Lisa Frank

I feel a compelling need to apologize to my male readers for starting this week off in such an exceptionally girly manner. I promise that when the mood strikes, I will write about something fist-poundingly masculine, but for now, I have a serious urge to document the adorable way a kitten looks when trapped in a high-top sneaker. So for the moment, please bear with me; just understand that this bear will be a painting panda wearing overalls.

It's a pretty well-known fact that young girls will ooh and ahh over adorable animals unprompted. Actually, as an adult I must admit I occasionally indulge this need as well, but the appeal of psychedelic coloring has faded significantly. To a child, however, aesthetics are key. In many ways, children are naturally materialistic and superficial because their brains have yet to develop to their full potential in the critical thinking/empathy departments. They need no explanation for why something has value, and they have an aching need to make their peers jealous. In short, they're a marketer's dream.

If you were at least vaguely femininely inclined and desired any sort of non-shunning in your elementary school years, you knew that stickers were the key to your social survival. As long as you owned them and traded them fairly, you were in. But God help you if you even considered unsticking it from its original backing for any purpose outside of regulation-grade sticker-booking it. That was the height of sticker sacrilege, and your status on the sticker social circuit would undoubtedly plummet from such amateur sticker collecting behavior.

Lisa Frank was so much more than stickers, though. It was, if such a thing could possibly exist, a school supplies empire. I'd like to find out which ad agency they used, because truthfully their marketing bordered on transcendent. Although these acid-trip colored animal splattered folders and pencils could essentially sell themselves on visual merit alone, they managed to convince us that we wanted, nay, needed, the entire collection. Just watching this commercial brings me back to a time when my determination to collect every available piece of Lisa Frank merchandise was unquenchable. Also, I owned the spokesgirl's hat in both denim and black velvet.




Collect them all, indeed. Let us briefly explore the products of the warped minded designers whose drug-induced color scheme choices and whimsical animal worlds captivated children everywhere:

Ballerina Bunnies. Graceful, garlanded rabbits who appear to be performing complicated on pointe ballet in a meadow. I will concede that this is probably their natural habitat, but I want to know for whom they are performing at dusk in the wilderness in full costume.


Painter Panda. For some reason, the people at Lisa Frank insisted time and time again that motor skill-deficient cuddly critters possessed some great capacity for artistic expression. Or maybe one of the designers was just especially skilled at rendering paintbrushes.


Hip Hop Bears. I could not actually ascertain their official LF names, but this substitution will certainly suffice. May I just say that those are certainly some hardcore musical ursedaens. I especially like the way that one on the left in the sweet piano shades is rocking the one-strap-on-one-strap-off overall look that so many of us were so fond of. And of course, we all know the true emblem of being legitimately hip hop is emblazoning the phrase on any available patch of fabric.


Roary and Friends. In this drug-addled designer's tripped-out mind, polar bears and puffins frolic together on the candy glaciers in the psychedelic- sparkly rainbow night sky. The puffins seem pretty ambivalent to the relationship, but Roary is giving us a mix between "get-me-out-here"and bedroom eyes.


Love-expressing penguins. Children of the 90s didn't need Morgan Freeman's soulful deep-voiced documentary narration to learn about penguin monogamy. We learned the virtue of penguin love from our trapper-keeper covers, thank you very much.



Hunter. That's a pretty bad-ass name for such a lovable log-hugging little cuddlepuff superimposed over a sparkly/traumatic LSD-experience background.


Hollywood bear. Enough glitter to make a disco ball blush. He seems to be conducting something, as Hollywood-based bears are wont to do.


I have also recently discovered that unbeknownst to me, I am a Lisa Frank character. I curse the people at Lisa Frank for not granting me this type of playground leverage as a child, but also applaud them for recognizing that my parents did not just make up my name as many people have rudely suggested.

Screenshot via LisaFrank.com

Looking at Mara, the Lisa Frank character, is like looking in a mirror. Well, a very poorly tinted fun house mirror if the 1970s and 80s had thrown up on my body and hair respectively. And look, she dislikes bad vibes! My god, it's like they can read my mind. Actually, it looks like she can, as apparently she is slightly psychic.

While I may not have been able to bask in the glory of an eponymous Lisa Frank folder-gracing character, I was pretty content to settle for my hugging penguins and house-painting pandas. If they could hypercolor it and slap the image on a pencil or a party hat, by God, we would be there. And if you could somehow procure the largest and best character-featuring stickers, well then, you just about owned recess.


Check it out:
Lisa Frank Online
Lisa Frank MySpace Skin, for those of you who are into that kind of thing
Buy Lisa Frank Stickers Online

Electronic Mall Madness

There are only so many viable ways to ensure that young generations sufficiently absorb capitalist values to grow into eventual obedient consumers. The young and idealistic must be programmed to possess superficial values and a strong sense of materialism like the generations of buyers and sellers who preceded them. The real question is, how?

Of all the un
likely sources, the Milton Bradley Corporation seemed to have the answer.

They called it Mall Madness.



For those of you who managed to survive the 90s unscathed by Milton Bradley's sadistic form of capitalist indoctrination, let me paint a picture for you. If you were at any time under the spell of this board game, you will likely want to purchase this picture by the end of reading this post.

The preceding description may be a tad harsh, but it's difficult to deny the deliberate value placement this game projected onto impressionable young minds. As someone who will freely admit her mother denied her the purchase of this game following a particularly potent temper tantrum in the game aisle of Target, I can understand its allure. The 90s toy industry was big on gender stereotyping, and board games were no exception. A 1991 article in Discount Store News offers the following bit of insight into early-90s toy and game marketing:

"Boys play Nintendo," a Parker Brothers spokesman said. "Girls play board games."

As much truth as there may have been to this, it is a bit disturbing nonetheless to observe the sweeping generalizations made by toy companies in an effort to neatly separate children into marketable demographics. Mall Madness was a product of this marketing philosophy, and dictated to girls that it was acceptable to be vapid, superficial, materialistic, and openly money-hounding. The real problem was, I wanted to be all of these things. The commercial seemed to speak to me specifically. How exactly did they get inside my brain to produce a commercial tailor-made to meet my shop-till-I-drop needs? They were selling us a set of admittedly questionable values, and we were more than happy to purchase it with the adorable fake credit cards included in the box.


There have been a few subsequent reincarnations of this beloved late 80s/early 90s board game, so I believe this official description from BoardGames.com comes from the most recent one. However, its uncanny similarity serves to show just how far we have not come since the game's original release.

Talking! Electronic!

Find the steals and deals! And see what's in store for you!

Hey girls! Don't miss the big SALE!

Grab your cash and hit the mall! Get your shopping list ready and race from store to store. Quickly find the best deals and make your purchases. But remember, not every shopping trip goes smoothly. Sometimes an item you want is not in stock. Or you must go to the ATM for more cash. First shopper to make 6 purchases and get to the right destination wins!

Taking Mall Center: "Hey, this is on clearance!" "Cha Ching!" "Oh, we're out of stock, try again later"

Even just reading this description makes me want to go out and purchase it. The big SALE? Deals? Purchases? ATM? CLEARANCE? Sign me up!

This game told us exactly how we as girls were supposed to behave and what types of things we were supposed to care about. While in retrospect this should probably alarm and concern all of us, I'm sure the majority of you--like me--are out there thinking, "Oh, yeah! I loved that game!" It's hard to be outraged over something that you once coveted with near-religious fervor. Even the games instructions illustrate just how stupid they thought young girls were. Observe, an excerpt:

The Voice of the Mall will say, “Hi Red!...Hi Blue!...Hi Green!...Hi Yellow!” When you hear
your color called, immediately press the Move button. This lets the computer know which shoppers
are playing.

EXAMPLE. You are the red shopper, Anne is the green shopper and Donna is the yellow shopper. As
soon as you hear “Hi Red,” press the Move button. Next you will hear “Hi Blue!” Since no shopper
is blue, no one presses the Move button. Anne presses the Move button immediately after hearing
“Hi Green!” Donna presses the Move button as soon as she hears “Hi Yellow!”

The Voice will repeat each unselected color one more time — just in case a shopper forgot to press
the Button when his or her color was called. If you hear your color repeated, press the Move button.
 

They probably could have left it at that first paragraph, but no, that would have been needlessly simple and comprehensible. They had to assign these imaginary characters names, because no way would these girls ever figure out who Player 1 and Player 2 were without them.

Also, this creepy unexplained disembodied electronic Voice will actually repeat itself just in case any of you girls are too slow to have partaken in this ridiculously simple task in the first place. Got that, or do I need to explain it again? Milton Bradley would probably vote "yes".

Not only would the Voice tell you what to buy and where to go, it also informed you of your most basic needs. "You're hungry," it would declare. "Meet a friend at the Pizza Place."

Or, alternately, and arguably more straightforward, "Go to the restroom." You almost have to wonder to what extent game designers assumed girls would actually get up from their spots on the slumber party floor to take an actual bathroom break upon hearing this command. I think they may have built in an extended pause in the recording expressly for this purpose.

Or my personal favorite, "You left your lights on. Go to the parking lot." Not only are girls only good for spending money and buying useless material goods, they're also air-headed bimbos who can't be trusted to adequately perform even the simplest of everyday tasks. You've got our number, Milton Bradley (call us on those Dream Phones you gave us anytime!).

I suppose one could argue this game occasionally has the effect of teaching children how to budget, but the noticeably irresponsible level of spending is not exactly to its credit (yes, credit. Like the cards. I'm all for subtle humor). However, the game's written instructions actually drop heavy hints on how to circumvent overdrawn bank balances by highlighting some of the underlying glitches in the game's programming. If you make a purchase and then find that you actually had no money in your account, you can simply return that purchase to keep the money that is in no way rightfully yours. There's nothing likely clearly outlining the means of deception and greed to a couple of enthusiastic shopping-crazy 9 year-old girls.

The crowning glory of the game, however, is the inordinate amount of physical assembly it requires.

In light of all of their good-natured gender stereotyping, it seems the kindpeople at Milton Bradley were banking on the notion that these Mall Madness-purchasing households contained a father or some brothers, or else this game would never be up and running.

Would You Rather: 90s Edition

Yesterday afternoon, my boyfriend and I were browsing a local Barnes and Noble for general bemusement purposes and I stumbled upon what can only be described as my new favorite miniature book (other than this book, which I also found to be disproportionately hilarious). As I read (well, if you can consider following my boyfriend around while shouting questions aloud in between bouts of irrepressible laughter "reading") this book, I had a sudden flash of insight. Okay, well, to be fair, my boyfriend actually suggested the idea to me (probably in an effort to quell the aforementioned following/loud reading in public areas/unstoppable guffawing), so I should probably make some effort assign him credit where it is due. (In case you missed it, that was it.)

The book is Would You Rather? by Justin Heimberg and David Gomberg, two Bergs after my own heart in terms of non-sequitor absurdist humor. I am sure that many of you have previously encountered this book in some capacity and are unimpressed by my so-called "discovery" of a title that has lined bookstore shelves since 1997, but this will not stop me from touting its glorious hilarity and ripping off its general underlying premise in a completely copyrightedly acceptable way.

Without futher ado, I proudly introduce the frequency as-of-yet-to-be-determined Children of the Nineties feature, Would you Rather? (tailored 90s-style for your nostalgic enjoyment):


Would you rather...

Have the resourceful ability to conveniently stop time in a Zach Morris "Freeze!"-style fashion

or

Possess Alex Mack's toxic waste-induced mutant powers of transformation in a puddle of movable metallic goo, telekinesis, and long-distance electronic zappage?

Possibilities to Ponder: Ability to plead your case directly to the audience, chance to briefly rearrange others in compromising positions, short-listing for Capri Sun commercials.

Explain your reasoning.

Power Wheels

As kids, there were certain outrageously expensive toys that we just couldn't help salivating over. With a limited understanding of cost-benefit analysis, it was difficult to understand our parents' decision to feed us in lieu of providing us with lavish, overpriced luxury toys. There was always one kid on the block whose parents would buy him every hot new toy that hit the market, and it was the rest of our jobs to whine mercilessly, "But STEVIE has one!"

Perhaps at age six, logic was not our strong suit. While I couldn't tell you offhand what my once-coveted 1993 Fisher Price/Mattel Power Wheels Barbie Jeep cost, a quick trip the current Power Wheels website reveals that a 2009 Barbie Cadillac Escalade Custom Edition (and yes, this exists) costs $374. I'm sorry, maybe you didn't catch that. Three hundred and seventy-four dollars. For those of us who know have some basic grasp of monetary value and/or are faced monthly with important financial choices, we can hopefully all recognize that this is absolutely insane. I don't think my parents made that large of a down payment on my first real car.

The 2009 Barbie Escalade

Power Wheels were remarkable little battery-powered machines that allowed children a level of neighborhood street-roaming autonomy that bordered on potentially negligent. A closer examination of the Power Wheels brand indicates that their vehicles are typically marketed toward children ages 12 months to seven years. I don't know about you, but one year after I pop out an infant, I don't plan on letting him tear recklessly through the cul-de-sac in a miniature Ford Mustang. These children can barely walk, and we're letting them drive? Maybe it's just me, but something about this seems a tad askew.


Regardless of my current staunch anti-insanely-dangerous-toys stance, back in the day I would have killed one of the neighbor kids for one of these babies. Really, I would have. I'm sure there was one bad apple that no one really liked and wouldn't be missed. In this fantasy, the kid's last will and testament would be read publicly near the swings at the local playground and I would receive his now displaced Power Wheels Kawasaki Ninja rider. It was a beautiful dream, but unfortunately none of the kids in my neighborhood were rich enough or had the type of buy-your-affection parents to warrant such a glorious, though ultimately tragic, outcome.

While nowadays parents make a big fuss over gender neutral toys, dress their children in yellow, and encourage boys to play with dolls to theoretically increase future sensitivity, back in the day we had more clear cut lines of gender differentiation. If a boy ordered a Happy Meal, he received a Hot Wheels toy. For a girl, the Happy Meal contained a Barbie figurine. It didn't matter what your preference was, toy marketers chalked it up to basic biology and that was that. This theory was certainly a cornerstone of the Power Wheels marketing campaign, with distinct gender specific targeted ads.

For girls, we had Barbie, our alleged doll role model and favorite cheerleader/soccer player/teacher/fairy princess/dentist we knew. What can I say, she was a pretty accomplished gal. We can only assume that on the merit of all of the aforementioned achievements, she was rewarded with a significant toy car endorsement deal:





For those of you stuck at work or othrewise incapacitated on a watching-videos-without-being-caught-slacking front, let me transcribe the ad song's lyrics for you:

The buggy's all packed, so here we go
Headin' for the beach with my best friend Flo
My Barbie Beach Buggy's really puttin' on a show!

Pow Pow Power Wheels!
Pow Power Wheels!
C'mon Flo, let's really go!

Pow Pow Power Wheels!
Pow Power Wheels!
Power Wheeeeeeeeeeels!
Now I'm drivin' for real!

Power Wheels Barbie Beach Buggy. What a way to go!

...(Adult supervision required).

This really begs the question, how can I get set up with a lucrative children's toy ad campaign writing gig? I can't imagine less work going into, well, anything. I guess they knew how much this product spoke for itself in terms of desirability, allowing them to rhyme the word "go" with itself two additional times. Nonetheless, watching this ad even as an adult, I'm completely sold on it. I could care less what she's singing, just insert me into the Beach Buggy and I'll be on my merry way.

For the more glamorous first graders, Power Wheels had a different Barbie model:




First things first. This thing comes with a car phone? Most of our parents couldn't afford these amenities yet, and we're giving them to six-year olds? It sounds as if this was recorded by the same jingle singer as the first, we can only assume they paid her for a two-fer. This is essentially a remixed version of the first song, only this time, our girl got some lines. The only problem? She's six and an adult woman's voice is coming out of her mouth. I do love the way her mom sort of shakes her head at her daughter as if to say, "Oh, you!" Hey Mom, you bought the damn Lamborghini, don't act so chagrined by her endless gloating. On an aside, the star's Blossom-style hat was a major staple of my wardrobe at the time.

And for those of you out there with a Y chromosome, well, this one's for you:




The gender role stereotyping is a tad over the top here. You're not in a crappy little kid's battery-powered Jeep, you're part of the CHEIF ADVENTURE TEAM! I can see why they'd want children with their ineffective slow vehicles on board for such an important rogue underground organization. For some reason, these ads also feature adult voices emanating from children's bodies. I don't quite get what was going on here. Was this supposed to represent the required adult supervision notably absent from the ad? Could these kids not be trusted with their two-word lines? We may never know. All we know is how bad-ass those kids look with those walkie-talkies. For some reason, they also drive through an oddly assembled configuration of doves. Had they just been released for a wedding? Again, this is a question perhaps best left to professionals. We can only assume that's highly classified top secret CHIEF ADVENTURE TEAM business.

It wasn't all fun and games with these marvelous machines, though. Lucky for us who are still pouting over our parents' inability to magically produce one of these under a Christmas tree or at a birthday party, these things certainly had their dark side. What's a good 90s toy without some form of parent-sponsored reckless endangerment?


In 1991, the 18 Volt Porsche 911 was recalled for defective parts. Before we ask what people are thinking buying their children a miniature version of a car with a six-figure price tag, let's examine what exactly went wrong here. A defect in the foot pedal could force the car to stay running while disabling the braking function. I don't know about you, but there's something decidedly humorous in the image of a five year-old child barreling at top speed (at a maximum rate of two point five miles per hour) with no end in sight. An honorable mention for hilarious visuals is awarded to the once-distracted parents, now chasing their kids down the street and attempting to extract them from the miniature vehicle before it makes a crash landing into a freestanding mailbox.

Power Wheels issued a second recall in 1998 on a different model for potentially faulty battery connections. The most amazing thing about this recall was in the instructions it gave for repairs; they required you to bring the vehicle in to an "authorized Power Wheels Service center" What, are there many garages out there performing black market repairs on kids' toy cars? Is it that difficult to regulate the industry?

As you venture into adulthood, the choice to buy or not to buy a Power Wheels car for your child is yours and yours alone. The real question is, is it worth dipping in to the college fund to allow a 12 month-old infant a shot at driving practice?

Seven Things...

Just an Everyday Bitch tagged me as a fellow Queen of All Things Awe-summm. I'm honored, thrilled, and still salivating over the glorious pronunciation guide-type spelling of "awesome".

The rules are that I am supposed to list seven things that make me (in this case, all children of the nineties) awe-summm and then pass the award on to seven other people who you think are fabulously awesummm.

Seven things that make children of the nineties Awe-summm:

1) We had it first.

Flannel. Headbands with enormous bows. Jelly sandals. These kids today may be unaware, but we know the truth.

2) Nickelodeon.

I know it's been said time and time again, but reiteration never hurt. The network that gave us a talking popsicle stick, Weinerville, and Roundhouse will forever live in our hearts. Okay, well, it's still on the air, but it's magic has faded substantially.

3) Young adult book series.

Sweet Valley High. Animorphs. Babysitter's Club. Goosebumps. A million Full House series. These book people knew how to market.

4) Pluto.

In our day, we knew to call a planet a planet.

5) The internet (1.0).

Children growing up today will never experience the magic and wonder of listening to that dial-up modem noise as they watch the running AOL logo bring them to pure chat room heaven.

6) The economy

I think the picture speaks for itself.

7) Irresponsible advertising

Why not sell cigs to kids with a super suave cartoon camel? Or use scantily clad teenagers in provocative poses to sell jeans? It made perfect sense at the time.

I am pleased to bestow this award to:

Fidgeting Gidget

A Look Behind My Eyes

Philly & Me (and I promise I will get back to your tag soon, as soon as I figure out what I'm going to do with it! )

A Thrifty Girl's Guide to the Kitchen

Are You There Youth? It's Me, Nikki

Life is a Marathon

The Wife in Stilettos

If you haven't checked out this blogs yet, they come highly recommended!

Children of the Nineties One-Hit Wonder Mash-Up : 1992

There's no clear set path for how a musical group achieves success and fame. Some are discovered after year of hard work and dedication. Others utilize connection in the music industry to claw their way to the the top.

And sometimes, it's probably just a fluke.

These are some of those flukes.

A one-hit-wonder is an interesting phenomenon. One would expect that if an act once had the power to captivate listeners worldwide, musical lightning would likely strike twice. Once in a while, however, a song comes along that is truly an anomaly. The music and lyrics are in no way exceptional and the band is not particularly talented. It's almost as if these songs manage to fly under the radar completely, sneak quietly onto our Billboard charts when the quality-control guards are dozing, and explode in a maelstrom of misguided publicity and incessant radio play.

1992 was uncommonly notorious on this front. Allow me to be your guide on this lovely tour of one-hit-wonderdom circa 1992:

Right Said Fred: I'm Too Sexy

The song was released in 1991, but was most likely working up the nerve to ask permission for popularity.



That video is pure grade-A 90s ridiculousness. The bikini-clad photographers, the mesh tank tops, the leather studded man jewelry. It's almost too much to bear.

The premise of the song was relatively simple. Imagine yourself a stunning, reflection-worshiping early 90s-era supermodel. You find yourself to be particularly appealing to potential mates, with innumerable positive physical qualities. In fact, in some cases, overly so. Your sexiness has actually surpassed the legal limit and is now rendering you incapacitated on many fronts. While once you were able to participate in normal everyday activities like wearing hats and owning pets, you are now actually too sexy to participate in these activities. Suddenly, diagnosed with this bout of hypersexiness, you are altogether too sexy for:

• Your shirt; this one seems fairly self-explanatory, as your muscular pecs can not be contained by fabric alone. It's likely that excessive body oil also plays a role in this.
• Your party; right, it must get a tad exhausting to brave the adoring crowds in a contained space.
• Your cat; this is a little trickier. As a cat, we can only assume that he or she (let's say he) is not sexually attracted to you. Maybe you just want to ditch the furry feline for something that won't lead others to so readily question your masculinity. Because that mesh tank top isn't dropping any heavy hints.
  
• Your car; let's be real here. The reflection in your rear view mirror is too riskily distracting.
  
• Your hat; I assume when you do your little turn on the catwalk, on the catwalk, do your little turn on the catwalk that you would risk disrupting your head wear.
• Japan, Milan, and New York; too many commoners.
  
• Your love; I'll give it to you, Right Said Fred, this one just makes no sense.
  
• This song; aren't we all?

Sir Mix-a-lot: Baby Got Back

Some songs we love for their subtlety and nuance. This was not one of them.

Sir mix a lot-baby got back
Uploaded by ZICARLOS

Becky's friend is spot-on in this case. That chick does look like one of those rap guy's girlfriends. While no one likes to admit it, you would be hard pressed to find anyone who grew up in the 90s who can not sing this song in its entirety by memory. It's undeniably catchy, but the subject matter is a tad questionable. I have vivid memories of this being played at bar mitzvah parties, which in retrospect seemed to toe the line of inappropriateness. I can only imagine what the bar mitzvah boy's Uncle Moishe thought of this one.

You have to love Sir-Mix-a-Lot's stance and gestures in this video. First of all, as he himself conceded, his unfortunate placement on that giant butt leads to some unsavory comparisons. Throughout the video, though, he looks especially authoritative in a way oddly inconsistent with the video's subject matter. A sort of butt dictator, if you will. At the very least, a butt ambassador.

The imagery in this video is really something else. This is possibly the least-sexy depiction they could have come up with. They're certainly pushing it on the butt-cleavage-esque fruit and vegetable visuals. Do we really need to bring tomatoes and peaches into the picture here?

An adapted version of this song featuring Six Mix-a-Lot himself is currently being featured in a Burger King television campaign. It just goes to show you that even with royalties resulting from constant radio play over 20 years, a one-hit-wonder isn't enough to hold you afloat to a point where you can deny any sell-out friendly source of income.

Speaking of float, if you haven't already, I implore you to check out the Bill Nye parody by "Sure Floats-a-Lot". You might just learn a little something about buoyancy.


Billy Ray Cyrus: Achy Breaky Heart

Once upon a time, Billy Ray was known as more than just Hannah Montana's dad. He had an achy, breaky heart, dammit, and he was eager to share his sordid tale with us in a line dancing-friendly format.


Billy Ray Cyrus - Achy Breaky Heart


That is certainly some business in the front, party in the back ol' Billy Ray has going on there. It could potentially be deemed cheating (though which governing board holds this jurisdiction, we can never be sure) to call this a one-hit wonder as it had actually been written and recorded a year earlier by the lesser-known Marcy Brothers. Released on Billy Ray's album alongside other charming titles as "I'm So Miserable" and "Wher'm I Gonna Live?" (yes, "wher'm") it's not surprising this is the one that fought its way to the top of this wrangled junk heap. Just think, if you can manage to record a hit country song, someday you could play a not-so-glorified version of your washed-up self on a show starring your daughter and have a shot at scoring an E-list celebrity spot on Dancing with the Stars. Reach for the stars, kids.

Of course, the version I was more familiar with was this one:






House of Pain: Jump Around
Everlast, DJ Lethal, and Danny Boy. They sound like a wholesome bunch, eh?

House of Pain - Jump Around
Uploaded by crunk_ship

It's almost difficult to remember this song in the context of its original release because it has become so ubiquitous in movies, TV, ads, and most notably sporting events. The horn intro becomes so deeply embedded in your brain that you can actually hear little residual horn blasts for the next few days after listening to the song. This little ditty features beautiful lyrics like "Muggs is a funk fest/someone's talking junk/ Yo, I'll bust em in the eye/And then I'll take the punks home". I don't know what this means, but it's certainly poetic. If nothing else, the song references Sega, which is certainly enough to win me over.


Wreckx-N-Effect: Rump Shaker

Oh, well, that's a charming way to spell "wrecks". I like all those extra letters you added. Very colorful. And this must be your friend, Effect. Good to meet you both.



Possibly the best part of this one-hit wonder was not in the song itself, but in its fierce Billboard chart competition. Rump Shaker never made it to number one because Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" from The Bodyguard kept slamming it back a spot. I'm guessing lyrics like "all I wanna do is zooma-zoom-zoom-zoom in a boom-boom/shake your rump" weren't quite a well-suited match for Miss Houston's pre-crack-is-whack vocal glory.

The dance moves and wardrobe in this video are to die for. Where's Waldo-esque candy-striped crew neck t-shirt? Check! Arm extension Tae-bo style lifts? Check! Full-bodied pastel windbreaker? Check! The video oozes 90s cheesy hip-hop greatness. The best part is, this song was deemed vulgar and inappropriate by all sorts of moral watchdog groups. If you are unaware, zooma-zoom-zooming in a boom-boom is a bit more technical than they make it sound. While obviously tame compared to today's rap releases, it was controversial nonetheless. On the other hand, they are sporting life jackets in that boat montage, so their messages to kids must not be all bad. Hey, I listened to it and I turned out okay. In a manner of speaking,that is.



1992 was certainly an eclectic year for short-lived music sensations, but each of these briefly popular tunes are admittedly catchy in their own way. Actually, good luck getting through the rest of your day without humming one of these babies to the utter horror of your co-workers, spouses, or roommates. I'm going to put my money on Achy Breaky Heart, but you will have to get back to me on this one.

Koala Yummies

There's something oddly reassuring about a snack that refers to itself in plural as "yummies." Sure, some of our old snack standbys are yummy (singular), but does each individual chip or pretzel convey its own unique yumminess? I think not.

Amongst all of the koala-themed snack foods out there, Koala Yummies managed to distinguish themselves as the premier marsupial-based snack on the market. Dunkaroos were able to secure a precarious second-place position with their kangaroo spokescartoon upon their release four years later, but their mascot could never reach the level of cuddlability of Yummies fame. I mean look at these guys! Could anything cling to a euclaptys tree in a more lovable fashion?


In an age before extensive concerns over high-fructose corn syrup, trans-fats, and preservatives, children were once allowed to consume nutrition-free overprocessed food without the now-requisite wealth of parental concern and intervention. No one seemed particularly concerned over whether these cookies were organically produced or if the company opted to use free-range koalas. 90s parents food fearmongering was fairly tame compared to their 2000s successors, and junk food reigned supreme for parents with even a shred of concern for their children's cafeteria credibility. Parents weren't sending their children off to school with Disney lunchboxes full of tofu nuggets or soy milk juice boxes; they were sending them with carbohydrate-rich festival of tastes that would make today's South Beach, Atkins, and Sugar Busters-dieting parents blush.

Koala Yummies were one of those magical foods that contained absolutely no natural ingredients. There was something particularly satisfying about biting into a cookie with the knowledge that each component of the fantastic taste sensations on your tongue were developed in a lab specifically for your snacking enjoyment. Just imagine, these little guys were created specifically with your unnatural cravings for artificial sweeteners in mind! The packaging heavily featured a rainforest-type theme, which was certainly misleading. Koala Yummies were in no way linked to nature aside from their marsupial likeness and that's the way we wanted it.

For any of you not fortunate enough to remember the fine blend of sweet tastes that made up these confections, allow me to paint a picture for you. Well, perhaps not paint a picture. While we're using metaphors here, I might as well make them related. Allow me to bake a figurative chocolate-filled cookie for you:

Outside: Pure crispy hollow cookie deliciousness all dolled up in the best koala finery a cheap Asian food production company can buy. These yummies had personality: some of them played some sort of ukelele, some ate plates of cookies, and others yet indulged in deep fits of hysterical emotion (pictured below, bottom left)

Inside: We didn't want to let our parents in on this little secret, but the inside was a Halloween-rivaling level of sweet candy ecstasy. While technically these goodies could contain chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry centers, but everyone knew the chocolate ones were truly the epitome of Koala Yumminess.

The packaging was somewhat odd and clearly reflected its Japanese origins through its complicated shape and construction. Rather than coming in an ordinary household-size box or bag, Koala Yummies lived in little cardboard octagonal prisms. There was no explanation offered for this idiosyncratic packaging, but it certainly made it more fun and plausible to play with the Yummies in the context of their three-dimensional stop sign-shaped house. This awkward shape and size meant that while consuming a full package of Koala Yummies was likely not recommended or healthy, it was certainly an easily attainable goal met by countless 90s youngsters.

As with the now-discontinued Dunakroos, 90s children have been experiencing extreme symptoms of Koala Yummy withdrawal since they were pulled from mainstream American markets. There are full sites, blogs, and lengthy forums devoted to the persistent and persevering quest for these tasty little Koala treats. Unfortunately, the public health community has yet to recognize this as a valid addiction worthy of treatment programs and/or methadone supplementation, but it certainly seems to have reach this level of cookie-crazed concern. Strung-out sugar-deficient 20-somethings beg and plead for a black-market source for their favorite discontinued snacks. A cursory Google search for Koala Yummies shows hundreds of requests, petitions, underground tips, and supposed store sightings. These are clearly more than cookies we're dealing with here, they're the snack of a generation.

There have, however, been some major breaks in this former cold case.

Exhibit A:


Exhibit B:


Your eyes do not deceive you. The once-beloved snacks of your childhood are still enjoying relative fame, and not just from doing the occasional Japanese commercial for extra income. Though now known as "Koala's March", these guys do appear suspiciously similar to our coveted Yummies of snack times past. Of course, that disgusting image of gooey, melty centers is a little off, but we can only imagine (read: pray) that this depiction is for illustrative purposes only. If you live near an Asian grocery or market that stocks ethnic specialty fare, you may be in luck.

Beware of imitations, though. The Meiji Seika corporation has been producing notorious knockoffs known in some Yummies-seeking circles as "Hello Panda". Do not be fooled by the octagonal packaging or similarly emoting cartoon animal images. Online Asian Food Grocer describes Hello Pandas as "Chocolate cream filled biscuits that are surprisingly tasty with no oily after taste. Go ahead, try these finger sized biscuits. You wont be disappointed. Excellent for kids school time snack pack." Surprisingly tasty? Finger-sized? No thank you.


Our new Koala Yummies incarnate, however, on the other hand are described by the same vendor as "Chocolate cream filled biscuits that are surprisingly tasty with no oily after taste. Go ahead, try these finger sized biscuits. You wont be disappointed. Excellent for kids school time snack pack." Wait a second. That sounds suspiciously familiar.

So whether you choose to sell out to Hello Panda or continue to support your old standards with Koala's March, you can still purchase these once-forgotten goodies online.

Just remember not to follow it up with anything vaguely nutritional for a truly authentic 90s snacking experience.

Then and Now

Then:

Jennifer Aniston, 1990

Now:

Jennifer Aniston, 2009


What? She had a deviated septum. It was reconstructive.

What Would You Do?

If you ever really need to know the answer to a question, here's a little tip from Nickelodeon circa 1991: lead in with a question word remixed on repeat. You may not find out what you would do, but you certainly have a better chance of ascertaining what what what you would do. You know. If faced with some sort of slime/pie type situation. The usual.

Yes, early 90s-era Nickelodeon was full of these handy tidbits of unconventional wisdom. Like their penchant for placing a germ-phobic obsessive-compulsive as host in not just one but two television shows whose underlying purposes were to cause disgusting uncontainable messes. Perhaps it was to Nickelodeon's credit that a hosting gig on their network was so highly coveted that even those with a disordered need for extreme constancy and cleanliness were willing to overlook their most basic anti-mess instincts. Not just any network held the power to persuade Marc Summers at the height of his inner OCD torment to host a show with the words "Super Sloppy" in the title.

Fortunately for Marc Summers, What Would You Do? was somewhat toned-downed in the super sloppy department in comparison to its sister show, Double Dare. I'm not sure this granted him any reprieve, but at least he was allowed a few brief moments of filming during which he was not coated head-to-toe in gooey green slime.



What Would You Do? was another of those magical Nickelodeon shows for which there was no reasonable explanation or justification. Children of the 90s, specifically those who grew up in a house with a cable TV hookup, were generally passionate about nonsensical programming. Nickelodeon demonstrated time and time again that they truly understood what kids were about; they managed to strike the perfect balance between recognizing the simplicity of entertaining children and not insulting their intelligence.

They also had a serious fixation on pies.

For some reason as of yet to be publicly declared and documented, the show included innumerable pie-themed features. While possibly derived from the original pie-in-the-face slapstick gag, What Would You Do? was determined to take this gimmick as far as whipped cream could possibly be flung. No pie stunt was too farfetched for this game show/interactive audience/wacky stunt television mash-up. Usually these pie shenanigans were tied to some sort of competition, but the reasoning was loose at most. There was no shortage of pie-centric hijinks, including but not limited to:

The Pie Slide
Sometimes, a straightforward name is best. The pie slide was, well, a pie slide. Contestants braved a regulation playground slide that culminated in an enormous vat of pie. Thankfully, they had the option of a head-first or feet-first dive. Full pie immersion ensued.



The Pie Pod
There's nothing like sitting in a chair, being covered with an enormous saran wrap-style tarp, and pelted directly with multiple pies, the number of which was based upon helpful audience input. Also popular was the Crowning Glory feature, which dropped additional pie on the participant's head.



The Pie Coaster
See Pie Slide. Replace "slide" with "coaster." Proceed.



The Pie Wash
Imagine if you will a car wash featuring an all-pie cast of cleaning supplies. Now remove the frame of the car and its mobile abilities. Congratulations! You've got a pie wash.



You've got to love that maniacal laughter by Marc Summers while issuing this pie sentence.

Clearly (or perhaps through pie-coated goggles) What Would You Do? could not be characterized by any conventional TV standards in its zany undertakings. The show frequently pitted adults and children against one another (in sometimes Double Dare-esque fashion), with the winning team holding the pie pronouncement power. Pie punishments could also be conveyed by means of the all powerful Wall o' Stuff. While the Wall o' Stuff had its benevolent side in which it dispensed freely the crappy What Would You Do? licensed merchandise to so-called lucky winners, it more often sent the contestant straight to meet their cream pie fates. The show also inexplicably had a "roving camera" segment featuring Candid Camera-style tomfoolery. As I said, the links between any of these segments were fairly difficult to ascertain; pie seemed to be the only element tying these things together.

Regardless of the lack of adherence to television norms, this show was beloved by children everywhere. Its sheer creativity was enough to captivate our young impressionable minds and forever instill within us a deep-seated love/fear relationship with a certain satisfyingly messy cloying confection. As What Would You Do? only filmed new episodes from 1991 to 1993, there is a lot to say for a show that can thrive through an oddly skewed rerun-to-new-show ratio. Because there were only 90 episodes produced, chances are all of us out there in 90s TV-land saw each of these pie-flinging episodes countless times during which we could ponder what indeed we would do in the place of these contestants. Whether you'd choose to brave the pie slide or take your chances on the Wall o' Stuff, What Would You Do? had a little something for everyone.

Everyone without whipped cream allergies, that is.


Check it out:
Pies on the Web: Dedicated to Pictures of People Getting Pies to the Face

Thank You!

From the bottom of my heart (as pictured in the I ♥ 90s logo), I want to thank Fidgeting Gidget and Wild ARS Chase for their respective extremely generous Blogger of the Month awards! You guys are awesome! If you haven't yet, all of you have to go check out these blogs--they are very different from one another, but they are both among my favorites to read on a regular basis. Thanks, Gidget and Andy!

Slip n' Slide

You'd think with a company name like Wham-O, Inc., people would know to take these products seriously. Slip n' Slides may have slid onto the scene in the 60s, but it was not until the 90s that we got to see some good old-fashioned ambulance-chasing legislative action. The 90s showed a distinct rise in the level of safety-consciousness on the part of overanxious parents desperate to helmet and pad their children to the most insulated degree. Contrary to popular 90s parent opinion, children had once lived in a world without safety features and generally lived to tell about it; those who did not were simply sucked up by the forces of social Darwinism. In the 90s, however, the tide began to turn.

Some would say we were fighting nature. We were protecting the weak. Defying the forces of nature that acted to weed out this type of risky irresponsible behavior.

Others would say that perhaps we never should have been sliding down an glorified sheet of cheap plastic lubricated with hose water into rocky backyard terrain in the first place.

Parents succumbed to children's begging for Slip n' Slides largely on a cost-efficient and effort-exertion level. You could either install a pool, pack up every possible necessary belonging and lug it to the faraway beach, drag your kids to the suspiciously grimy public pool...or you could just run the hose over a giant sheet of yellow plastic in the backyard. Which would you choose? The answer seemed pretty clear. Or at least clearer than the public pool.

Slip n' Slide.




I know there's a Wham-O! Hula Hoop ad on the end of this, but I couldn't help myself when I saw it. It's just so 90s.


The name doesn't leave much room for questioning. No, this was a straightforward product, through and through. It didn't seem necessary for it to come with a dictionary-size manual of directions and warnings. What would they possibly say?

Step one:
Remove Slip n' Slide from package and unroll unto level ground.

Step two:
Place running hose at edge of Slip n' Slide.

Step three:
Slip.

Step four:
Slide.

Wasn't that pretty much it? You slipped, you slid, you laughed in the face of the scorching hot sun's attempt to swelter you, and called it a day.
In reality, the problem was probably not so much with the product as with the parents. In a time where everyone was quick to assign blame to anybody but themselves, it was easy to call foul on a faulty product or unsafe design. However, there were many actions taken by lackadaisical parents that were more than likely the underlying culprits of these purported Slip n' Slide injuries. In case you were unaware, I am happy to share with you a few tips for care and use of your Wham-O Slip n' Slide:

1. Do not place in an area generally abounding with rocks and boulders. I don't even know if I'm supposed to share this type of highly classified information, but some scientists report that boulders can be damaging to heads upon forceful contact.

2. Do not place your Slip n' Slide on a steep hill. As much fun as if may be to go barreling headfirst at full speed down a miniature mountain, the plastic sheet has to end at some point. Then you're simply plunging headfirst into the ground, which I've also been told can be a tad on the painful side.

3. Enormous, oversized, supposedly responsible adults should not use a toy intended for children.

4. This especially goes for any time when these adults are intoxicated.

5. FYI, this includes fraternity parties.

6. And really, any kind of party.

7. Because honestly, this product is recommended for ages 5-12.

8. And while we're on the subject, why the hell are you using this as an adult?

9. Again, I'm not sure how much clearer I can make this.

10. But just to reiterate, really, a terrible idea.


In the 90s, the major lawsuit-prompted injury warnings were not based on injuries sustained by unsuspecting children. The injuries were generally caused by grown-ups attempting to join in on the fun, especially while highly intoxicated, and smashing their spinal column in a paralyzing manner. Teenagers and adults would slip and slide as the directions indicated, but failed to take into account that they were approximately two to three times the size of the recommended users. When coupled with the mere inertia garnered from their notably heavier weights, this was certainly a cause for concern.

What should have been concern for the right-mindedness of these adults was morphed into concern over a lack of safety features. Because really, a product should probably include every possible cause of injury or death in its packaging. I'm not sure your level of marketing expertise, but it's fairly safe to say that a 3000-word brochure on potential causes of death isn't always a major selling point for your product.

Just in case you were curious (which no doubt you were!) here's a handy excerpt from the US Consumer Product Safety Commission's report on the matter:

WASHINGTON, DC -- Kransco Group Companies and the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) warn consumers that WHAM-O backyard water slides, manufactured by Kransco and WHAM-O for years as popular summertime toys for children, should NOT be used by adults or teenagers. The toys were designed for use by children only. Use by adults and teens has the potential to result in neck injury and paralysis.

Alright, seems pretty straightforward. Go on, CPSC.

Because of their weight and height, adults and teenagers who dive onto the water slide may hit and abruptly stop in such a way that could cause permanent spinal cord injury, resulting in quadriplegia or paraplegia. The slider's forward momentum drives the body into the neck and compresses the spinal cord.

Ouch. But again, makes sense.

Kransco reports that seven adults who used WHAM-O slides suffered neck injuries, quadriplegia, or paraplegia. A 13-year- old teenager suffered a fractured neck while using a WHAM-O slide. The incidents occurred between 1973 and 1991.

Considering this report was released in the early 90s, that's a pretty troubling grace period before taking a clear stand on this. Oh, you know, it's been happening for 18 years, but we wanted to make sure this lifetime paralysis was the real deal.

According to Kransco, 9 million WHAM-O water slides called Slip 'N Slide, Super Slip 'N Slide, Slip 'N Splash, White Water Rapids, Fast Track Racers, and Wet Banana were sold nationwide from 1961 to February 1992. The slides are long plastic sheets with stakes to secure the sheet to a flat lawn free of rocks, mounds, and depressions. Some slides included an inflatable raft to slide on the plastic sheet; others may have an inflatable pool at the end of the slide.

Oh no, not Wet Banana!

CPSC and Kransco urge adults and teenagers NOT to use the WHAM-O backyard slides. Consumers should read the warnings and instructions on the box and on the toy itself which state that the product is NOT intended for adult use. Adults should instruct children how to use the slides safely.

So there you have it. Slip n' Slide. Sure, it may be risky, but again, who wants to schlep all the way out to the beach when you can lay out a bright yellow roll of cheap, non-durable plastic?

Case closed.

A Little Something to Get You Through Your Weekend...

I have yet to get around to writing about the Golden Girls' because I'm a tad concerned about not doing this comedic gem justice in blog post form. I keep putting it off for some imaginary date when I will have adequate time and motivation to sufficiently convey its hilarity. Until then, here's a little something to tide you over and give you a heaping spoonful of 90s humor to hold you for the weekend.

As sad as I was to hear of Bea Arthur's passing, it did remind me of a little something I vaguely recollected from the 1996 MTV Movie Awards. I will admit up front that this is 100% cheating to in any way link this to Bea Arthur as she was the only Golden Girl who did not appear in this, but I remembered this clip existed earlier this week and felt it was my duty as distributor of all things sacred and 90s to pass it on to you.

This Clueless spoof had me laughing so hard I nearly ruptured an internal organ, and not because it's so brilliantly scripted. In actuality, the script is no comedic revelation and the spoof lifts many lines nearly word-for-word from the original film. No, the real humor is all in the uncanny Clueless-to-Golden-Girls visual translation. I don't want to give it away, so you will just have to watch it for yourselves.

Without further ado, the Golden Girls (or perhaps the Golden Palace, as it is sans Bea) do Clueless:





Happy weekend, everyone!