90’s Kids Know What It’s Like!

90’s kids know what it’s like to chug a Squeezit and munch on Dunkaroos while they check their crush’s AIM away message to see if she’s going to the school dance.

90’s kids know what it’s like to roll up to the dance at 9 p.m. after catching Sabrina the Teenage Witch and the first half of Boy Meets World on ABC’s iconic TGIF programming block.

90’s kids know what it’s like to be too nervous to ask their crush to dance with them until they remember that in the movie Cool Runnings, a Jamaican bobsled team makes it all the way to the Olympics. Pretty inspiring, huh?

90’s kids know what it’s like to finally, for the first time ever, be dancing with their crush, only for the DJ to unexpectedly change the song to “All My Life” by KC and JoJo, the intimate suggestiveness of which causes them to get a boner that won’t go away no matter how hard they concentrate on the image of their brother playing PGA Tour Golf II on Sega Genesis.

90’s kids know what it’s like to glance at their boner to see if it’s concealed by their extremely baggy JNCO jeans. It is not. Maybe their crush will bonk her head playing Bop-It, inducing an acute bout of amnesia that causes her to forget the dance entirely?

90’s kids know what it’s like to run into the bathroom and shout at their boner to disappear, “not just for a year or two, like the McRib, but forever!”

90’s kids know what it’s like to hope their father will be transferred on business to Sydney, Australia, like, right away, like, tomorrow, which seems unlikely given that he works for a small regional coffee chain located in Seattle, Washington. 

Do people in Sydney, Australia drink coffee, too? This is the sort of information 90’s kids would probably have if they had spent their money on Eyewitness Books instead of JNCO jeans. 

90’s kids know what it’s like to be so busy shouting “that’ll do pig, that’ll do” at their unfaltering boner that they don’t notice Brad F. and Alecia H. come into the bathroom to make out and do over-the-shirt stuff until they are startled by the flash of Alecia H.’s Coolpix camera, which she got for “selling the most wrapping paper in the Student Council holiday fundraiser.”

90’s kids know that Alecia H.’s filthy rich parents bought all of the wrapping paper themselves.

90’s kids know what it’s like to beg and plead with Brad F. to please delete the picture he took of them screaming at their indefatigable, imperturbable, Energizer-bunny-like boner. Fat chance. Brad F. is notoriously known as a class clown with a mean streak.

90’s kids know what it’s like to feel an overwhelming sense of relief when Brad F. agrees to delete the picture, no questions asked, and think, maybe Brad F. is not so bad after all. Maybe he is just a product of an environment in which he can only get attention by acting like somebody he is not? Maybe he is really sensitive at heart, like Leonardo DiCaprio in Catch Me If You Can.

90’s kids know what it’s like to realize much, much later, on the literal last day of school, that Brad F. is actually worse than they ever thought. He is actually a patient class clown with a mean streak. He is actually like Matt Damon in The Talented Mr. Ripley, except instead of traveling to Italy to destroy Jude Law’s life, he deviously switched out of Spanish 2 and into Yearbook to destroy theirs. 

For somebody like Brad F., who was birthed from a literal Hellmouth, it is apparently no big deal to redo an entire semester’s worth of Spanish just to swap a single unauthorized photo into the yearbook for publication after the final proofs have been checked.

90’s kids know what it’s like to look around at everybody flipping through their yearbooks and wish to God that they had the memory-eraser flashy-thing from Men in Black to use on the whole school, and themselves, and probably everybody else in the world, just for good measure.

90’s kids know that they cannot actually erase somebody’s memory with a little flashy thing, which really, really, really sucks.

But 90’s kids know that if it is possible for a Jamaican bobsled team to get up off the ice, and hoist their sled on their shoulders, and cross the finish line on foot, anything is possible.

Like, maybe one day soon, people in Sydney, Australia will start drinking coffee. Maybe Starbucks will send their father over there to open a location, and then it will be “smell ya later, Seattle,” and “g’day, Sydney!”

Or maybe they can go live with their auntie and uncle in Bel-Air.

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