "Cooooookie Crisp!"


Lucky Charms: Lucky Leprochaun



Children first met Lucky in the 60s, but he's steadily tempted our sugar impulses with his endless pushing of marshmallow-laden cereals. He promised them to be magically delicious, and for the most part they were. If only they could have made them magically nutritious, too.



Froot Loops: Toucan Sam



Toucan Sam was born in the 60s, though he did undergo some beak work a decade or so later. I think I saw it on E!'s Celebrity Plastic Surgery Nightmares but I can't be sure. Whatever the situation surrounding his nose, he followed it to some delicious fruity sugar cereal. How 90s is that Rapping Rhino ad, too?



Cinnamon Toast Cruch: Wendell, Bob, and Quello



Who exactly were Wendell, Bob, and Quello, you ask? According to General Mills, Bob and Quello don't technically exist. They name main baker Wendell, but it sounds like the other two were using the role to pad out their resumes with bit parts like "Baker #2: illustrates taste he can see." They make fun of adults in a Bubble Tape/Apple Jacks sort of way, mocking their inability to see what makes the cereal so compelling. For the record, it's the swirls of cinnamon sugar in every bite.



Honey Smacks: Dig 'Em



Sugar Smacks have been through a lot over the years. Well, a lot of names at least. In our day, they were Honey Smacks, but now they're just Smacks. That sounds pretty suspiciously close to Smack, even when you take into consideration the child-friendly Dig-Em frog mascot.. I guess as long as no kids are injecting the cereal intravenously, we're alright.



Rice Krispies: Snap, Crackle, and Pop



These guys have been around since the 1940s, but they underwent a serious 90s makeover for the Razzle Dazzle edition of the cereal. In case you're unfamiliar with cereal speak, "Razzle Dazzle" is code for "heaps of additional sugar". I couldn't find any video of those ads, though, so you'll just have to settle for watching a kid in a safari outfit get really pissed off at a dinosaur for kidnapping Snap, Crackle, and Pop.



I don't know about the rest of you, but this post has left me with a serious hankering from some good old-fashioned nutrition void sugar cereal. It may not have been substantive, it may not have been nutritious, heck, it may not even have been totally honest when it claimed to be part of a balanced breakfast. But it was endorsed by our animated spokescartoons, and darn it that was more than enough to convince us. So excuse me as I go cuckoo following my nose as I make a serious effort to elude the sanctimonious Officer Crumb: I'm off to get my fix.