I Survived The 80s Rotating Header Image

80sCIWD (80s Chicks I Would Do)

Jun 1st, 2009
by KevinMcFadden.
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Most recent picture I can find

Most recent picture I can find

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(An occasional series of articles where I revisit some of my not-so-obvious crushes from the 80s. I wonder aloud what ever happened to them, and if I’d still do them now.)

Andrea Elson. The name is probably not familiar to you until I give you one more name. And that name would be ALF. Right, she was the daughter on the show. (Right now, I am willing to guess there are a fair number of you going “O yeaahhhh”) Andrea had the classic girl next door look and killer 80s hair. She was on the show during that special era where she goes from illegal to pretty damn hot. Yes, there is something pervy about that aspect.

Hell, even the mom on the show was pretty hot, an early era MILF. So it made sense that the daughter was attractive as well. I mean, if you’re gonna have a show about a damn puppet, ya better get some eye candy. For those kids who don’t know the premise of ALF, the basic concept was that he was an alien that crashed on earth and ate cats. I know, sounds like comedy gold, right? Every week, millions would tune in to see the next wacky episode of ALF with the Tanner family. It wasn’t long until all the horny young guys started noticing something else; Lynn, the daughter.

Ah, Lynn was a good kid. She often was carrying books around. She even had braces, too. She had one of the best heads of 80s hair this side of that one guitarist from Mr. Mister. As the series wore on, it wasn’t hard to see the producers knew they had a hottie on their hands. Suddenly, she was jumping up and down in an effort to get ALF to exercise. She started wearing more flattering dresses. The nations’ perv meter slowly started peaking. She was so damn cute, you could barely tell one of her eyes was just a few degrees off. Now, that’s cute.

The meter spiked in 1987 when she put on a leather dress for her appearance on Married With Children. Suddenly, our little Lynn was all grown up, and on the prowl alongside Kelly Bundy. How she never got an award for this role is beyond me.

OK, so I will bet she turned out relatively OK. I think she stayed off Dana Plato Blvd. I imagine her to be well adjusted. And I think she’s still doable. So let’s see if I’m right. My research shows her to be a former bulimic, so I wouldn’t have had to spend a lot on dinner dates.

Turns out Andrea has pretty much fallen off the face of the earth. I can’t find any recent info on her, and one semi-recent picture. She still looks pretty good. She ended up marrying someone from the show and still appears to be happily married, so good for her. Even if she doesn’t know what she’s missing with me. She has one daughter. Acting wise, it seems to have tailed off for her. Sadly, in her last few roles-all from the late 90s-she has been billed as ‘Girl #1’ and ‘flight attendant’. Ah, Andrea, there is still one voice in cyberspace who misses you so.

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Bubble Burger

May 12th, 2009
by KevinMcFadden.
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bubble_burger1

As a kid, freedom was a flirting possibility. I was confident I could bike from home to the moon, but my damn overprotective mother had other thoughts. So my range was fairly limited. About as far as I could go was to the convenience store a few blocks away. This was the same store that was tantalizingly right across the street from the cemetery. There were countless times I stared across the street at what surely must be the most happening place in the world. I was sure all kinds of wicked cool things happened in that cemetery. But, being the good kid I was, I listened to mommy and never strayed to the “cem”.

So much of my world was in this convenience store. Ah, the freedom I had. With some paper route money firmly in pocket, the world was my oyster. There were so many choices. Did I want to buy the new Mad or Star Hits? Was I thirsty? Should I buy a Coke? Bottle or from the machine? Could I stuff 3 Pudding Pies down my gullet before I ever made it back to my bike? Maybe it was time to grab some more baseball cards. Sure, I already had a thousand back home, but I needed like 36 more cards to complete the set. Talk about the holy grail. And I was one of those kids that actually enjoyed the gum that came with baseball cards. Chalky and pink, it somehow tasted like ‘summer’ to me. Yea, maybe I needed some gum today.

Gum was just starting to get cutting edge back in the 80s (long before it came in plastic containers). We had the old standby-Juicy Fruit. I don’t think anything has changed about Juicy Fruit since then, except the price. Back then it was a quarter for a pack, right? We could feel edgy and go Big Red. (So kiss a little longer, hold hands a little longer, hold tight a little longer, longer with Big Red). About the biggest breakthrough in gum technology was Freshen Up; gum with a liquid center. Pretend you were a ball player with Big League Chew.

I always wanted more in my gum of choice; a lot more. And only one item satisfied that need. And that one magical gum was the Bubble Burger. The Bubble Burger was and still is my favorite gum. In fact, the Burger was more than just gum. No, it was an event.

BB stood out because of its packaging. While most other gum came in strips in packs, BB made them a mockery. BB came in its own plastic container, a replica of burger boxes. 100% pure bubble gum the top of the box proudly proclaimed. The Bubble Burger was massive. I’m no numbers guy, but I really think one BB could easily hold more than one whole pack of Juicy Fruit.

The Burger itself was a monster. I have it in my memory that the burger was comprised of 3-4 pieces of gum. 2 were for the ‘buns’, and I want to say at least 2 more made up the patty and the cheese? I am sure it was more than a mouthful for some younger kids. But it never discouraged me. It was always a challenge to shove the whole thing in. And the same thing always happened; my jaw would get locked open. Now, it was man against gum. There was never a Bubble Burger than beat me.

It would take a few minutes for the saliva and my young teeth to make some progress. But, o, it was so good. The gum soon softened, and my taste buds were soon rewarded. I was like a cow, working their cud. I can’t properly explain just how good this gum was. Words do not properly explain the mélange that was the Bubble Burger. Wow. And when the experience was over, you had a souvenir; the plastic container. You know how some slobs have their back seat covered in fast food boxes? Well, that was my room. Like I was building some tributary monument for the Lord of All Gum. I also used them to hold stuff; like tacks. Which in retrospect isn’t the smartest thing to do if you have younger siblings running about. Mom “Kev, how come he is yakking up tacks?” Me “I dunno.” Ah, golden times, my friends. Sadly, research shows that Fleer (the parent company) discontinued the Bubble Burger in 2001. This came as quite a shock, since I never stopped looking for the elusive BB wherever I went. I am also said since I will never, ever have another Bubble Burger. O, how I weep for the future generations with their shitty Dentyne Ice.

As I do with a lot of things I opine about here, I highly doubt the BB could ever be made and marketed today. The Bubble Burger was quintessential 80’s. It was bright, colorful, larger than life. No way something like that could be made these days. For starters, no gum company would put out their gum just raw these days. There was no wrapper or protection for the BB, just the gum itself in a plastic container anyone can open, tamper with and close. Also, like I said, this was a fairly big wad of gum; I am surprised it made it to 2001 with no apparent chokings. And I am sure the gum was nothing but sugar and the most borderline of ingredients: Yellow #5, high fructose corn syrup, lead paint chips, salt. Orthodontists had to be behind the gum somehow. They had to be that 5th dentist that never recommended the other gum.

Posted in: 80's Foods, Uncategorized.

“The Cosby Woah”

May 7th, 2009
by Justin Fields.
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I was at home the other day, sick day from work (as if you cared:( and flipping through channels I just so happened to stumble upon the 80’s hit “The Cosby show”. As I watched this particular episode, Denise gets her first car, it got me to thinking, The Cosby Show was the first television program to depict African Americans positively. Don’t get me wrong the Jeffersons were rich at least, not like the Evans Family of “Good Times”, but the Jeffersons seemed to be comprised more characters based off of stereotypes of black people, loud and obnoxious, rather than actual people. Although, I think all the aforementioned shows did offer some insight into black culture, in different ways, I don’t believe any show on television at that time or prior portrayed the intellectual, articulate, educated well-adjusted black family until the Cosby show.

The Cosby show first aired in September of 1984 and lasted until the early 90’s. The show followed the Huxtable family as they learned to deal with life’s little lessons and grow a little wiser and closer in the process. The family was composed of the Cliff and Clair Huxtable, played by Bill Cosby and Phylicia Rashaad respectively and their four children Sandra, Denise, Theo, Vanessa, and Rudy. The show had both parents being very well educated and articulate, with Cliff being an Obstetrician and Clair being a lawyer. Most often, the show had either parent dealing with a situation with their child by talking the matter over and thinking it out. On the rare occasion on of the parents may have threatened a spanking but never did the show depict any. Although a comedy, over the years the show would touch on some pretty heavy topics such as dealing with a child with dyslexia to teenage sex and everything in between.

For me the most memorable thing about the show was how it could be serious, educational and funny all at the same time or within a few minutes of each other. I remember one particular episode where the son Theo gives his father a really well though out and articulate speech about why he wanted to drop out of high school to be a normal person with a normal job, which I currently possess :(. While the speech was being given and for a few moments immediately thereafter the audience fell silent as if reflecting on the boys powerful words. I think there may have arose from the audience a clap or two of approval that would have broken into a full applaud if it weren’t for Cliff Huxtable interrupting to say, “THAT IS THE STUPIDEST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD.” To me this wasn’t the father not respecting the boy’s wishes or looking down on “normal people” but instead he was telling his son you are going to do everything in your power to be the best at whatever you do. Right now you are in school and for you to quit would mean you being a failure not that being a normal person makes you a failure but quitting makes you a failure. But anyway I digress. To me, the show is the most positive depiction of African American’s on television and one of televisions funniest and most impactful sitcoms. For those of you who haven’t seen this show please do so at a time most convenient for you because without this show you would probably not have “The Fresh Prince of Bell Air”, “Living Single”, the direct Spin-off “A Different World” and the “Bernie Mac Show”.

Although Bill Cosby was already a well respected comedian before the Cosby Show this show rocketed him to super stardom and he is now one of America’s most famous pop icons. Him and those sweaters he always wore. Why don’t we make more television like this these days?

Posted in: 80s Everything.
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Careless Whisper

Apr 27th, 2009
by KevinMcFadden.
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Some things are better left in the 80s. Small Wonder. Knock off Swatch watches. That picture of me at the shore wearing truly hideous orange and yellow Jamz, thinking I was the shit. And another thing that should firmly be left in the past is bad 80s music. Don’t get me wrong, the 80s gave us great pop, rock, metal and Appalachian folk ditties. Just the same, it gave us truly horrid music as well. And as the cycle of life continues, everything that is old is new again. I remember as a kid growing up and hearing a song that was a cover; i.e. some new band was re-recording a song another band did. AKA remakes.

My previous lifetime in the music biz has taught me a few things. And when it comes to covers, it is rarely an altruistic case. More times than not, by a band doing a cover song, it betters their chances of being played on the radio. A lot of times, they do these cover songs because their record label makes them do the cover song. Now I have no direct knowledge of this event, but I firmly believe that this must be the case with the newest cover song zooming up the charts; Seether’s cover of a fucking Wham song.

From a purely historical standpoint, no good ever comes out of a band covering a Wham/George Michael song. We need to look no further back than the dawning of a truly horrid musical genre-‘rap rock’. Among a few other guilty parties, one of the leaders of the bastardization is ol’ Red Hat himself; Fred Durst and Limp Bizkit. To be fair, LB did have a huge buzz going for them, but it was their rendition of ‘Faith’ that got them on radio. From there, they rode the fad of rap rock right into the ground. While my research doesn’t quite bear it out, I am still convinced that cases of ear cancer shot sharply up during the late 90s. So history will support my hypothesis of covering Wham/George Michael songs = suck.

I have no real beef against Seether. I think they have some OK songs. I wouldn’t buy any of them, and I wouldn’t even illegally download them either. I can easily confuse Seether with any other of a dozen or so bands with that type of sound. They’re just kind of ‘there’ for me. But I do know they throw in the occasional ‘fuck’ into their songs, and that will always win points from me. So when I heard they were covering Wham’s ultra-wussy ballad ‘Careless Whisper’, I immediately called for the revocation of their collective man cards. I am sorry, but there is no way you can call yourselves a ‘rock band’ and then go cover a fucking Wham song.

This is far worse than any number of wussy power ballads Bon Jovi has foisted on the public over the last 20 or so years. (Chief among them, ‘Thank You For Loving Me’. I can forgive you for the frosting and highlights, but JBJ has to hand back his man card as well.) How ironic is it that one of Seether’s recent hits goes “you’re such a fucking hypocrite’. Sorry, guys, use all the f-bombs you want to, but it can’t make up for redoing ‘Careless Whisper’.

The pitch meeting at the label had to go something like this. “OK, guys, you’re successful. Rock radio has played a bunch of your songs the last few years, and you’ve sold us a bunch of records. Now it’s time to break you guys big time. We want you to do….a cover!” Seether replies, “Well, um, OK. Let’s do a cool rocking band. Let’s cover someone like the Scorpions or Maiden or….” “Actually, guys,” the record label suit would interrupt,” we have another direction. We’re thinking the world is just absolutely begging for a cover of ‘Careless Whisper’.”

Seether sits in stunned silence. “But, guys, we’re not gay.” The label carries on, “Look guys, trust us here. We think this could be a huge radio hit, really take you guys to a new level. The chicks you guys will get…” Seether responds, “But we don’t even like that song, no one does. That song should be best left in the 80s. Christ, our fans will totally turn on us. 80s bloggers will go nuts! They will ask for our man cards back! We can’t get chicks without our man cards!” The label puts their foot down, “Do it or we’ll send you on tour with Limp Bizkit.” “Hey, whoa man! No need to go that far. OK, we’ll do it, we’ll do it.” And now we all must suffer.

As a kid, all my music info came from 2 sources; Hit Parader & Circus. I still think I have one Hit Parader issue with a Duran Duran dartboard. You never saw Dokken doing a KC & the Sunshine Band cover. No way. But now Seether has crossed the line, and given a horrible song new life. Have you ever listened to the lyrics to CW? In the name of journalistic integrity, I have to look them up to prove my point. CW features such douchey lyrics like “I’m never gonna dance again/Guilty feet have got no rhythm” and “I’m never gonna dance again/The way I danced with you” Man cards, right NOW Seether. Also temper this with one of their own works; “Fuck me like you hate me/Dig it up and hold me out.” How can you go from something cool like that to something douchey like covering ‘Careless Whisper’?

The worst fucking part, is goddamn it if the song doesn’t get stuck in my head.

Posted in: 80s music.

Lawn Darts

Apr 19th, 2009
by KevinMcFadden.
2 comments

Things weren’t so splintered in the 80’s. Such modern day marvels like the internet, TiVo and gaming systems weren’t around to keep people glued to their beanbags for hours and hours on end. People were much more social. Neighbors hung out. Families had relatives over. With a bit of pre-planning, it was pretty easy to get a happening picnic going. Volleyball nets and ice tubs would appear. Charcoal grills would emerge from the hibernation in the garage. Speakers would be leaning in windowsills to blast music through the screens. Adults would hang out, inevitably to leave the kids to play their own games. One of my favorites was lawn darts.

Lawn darts is exactly what it sounds like. Take 2 thin plastic rings, place them a distance apart. In your hand would be a fairly heavy piece of plastic and metal. The metal formed a tip at one end. As it ran up, ‘fins’ were attached. The goal was to throw said dart into the ring. With an underarm motion, kind of like in bowling, you would arc your arm up and try to get the dart to land into the ring. Fun for hours, right?

As in most games, rules could change from town to down. You could play the “dart within a dart-length” rules gets you a point at your Uncle Ed’s. Then at the next party somewhere else, you could play where only bulls eyes count. Surely you could see the rumbles this could cause.

I remember wasting many summer days with my friend playing lawn darts on my lawn. It was hipper than horseshoes. There was always anticipation to see if your dart was within range to steal a point or 2. Good clean fun. But also a sign of just how naïve we could be back then. It was all fun and games. That is, until the kids started ruining everything. See, in addition to their proclivity to finding the bulls eye, lawn darts also developed the proclivity to finding their way into little kids’ skulls.

Suddenly this game everyone had been playing for years was now deadly. I say it was just evolution. I mean if a kid is dumb enough to wander near where sharp projectiles are raining down on the ground, odds are he wasn’t going to be a great scientist or politician. In nature it’s called ‘thinning the herd’. Besides, their parents should have been watching them instead of sucking down another can of Genny Cream Ale.

If you think about it, it’s a wonder this game even made it to the market. You couldn’t make that sales pitch today. “OK, esteemed board members, here is our latest idea sure to drive up profit margins. We’re gonna sell these foot long metal spears and put plastic fins on them. They will weigh like pound or two. The game will be to throw the darts into plastic rings! It’s like the game of darts, but only you can play it outside!” “Um, Jenkins, are these darts lethal?” “Say what now? No, no I can assure you, there isn’t any lead in the plastic rings…anymore.” “Well, OK then, let’s go with it.”

In the 80s, no one worried about getting hurt. These days, you can even sell sharp knives for fear of some shithead threatening to sue because they cut themselves. Well the game ends up killing 3 kids, and gets banned. Shouldn’t bad aim be the culprit here? Yes, I have found documentation that three kids were killed as a result of lawn darts. And how come it was always kids who got stuck? You never heard Spot or Tabby taking one to the noggin; no, it was always Timmy or that one slow kid. By comparison, how many kids have been killed skateboarding, yet those lethal decks of death are still prevalent? My God, I see kids trying to kill themselves every day going right down my street! Maybe I should throw a lawn dart at them to scare them off their boards of sure doom.

As the lawn dart was phased out, other, more wimpy games took its place. Today you can play something called ‘cornhole’, which to me is something that sounds like it ‘ain’t right’. You can also find cheap safe versions at just about any dollar store. These games are frauds, an affront to freedom lovers every where. Where is the sense of danger? Where is the thrill? Where is the possibility of getting impaled? There are only a few things more I can think of that make me feel studlier than holding a small spear in one hand, and a cold beer in the other. I am sure my caveman forefathers did something similar with their sharpened sticks and raccoons.

So I say it’s time to bring back the lawn dart. Memorial Day is not that far away, and what better way to spend it than by gettin’ liquored up and throwing sharp objects? I’m off to eBay to win me a set from the UK.

Posted in: 80s Sports, Uncategorized.

Bertinelli

Apr 14th, 2009
by KevinMcFadden.
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Alright, Bertinelli, I am just about sick of you. For years you were away from the scene, presumably living very comfortably on your money, and Eddie’s money as well. Somehow, the movie of the week phenomenon-which you helped foster-has gone on without you. I imagine the Hallmark Channel for one is grateful for the continued proliferation of movies of the week. I was fine with you. I never had a problem with you. My mind was free to be filled up with other unimportant things like birthdays and anniversaries.

But now I can’t turn on the Goddamned TV without hearing about you. Suddenly, you are popular and all over the place. Poor Schneider is probably hanging from the ceiling fan while you are making the rounds. And for what?

You got thin.

Big fucking whoop. Maybe I’m the pessimist here, but one doesn’t get thin, if once they weren’t fat. Now it seems all the female talk show hosts are fawning over you like you somehow wiped out PMS. Suddenly, they are showering you with terms like “inspirational”. For fucking what? Because you got thin? No, that shouldn’t be the story. Instead the story should be how some out of work yet financially comfortable has been let herself get so fucking out of shape in the first place. Is this what really passes as “entertainment news” these days? Why won’t anyone look at the real story?

Face it, kids, if it any of us were in her position, it would be different. Let’s see, I apparently never have to work a day in my life again. I am sure I rake in a fair amount form Eddie on a monthly basis, as well with what I’ve earned. I am sure I have a nice big house, if not more than one. Life is pretty sweet, and I can lead a life of leisure. So why the fuck would you let yourself get fat? I can’t speak for you (even though I technically did above, my bad), but if that was me, my ass would be in the gym every day, taking care of myself. I would want to make sure I am around as long as possible to enjoy my good life.

You don’t fool me , Val. I absolutely refuse to believe that you simply went on Jenny Craig and lost all the excess baggage. No, I am sure you had access to top trainers, doctors and nutritionists. Please do not think I am dumb enough to think you just ate your way thin.

In the 80s, you had airbrushing. In the 2000s, you have PhotoShop. Don’t tell me there isn’t some visual chicanery going on here. I have a problem that this has now become a cottage industry for you. You are super chipper on your Jenny Craig commericials. I love how one of the selling points is “the food comes right to my door”. Well, no duh, dipshit, where are they supposed to send it? The rear window of the garage? And you’ve ‘written’ a book as well.

Maybe I shouldn’t dump all over you. I mean, anyone who can inspire others to get healthy is a good thing. All I’m saying is you got tons of help, and I’m afraid you are somewhat misleading the Bon Bon eating masses. There’s a reason for all that small print in the ads. Usually, it’s along the lines of “eating sensibly and exercising regularly”. So, congrats, on getting re-famous for losing weight.

And by the way, if you did this on Celebrity Fit Club, I totally would have watched it.

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My Vice

Apr 9th, 2009
by AaronDavidWard.
1 comment

I’ve never done any illegal drugs. Hell, I’ve never even smoked a
cigarette. I used to think it had to do with my ethics and morals
until I discovered I’m a control freak. And doing drugs requires a
willingness to give up control. The only way that could happen for me
was if I took a legal drug to loosen me up enough to do an illegal
drug which would then eliminate the need to do the illegal drug.

In the 1980s, one of my favorite TV shows was Miami Vice. In some
ways, it still is. There’s something alluring about wearing Armani
while tooling around in a black Ferrari Daytona Spyder (or a replica
built on a Corvette chassis as was done in the first two seasons of
the show) on the mean streets of Miami armed for bear about to meet
with drug peddling thugs. That’s the kind of life experience nearly
every (suburban) teenage boy wants besides cars and women.

And nearly every guy wanted to be Sonny Crockett. I knew two guys in
my high school who were seniors when I was a freshman and both of them
dressed like Crockett. Now that might have been hip if we lived in
Miami but we lived in upstate New York. Walking around in white linen
with no socks and espadrilles is only hip if you’re looking to develop
frost bite. And linen just doesn’t seem to hold any heat in below
zero winters. It wrinkles but it does look cool for about five
minutes in the snow until you blend in and are nearly killed by a
snowplow clearing away banks at the mall. It’s difficult to look
unruffled when you’re nursing a flesh wound although Don Johnson
might be able to pull it off for the right money in the right show.

Now I didn’t have the courage to really try smoking cigarettes (I
still don’t). I don’t even like the acrid smell of burning rope, old
gym socks, and car exhaust that seems to come from a lit smoke. So in
my best cowardly way to look and act like Crockett, I rolled a torn
piece of standard copy paper and lit it using my parent’s wood burning
stove in the basement. And there I was in my white cotton suit from a
low end designer sold at Sears and my blue turquoise shirt and my fake
tortoise shell Ray Ban Wayfarer-like shades smoking a lit piece of
paper in the cellar. It lasted about five seconds before coughing
ensued and that lasted much longer like a hangover after drinking.

I no longer wear white cotton suits, pastel t-shirts, or try to smoke
fake cigarettes but I would still like to be as cool as Sonny
Crockett. I’m 37 years old so that window is closing fast. Still for a brief
moment on a cold winter night in upstate New York, I could feel the
pounding pulse of synthesized music, hear the crashing Atlantic surf and
the roar of a Ferrari, and the excitement of thinking I was about to
become Sonny Crockett. My vice was to think I needed to be someone
else to be attractive. I’ve learned I don’t but I’d still like to
drive a Ferrari someday (but not to a drug deal because I’m fragile)!

Aaron David Ward is a professional stand up comedian and former fake
cigarette smoker from Ballston Spa, NY. Visit his website at
www.aarondavidward.com and write to him at adw@aarondavidward.com.

Posted in: Uncategorized.
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Candy Girl

Apr 7th, 2009
by Jenny8675309.
4 comments

1980s Candy

My girls like candy
A candy treat
She knocks me right up off my feet
She’s so fine as can be
I know this girl was meant for me

Candy girl
You are my world
Look so sweet
You’re a special treat

I was born and raised in Southwest Philadelphia. Faithfully, everyday at 4:30 and again around 10:00 p.m. in the spring and summer time, we would hear the ringing sounds of the Fountain Fair truck being driven by “Big Al”. Al’s truck was a light mint green in color, which I often associated with the mint chocolate chip ice cream cone – or milkshake - I’d always buy. As soon as I heard that familiar “ring”, and saw that green shadow making its’ way on our block, I would dig my greedy hands into my grandfather’s glass change jar. You could actually hear the “clink” outside through the front screen door as I placed the lid back on before exiting. “Big Al” used to tease me about this all the time. He’d say, “Here comes Jennifer with grandpaw’s change,” in his ever so strong New Yawk accent. My “PopPop” conveniently kept this by little pot of silver by the front door, filled to the top with quarters, for his first grandchild.

Jingling and jangling every step of the way, to the sound of what was probably 30 quarters in my pockets, I would finally reach my destination - that heavenly truck of saccharine!

Hmmmmm, what would I get today? I’d begin to perspire in my HEAVEN sweatshirt, as I stared up at the truck. I knew the options and could see them in my sleep, but still continued to study that menu all the time. Alexander the Grape? Nah, my tongue always got so blue. Or maybe it would match my sweatshirt? I could always opt for Lemon Heads. I loved when they would turn white, where I’d make my final bite into that little sour head. As long as you got through the yellow sourness, you were good to go. Johnny Apple Treats were also a favorite. Cherry Clan? I remember thinking the little Chinese man on the box was really creepy and scary looking, so Cherry Clans were often a no for me. There was another watermelon flavor in this bitter category, but I just cannot seem to place the name. They were softer, more jelly like in the middle, and they were so good. I think the box was green with a little watermelon man on the front. I can smell them now as I think about it.

Indian Brand Salted Pumpkin Seeds I would always opt for, it we were sitting watching a baseball game around the corner at the field. They were a good snack that lasted long. However, after about 15 of them, I would usually make myself sick. DAVID Sunflower Seeds were also a good selection, but I could eat a million of those.

Fun Dip? Razzles? Jolly Rancher Sticks? I remember when Razzles first came out. You would give someone a piece and they thought it was just a candy like a Bottlecap. Then, ABRACADABRA – it turned into gum! How cool were they? Just about as cool as Pop Rocks candy. But remember – you could NEVER drink those with soda, or your tummy would blow up like Mikey from LIFE cereal!

I have a hilarious story about those Jolly Rancher Sticks. My best friend, John, once got one stuck in his molars. I watched as he desperately fought with that sticky concoction, his mouth twisting and turning in ways I’d never thought possible. When he finally managed to free that gluey bar from his mouth, some of the molars decided to come along for the trip. Hilarious ~ yes! There were two teeth stuck to that pink, sugary, harder-than-steel taffy. Easy to tell Mom? No!

I am not sure how much advertising Phillip Morris got back then with children, but it had to be a lot. With Candy Cigarettes, Bubble Gum Cigarettes (where you’d actually puff and white powder came out), and Bubble Gum Cigars – I am sure they could not go wrong. Cigarettes were COOL as candy! My, how things have changed! Before I quit, I was getting carded at age 33! Back then, I was buying cigarettes for my mother at 6!

Also on my list of favorites were Hot Dog Gum, Candy Lipsticks, Atomic Fireballs, Chico-Stix, Swedish Fish, Now and Laters, Boston Baked Beans, Pixy Stix, Runts, wax candy tubes filled with a questionable sugary juice, Jawbreakers, etc. From what my mother told me, I never really ate Jawbreakers because I really thought they broke your jaw and could never understand why anyone would even dare put these to their lips. All I know is that they made my mother a nervous wreck. I’m still scared of any similar candy to this day.

A few weeks ago, my husband came home with Sixtlets which he had just found in a dollar store. They looked like they were probably still from 1980, which is why I instantaneously declined when he offered me some. The very sight of them took me back to hot summer days, baseball games, running under the fire plug, and hearing “Big Al’s” bell. They were like shameful M&Ms.

It’s funny how we get older and certain tastes and smells remind us of our childhood. I know I will always have this with me. Some of these candies still do exist, but they will always remind me of the 1980s. If I bite into a Lemon Head now, which is very rare but does tend to happen every Now and Later, excuse the pun – that sour taste takes me back to about 1984 when I was just old enough to access PopPop’s change jar by myself and cross the street. It was a time where I remember new candies coming out. Today, you just don’t see that anymore – or at least I don’t. Maybe it’s because I am no longer eight years old and candy is not a priority. Or maybe it’s because the 80s were just that authentic and nothing will ever be as cool…

Posted in: 80's Foods.
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My Favortie 80s Summer Song

Apr 7th, 2009
by KevinMcFadden.
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It’s funny how evocative music can be. Music’s always been there for all your life events. I bet most of you can remember the first cd you played in your first car. Or the song that was on when you first got laid. Everyone has those songs that remind them of some forgotten person, event, mood, feeling or situation. For me, my favorite summer song is Flock of Seagulls “Wishing” (I Had a Photograph of You). Sure, FOS “I Ran’ was a great summer song as well. So why Wishing?

Because it instantly takes me back. Takes me back to Wildwood, NJ. Takes me back to that arcade on the north end of the Boardwalk. So I guess it was Summer ’83? I’m that kid in the arcade, getting more quarters to play the original Mario Bros (with the turtles and crabs and flies, etc). This song was playing overhead, as I looked out to the Boardwalk. Just over to the right was one of the amusement piers that jetted out to the ocean. Pac Man paraphernalia hanging from the ceiling, blowing in the early evening breeze. I can see this scene so vividly, yet it also seems to have taken on a postcard kind of tint. Every summer, there was a big fad, or trend that took over the boardwalk. For a while it was Pac Man. It was whatever the big movie was that year. It was painter hats and water snakes. Def Leppard and ZZ Top. How I loved those days.

I didn’t get to the shore often. In fact, it was only one weekend a year. My older sisters and their friends rented a converted garage in Wildwood. All year I would save my paper route money, so I could go play arcade games. The Boardwalk also has those carny-like games of chance. Wheels spinning. Water pistol games where you had to move a monkey up a tree by constantly hitting its target. Horse races where you had to roll a ball down an alley and aim for the hole that moved you up the most spots. There was a big bucket in one of the bedrooms where everyone put the tickets they won at the arcade in. At the end of the year, someone would go and pick out a Miller Lite glass and keychain that ultimately cost everyone $300 to win.

That one weekend was a focal point for me. I would plan for months. (I was like, 12, WTF was I planning for?) I would go down with all my paper route money. And I was such a loser, that I would actually save quarters throughout the year. Then I would take down like 10 pounds in quarters. I guess that whole exchanging-paper-for-coins thing escaped me at the time There was only one arcade that had Mario Bros. It was my weekend to live large. Blow wads of money on some bogus skill game just to win a Def Lep poster. That was really one of my earliest experiences of seeing a bunch of people just getting along and laughing. Sure, the house was small, sometimes people would have to sleep in the tiny screened in porch. And there was no AC, and stray cats would fight right behind the house (You look at me once, you look at me twice, you look at me again, and there’s gonna be a fight).

Yup, so one song can trigger all this recall. It’s funny how often I pause while writing this as another long forgotten Wildwood memory surfaces. The pizza place right down the street. The Suitcase Motel at the corner. The garage didn’t have a phone, so whenever my sisters got in, they would have to go to the phone booth down the street, call my parents and hang up after 2 rings. That was the signal that they got down safe.

As far as Wishing, it’s funny that I somehow manage to still hear it on radio occasionally, only during summer. I’m sure a lot of people my age don’t really recall the tune. It really just might be a case of the song being played in the right place at the right time for it to so connect with me. Now that I’m in the mood, I’m gonna play that song on my PC and play Mario Bros online. Now only if it were sunny and 80.

Posted in: 80s music.
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Frilly Boots

Apr 1st, 2009
by KevinMcFadden.
1 comment

I loved the girls back in the 80’s. The faded and ripped jeans. The Stif Stuffed hair. But I always thought one accessory really put a girl over the top.

Frilly boots.

Frilly boots easily made a six a seven. Which of course made the eventual rejection more bitter, but hey, that’s life. Boots made the girl hotter. Now, I call them frilly boots. But it seems this modern day, flash in the pan invention of the Internet will return very little when I search for pics of frilly boots. Turns out the internet gods have altered the name to ‘fringed boots’. Whatever, I’m not here to talk semantics, I am here to talk about my fetish. Well, my legal ones, anyway.

Frilly boots came in many heights; from ankle to knee high. Boots came in many colors. Primarily, black and white were the most common in high school hallways. But you would get the girls who would try harder. They had some sort of overseas connection that could get them frilly boots in blues, purples, reds and maybe even the ultra-rare animal prints. The frills usually either adorned the top of the boot, or maybe ran down the sides. My particular design of choice was to have the frills run down the back.

I am sure there is some scientific research locked up in the annals of the government-right next to the Ark, no doubt-on frilly boots. I am sure there is some hidden correlation between the height and color of the boot and the, ahem, easiness of the girl. I am sure there was some sort of major personality trait that was given away in the choice of color. All I know was just about every girl who wore them turned me down. So I am sure the research will reveal all those frilly boot wearing girls were stuck up bitches. Hot, stuck up bitches, but bitches none the less.

Put it like this. If a girl went to the Ratt show wearing LA Gear or Asics, she was generally going home alone. But if the girl was wearing boots with fringes, she wasn’t going home alone. Possibly for days. You couldn’t go to a show and not see packs of hot girls, all trolling around in their frilly boot glory. I can see them now; hair so high and teased, it scraped the ceiling of the Civic Center. Either tight shirts or Ratt jerseys on. Wearing denim jackets so only one shoulder was showing. Spandex miniskirts on. Loser guys whistling at them like they were Robbin fucking Crosby or something.

The frilly boots were the sign of the rocker chick. She had all the newest hair metal tapes on the floor of her car. The preppies didn’t dare venture into the frilly boot section at Fayva or wherever the hell the girls got their boots those days. No one wanted to see a poser wearing frilly boots. That meant a beatdown might be coming, hopefully in a vat of pudding.

I guess I have a fetish about girls in frilly boots because they were always the rocker chicks I could never have. To me, they looked like they knew how to be in the real world; exist on a higher functioning plain. They knew how to dress. They knew how to tease the shit out of their hair. They knew how to put on whorish makeup. They had pictures of their favorite bands up in their locker, courtesy of Hit Parader. They could work the closing shift at the mall on Friday, and find some rock club to go to. And they just knew how to rock.

I feel this 80s fashion is sorely overlooked. But ya know what? It just might be coming back. Yes, it seems my halfass research has revealed that fringed boots (remember, you can’t call them frilly these days) are making a comeback. Turns out there are current starlets-whose names I don’t recognize to save my life-who have taken to wearing fringed boots. Most of these do appear to be the moccasin-type of fringed boots. I personally have seen them on all the little underage girls who run around the mall like rats. So it looks like there are packs of wannabe stripper Pocahantas’ traipsing around the mall. Not quite the rocker chick boot I was hoping for, but we’re getting close my friends. Ah, hope for the future generation.

I for one welcome this trend. I look forward to once again seeing girls I could never get wearing frilly boots.

Posted in: 80s fashion.
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