Infectious 90s TV Theme Songs

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I'm not saying our generation watched too much TV, but it's pretty telling that I've yet to witness someone break into, "Innnnn West Philadelphia, born and raised..." without an entire room of 20-somethings clambering to joining in. If I even overhear someone humming what sounds to be the opening bars of Rockapella's iconic Where in the World of Carmen San Diego theme, I'm wont to fill in the mid-range harmony bits from distances of up to 100 feet. True story. It may or may not have happened at the gym.*

It's almost a physiological reaction; we just can't help ourselves. Somewhere along the way, we've collected an arsenal of television theme song lyrics that are laying dormant in the darkest nether regions of our brains. We have an excellent command of the instrumental themes as well, but they fail to command the same involuntary knee-jerk reaction. Singing along to your old favorite TV intros has a way of transporting you right back onto your childhood couch, covered in Pringle crumbs, sipping on a Kool-Aid Burst. It's the magic of memory. Or maybe just a testament to the innumerable hours we all logged in front of the tube during our formative years.

Whether or not you liked the shows was almost irrelevant. Some of them were worth watching on the merit of introductory song alone. For the most part, though, they lived up to the immense promise of their catchy theme tunes. For whatever reason, they were irrepressibly memorable:



Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?



Love it or hate it, you've got to admit Rockapella did their homework. PBS commissioned the Carmen San Diego children's game show in direct response to the abysmal perfomance of American students on geography standards. Rockapella managed to squeeze almost every location on earth into their three-minute theme song, not to mention the wealth of groan-inducing puns they sprinkled throughout.

Some of these puns I'm willing to accept as legitimate jokes. You know, "We never Arkansas her steal" and that kind of thing. But at a certain point, they're really pushing it; I don't care how alluring their multi-part harmonious arrangement is, it's never okay to say, "She stole the beans from Lima." I get it, I get it, but it's not even the correct pronounciation. Rockapella did make up for their grevious pun infractions, though, by breaking it down in a major way at the end of the song. Well done, Rockapella.



The Fresh Prince of Bel Air



Expository theme songs are great the first time you tune in to a show. If you have no clue of the premise or back story, it'll fill you in pretty much right up until the events of the current episode with aits incredibly informative and detailed lyrics. In some cases, it all gets pretty tiresome after the first few viewings. In a time before DVR, there was no fast-forwarding through the credits.

Luckily, this was not the case with The Fresh Prince's theme song. We just couldn't get enough. Sometimes I'd watch the show just to see the opening credits. This one was a keeper, destined to go down forever in 90s TV theme history. So many of us worked tirelessly on memorizing this one. The furthest I ever got was to, "You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air", so I'm achingly jealous of all of you who know all of the verses by heart.



Saved By the Bell



The sheer exposure to this one was more than enough to commit it to memory. Saved By The Bell played in seemingly continuous loop in syndication throughout our youth. For awhile it seemed that we couldn't turn on the TV without flipping by an episode of SbtB. The theme song lyrics rivaled the show's subject matter in cheesiness, but both had a certain alluring quality.

This song takes a lot of liberties in fitting in syllables, working in well-pruned lines like "And the 'larm gives out a warning". Yes, you heard right. The 'larm. Alarm just wouldn't fit. It didn't really matter to us, though. So long as they kept parading attractive teen stars across our screen, we'd listen to whatever they wanted.



Salute Your Shorts



Salute Your Shorts' theme played out like a camp anthem parceled out amongst the main characters. As in any good teen sitcom, we all just assume that there are indeed other campers somewhere on the premises, though none quite as interesting and plotline-worthy as our major players. Sure, there might have been some other kids stationed at Camp Anawanna over the summer, but none quite as enthralling as Budnik or Donkey Lips.

Toilet humor is like comedic gold to children, so it's no wonder we delighted in the line, "Camp Anawanna, we hold you in our hearts/and when we think about you/it makes me wanna fart!" We all knew Ug was just a huge spoilsport for reprimanding the gang. I guess we've got to cut him a break, though. He was the almost only adult we ever saw, save for the mysterious disembodied voice of camp director Dr. Kahn. You'd probably be pretty tightly wound, too, if you were the only grown-up in a sea of teenagers for an entire summer.


Full House



Even a few bars of the jazzy "ba-ba-ba-de-ba-bop-bop" at the end is enough to jar us all back into full Full House mode, yearning once again to be raised by a zany, madcap team of ill-equipped and uncompatible male role models. The opening sequence became incredibly well known throughout the show's multi-season run. You'd be hard pressed to find someone who can't complete the line, "What ever happened to predictability? The milkman, the paper boy..." See, you're just itching to fill in the blank, aren't you?



Hey Dude



Who would have thought that a western song about working summers on a dude ranch could be so compelling? Hey Dude represented the classic era of Nickelodeon, and its signature theme song did not disappoint. Well, at least not in melody; lyrically it could have used some rethinking. It doesn't really make sense, per se (It's a little wild and a little strange? Really?) but it all adds up to a part of the show's charm. Yippee ki yi ay, lil dogie.


We may not have known it at the time, but even after all these years these themes are as recognizable and catchy as they ever were. The downside, of course, is that they'll be tumbling around in your head on spin cycle for the rest of the day, but it's a fair trade off to get to relive all of those gloriously cheesy 90s TV anthems. Or at least that's how you can justify it when the guy at the next cubicle tells you for the twelfth time to please keep it down.

*Okay, okay, it did happen at the gym. Someone's iPod was blaring it from the bank of treadmills. I couldn't resist.

Raves

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Even before they were harping about online predators, Dateline NBC had me terrified to leave the comfort of my own home. With their multi-part series on the dangers of 90s raves, I was almost certain that someone was going to randomly usher me into an abandoned warehouse against my will, stick an ecstasy-laced candy pacifier in my mouth, and subject me to endless hours of pulsating techno music and seizure-inducing light shows. You know you're growing up in pretty cushy conditions when your most major fears revolve around involuntary attendance at a wild underground party.




Other generations have all the luck. Their subcultural miscreants were usually tied to some sort of ideological principles. You know, peace, free love, that sort of thing. It's almost as if the preceding counter-cultural movements took all the good visionary underpinnings and we were stuck sorting through the remnants bin. Our take on rebellious youth culture amounted to Seattle Grunge culture and Euro-techno ravers. We may not have been as idealistic as the hippies who came before us, but it could have been worse. After all, we could have been pseudo-intellectual fake glasses-sporting ironic t-shirt clad hipsters.

There were some vague alliances between rave culture and principles, but the connection was fuzzy at best. At its heart, rave culture represented the happy-go-lucky invincibility that characterized the 90s. You know you're getting older when you start drawing broad metaphors between youth culture and the state of the economy, but it's an aging leap I'm willing to make. Raving was youth culture in its purest, least dilute form: wild, irresponsible, and generally under contempt of adults everywhere.

Many of us may have been too young at the time to be a driving force in the rave scene, but that wasn't about to stop us from defiantly sucking our pacifiers in homeroom. Rave trends quickly disseminated from underground phenomenon into mainstream fashion statements. While the raw ingredients undoubtedly varied from rave to rave, here's a rough recipe for a legitimate 90s raver.


Abandoned Warehouse


What's a party without a proper venue? By proper venue, of course, I mean a sketchy abandoned space that may or may not have once been some sort of industrial storage facility. As many of the early raves were a sort of impromptu underground effort, any old enclosed area would have to do. Raves were by no means limited to these settings, but there was a certain charm to illegal party squatting. Or at least that's what I gathered from my avid viewing of numerous multi-part Dateline NBC undercover exposes. They made it seem like every abandoned warehouse in the country was packed fire-code defiantly full of sweaty, effervescent teenagers.



Light Show


If you're going to party straight through to the wee hours of the morning, you've got to have some sort of visual stimulation. Laser light shows were a signature rave feature, with brightly colored strobe-like flashing creating a uniquely headache-inducing effect. I had to settle for my cheaply imitative Nickelodeon brand laser light how generator. I had the power to turn my basement into a wild party light-flashing party scene, but unfortunately I was only 10 at the time. The closest I was coming to raving was chugging a bottle of Surge and nursing a ring pop.



Pacifier

This was one of those inexplicable trends that caught on in a big way despite a total lack of purpose and functionality. Our parents spent months coaxing us off these damned things only to have us pick up the habit again 15 years down the road. I'm still not completely clear on if the pacifier had any sort of representational meaning or if someone just thought it might be fun to start selling them as necklaces to teenagers. Either way, these things were everywhere.



Candy Rings/Necklaces


The more I look at it, the more it seems like ravers all had some sort of serious oral fixation. The ecstasy could only make everything all the more delicious, so it was probably a good idea to keep some highly portable snacks on your person at all times.



Glowsticks


They're sort of like your own personal laser light show. If you get bored with whatever lights the party coordinators are flashing, you can always wave your glowstick super quickly in front of your face. I'm going to go out on a limb and say the drugs probably enhanced this experience somewhat as well.



Ecstasy and/or Cocaine


Speaking of mood-altering substances, 90s partiers weren't really the depressant type. Leave the mellowed-out drugs to the peace and free love hippies. Ravers needed uppers to maintain a decent level of prolonged hyperactivity. If you've got to flail wildly in a warehouse with only the aid of glowsticks and laser light shows to keep you awake, you probably needed a little something to keep the edge on.



UV Facepaint


Again with the glowing. It's a pretty safe bet to say if it glowed, ravers wanted to slather their bodies in it. I suppose it's a bit hard to see in a darkened warehouse, so any light source is much appreciated.


It's odd to think of raves as retro, but countercultural phenomenons tend to age quickly. While in the 90s raving seemed edgy and dangerous and unspeakably modern, in retrospect it loses a bit of its luster. Not literally, of course. I imagine that UV facepaint bonds to pores for life.It was a pretty wild ride while it lasted, but for now we'll just have to relive the experience (or vicarious experience) through the magic of memory. So grab your glowsticks, pop in a pacifier, and beware the judgmental Dateline undercover reporters; it's rave reminiscing time.

The Secret World of Alex Mack

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One of the fascinating things about looking back at shows you watched as a kid is that the characters never age. Upon revisiting the show you find that while you have progressed into an adult somewhere along the way, the show's characters remain frozen in time. When the show debuted you may have been the same age as the principal players, yet they've been held back in an eternal repetition of their childhood years.

Such is the case with Alex Mack, a middle school-aged semi-superhero of 90s Nickelodeon fame. I always thought of the two of us as contemporaries, so imagine my surprise to find that she's still just thirteen years old. The real-life actress who portrayed her, Larisa Oleynik, has grown alongside me into a more reasonable age of 28, but I related so well to the character that I came to think of her as something of a real person. I half-expected a current Google search for Alex Mack to pull up a YouTube clip of a late-20s version of the character, again clad in a flannel shirt and backwards cap, playing hooky from her office day job by morphing Capri Sun-style into a metallic puddle and slipping out through the heating vent. It was a bit jarring to realize that someone I'd yearned to befriend as as a kid is stuck at thirteen forever. Watching the show, I still kind of want to be friends, but it gives me a sort of uneasy feeling to imagine myself randomly befriending seventh graders. Sure, she might be scientifically significant, but I doubt Mr. and Mrs. Mack would take kindly to the two of us going out for a soda. At least not until after she'd finished her algebra homework, I mean.


The Secret World of Alex Mack premiered in 1994 as part of the Saturday night tween-geared SNICK programming block on Nickelodeon. Featuring a quirky young teenage girl, the show was a natural fit as a replacement for the very popular Clarissa Explains it All. Superpower premise aside, the general genre was a solid match to its predecessor. The show was originally conceived of with a male central character, but the departure of Clarissa led to some retooling. I don't think the boys were too disappointed, though. They all got Larisa Oleynik to drool over, so it wasn't a bad deal in the end.

While Alex's coming of age story is certainly confounded by her unusual chemical circumstances, she's generally just a young girl struggling to find her place in the ever-viney jungle of adolescence. We see her face mean girls, first crushes, and fights with her parents. Okay, so maybe she can move things with her mind and turn into a shiny puddle of echo-voiced goo, but at the end of the day she's just trying to see where she fits into the puzzle of junior high.

The show's subject matter was pretty sophisticated for a children's show. While many programs aimed at a young viewer demographic tend to patronize and dumb down factual information, The Secret World of Alex Mack gave it to us straight. Well, sort of. If you want to get technical, the entire premise and all related scientific data was completely fabricated and improbably at best. Shows with made-up scientific background are probably better-suited to children as we're less likely to question any chemical plot holes. Regardless, The Secret World of Alex Mack treated its viewers more or less like adults. We had a high tech chemical plant, the background on research and development, and some entree into the world of as-of-yet FDA unapproved weight loss aids that have the potential to turn you into a mutant.



Doesn't this opening sequence just stir up all sorts of displaced memories? I haven't watched the show in maybe 10 years, but I'm pretty sure I could recite Alex Mack's voiceover word-for-word regardless. Alex Mack is memorable in a way that few children's shows achieve, though maybe it's proportionate to how badly you wanted to possess her melting and mind-moving superpowers.

In the show's first episode, Alex is doused with the mysterious chemical (henceforth known as the crazy compound GC-161) on the way to her first day of junior high. Alex quickly discovers that the accident has left her with a number of unexplainable side effects, most importantly silver puddle meltability, telekinesis, and the ability to send little shocks out of her fingertips. On the negative, she also turns an unnatural shade of orange in lieu of a more ordinary pink when she blushes. All in all, sort of a tradeoff, but the pros pretty far outweigh the cons in terms of general superheroic symptoms.

If for some reason the show isn't so fresh in your mind, here's the entire first episode for nostalgic restoration purposes:







Alex lets her best friend Ray and her Janine Kishi-esque brainy sister Annie in on her secret, though she opts against telling her parents. Her father is employed by the anonymously ominous local chemical plant and reports directly to the notoriously evil Danielle Altron. Danielle and her plant partner in crime Vince are Alex's main adversarial forces, with the majority of superpower-related plotlines emphasizing Alex's continuous struggle to avoid capture and eventual subjection to creepy testing. Danielle and Vince see Alex as sort of a human lab rat and are endlessly caught up in hot pursuit of their subject. In a clever plot point, the chemical plant is Alex's hometown of Paradise Valley's main employer. That means most people report to Danielle, and few would want to face unemployment by crossing her. Unfortunately, that settles the score at Plant 1, Alex 0. Tough break.

The Secret World of Alex Mack lasted a solid four seasons, culminating in Alex's secret exposed. As the following finale teaser boomingly intones, "She can morph, but she can't hide..."



Alex Mack differentiated itself from other superhero shows in many ways, the most important of which may have been the fact that Alex would have preferred to be a normal kid over a wanted superhero. Even with all she had to gain from the incident, she was just an average kid at heart. Alex never asked to be extraordinary, nor did she possess some natural capacity for leadership or do-goodery. We could relate to her because she represented the rest of us far better than her comic book superhero contemporaries. She wasn't out saving the world; she just wanted to make it through seventh period English. With its cliffhanger ending, though, we're left to decide for ourselves whether Alex took the antidote. Feel free to speculate for yourself with the last clip of the series finale below. I'm still losing sleep over this one.

Before They Were Famous: Our Favorite Stars' Early TV Bit Parts

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It's hard to imagine major TV or film stars as anything less than bona fide celebrities, but all of them had to work their way to the top. In Hollywood terms, that usually means paying your dues in sitcom or soap opera appearances until you're eventually discovered and whisked off into a series of starring roles. It's got to give us hope for those of us who aren't quite at the eventual level of achievement we envision for ourselves; heck, at our age, George Clooney was still just a random handyman on Facts of Life and Quention Tarantino was a second-row Elvis impersonator on The Golden Girls. I guess that means we've all got a good twenty years or so to grow into two-time Sexiest Man of the Year or wildly successful quirky screenwriter/producer/actor/director.

That's certainly reassuring, considering many of these stars have gone on to achieve fame and fortune that outstrip even our wildest of future fantasies. It's nice to see that once upon a time, these well-known celebrities were putting in their time and trying to make it just like the rest of us. So sit, back, relax, and luxuriate in the realization that you have plenty of time to reach our ultimate goals. It's even further consolation to know that by the time we meet those goals, some of these stars may be relegated to beauty pageant hosting gigs and Dancing With the Stars appearances. Circle of life and all that.

While many, many television and movie actors started with bit roles on sitcoms or daytime soaps, I present to you a random smattering of both the memorable and the obscure:


George Clooney: Facts of Life


People are always saying Clooney has gotten more attractive with age, but watching him in this mid-80s clip I'd have to argue that he was always pretty darn good looking. 80s and 90s TV tended to be wholly unoriginal in assigning names to guest stars, often simply assigning the actor a fictitious last name to supplement their real-life first. Accordingly, Clooney played be-mulleted handyman George Burnett for two seasons on The Facts of Life. He took on a number of other bit parts, including roles on Roseanne and The Golden Girls, before striking figurative TV oil with ER.



Leonardo DiCaprio, Hilary Swank, Matthew Perry, and Brad Pitt: Growing Pains

That's Hilary Swank at her locker, in case you missed her

Apparently Growing Pains served as a functional launching pad for all sorts of young stars. DiCaprio played Luke Brower, a homeless kid the Seavers eventually adopt. Luke was a Cousin Oliver-type character, a last-ditch attempt to win over people with a cute kid and distract them from the show's decline.

Hilary Swank had a much smaller role (you can see her at her locker in the first clip), but her few lines managed to garner her some attention from Hollywood agents. She'd have to suffer through The Next Karate Kid before eventually segueing into more respectable roles like Beverly Hills, 90210. Oh, and you know, those Oscar roles of hers. Not too shabby for a girl who had just a few lines on Growing Pains.

Brad Pitt: dreamy even with a borderline mullet

Some people are so attractive it's essentially their service to society to become celebrities. In the case of Brad Pitt, I'd say he owed it to us. 80s and 90s sitcoms had a bad habit of recasting the same actors in multiple bit parts, apparently assuming their entire audience had severe short term memory loss. Along this vein, Pitt played two parts on GP: once as Carol's short-lived romantic interest and another as Ben's favorite rock star. He wasn't an especially nice guy in either role, but most of us were pretty won over by his dreamy physique. I don't care how mean he was to Carol; I still would've gone for him




Matthew Perry also appeared on the show as Carol's boyfriend Sandy, who was killed off in a drunk driving accident after just a few episodes. He actually first appeared in the short lived Growing Pains spinoff Just the 10 of Us, but apparently they'd liked him so much they shuffled him back over to the original. And then, you know, killed him off almost immediately. How thoughtful.



Ben Savage: Wonder Years



There he is at 4:20. How cute are the two of them? Boy Meets World's Ben Savage is Wonder Years' Fred Savage's younger brother, so it was of course adorable to have the two guest star in this Valentine's episode. They're pretty good at pretending to be strangers, what with the whole, "Hey you! Kid!" ruse they've got going on.



John Stamos: General Hospital



Obviously this feathered look was his hairstyle of choice for many, many years. It took all the way from General Hospital in 1983 to the early Full House years. Stamos is by far the best actor in this scene, though for a soap opera his style is a bit understated. He seems a little too relaxed in the midst of all the drama.



Christina Applegate: Family Ties



Before she was dizzy 90s blonde Kelly Bundy on Married With Children, Christina Applegate had a number of small sitcom roles. Applegate appeared on Family Ties in an episode shamelessly geared toward launching Tina Yothers' misguided music career. Applegate plays one of her band members, and I must say, in this clip she really rocks those shoulder pads. What else would you expect from the fashion maven of Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead?



Michelle Tratchenberg: Pete and Pete



Even before her starring role in Harriet the Spy (complete with signature Nickelodeon bright orange-VHS tape), Michelle Tratchenberg played Nona on The Adventures of Pete and Pete. It's a far cry from her mean-girl act on Gossip Girl these days, but she is pretty adorable in an un-self conscious, desperately needs-braces type of way.




Jennifer Aniston: Ferris Bueller



Following the success of John Hughes' Ferris Bueller's Day Off, the movie was optioned as a TV show starring none of the original cast. Jennifer Aniston was virtually unknown at the time, debuting in a reprisal of Jennifer Grey's Jeannie Bueller. The show lost steam quickly and was canceled after just a few episodes, but we did get something good out of it: a mid-season replacement Blossom. And Jennifer Aniston's burgeoning career, of course.



Ricky Martin on General Hospital



He may not be a household name today, but in the late 90s we were all pretty loco over singer Ricky Martin. Somewhere in between his Menudo days and his rise to astronomical fame as a solo artist, Martin find the time to play Miguel, a singer/bartender on General Hospital. His acting wasn't anything to write home about, but like most of these 80s and 90s soap-starting stars, his hair may have been.



Jessica Alba: The Secret World of Alex Mack



Oh, this one really takes me back. Just hearing them reference "GC-161" is enough to bring me back to the day of Alex's ill-fated chemical spill. When her mom tries to saddle her with that Trolls lunchbox, it's pure 90s. There's Alba at 7:25, playing the stock mean girl character. Her acting isn't especially impressive, but she's cute enough for us to overlook it. I'm guessing this means she never went through an awkward stage. When the rest of us were gawky and awkward, Alba was well on her way to Amazonian goddesshood. Then again, I saw photos from her few months post-baby bikini photo shoot--I think she's got some sort of genetic upper hand on all of us.



Parker Posey on As The World Turns



If you don't know already, I'm a pretty devoted fan of Christopher Guest Films. I've always found Parker Posey to be hilarious, with great comic timing and spot-on deadpan. Imagine my surprise, then, to learn that Posey actually paved her path to independent movie fame with a recurring role on daytime soap As The World Turns. It's always a little jarring to realize an actor or actress you respect once appeared on a soap; it's like finding out that an esteemed author once ghostwrote Sweet Valley High novels. You might have found them entertaining, sure, but it's not exactly a claim to fame. This stint has probably moved pretty far down on Posey's resume, though. I think she's redeemed herself from the uncertain fate of wooden-acted soap roles.



Quentin Taratino: Golden Girls



This isn't the best quality video, I know, but these specific TV moments are sometimes hard to pinpoint in the vast expanses of cyberspace. In case you missed him in that one-second video-recorded-off-the-TV clip, here's a handy photo helper from Motivated Photos:


Yes, that's right...Quentin Tarantino appeared as one of the many Elvis impersonators who mistakenly populated the audience at Sophia's wedding to Max Weinstock. Is it troubling that I could rattle off all of those details off the top of my head? I've seen this episode more times than I can count, but I never once noticed Tarantino. He's not exactly in a prominent role, but it is definitely an interesting piece of trivia to know. That Motivated Photo poster cracks me up, too. I am totally going to greet him that way if I ever run into him.


Like I said, all of these big names started from pretty meager beginnings, so there may be hope for you yet. Their equivalent of entry-level positions might be a little more exciting than our own, but it's a small comfort to know they had to work their way up. Plus, based on what we've seen in the above clips, I'd say each and every one of you is probably a qualified enough actor to have a supporting role on one of those soap operas. Really.

Double Dare

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Why don't we offer the Physical Challenge as a viable alternative to difficult tasks anymore? It always worked for our pals on Double Dare. Just picture it. You're in a crowded classroom taking your bar exam and you come across an exceptionally confounding question. Imagine how much simpler things would be if you could simply alert the proctor you were going to take the Physical Challenge instead. You'd get up from your desk, put on the giant clown pants, and proceed to catch flying pies catapulting toward you at breakneck speed. "Pie in the Pants" was a credible recourse for baffled minds on 90s kids game shows; why not extend it to other arenas? At the very least, it would give some much needed excitement and spontaneity to those boring hours-long tests.

In actuality, not much of the Double Dare world translates into real life. It's a testament to the show's creators' creativity--or insanity, depending on your sense of whimsy and wonder. It was like some sort of alternate kid fantasy universe: children slimed their parents, slid down a giant Sundae Slide, and went home with armloads of cash and prizes. It was crazy and nonsensical and criminally messy, but it was undeniably pure kid-driven fun.

It's another one of those Nickelodeons 80s and 90s anomalies where you'd just got to wonder what was running through the network executives' respective heads when the Double Dare creators pitched them the show. "We open with a messy challenge, see. Then we move onto a random, disjointed trivia round that's actually an excuse to stump kids and have them opt for an even messier challenge. Next, the team with the most points attempts an utterly insane obstacle course, searching for flags in piles of sloppy food, swimming through vats of jello, running on a giant hamster wheel, and monkey barring their way over to the spewing Gak Geiser. If they make it, they go to space camp and get to thow up on one of those anti-gravity simulation spinny rides. How does that sound?" To which we can only imagine the Nickelodeon bigwigs replied, "Excellent! We'll take 500 episodes."

The show went through a series of reformatted and re-imagined incarnations, but the underlying structure remained the same. First up, we had Super Sloppy Double Dare:



It seems the major differentiating feature of Super Sloppy Double Dare was that it was not just regular sloppy but indeed super sloppy. The original version of Double Dare was messy, but SSDD brought disgusting sloppiness to a whole new level. The challenges existed for the sole purpose of creating the most explosive mess imaginable. This version had more thematic episodes and gimmicks, but the main change was probably in the significant increase in the number of janitors employed by the show.

There was the quickly-dropped Celebrity Double Dare concept:



This version never actually made it into production, so all we have to remember it by is this pilot footage. It was mostly like Double Dare, but everything was just a tiny bit off, meaning fans would probably never accept it. It was hosted by a feathered-haired Bruce Jenner, who depending on your generation is either that dashing Wheaties box-gracing Olympian or the frozen-faced dad on Keeping Up With the Kardashians.


Next up we had the popular Family Double Dare:

This clip hails from the Nickelodeon (not FOX) era. Just in case you were curious.

For this version, the show had a brief stint on the Fox network in a Saturday night timeslot. As the name implies, this version pitted two families against one another in lieu of all-kid teams. Teams included two parents and two children. Families cycled through the same segments as in the original Double Dare (Opening Stunt, Physical Challenges, Triva, Obstacle Course) but it was a new plane of funny to watch adults wade through knee-deep slime ravines. The show moved back to Nickelodeon in 1990, where it continued to humiliate parents everywhere through the cunning use of pies.

We also had Super Special Double Dare, which was basically a pared down retooling of Celebrity Double Dare. We had sports stars, Nick stars, and minor celebrities competing for charity. I don't know if it necessarily lived up to its promise of being Super Special, but it was at the very least averagely special.

Unfortunately, the Double Dare book didn't close then. There was actually a Double Dare 2000 version, or as 90s children may better know it, The Version That Shall Not Be Named. Heresy, I tell you. Um, hi, they called the Obstacle Course the Slopstacle Course. Really? Really? They should be ashamed of themselves. Where's my beloved host Marc Summers? What? Relegated to an executive consultant credit? For shame.


Can you believe this was already ten years ago? Depressing, no?

Speaking of Marc Summers, Double Dare and his ever-expanding portfolio of other Nickelodeon hosting duties turned him into the poster child for irony. Unbeknownst to the world (and to Marc, until he was diagnosed at age 43), Summers suffered from obsessive compulsive disorders. Yes, that's right. The man who brought us our daily dose of super sloppiness later went on to co-author the book, "Everything in its Place: My Trials and Triumphs with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."



Double Dare lived on in syndicated reruns for many years following its 1992 cancellation. As Summers remarks in his book, "We had enough episodes on tape to do reruns forever." Indeed, the pure volume of episodes must speak to the high demand for this type of purely entertaining children's television programming. Yes, the show had a trivia question or two thrown in for good measure, but it was far from educational. It taught us something far more valuable: how to have fun and be kids. Oh, and how to dig a flag out of a Super Sloppy Blue Plate Special. I'm still thinking that one's going to come in handy someday.

90s Songs We Did Not Understand (or That Were Pretty Darn Inappropriate for Us to Like) as Children: Volume Two

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Innocence is wasted on the young. As we grow older, we learn the world isn't the squeaky clean playground we grew up believing it to be. The glossy veneer cracks, and we start to see the equivalent of a caravan of ceepy windowless vans filled with lollipop-luring sickos lurking in the shadows. Things start to get real adult, real fast, and there's just no going back to the blissful ignorance of our younger days.

It's a phenomenon that occurs in every generation. Kids hear a song on the radio, they like the rhythm or the music, and suddenly they're shocking adults everywhere by parroting the X-rated lyrics in crowded, conspicuous places. Just a few weeks back I saw a little girl at the mall merrily humming to herself, eventually segueing into, "Let's have some fun/this beat is sick/I want to take a ride on your disco stick." Needless to say, her mother was less than pleased. Mama Gaga looked generally mortified as she tried to convince her sweet little kindergartener to keep that one to herself, but she should at least be comforted by the notion that her daughter didn't mean a word of it. The little girl likes Lady Gaga because she styles her hair like Minnie Mouse and she assumes Gaga's mom doesn't force her to wear pants. It's not a philosophical alignment, it's a matter of naive juvenile taste and general wardrobe envy.

Like that little girl, so many of us likely humiliated our parents by singing what we thought were our favorite songs in busy public spaces filled with their tongue-clucking judgmental peers. We didn't mean anything by it; we didn't even marginally comprehend what we were saying. In fact, in many cases we got the illicit lyrics wrong, which made the songs all the more confusing to us as we got older and tried to unwrap their elusive meanings. For the longest time, I thought the lyrics to Ludacris's "What's Your Fantasy" were "Backseat, windows up/that's the way I like my truck." I was always sort of wondering how he could drive it if he was stuck sitting in the back. Honestly, I wasn't even that young when it came out, I just couldn't understand the words. When the song comes up on my iTunes on shuffle, I realize the entire song is a full-out graphic description. How I missed that one as a kid is a testament to the ramifications of abstinence-only sex education.

We all have those "Aha!" moments when it all comes together and we wash away the sweet innocence of youth. After reading up on some of these song lyrics, I feel like I need to wash away more than that; many of them may necessitate a cold shower. Maybe you were all far more streetwise than I at a young age, but I'm willing to guess there was some level of misunderstanding somewhere along the way. At the least, they were sure to have made our parents cringe hearing us singing along to these songs on the radio.






Crash Into Me (Dave Matthews Band)



What's more romantic than a song about a peeping tom? In his appearance on VH1's Storytellers, Matthews explained the song was about a guy watching a woman through her window. Sweet, right? The lyrics weren't exactly enigmatic; it all should have been pretty clear had I not been in elementary school at the time. I mean, "Hike up your skirt a little more/and show the world to me" isn't exactly great metaphor.

On an aside, Clear Channel Communications included this song on its memorandum to radio stations regarding lyrically questionable songs in light of the September 11th attacks. Abit of a stretch, right? It would be one thing if a song titled "Crash Into Me" was written from the point of view of a building, but this seems like an unnecessarily sensitive precaution.



Touch Myself (DiVinyls)



I know, this one isn't exactly subtle, but not all of us were savvy enough to realize two and two made four. I have no idea how this one got past the censors, but I distinctly remember doing a talent show dance to this song at summer camp. To be fair, it was the year Austin Powers came out and this was one of the few CDs our bunk had on hand, but really. We saw absolutely nothing wrong with it, but someone probably should have.



Closer (Nine Inch Nails)



To be fair, the radio edits on "Closer" were pretty extensive. Most of us had no idea that we didn't understand it until we heard an uncut version of the song. Looking at it from an adult perspective, it sounds to be about a man who attempts to escape his life through sex. "I want to feel you from the inside" should probably have been a clue, but I always thought "You bring me closer to God" meant it was a religious song.



Gin and Juice (Snoop Dogg)



I'm surprised there were any words left in the song once it was cleaned up for radio play. As a kid, I was almost positive I knew all the words to this song. It was only when I started hearing it at college parties that I realized all those muted-out spots from the radio contain actual lyrics. Who knew?



I'll Make Love to You (Boyz II Men)



Perhaps it's not so much that we didn't understand this one, but the fact that it was so inappropriately played as a slow dance song at bar mitzvahs and middle school dances. Who thinks this is a good snowball song for 11-13 year olds? I can just imagine the parents or teachers on the outskirts of the dance floor, looking on in horror as we swayed arythmically to this song. At least we were still at that age where a slow dance meant maximum distance between couples with awkward ramrod straight arms. We weren't considering the meaning, we were too busy trying not to notice the unfortunate height difference between the middle school girls and boys.


She Talks to Angels (Black Crowes)



This song definitely has a melancholy feel to it, even to a less-than-perceptive kid. Still, I never gave second thought to the meaning behind it. I just thought this chick talked to angels. Very spiritual, you know? Obviously it ran a little deeper than that, examining a woman who lost a child and turned to drugs for escape. After all these years, I never put that together. It's something of a revelation. I knew the song was sad, sure, but it runs much deeper than we ever could have realized as children.


Feels So Good (Mase)

No joke, here he is performing "Feels So Good" live on All That. For kids. Yes, it's an edited version, but those are 12-year olds rocking out in the front row

I distinctly remember buying this CD single in 6th grade and singing along to it at sleepovers with my friends. Someone would belt out, "Bad, bad, bad, boy, you make me feel so gooood" and the others would chime in on backup on "You know you make me feel so good, oh, you know you make me feel so good." We were pretty naive to the actual connotations of the lyrics, so I'm glad we could never quite understand the verses. Mumbling along is a whole lot better than hearing a 12-year old rap, "I'd hit everything from Cancun to Grant's Tomb." I still do rather like that that part that goes, "Do Mase get the ladies? Yeah, Yeah." It really is pretty catchy.


What's Your Fantasy (Ludacris)



Okay, okay, this one is pushing it. It came out in 2000, so there's almost no way any of us could have missed the subject matter on this one though we might not have been totally clear on all of the graphic references. This song got all kinds of specific. I'm still not sure I understand all of it.



Pony (Ginuwine)



I think they used to play this one at our local roller rink during birthday parties. I guess I should just be relieved that they didn't use it for a couples' skate. It's pretty explicit, so it must be a testament to the innocence of my 10-year old self. I'm not sure if they bleeped any of it or what, but my research (read: Googling) indicates that the chorus goes, "If you're horny, let's do it/ride it, my pony/my saddle's waiting/come and jump on it." Is it too embarrassing to admit I really thought it was about a guy and his pony? I was still at an age where owning a pony was the ultimate goal, so it's not that off base.


There She Goes (The La's, later covered by Sixpence None the Richer)



Upon first listen, this song sounds fairly innocent. According to the La's, it's strictly PG rated, but the rumors seem pretty convincing. "There She Goes" sounds like it's about a woman, but closer inspection of the lyrics gives us reason to believe it may be about heroin use instead. You know, "...racing through my brain/pulsing through my vein/no one else can heal my pain" and all that. The La's denied the rumor, and the public might be guilty of overspeculation, but it's definitely not something we would have picked up on as kids.


Anytime, Any Place (Janet Jackson)



Looking back, I think that the PSA-style caveat at the end of the music video should have tipped us off. It said, "Any time, any place...be responsible." To a child, that means pick up your toys and don't spend all of your allowance on ice cream. How were we to know it was a cleverly incorporated safe sex campaign?



They say you can't go back, and looking as these songs now proves that all too well. It's nice to think there was once a time when all of these references had yet to corrupt our impressionable young minds. We were free to sing out as loud as we wanted without having a clue what we were saying. Adults everywhere may have been horrified to hear us spewing this filth, but most of us were none the wiser.

Romeo + Juliet

Don't forget to entire the Children of the 90s Ultimate Nostalgia-Fest 2010 Giveaway! It's open until Wednesday, February 17. Click here to see rules and enter for your chance to win some fun Goosebumps, BSC, Magic Eye, Lisa Frank, Pete and Pete, and more!

There's no better way to tick off the purists than to come up with some newfangled punk rock version of their treasured masterpiece and market it to teenagers. Really, nothing will get these staunch traditionalists fuming like the infusion of popular youth culture into their beloved classics. It seems their assessment of art as timeless isn't always compatible with timeliness. Sure, they might think it nice to renew an entire generation's appreciation for classical drama, but I doubt they were on board with the assertive trendiness of it all.

If you're going to fiddle with the original, chances are your resultant work will be pretty divisive. Some people are just more open to change than others. In the case of 90s adolescents, though, I the probability was far greater that they were more open to the notion of Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. Throw in a couple of attractive young stars and teenagers are willing to overlook the fact that it's the same book they've been struggling with in their 9th grade English class. Pump up the rock music loud enough and we can just about tune out the iambic pentameter altogether.


The whole thing plays out sort of like a fast-paced music video, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. It might sound like Shakespeare lite, but director Baz Luhrman sticks pretty firmly to the original verse. If he'd reworked the script into slangy teenspeak-addled fluff, the effect wouldn't be quite so jarring. Instead, Luhrman simply plucks the Shakespearean characters from their Verona setting and conveniently deposits them in the surreal modern Miami-area Verona Beach. We've got guns, we've got fast cars, and we've got more "thees" and "thous" than we know what to do with. Luhrman throws the 16th and 20th centuries in a blender and gave us a delicious (and to be honest, occasionally fruity) mixture of new and old.

Like I said, it wasn't for everybody. It may not have been your particular vial of poison. Whatever your personal taste, you have to admit that it quickly morphed into a cultural phenomenon. It's hard to think of a Shakespearean tragedy as emblematic of young people in the 90s, but Luhrman's iconic updated adaptation seemed to pull it off. It was almost aggressively hip with its attractive young stars, loud music, and a drag queen Mercutio. In short, it struck a chord with young people because we had a lot in common with the film: it was the same thing people have enjoyed for generations, but it still managed to piss off adults. It was the story of our lives. You know, minus the whole star cross'd lovers bit.



Watch that trailer and tell me you don't find it just a tiny bit cool. Even critics have got to grudgingly concede that Luhrman managed to put a uniquely trendy spin on the original. It takes some pretty flowy creative juices to cast the Capulets and Montagues into gangs feuding over corporate industry turf. They may not be able to dance like their West Side Story counterparts, but they make up for it with a wealth of dramatic violence. With their sword-brand guns, of course.

The movie opens with a newscaster reporting on the star-crossed lovers, quickly segueing into a quick-paced montage of our main characters. We meet the Montagues and Capulets, but they're not quite the families we remmber from English class:


Romeo + Juliet Opening
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Things slow down a bit when our heroes get their requisite cinematic meet-cute at a masquerade party. They spot each other across an aquarium, and plunge immediately into headstrong, family-defying love. Claire Danes looks ethereal and beautiful, and Leo looks every bit as handsome as in any of his many 90s Bop! magazine appearances. It's all very romantic and subdued, especially when compared to the rest of the film's breakneck sense of urgency.



To anyone who's read or even heard of the play, what's in store for our doomed lovers doesn't come as much of a surprise. Juliet is betrothed to Paris, who doesn't seem like such a punishment when you consider he's played by Paul Rudd. Actually the casting choices in general always sort of amused me. I like Brian Dennehy as Romeo's father, but it always sort of odd to think that Romeo and Tommy Boy have the same dad. But alas, I digress. Juliet and Father Laurence hatch what they think to be a foolproof plan, but Romeo misunderstands and presumes Juliet dead. In this version, she actually wakes up and sees him after he took the poison. It's all very serious and somber until Claire Danes breaks into the fakest crying I have ever heard in my life. I love the movie and I'm a fan of Claire Danes, but that just can't go without mention. It's criminally bad.




This has become something of a love-it or hate-it kind of movie. When it came out, I loved it without question. It was edgy and cool and the cameras moved all over the place really really fast, so I was pretty sure it spoke to me on a personal level. To view it more objectively now in the more boring and analytical adult sense, I see where people find fault. I'd say if you're a naturally critical person or a purist, there's not a lot of wiggle room for liking this one. Conversely, if you're the type who is more willing to get caught up in the moment, it's far likelier you're a fan.

Romeo + Juliet performed well in theaters despite the mixed reviews. Some critics praised the film's originality and talented young stars. Others were not quite so won over by the film. Roger Ebert went so far as to remark, "The desperation with which it tries to 'update' the play and make it 'relevant' is greatly depressing." If anything, this might have just make us love the movie with greater ferocity. After all, isn't that the definitive sign of youth culture? If adults hate something, teenagers have an automatic responsibility to love it. If Romeo and Juliet could act against their parents' disapproval, the least we could do was pay homage by liking Luhrman's version.

Memorable 90s Game Commercials: Jingles That Will Occupy Valuable Brainspace for Eternity

Don't forget to entire the Children of the 90s Ultimate Nostalgia-Fest 2010 Giveaway! It's open until Wednesday, February 17. Click here to see rules and enter for your chance to win some fun Goosebumps, BSC, Magic Eye, Lisa Frank, Pete and Pete, and more!

A catchy advertising jingle can be a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it's a surefire way to ensure that your product is a memorable one. If you've got consumers humming your commercial tune as they pass your item in the store, you know you've effectively set up camp somewhere deep within their hippocampus. Their limbic systems are undoubtedly clogged with your over-exaggerated guitar riffs and exclamation point-punctuated lyrics. On the inverse, your key demographic will probably grow to find your TV spot so irritating that they've developed fantasies of setting your company's ad recording studio ablaze in a fury of arsonist proportions. To sum all that up, you've got a good chance of coming up with something viewers will remember, but a far slimmer chance to coming up with something they'll like.

Sometimes when I'm trying to balance my checkbook or divide 1399034 by 3324235 in my head, I shake my fist heavenward, cursing the ad exec who jammed up my valuable brain real estate with his hook-laden commercial jingles. I'm convinced that if I'd never seen that Crossfire commercial, I'd be able to fill up an abandoned lecture hall chalkboard Good Will Hunting style, no problem. You see, the problem isn't in my own finite mental capacity. It's in the commercial jingle squatters who've built up makeshift shantytowns all over my brain's memory centers. We all could have been great thinkers of our generation had we never heard a Hungry Hungry Hippos conga.

While there are multiple offenders in the case of our brains v. trivial television knowledge, the Most Wanted would probably be children's commercials. In this case, TV spots for children's games. Take a quick stroll with me down memory lane and see if you can't recall these catchy jingles. You might no longer be able to memorize the national foods of northern European countries, but dammit you can break into jingle with minimal provocation. That may just have to be the best we can hope for at this advanced stage of memory blockage.


Twister: The Hot Spot!



I know I say this a lot, but this commercial is just so 90s. The extreme music, the quick shot-switching camera tricks, that corny wavy crayoned-on graphic; all signs point to 90s. It's like we couldn't come up with a special effect or camera trick without having to immediately incorporate it into every film-related endeavor. The lyrics are pretty convincing, though: "There's excitement goin' round/there's a party goin' down/Twister! The hot spot!" Get it? A party going down? Oh, 90s jingle composers. Is there no end to your double meaning witticisms?



Perfection: Pop! Goes Perfection


Just watching this commercial is enough to get my heart pumping fast. It takes me right back to the frantic assembly of the board before it scared the bejeezus out of me with it's unprovoked popping. Luckily, I never came down with that condition the guy in the commercial has. I've yet to see any geometric pieces expand and retract from within my splayed chest cavity. When we get to that point, I think I'll have more to worry about than trying to deprogram that jingle from my brain.



Don't Wake Daddy: Dooooon't Waaaake Daddy!



Now here's a great game: try to sneak into the kitchen to steal food without tipping off the man of the house. No wonder our nation has such a high obesity rate when our board games are like how-to manuals on sneaking chips and cookies. The jingle gives us a stage-whispered "Is he gonna wake up?" on repeat, but it seems sort of like an empty threat. Daddy still never gets out of bed or takes off his floppy nightcap. He never chases me 'round the board for my cookies. The game is inherently flawed.



Mr Bucket: The Balls Pop Out of my Mouth


This commercial took a lot of mocking for obvious reasons. I mean, really. They couldn't think of any alternate phrase for their namesake bucket to sing than "I'm Mr Bucket! The balls pop out of my mouth!" They're not even trying.



Hungry Hungry Hippos: We're Hungry, Hungry Hippos!


Speaking of games that may have played a part in our nation's eating patterns. The entire point of the game is to gobble up criminal quantities of grub. It's not exactly a health-conscious message, but then again maybe marbles are a nutritionally sound food. And anyway, who doesn't like a good conga? We're hungry, hungry hippos! We're hungry, hungry hippos! It's pretty contagious.



Lite Brite: Turn on the Magic of Shining Light



Okay, you got me. This isn't technically a game, per se, but the song has been stuck in my head since circa 1994 and I just couldn't bear the burden alone anymore. Thanks for saddling your share.



Connect Four: Go For It!



After seeing this commercial, I couldn't wait to hang out with my expressive, wisecracking Connect Four checkers. Imagine my shock to find mine were defective. They never said a thing.



Crossfire: You'll Get Caught Up in the (Crossfire!)


I've got to hand it to these ad people. They really manage to make a moderately fun board game look a fast-paced superhero action adventure. I always thought the song went, "Crossfire, you'll get caught up in the," as if they were filing it in the library's card catalog. "Let's see, let's see...It's by last name first, so that would be 'Crossfire comma you'll get caught up in the."



Kerplunk: (Insert Badass Rap Here)


If there's a more quintessentially 90s commercial out there, let me know, because I'm pretty sure this is it. These kids are having almost too much fun. You've got to question if Kerplunk really has the power to make that little girl throw her head back and cackle in pure ecstasy. Maybe she just really likes the rap. I know it does it for me. "Start with the sticks! Like so! Makin' a pit! Where the marbles go!"



Guess Who: Can You Guess Who?


Thank goodness for that disclaimer at the end: "Game cards do not actually talk." Could you imagine what a letdown we'd have gotten if we'd just believed our game cards would spontaneously spring to life upon initiating game play? The notion is almost too exciting to bear. Fortunately, our dream-crushing friends over at Milton Bradley have made sure to quash any sense of childlike whimsy and imagination.



Mousetrap: The Fun is Catching!


The fun is catching. Hmm. I mean, I get it, yes, very clever, but it sounds like we all need to wear swine-flu facemasks to engage in a simple round of mouse-trapping. I did always like those scheming cartoon mice at the beginning of the ad. They seem so determined to chart their route, I almost felt a little guilty thwarting their well-laid plans.


It's a testament to these ad campaigns that we can still hum along to their corny jingles fifteen-odd years down the road. I suppose there are worse things to have squatter's rights on your mindspace. You might not be able to solve a quadratic equation without a bit of scrap paper, but at least you'll have some good internal theme music going while you try to work it out.