Children of the 90s One-Hit Wonder Mash-Up: 1994 Edition

You know the drill: one year, uncommonly popular songs, a group of bands whose records rarely saw the light of day by year's end. 1994 was a surprisingly light year for one-hit wonders, but it did give us a few winners. Or losers. Depending on your point of view.

Without further ado, I give you the inexplicable one-time hits of 1994:


Crash Test Dummies: Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm

Crash Test Dummies - Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm (Official Music Video) - Watch the top videos of the week here

You've got to give at least a smidgen of credit to a band who's able to make a hit song without having a single actual word in the chorus or name of the song. We've got to give them credit wherever we can find it, really, because this song doesn't have so much going for it. Sure, it's catchy and will play over and over and over again in your head after you hear it, but that's not necessarily a good thing. In this case, especially.

The song details three minor hard-luck stories of three unique children, allotting each child's tale a single lyrical verse. The song doesn't exactly have a point, per se, but it does tell three disparate stories in great, unnecessary detail. Really, just so unnecessary. In the first, we learn of a boy whose hair has suddenly turned white after a car accident. In the second, we hear about a girl who avoids changing in gym class for fear of her classmates berating her unseemly birthmarks. In the last, a boy's family belongs to an odd religious sect for which participants shake and quiver about on the church floor.

Wait, I'm sorry. What? This is a song? I remember liking the music video as a kid, but that's probably just because it's so damn literal. Children act out the scenes exactly as they're described in the song. There's no deeper meaning. There's no point whatsoever. To all the struggling musicians out there putting out lyrical gold, let me apologize on behalf of the Crash Test Dummies for pushing you out of the spotlight so we could hear, well, this.



69 Boyz: Tootsee Roll


I'm going to come right out and say it: any song backed up by the Quad City DJs is pure beat-thumping genius in my mind. Thus perhaps I'm a little biased in my assessment of the 69 Boyz' song "Tootsee Roll", but seriously, doesn't it just make you want to dance a little bit? No? Just me? Okay then. The song starts out strong with a hearty:

The butterfly? Uh-uh, that's old!
Let me see the Tootsee Roll!

Then, just a mere chorus and few shouted lines later, they reiterate the previous statement by explaining:

I don't know what you've been told
It ain't the butterfly, it's the Tootsee Roll
A brand new dance

Wait, wait, wait. I'm confused. Maybe they should explain it one more time. So you're saying it's not the butterfly? I'm not sure who exactly has been trying to convince us of otherwise since their initial introductory proclamation, but at least that's settled now. It's not the butterfly, everyone. It's just not.

Anyway, I've always been a fan of dance songs where they shout out specific dance directions in the lyrics. It means I don't have to think of what I'm going to do next. There's no awkward moment where I'm wondering if I should throw the dice one time. No, no. I'll just dip, baby. Dip.



Ahmad: Back in the Day


Okay, okay, I know this song was not quite as popular as the others, but I just have to throw it in there for its dedication to the preservation of nostalgia. This Ahmad is a guy after my own heart. We're all about the back in the day here at Children of the 90s. I must say based on the song that I didn't have much in common with Ahmad, but it's the sentiment that really counts.




Big Mountain: Baby I love your Way



You know you've really made it in the one-hit wonder world when you don't even have to come up with the tune or lyrics of the song that buys you your fifteen minutes of fame. Such was the case with Big Mountain, whose cover of Peter Frampton's 1974 hit "Baby I Love Your Way" earned them a top ten spot on the Billboard charts in 1994. The song was featured in Reality Bites, thus forever preserving it as a piece of 90s history. Reality Bites was one of those prototypical 90s movies encapsulating all things Gen X, giving the song automatic 90s clout by mere association.

The movie soundtrack also introduced most of us to Lisa Loeb with her hit "Stay", so it's got some 90s credibility. "Baby I Love Your Way" was reinterpreted as a light-rock reggae song, a slight twist on the original Frampton version. It was catchy and infectious in the normal manner of airborne musical contagions, but it didn't make much of Big Mountain. They may have been dropped by their label a few years later, but at least they managed to give us some semi-soothing 90s reggae-inspired 70s covers. Wait, is that a genre?




Deadeye Dick:


(I couldn't find a good embeddable version of the video, so enjoy the lyrics on a red background!)

I've already covered this one here, so I'll be brief. I love this song. Sure, I didn't quite get the not-so-subtle innuendo as a kid, but it's all in good fun. It's just a fun song, plain and simple. It wasn't enough to give Deadeye Dick much of a blip on the radar of musical history, but it did get quite a bit of radio play. And it was in Dumb and Dumber. You can't get much better than that, can you?




Us3: Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia)


Some might say Jazz-Rap is an odd musical filing subcategory, and they may be right. Regardless of the uncommon characterization, it's a pretty catchy tune. So much so that it occasionally pops into my head and I can't remember any words except for "flip fantasia". Whatever that means. The song is a reincarnation of the 1960s Herbie Hancock tune "Cantaloupe Island". As you can see, 1994 was a great year for people low on originality and high on music rights purchasing power. It is a fun song, thought.




Culture Beat: Mr Vain


Confession: this song is on every one of my workout mixes. Now that I've been officially deemed unbroken by medical professionals, I'm going to be hearing a whole lot more Mr. Vain. Theoretically, that is. I'd forgotten about this song completely until I was in Poland one summer and turned on the TV. If you've ever been to Poland, I assume you know this was my first mistake. They're not overly keen on television censors. Anyhoo, this song was playing and the memories just flooded back. Music can do that to you. Even really terrible, horrible, 90s era technopop.

90s Gap Commercials

If you're seeking evidence that times were simpler in the 90s, look no further than the then-mega brand GAP. While the store has done a fair bit of backsliding over the past decade, it enjoyed some serious popularity back in the 90s. I'm not completely certain that our 2000s-era brains can even wrap themselves around the notion of a prehipster era, but there really was a time before ironic poseur stylings a la American Apparel ruled the roost. Once upon a time, simplicity was cool. They didn't try to sell us a mindset or mentality or lifestyle: they just tried to sell us some khakis and corduroys.

In the 90s, Gap developed a well-conceived strategy for convincing young people everywhere to go out and buy whatever marginally overpriced plain-as-white-bread product they were hawking that week. They were wise in realizing that if their product itself was less than revolutionary, they may as well go out and create some highly calculated ads intended to suggest themselves as edgy and representative of youth culture. They recognized that cool in itself was a relatively poorly defined product, so they might as well just swoop in and claim their unwarranted share of it.

They were keen on the suggestibility of young people, so they unleashed a slew of commercials whose end tagline claimed "everyone" to be in some particular item of clothing. The commercials themselves were clean and simple and appropriately over-serious in a way that suggests they were so cool the actors couldn't be bothered to crack a smile. Each of these ads featured the same well-groomed crowd of ethnically diverse young adults all sporting minor variations of the same Gap item. Someone who obviously had experience staging high school plays blocked the cast into well-maintained formations from which they could stare blankly and nonchalantly at the audience.

Each of these commercials featured a single song, but rather than utilizing the convenient ready-made version of the song they offered each semi-surly young person the star-making opportunity to sing a single line of each. I'm not quite sure if these commercials were supposed to be based on any sort of actual real-life organic situation, but my instinct tells me the answer is probably no. My friends and I wanted to be cool, sure, but we never got together in matching outfits to stare pensively into the expansive abyss in well-organized groupings and come in just on cue for our turn to belt out a fragment of our favorite song.

In this spot, "Everybody in Leather", Gap launched the first portion of its 90s trademark ad campaign:



The synthesizers! The bouncing camera changes! The stone-faced expressions of our attractive stars! I don't know about you, but I just can't get enough. The ad had all the critical ingredients for successfully breaking through the cool barrier. If you're thinking you see a few familiar faces, you may be right. The outstandingly attractive Twilight-hairstyled fellow who gets a lot of face time in these slots is none other than Phantom Planet frontman Alex Greenwald. You know, of the OC theme song? And a bunch of other stuff I would have heard of if I either knew anything about the band or was more diligent in my research?

There's another little lady in the crowd who some of us may know, but she wasn't featured so prominently in the leather spot. Once everybody gets to wear cords and sing "Mellow Yellow" she gets a prime spot in the front right.



Rashida Jones! What on earth are you doing in my 90s Gap ads before I knew who you were and you awkwardly interfered with the heavenly alignment of fated Office romances? Who knew?

There was another in this series in which everyone wore cords and got dressed up in love, Madonna style. Rashida even gets her own line at :16, so play careful attention if you're into that sort of thing:



This ad was the be-all-end-all declaration of a generation's brief but torrid love affair with wholly unattractive fleece vests. I mean, you saw the kids in the commercial. Don't you want to be like them? Not necessarily standing staggered with windows to see the people behind you like in a dance recital, but more just hanging out with your ultra-sleek multicultural gang of unsmiling pals? I was pretty convinced. The fleece vest wasn't necessarily functional clothing (what of my cold arms?) but it was certainly popular.

Aside from this campaign, Gap had a concurrent khaki campaign that differed slightly while similarly emphasizing coolness in the simplicity of Gap clothing. They also subtly suggest that wearing Gap khakis inevitably leads to impromptu well-choreographed dance-offs, which certainly never happened to me when I wore mine. I guess I was just never in the right place at the right time. I could have swing danced* my little heart out.

The khaki ads didn't feature as much singing, but there was a lot more dancing to all types of khaki-lovin' music. We had our country:



I mean, honestly. They don't even fit those models that well, nor they seem especially flattering. Regardless, the commercials had us hooked. We were under the Gap spell and no one could shake it off. We needed these khakis.

The khakis demonstrated their dancing versatility a-go-go:



They rocked:



They souled:



They hip hopped:



But most of all, they swung:



That's right, the Gap actually paid a significant contribution to the swing revival movement of the late 90s. Well played, Gap. Retro purists hated this garbage, of course. If you've ever seen the Daria episode "Life in the Past Lane", Jane actually meets a retro-centric guy who asserts, "I was pre-khakis commercial and don't you forget it!" Sorry, retro fiends. Gap mainstreamed it.

So there you have it. The Gap may be struggling to define itself now, but back in the 90s it had a well-established reputation for coolness largely based on the simplicity of its ad campaign. If any of you with a business plan are taking notes, though, forget it. This would never work today. After all, nowadays we all fast forward through commercials. In the 90s, however, we watched TV to see our favorite commercials. Yes, it was a simpler time. When we could all just sit on in a blank white space and express ourselves through the non-smiling art of song.





*Swung dance? Swung danced? Someone please past tense-icize this phrase for me.

Popular Young Adult Books Series of the 90s

Image via fantasticfiction.co.uk

What's that old saying? Why write one good book when you can milk a hundred mediocre attempts on the same premise? Something like that. So maybe it doesn't have such resonating wisdom to it, but hey, I don't have a whole team of ghostwriter underlings to do my bidding and come up with something a bit more inspired like the evil geniuses behind franchises like Sweet Valley High.

Admittedly many of our favorite series did indeed come from a single author source, though some of them pulled it off more cunningly than others. I like farfetched plot twists as much as the next person, but things sometimes had a tendency to get out of hands when authors were given the gift of infinite access to the same characters in an unlimited combination of variable situations.

Though the topics and literary value of these series varied significantly from one to the other, they were all legitimate enterprises. Publishers love series for their reliability rather than their quality, and they can certainly get away with a great deal more when dealing with younger and less discerning readers. While some of these series were well-written and twisty plot-filled, others were embarrassingly more juvenile than their intended target audience. Wherever they happen to fall on the quality spectrum, one thing was for sure: book-hungry kids ate this stuff up. Without further ado, a smattering of our most beloved and sometimes inexplicably bestselling young adult series:


Goosebumps



Children's horror series were a lucrative niche genre in the 90s. If you were so imaginatively inclined to be able to think up ridiculous tongue-in-cheek plots that wouldn't stand a chance at being made into a C movie, then you were pretty much golden. Kids went crazy for this stuff. It was sort of scary in an innocent, comical way that kept us coming back for more. Sometimes the concepts were a tad frightening, but the plots were so absurd and twist-filled that it tended to give us more head bumps than goosebumps. From all the facepalming, that is. I do distinctly remember finding the mask and that camp jellyblob thing to be a bit on the nightmare-inducing side, but then again Men in Black gave me nightmares as a kid so maybe you shouldn't take my word for it.

They also had a fair run in television form, featuring this jazzy intro with creepy glowing-eye dog:



Babysitters' Club




Tween girls were a highly desirable reader demographic in the 90s, particularly as it seemed we were pretty much willing to read anything and everything. I had a rather undying love for the girls of the babysitters' club, remaining fiercely loyal to them even in the face of their complete and total stereotypical ridiculousness. These girls were not exactly three dimensional. They essentially taught me that I could be one of a few character molds: the brassy tomboy, the diabetic fashion model, the California hippie, the shy one, the defiant artistic anti-intellectual Asian one, the nerd, or the black ballerina. I was pretty sure these were my only viable life choice paths once I hit middle school.

The BSC was franchising at its finest, featuring all sorts of additional merchandise, a feature film, and a television series with a theme song that my college friends may or may not have included on a road trip mix. I'll give you a hint: they did.

I owned all of these individual episodes on VHS ordered through the magic of Scholastic book orders. I'll give you a moment to calm your jealousy.

Animorphs



Under closer inspection, it seems that 80s and 90s teen series fell into one of two categories: bitchy preteen girls with growing-up type problems or over-the-top science fiction/horror. That is to say, either incredibly girly or with gory details to appeal to a male demographic. Animorphs fell more into the latter category with its characterization of a group of preteens who had the ability to change into animals in their efforts to quash a secret alien rebel force. Yep, these disgusting outer-space slugs would shimmy into your ear canal and turn you into an alien zombie, but luckily we've got a couple of kids on our side who can morph into housecats.

Animorphs was also granted a short run as a Nickelodeon series:




Fear Street


What happens to kids when they graduate from Goosebumps? They move on to Fear Street, of course. Goosebumps author RL Stine aged his characters a couple of years, threw in some particularly gory scenes, and made brutal murder an inevitable and unavoidable aspect of any plot. Sounds fun, right? The series is loosely tied together in the same way Goosebumps books were, rarely featuring the same characters but rehashing the same themes book after book. It's tough to say whether these would hold tight with today's kids--if anything, they'd have to suffice as the poor man's Twilight. I'm not too ashamed to admit I had RL Stine sign my well-thumbed copy of Fear Street: The New Girl at a Mall of America booksigning. I did, however, soon thereafter realize I have no patience for mysteries. Sorry, RL.



Sweet Valley High




These were pretty much my bible growing up, so you can only imagine how shocked I was to find out as an adult just how god-awful they really are. I mean honestly. Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield were nothing short of my idols as a kid, and now I hear that they're actually insufferable? Who was I to know? I was so entranced and drawn in by the ghostwriters' incredibly repetitive rehashing of their blonde hair, blue-green eyes, California good looks, and perfect size-six figures that I was blinded to the ridiculousness that was their overblown stereotypes of personalities. Jessica (also known as the cool one) was essentially the worst person in the world and Elizabeth (the smart one) made Pollyanna look like Al Capone. And I also learned a valuable lesson: you can tell popular people from nerdy brainiacs by the way they wear their hair. A ponytail is a dead giveaway for being the nerdy twin.

Though these books veered into some pretty outlandish directions (vampires, werewolves, viscount boyfriends), they did manage to keep it toned down for the brief run of the TV-series, which focused mainly on their regular Sweet Valley lives.

I always thought the twins who played the girls on TV were way too slutty-looking to be Jess and Liz. Either way, I totally owned a Sweet Valley High board game and had full collections of Sweet Valley Kids, Sweet Valley Twins, Sweet Valley High, and Sweet Valley University. I imagine that my family singlehandedly supported Francise Pascal's enterprise.

Harry Potter


I will no doubt have to better explore Harry Potter in its own full post as it's a legitimate phenomenon in a way few of these others are. I'm also willing to give credit where credit is due and concede the books are far better written and well-conceived than any of the others on this list. In short, Harry Potter made being nerdy cool in its own way. The content was undeniably fantastical and imaginative in a manner compatible with extreme geekiness, yet everyone seemed enthralled by them. Perhaps in the way media like Star Wars gave geeks an outlet of kind of cool make-believe people to admire, Harry Potter managed to simulataneously win readers with nerds and well, everyone else. You'd be pretty hard-pressed to find someone who hasn't at least read one of these books.

Harry Potter is the ultimate money-making franchise, far outliving its rival book series peers. The big-budget fantasy adventure film adaptations don't fare too poorly, either:





Help! I'm Trapped...



Did you know that you can write 16, count 'em, 16 books that have titles beginning with "Help! I'm Trapped in (insert entrapment device or body here)"? Because you totally can. Todd Strasser made a healthy living off of doing just that, trapping our pals in everything from their teachers' bodies to the first day of doggie obedience school. Actually, we got to go to obedience school twice, so I'm somewhat suspicious that he just ran out of ideas.


By the by, it wouldn't hurt to check out some of these young adult book blogs if the YA series dosage in this post didn't quell your 90s YA book withdrawal. Enjoy!

Dibbly Fresh
Shannon's Sweet Valley Blog
Are You There Youth? It's Me, Nikki

Is It Fall Yet?

Let me apologize for not having your daily dose of 90s in order per usual this morning. You see, in some sort of unforeseen* meteorological turn of events, my internet connection experienced some severe disturbances during peak blogging time. After my ever-helpful boyfriend spent extensive time proxy online live-chatting with the none-so-helpful Alvaro of Time Warner Cable, it was clear that you were just not going to get the incredibly outstanding post I'd originally planned on researching for lack of sufficient connectivity.

That is to say, I was this close to promising to name my firstborn Alvaro if only he would have reinstated my beloved interweb. Unfortunately, Alvaro did no such thing in saving me from certain cable outage. I was forced to shake my fist despairingly heavenward and intone "ALVARO!" Alvin and the Chipmunks style. My boyfriend (again, very helpfully) proceeded to play me the Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas song over the phone while I waited for the reports back on Alvaro's snail-like progress, but that's really here nor there.

Where was I? Oh yes, excuses. So, that fabulously insightful post will have to wait, and I will leave you will a solid dose of 90s to get you through your weekend. This was what I'd brilliantly thought to post on Labor Day, only to spend the whole day being neglectful and vacation-prone and sending myself into successive barbecue food comas. Hence, you lucky so-and-sos get a shot at it today. I know, I know. You're welcome.

Via the magic of embeddable playlists, here is the full Daria inter-season movie Is It Fall Yet**? It seems very appropriate as we bid our summers adieu, plus it's one of my favorites here at Children of the 90s. Ask anyone who's been reading a few months and they'll assure you that it's in my secret plan to faithfully spread the gospel of Daria to all those who know not her truth and wisdom. Let me speak to you seriously here for a moment: it's one of the smartest shows to ever air, period, not to mention the most sage teen or cartoon series. Please, proceed with caution, as your watching this will hopefully lead to a lifelong relationship soon to be satiated by the supposedly impending DVD release.






Have a great weekend, 90s kids!


*Unforeseen by me, not by actual meteorologists. No, I'm sure those green-screen facing smug bastards knew all along.
**In this case, the unfortunately correct answer is yes, yes it is

Overalls

Nothing says en vogue quite like sporting the functional farmer wear du jour. To their credit, overalls did have a certain degree of versatility in the 90s: you had your traditional denim pair and then a few snazzier ones for special occasions. You know, like goat milking.

Overalls inexplicably became a 90s must-have fashion item, prompting suburban kids who had never so much as visited a farm to covet these godforsaken garments. When I was in fourth grade, there was a style decree that on Thursdays, everyone wore overalls. It was sort of our elementary school version of Mean Girls' "On Wednesdays we wear pink". Anyone who was anyone in the fourth grade sure as hell better have showed up to school in overalls on Thursdays. Everyone knew that.

There were all sorts of fun self-expressing variations in overalls. Many 90s kids opted for the very popular one-strap-fastened-one-strap-unfastened look. It kind of said, sure, I like shoveling manure, but only sometimes. There was really no verifiable explanation for engaging in this half-fastened overall behavior as it served no functional purpose. If anything, it was pretty inconvenient to have a strap with an attached eye-piercing piece of metal swinging around your person all day.

My overall-wearing hero, a Miss Alex Mack.

If that wasn't for you, we had a little something for the ladies too. Overalls and sexiness may seem like two highly disparate concepts, but it was all in the shirt selection. If you were planning on wearing a shirt, that is. I got into many, many heated fights with my parents regarding the appropriateness of my wearing a lacy midriff-exposing tee shirt under my Gap overalls. If Kelly Kapowski could do it, then dammit why couldn't I? They've yet to give me a sufficient explanation for that one.

I tried to convince them that it could have been much, much, worse. There were girls up at the junior high showing up to school wearing just overalls and a smile. Okay, that's a total lie, those girls were more than likely surly as hell in their near-naked overalled state, but that's really neither here nor there.

Looking back on this picture of Winona Ryder's near nakedness, I can sort of understand my parents' point of view. I do admire her strap-twisting prowess, though.

Then of course we had the overall/flannel combo, a particular 90s fan favorite. There were many permutations on this highly versatile look, one of the most popular being the classic open-plaid-flannel-over-overalls look. It had a certain casual flair to it that we could all only aspire to achieve as child stylistas. Somewhat less body-flattering but equally widespread was the flannel tied around the waist of overalls look. If you had belt loops on your pair, you could even spice it up a bit and do some intricate woven work. Fancy stuff.

Or if you were into a little more pseudo-rebellion, the double unhooked look was also quite the rage. You may ask yourself why you'd choose to wear overalls if you didn't plan on utilizing their basic functionality, and you would most certainly be right to question this blatant idiocy. In fact, it would be much more convenient to simply don some sportswear separates, but these 90s kids just weren't having it. No, we'd throw on a belt to hold those babies up. No shame in that. Okay, a little shame. Alright, alright, loads of shame.

This particular style of overall wearing was a bit on the controversial side as it allegedly suggested gang affiliation. Indeed, it is still classified as such by many school districts. The Texas Youth Commission still defines the wearing "Overalls, unfastened" as potentially inflammatory behavior. I know, right. They helpfully explain the implications of gang wear as such:

The "gang look" is meant to intimidate those who are not in a gang. Children and teenagers who dress in clothing that resembles gang attire are showing an interest in gangs, will attract the attention of gangs, and could be putting themselves in extreme danger. In recent years children have been shot and killed by gangs simply for wearing gang related clothing. For the safety of your children, it is very important that you do not buy or allow your children to wear any item that gang members use to identify with the gang.

Okay, Okay, so this is a Harajuku girl and not a gang member...but look at how her overalls conveniently only have a single strap! They've evolved!

I'll agree with them that anyone killed for unintentionally wearing gang-themed clothing represents a terrible tragedy, but the tone of this is just absurd. If we thought authority figures were uncool in our day, it seems they've only tightened their grip with all sorts of new rules and regulations that were still in their larval stage during our formative years. It's all vaguely reminiscent of The Man trying to relate to young people but failing completely. It also brings to mind Daria's father Jake Morgendorffer, who once famously said, "I'm up on the issues. Is it a problem with your gang?"

No matter just how jiggy adults tried to be with our phat style, it seemed their condemnation only edged us further into the expanse of dangerous attire wearing. Many of the young people who so loved overalls had more or less never even heard of gangs, they just bought what The Gap told them to and that was that. And if The Gap told me to wear I've-been-working-on-the-railroad style pinstriped overalls, well, thus so it shall be.

Full House

Sometimes you sort of have to wish your real life was anything like the TV shows you grew up with. After all, it's pretty tough to pinpoint those social and nonverbal cues of learning a moral lesson in our own lives. It's so much easier when they put in slow, thoughtful theme music to punctuate the moment exactly five minutes before the end of a thirty minute episode arc. Without those clear-cut auditory guidelines, how are we ever supposed to know when we're gaining moral aptitude? We don't even have a live studio audience to awww for us.

Yes, Full House had the eleventh hour moral-of-the-story moment down to a near-perfect science. It was good, wholesome fun at its finest. Though some of the characters may have briefly flirted with unseemly behavior, their nanosecond-long foray into rebellion was always conveniently quelled by the end of the episode. All a character had to do was consider making a mistake and there was a sturdy trustworthy authority figure at their service to swoop in and give them a bit o' wisdom. Its simplicity was reassuring at the very least; no matter how close anyone veered toward making a poor life choice, it was inevitable that by the end of the episode, the slate would once again be wiped clean.

Though certainly a bit on the hackneyed side, the show was ripe with charm. The premise gave us a wealth of quirky characters, allowing plot lines to shift amongst many key players. We had our hero, squeaky-clean and distinctly un-Bob Sagetlike Danny Tanner, a widower with three young girls to raise. It was all sort of Brady Bunch-esque, only instead of Danny bringing in another half family for reinforcement, he supplemented his parenting skills with two live-in father stand-ins. Yes, that's right: three men raising three little girls. I know, I know. I'll give you a moment to compose yourself as the shock wears off.

This clip from the first episode does a lot of explaining and blank filling-in on major plot points, so I'll let it speak for itself. It also for some reason features Dutch subtitles. Don't ask me why.



In the first episode, we get our first glimpses of a bemulleted Uncle Jesse (John Stamos) and wacky Hawaiian shirt-sporting sidekick Uncle Joey (Dave Coulier). That's right, we've got an OCD talk show host, a struggling rock musician, and a stand-up comedian raising these girls. Can you say hilarious antics? If you can't, maybe you should stick with those Dutch subtitles.

Like any long-running family sitcom, the young stars literally grew up onscreen. I don't know about you, but I'm not sure I'd like my awkward phase forever preserved in TV history for posterity. Just ask Candace Cameron. Sure, she's a knockout now, but we all got to watch her chubby-cheeked side-ponytailed adolescence unfold. Jodie Sweetin, on the other hand, started young enough that she was still adorable when the show began but got to live out her bang-haired preteen years in front of millions. If anything, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen seriously lucked out. Those monkey-faced little babies remarkably morphed into cute little girls. It was a pretty close call there for awhile in their diaper days.

Seriously, observe this Michelle montage. Would you ever believe these girls could become homeless people style icons and straight-to-video media moguls? Me neither.

As you can imagine, all sorts of hilarious hijinks ensued as these three clueless men tried to bring up three growing girls. The wide array of character personalities and ages allowed us a never-ending supply of varied storylines. We had typical parenting dilemmas, dating antics, sibling rivalries, first days of school, peer pressure, growing-up issues, and every sort of minor moral dilemma you can conjure. The best part of the show was that no one ever seemed to get into any real trouble. They tended to hover dangerously close to temptation only to be quickly reeled in by their dependable family. The formula never failed.

DJ and Stephanie's first day of school in the first season showcases some of the clean-fun shenanigans that characterized this extremely full house.

With the inception of the TGIF Friday night lineup in the late 80s, Full House carved out a great time slot for itself that was conducive to family viewing. The show had not initially been a runaway success, but its new timeslot brought with it a serious following of fans. Suddenly, people couldn't get enough of this show. And could you blame them? It had something for everyone.

For young women ages 12-25, we had John Stamos. For people who liked unfunny stand-up, cut-rate cartoon impressions, and had a lurking interest in seeing about whom Alanis Morisette wrote "You Outta Know", we had Dave Coulier. For anyone seeking out a guiding moral light, we had Bob Saget. Well, Danny Tanner, that is. If you've ever seen any Bob Saget stand-up it's pretty clear that isn't the case for his real life persona.

For the kids we had three distinct age groups of characters with whom to relate as girls and to fall in love with as boys. I personally fell within the Michelle age range category and almost immediately found myself knee-deep in Mary Kate and Ashley promotional merchandise and "Brother for Sale" cassette tapes. I grew up jealous that their everyday lives were an adventure full of strange but endearing adult role models. I'm pretty sure I was not alone in coveting all of Rebecca Donaldson's swingy vests and flowered housedresses, either. I figured it was only a matter of time before I somehow manuevered Becky out of the picture and could claim my rightful place in the Katsopolis family and corresponding closet.

Regardless of my own Full House plotting, the most satisfying part to me remained the predictability. No matter what happened, unless it was a two-part episode you just knew that sappy music was coming on at 7:25. It didn't matter whether they were trying to cook Thanksgiving dinner or taking a trip to Hawaii, by the end of it we were going to learn something and that was that. The characters were flawed in simple, easily remediable ways that lent themselves well to 30 minute segments.

No one ever took hard drugs or committed a felony. There was no danger of taking a sharp left into dangerous territory. It was more like DJ secretly applying Madonna-grade makeup to fit in in junior high, only to learn a lesson about growing up at your own pace. If you weren't feeling even the slightest urge to "aww", you probably weren't watching it right.

Just in case you were curious, here's the aforementioned DJ makeup snafu.

Can't Hardly Wait

What would 80s or 90s mainstream cinema have been without the classic cliche high school movie? It seemed that another teen-centric comedy premiered every other week, each one more ripe with angsty teenage stereotypes than the last. Critics may not have thought much of the genre, but tweens and teens ate it up, upholding the franchise by not just seeing the movie but by buying the soundtrack and quoting the most inane lines over and over again to their friends.

Anyone who's ever been, met, or even seen a teen from afar can tell you that teen movies are absolutely nothing like real life in high school, but they do make for an amusing story. High school movies represent not the way things are but the way we might wish they were. If we desired a slew of 28-year old classmates, that is.

Can't Hardly Wait was a mishmash of every well-worn teen movie cliche, giving us the ultimate cross-section of clearly defined high school cliques as perceived by the middle-aged adults who make profitable teen movies. It's as if they took VHS copies of every John Hughes film ever made, put them in a blender, and minced it on the highest setting. All of the most prevalent teen movie tropes were there: unrequited love with the unattainable girl, revenge of the nerds, reconciliation of friends torn apart by cliquishness, and of course all the jocks, brains, and class clowns you can handle.

Wow, two Third Eye Blind songs in a single trailer. Well played, Columbia Pictures

The only real unique attribute of the movie is its setting and scope: it takes place within a single evening at an end-of-the-school-year graduation party. Flashbacks and awkward staged recap conversations fill in some of the blanks on the context front, but the main focus of the movie is the party. Magically, the whole class got invited to this party, despite the fact that some are obvious misfits or miscreants who have never socialized with the normal kids.

The major storyline of the movie surrounds Preston (Ethan Embry) and his pathetic-but-sort-of-endearing puppy dog crush on popular girl Amanda (Jennifer Love Hewitt). Amanda has been freed from her football player dating chains of her entire high school career, and Preston believes it to be fate. It's kind of cute that he thinks this huge blowout party would be the perfect setting at which to profess his undying love despite the fact that he's never spoken to her. He does, however, seem to have a database of arbitrary memories of their near-miss encounters throughout high school. I'm sorry, did I say cute? I meant creepy.

Don't you like the way the filmmakers assume we're all really slow readers when they put those yearbook-style info boxes up on the screen.

Meanwhile, our wannabe gangster pal Kenny (Seth Green) vows to lose his virginity that night in classic American Pie ultimatum fashion. Kenny prefers to be called "Special K" which we can only assume is his non-Caucasian alter ego. There's really no alternative legitimate explanation for his faux-ghetto dialect, especially considering he's an upper middle class white boy who hails from suburbia central. He adopts this affectation as his allegedly cool persona, but overall it's pretty painful to endure.



On the other end of the social spectrum, nerd William (Charlie Korsmo) and his pi-reciting lackeys are out to bruise the ego and reputation of big man on campus and Amanda's former flame Mike Dexter (Peter Facinelli). Unfortunately, his intricate revenge plans are thwarted by his own intoxication at the party. In this-never-happens-in-real-life-but-we'll-go-along-with-it-for-a-movie style, William becomes the belle of the ball, even gracing us with an impromptu Guns and Roses performance. Because that's a good wholesome message for kids. If you would only loosen up and drink a bit, you'll be cool. Who says teen movies don't have important moral lessons?



Finally, Preston's friend and confidante Denise (Lauren Ambrose) comes along grudgingly for moral support and ends up in a worst-nightmare situation: locked in a bathroom with Special K himself. We learn Denise and Kenny were best friends as children until he got too cool and ditched her. Burn. Ditched by a guy who wears goggles as a fashion statement. That's got to hurt. Anyway, one thing leads to another, and they end up having sex. Like people do, you know. It's pretty much the only option.





All sorts of other crazy shenanigans ensue, shananigany enough to include Amanda getting hit on a by her overly-hormonal cousin. Yikes. Amanda discovers the much-revised Preston love declaration letter on the ground. She has no clue who she is so she looks him up in the yearbook only to realize you totally blew him off just moments before. Amanda pulls a classic rush-to-meet-your-love-right-before-they-leave-forever moment by rushing to the train station, and it's pretty much happily ever after from there on out. We get a little "where are they now?" snippet at the end, and it seems everything worked out just peachily for the good guys and the bad guys got all sorts of comeuppance.

So it may not be the most realistic depiction of high school, but it's certainly an entertaining one. After all, there's a reason they don't make movies about real live high schoolers. They're just not that interesting. Plus, we get a kickass 90s soundtrack in this version, whereas real high schoolers are generally lacking in the theme music department. Show me a real high school student whose exploits are well-timed to Smash Mouth and Run DMC and then we'll talk. s

Controversial and/or Poorly Conceived Toys of the 80s and 90s

Okay, so maybe nowadays kids are driving in their Power Wheels Escalades and undressing their scantily clad Dallas Cheerleader Barbies and the once-maligned toys of the past seem a bit tame. Back in the 80s and 90s, though, these were more than enough to cause a fuss for one reason or other. Be it safety, content, or just good old fashioned blinding strong moral disapproval, parents and watchdog groups were quick to lash out against some of these negligently thought-out toy releases.

We all know some parents tend to be highly overprotective of their children, and in some of these cases their worries seem a bit over-the-top. In others, however, they're pretty damn well-founded. I'm not exactly sure how so many of these toys got past the quality control teams, but a lot of them are frighteningly dangerous. I can only speak for myself, but I generally prefer my toys not to pierce a cornea or eat my hair to the point of skull-rattling. Then again, maybe that's just me.



Teen Talk Barbie


We all know Barbie may not be the most progressive feminist icon of our time, but come on. If you're working at Mattel in the 90s, you should probably at least have an inkling that there are some phrases your doll should never utter.

It's not so much that the doll's lines were filthy and inappropriate but rather insanely stupid. Whoever wrote these lines no doubt had a serious facepalm moment the second these hit the stores. Some of our fave doll's signature lines included:

"Math is tough!"
'"Let's go shopping!"
"Will we ever have enough clothes?"

It doesn't take a brilliant social commentator (though I'm willing to step up regardless) to see that those lines in succession are essentially product suicide. Angry parent complaints poured in, and the doll's phrases were quickly reduced from 269 to a mere 4. Guess she had a lot of inappropriate things to say. Whatever, Mattel. You can give her a wheelchair and a computer, but we know your true intentions.



Snacktime Cabbage Patch Kids



These dolls were pretty perplexing on concept alone. You're telling me I feed my dolly, and the food goes right through her into her backpack? What does she have, some sort of carrier bag form of IBS? It's confusing enough without the added elements of danger and surprise that no doubt came later.

Kids adored these toys. So much so that they wanted to lean in and show affection for their dolls, at which point the doll would mercilessly begin chomping on their long hair to the point of no return. It wasn't much of a consolation that you could find it in the backpack afterward, I'll tell you that much. Fingers made some tasty snacks, as well. I'm sure Mattel thought they were pretty crafty for not including an on/off switch but rather using a simple censor to enable chewing. That is, until you COULD NOT STOP THE DOLL FROM EATING YOUR HAIR. Enough said. Let's move on.



Talking Freddy Krueger Doll




Kids love horror films, right? I mean, who better than young kids to watch terrifying tales sure to induce scary dreams and night terrors for years to come? I know if I were a parent in the late 80s, I would have just loved for my kids to see Nightmare on Elm Street and also own some corresponding promotional merchandise. Aside from the fact that I'm still afraid of the movie myself, that is.

According to this no-doubt highly verifiable ad I found on Craig's List for one of these dolls, the pull-string mechanism gives us six friendly phrases: Hi, I'm Freddy, Welcome To Elm Street, Watch Out Freddy's Back, Lets Be Friends, Pleasant Dreams, Ha Ha Ha Ha!

That sounds. Awful. Seriously. Just, frightening. You know, like the kind of thing I'd like to sleep with in my room so it can kill me in the night.



Garbage Pail Kids

I couldn't find an ad for these babies, so here's a lovely youtube compilation of the cards set to angry music. Enjoy!

Let it be known that I actually was a pretty big fan of the mid-80s Garbage Pail Kids. My parents, however, were notably less keen. This Topps line was a clear parody of the Cabbage Patch Kids, one so obvious that it led to inevitable toy company lawsuits. More interestingly, the line was conceived by Art Spiegelman, Pullitzer Prize winning cartoonist of the Holocaust-themed Maus comics. Wait, what? I mean, I love Maus, it's very moving, but...what? Really?

Garbage Pail Kids were trading cards depicting disgusting and allegedly offensive characters. These winners including Valerie Vomit, Adam Bomb, and Foul Phil, all starred in their own trading card complete with stomach-turning illustration. Kids delighted in them, but adults were less than convinced of their trade value. They were quickly banned from schools and parents complained about content in droves. That did not, however, stop Topps from coming out with a movie and a cartoon. Long live the franchise!



Lawn Darts (jarts)



Who doesn't love a fun afternoon of outdoor games with their families? Well, probably the over 6000 people injured by lawn darts could stand to live without it. Or who knows, maybe they can't stand. Or live, for that matter.

Damn Jarts. They seemed like such a good idea at the time. Who doesn't love throwing a sharp metal object at top speed toward their opponent? Sounds pretty win-win to me.

The real issue was that these things stuck to everything. The CPSC warned following a recall that "Lawn darts can cause skull punctures and other serious injuries. CPSC urges consumers to discard or destroy all lawn darts immediately. They should not be given away since they may be of harm to others." Ouch. Skull punctures. It's hard to believe that thousands were injured and a few killed before this product was taken from the shelves. It was kind of fun, though. You have to admit. If you lived, of course.


Hopefully next time you're designing a toy to embrace sexism to puncture eyelids, you'll remember some of these mistakes of the past and at least add some sort of warning or disclaimer to the packaging. Yes, these ideas were generally ridiculous, but many managed to grab media attention by being incredibly popular. It doesn't matter if a toy may kill you or distort your sense of morality, sometimes you've just got to have it. I'm only hoping it did not include a Cabbage Patch Snacktime Sweeney Todd style haircut.

Songs We Totally Did Not Understand As Children

Ah, the age of musical innocence. Back when we could spend hours recording mix tapes of songs off the radio and blasting them at full volume in our rooms from our then top-of-the-line boom boxes, never once giving a second thought to a song's deeper meaning. In all truth, song lyrics mean very little to children. At best they're just a bunch of filler words to get us through to the next catchy chorus or bridge. Sure, they were helpful to learn for singing-along purposes and to look cool in front of our friends for knowing all of the words, but as a concept they seemed pretty arbitrary.

Yes, naivete is a magical thing. For a finite but glorious period of time, we as children all got to bask in glow of our misunderstanding of safeguarded, unexplained thinly-veiled references to all sorts of inappropriate content. That's one of the most wonderful things about children. They're always more than happy to accept something at face value. Why should anything have a deeper meaning, or even a meaning at all? Songs existed solely for our enjoyment and were in no way infiltrated with all sorts of subliminal smut. Or so we unsuspectingly assumed, that is.

Though the list is far from complete, here's a choice selection of 90s* songs that we all no doubt bopped around to at one point or other without giving a second thought to its less than kid-friendly content:


Cherry Pie

Warrant - Cherry pie
by krematoria

If ever a song was written specifically for the purpose of having dead-eyed strippers gyrate shamefully to its beat for years to come, it was Warrant's Cherry Pie. As a child, it was sort of like, hey, what a catchy melody! And I love desserts! Who doesn't love desserts? Yum! It seemed like a no-brainer.

The metaphors in the song aren't even trying. I mean, it's about as up front as you can get without explicitly whipping out a diagram of the female anatomy and using a laser pointer to highlight its finer points. I'll spare you the gorier details, but suffice it to say that if you can't catch the references as an adult then it's likely you've lived a clean bubble-bound existence. Congratulations.



New Age Girl (Mary Moon)

Featuring clips from Dumb and Dumber! Can you get any better than that?

At the time, I was pretty fooled into thinking this song was educational. After all, it taught me the word septuagenarians. That's got to count for something, doesn't it? And it was in Dumb and Dumber, cementing its status in my mind as a work of pure mindless entertainment

For those of you who haven't heard the song in ages, the chorus goes a little something like this:

Mary Moon, she's a vegetarian
Mary Moon, Mary Moon, Mary Moon
Mary Moon will outlive all the septuagenarians
Oh she loves me so, she hates to be alone
She don't eat meat but she sure like the bone

Is that bolding too subtle for you? I could add colors or maybe animated fireworks if that would help. We used to sing this song on the playground, for God's sake. Where was the adult in this situation to tell us it's not exactly good form to scream out, "She sure likes the bone"? Who were we to know?



Waterfalls



I don't know about all of you 90s kids, but TLC's CrazySexyCool was one of those CDs I played on repeat for oh, I don't know, about two years. I loved TLC. Or at least I thought I did. I really dug "Waterfalls". I mean, really. Everyone loves a natural scenic vista, no?

Apparently not. All this time we're thinking they're singing about some lovely water-rushing scenery, they're really giving us a message about the dangers of drugs and unsafe sex. I know, I know, I didn't get it either. Obviously I never saw the above uncut version of the video.

They were pretty sneaky about it., too Those 3 letters that took him to his final resting place? HIV. If I had known or remotely understood the context, I probably would have spent a good deal less time dancing around carefreely to the song. My bad.


Little Red Corvette

Little Red Corvette


Oh, Prince, you naughty, naughty Shetland pony of a man. How can you give us a song that seems on the surface to be about a cute little sports car but is actually suggesting to us all sorts of hoo-ha references? When he said he wanted to tame my little red love machine, I thought he wanted to do a little tuning up under the hood. I mean, give me an all-over inspection. Dammit, are there any car processes that don't sound chock full of innuendo? I've got it! He's going to change my transmission fluid. Wait a minute...




Brick

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Don't hate me for selecting the pop-up version of this video. I know it diminishes the emotionality...that's why I like it. Thank you for your understanding.

This was one of those songs that was hauntingly beautiful in a way that should have been suspicious enough to tip us off, but more often than not failed to warn us of the serious adult-themed content. Ben Folds Five was famous for putting out quirky, silly music, so there's really no way we could have known even on the off chance that we were legitimate child fans.

Sometime in college after I hadn't heard the song in ages I suddenly remembered it, downloaded it, listened, and immediately felt an unquenchable urge to sob for an indeterminate period of time. I didn't know. In case you didn't either, the song is about an abortion. The song is incredibly heartwrenching. As a kid, I thought, wow, what a pretty song. Listen, there's some piano. Hey, why is everyone crying...?




Semi-Charmed Life



I'm not embarrassed to admit I'm still a loyal Third Eye Blind fan. I went to see them way back in eighth grade and then again this past year when they premiered Ursa Major at South by Southwest, and I have to say I'm still feeling it ten years later. Semi-Charmed life, was, without a doubt, one of my favorite songs as a kid. It was catchy, it was uptempo, and it was sort of fun to see if I could keep up with singing along to the warp-speed lyrics.

Until I bought the CD, the edited version I recorded off the radio said "Dkjadcjkajdflkd will lift you up until you break". On the CD, however, I found those suspicious jumbled words to be "doing crystal meth will lift you up until you break". Which still meant absolutely nothing to me. I was a kid. What did I know from drugs? I just liked the part that went doot-doot-doot-doot-do-do-do-doot. My mistake. Whatever. I still like it.


It's totally possible that many of you were better informed children than I was, but it's a lot more likely that you were scratching your heads right along with me. I prefer to remember these song they way they were in my mind's eye, though--simple, innocent, and made expressly for my appropriate musical enjoyment.



*I know Little Red Corvette came out in the early 80s but you need to understand I sort of have a thing for Prince. We're both from Minnesota, and anyone from Minnesota knows of and fervently loves Minnesotan celebrity. It's in our rule book. It comes right before the pronunciation guide for "Dontcha know?"

Clarissa Explains It All

Nowadays, marketing to the tween demographic is a no-brainer. Networks like the Disney Channel make a large chunk of their profits off a tween audience, and it's become generally good entertainment market practice to appeal to the eight-to-twelve set. Back in the early 90s, however, there had yet to be a major leap in marketing to preadolescents. There was a wealth of children's programming and teen-programming, but very little in the way of in beTween.

Nickelodeon was pretty pioneering in Tween entertainment, particularly with its popular sitcom Clarissa Explains It All. Clarissa Explains It All featured a star who was conveniently on the younger age of her teenage years, allowing the network to promote the program to teens and tweens alike.

Though the show confronted teen issues, it didn't do it in the Very Special Episode style so popular with contemporary family sitcoms. The stories were told through the lens of Clarissa's quirky and ironic personality, with a whole bunch of ridiculously awesome 90s fashion risks* thrown into the mix.

The show also featured an outstandingly catchy theme by Rachel Sweet, whose incessant na-na-na-nana-ing punctuated with well-timed "alright, alrights" and "hey cools" made it difficult not to want to at least hum along.



At the time I remember the incredible fervor with which I coveted her outfit in the opening sequence, though in retrospect it's a tad bit trampy. I had innumerable arguments with my mother about midriff shirts, as no doubt many young 90s girls across the country were having with their respective parents.

Here our parents were, thinking Nickelodeon was wholesome programming, all while its subliminally encouraging us to go seeking Clarissa-grade streetwalker boots, tights, and miniskirt combos. In all fairness, I still think she totally rocks it, so I suppose its moderate sluttiness is excusable.

Clarissa was famous for breaking the fourth wall with a frequency that would make Zack Morris blush. This wasn't an occasional wink or nod to the audience, she went all the way with Ferris Bueller-grade audience-directed monologues. It was almost as if she were just some friend of ours who happened to live in our television set. She was funny, she was honest, and most of all, she was an individual in every sense of the word.

From the very beginning, Melissa Joan Heart gave Clarissa that X factor of immediate likability. Watch her introduce herself in this segment of the first episode and just try not to think she's just a little bit cool. It's nearly impossible.



The first episode was a bit risque in terms of thematic content as it centered around Clarissa's plot to eliminate her irritating little brother. It doesn't exactly sound like the stuff great kids' programming is made of, but it managed to pull it off in a lighthearted and comic enough way to make it work and sufficiently endear her to us as a character.

We see many of the recurring gimmicks in the first episode, showing just how well-developed the series was upon its inception. The show made use of all sorts of visual aids that would handily appear in the right-hand corner of our screen, later the basis of CNN--the Clarissa News Network. She has a miniature alligator named elvis that lives in a sandbox in her room, and her best friend Sam stops by via a ladder hooked to her second-floor window. There were flashbacks and musical cues. It all flowed together nicely, creating an original work of kid-driven entertainment.

What I wouldn't give for a little headline image to come up alongside me as I address the audience directly.

The show was smart and fast-paced, and it talked to kids rather than at them. Sure, there were some hints of what is considered right or wrong, but it wasn't shoved down our throats After-School Special Style. This wasn't Full House or even Saved By the Bell. It wasn't about learning lessons, it was about commiserating with a preteen-to-teen-age character who was going through all the same things we were.

We'd all suffered her humiliations and dealt with similar growing-up traumas. Clarissa was a role model without being a Pollyanna. She wasn't necessarily who our parents would pick to guide us, and that's a lot of what we liked about her. She's who we would have chosen, after all.

It's also notable that Clarissa was among the first Nickelodeon female leads. It's nearly unthinkable in the days of Hannah Montana and its ilk that children's networks didn't see young girls as a legitimately targetable demographic, but in the early 90s it was still all shiny and new. Clarissa wasn't much of a girly girl, allowing her to appeal fairly well to both genders.

Clarissa totally had the best 90s style. Keith Haring t-shirt, open graphic neon button down, and coordinating scrunchie perched right at the top of her head. Pure 90s perfection.

Clarissa fakes sick to avoid a school play, laments being forced to wear an uncool outfit on picture day, yearns for her driver's license: in short, we didn't have to love her because she was extraordinary, but more because she was ordinary. For once, the networks had gotten it right and put one of our own kind out there saying the things that we say, doing the things we do, and being annoyed by the things that annoy us too. She was like a cooler version of our preteen selves. After all, she had her own theme song and news network; we couldn't exactly compete with that.




*Am I the only one who automatically associates the phrase "fashion risk" with the movie Girls Just Wanna Have Fun? It just makes me want to say, "You're taking a fashion risk, I like that. Just don't do it on TV." Anyone? Anyone? Just me? Okay then.

The Macarena

Image via atomicballroom.com

Fourteen weeks. Fourteen weeks. That's how long the Macarena held the top spot on the Billboard music charts. Fourteen weeks. That's three and a half months of non-stop Latin-beat line dancing. Not only was the song number one, it was everywhere. It was like an airborne contagion, only with a whole lot more butt-shaking. Weddings, bar mitzvahs, middle school dances; you name the venue, people were out there Macarena-ing their hearts out. They didn't care what the words were or where it came from. Most of them were just grateful to have pre-choreographed moves.

As far as dance crazes go, the Macarena verged on phenomenon status. It swept through the country and the world, though no one seems to know just how it got so popular or how everyone learned the dance. In an age before everyone had high-speed internet, every person between the ages of 5 and 95 seemed to have the Macarena down pat. Never mind that nowadays people have to watch step-by-step how-to videos on how to do the Soulja Boy dance on YouTube at least ten times before getting it down pat. Back in the 90s, dance trends may have been infectious, but they didn't spread virally.



Most of us can't pinpoint exactly when or where or how we learned it, we just all miraculously knew the appropriate times to jump a 180 degree turn counterclockwise in unison. There was something strangely hypnotizing about its repetitiveness. We know longer had to fear the dance floor, wondering when the appropriate moment was to switch from the shopping cart to the lawn mower. We just simply did the exact same routine over and over and over again. It was a relatively foolproof system, though limited skill dancers admittedly may have struggled a bit awkwardly with the pelvic swivels.

It all started way back in 1992 when Los del Rio unleashed their insanely catchy song onto a crowd of unsuspecting VIP Venezuelans. Though the song went through all sorts of tweaks and changes before turning into the dance craze we recognize today, it was that tiny spark of interest that launched a million hip swivels. The original was of course in full Spanish, with, well, interesting lyrics to say the least. That is, the lyrics were completely strange. Just totally, utterly, derangedly odd.

The original Spanish version went a little something like this. Okay, okay, exactly like this:




For those of you out there who do not speak Spanish (myself included), fear not. With the help of the trusty (well, kind of trusty) interwebs, I have tracked down what I can only assume to be an accurate translation. Correct me if I'm wrong, but here goes:


Give your body pleasure, Macarena
Because your body is for giving it pleasure and good things
Give your body pleasure, Macarena
Ehhhh, Macarena
Macarena has a boyfriend whose name is
Whose last name is Vitorino
And during his military swearing in
She got together with two of his friends
Macarena, Macarena, Macarena
Who likes the summers of Marbella
Macarena, Macarena, Macarena
Who likes the guerrilla lifestyle
Macarena dreams of the Corte Ingles (High-class dept. store)
And she likes the most recent fashions
She'd like to live in New York
And trap a new boyfriend


Stop right there. I mean, hold the phone. They might as well be describing me. I love the guerrilla lifestyle. I just adore it. And don't even get me started on the most recent fashions. No wonder we liked the song so much; even if we didn't understand the words, we may have just subconsciously been drawn to such a relatable character as this Macarena chick.

Needless to say, ethnocentric English-speakers required a watered-down version for our own understanding pleasure, so they came up with the following:



Now that is what I am talking about. That was most definitely the version I had blaring from my 90s-era Sony boom box. In case you didn't catch it, it goes a little something like this:

When I dance they call me Macarena
And the boys, they say que soy buena
They all want me, they can't have me
So they come and dance beside me
Move with me, chant with me
And if you're good, I'll take you home with me.

Yeah, that's it. Let's chant together. Oh, that is hot. Are you into Gregorian?

Now don't you worry about my boyfriend
The boy whose name is Vitorino
I don't want him, couldn't stand him
He was no good, so I...ha,ha,ha,ha,ha

Now come on, what was I supposed to do?
He was out of town and his two friends were soooooo fine.

Hey, what happened to Vitorino's military swearing-in ceremony? We couldn't fit that one there, eh?


Come and find me, my name is Macarena
Always at the the party con las chicas que soy buena
Come join me, dance with me
And you fellows chant along with me.
Move with me, chant with me
And if you're good, I'll take you home with me.


Okay, so this version is lacking a bit in the high-end department store/guerrilla warfare categories, but I think you get the general idea.

This handy diagram is great for practicing for 90s theme parties.

Anyway, just try to tell me that the dancers in the remix video are not the prototypical 90s girls. The hairstyles. The clothing. The multiculturalism. The mutliculturalism part is key, too. Because you know what the Macarena does? That's right, it brings cultures together. Forget complicated treaties and trade embargoes, just give us the Macarena and we'll be dancing together in no time. We're not really so different, all of us. We all do the Macarena one arm at a time.