I saw that on Facebook there's one of those gay If you were a little boy in the 70's... things which, just like those VH1 I Love the... things points out that every other kid in my generation had every single toy produced except myself. What the fuck, was I raised on another planet?
You had that 12” G.I. Joe with the beard. (Or, if your parents were on a budget, you had “Big Jim.”)
I'm pretty sure my parents were "on a budget." Which apparently included "not buying dolls for my sons."
You owned a Big Wheel.
Hell no.
You had at least one friend who cut open Stretch Armstrong to see the gooey stuff inside.
I have no idea what that even is. I never played with "gooey stuff" until I learned to masturbate, and that was in the '80s.
You collected Wacky Packages and put the stickers on your Trapper Keeper notebook.
I've never heard of those either, although in 4th grade I got my first Trapper Keeper. Side note: same name I gave my college girlfriend's "Golden Palace of the Himalayas." You trap it you can keep it, baby!
You’d heard about what happened to that kid who mixed Space Dust and Coke.
I thought it was Pop Rocks? What the fuck is Space Dust? How the fuck high were these goddam kids?
You thought Farrah Fawcett was hawt. Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman was even better. But Valerie Bertinelli would do.
Blech. Blech. Blech. Maybe a little before my time, although I was clever/horny enough in first grade to know how to peep up my teacher's dress.
You had nightmares after watching late night reruns of Night Gallery and Twilight Zone.
There were no "late nights" for me in the '70s. Although being sent to bed with the sun still up was, ironically, a fucking nightmare.
You had a 'bowl cut’ at some point, and your parents made you wear Western style shirts with fake pearl buttons.
The only clothes my parents "made" me wear wear clothes that my brother had worn the year before. Which, I'm hoping, didn't include faggot-ass shit like pretend western shirts with buttons that look like jizz.
You had at least one friend who was a master of the "Five Finger Discount," shoving his arm up the Coke machine to give his friends "free drinks" and mastering the art of freeing AC/DC tapes from their plastic encasements.
Nope. But then, even at such a young age I was somehow smart enough to try and keep the number of douchebags in my life to a minimum. Knowing what I know now about the sheer number of douchebags out there, I'd actually prefer some asshole who steals shit for me.
You had a pair of Nikes with a blue stripe, but you REALLY wanted the ones with the grey or white stripe. (Must be worn with tube socks with the colored stripes at the top.)
Nope. We wore Cugas, from Pic 'n Pay ("you pick 'em, yo mama pays!")
YEAH! You owned a 'Slip-n-Slide', on which you injured yourself on a sprinkler head more than once.
No. And I'm pretty sure if I had tried to get my dad to buy this worthless shit, he'd have told me "You wanna get soaked with water? Go stand out in the rain, it's free. You're an idiot."
You owned 'Klick-Klacks' and smacked yourself in the face more than once!
I don't know what that is. I got smacked plenty, but it was for things like almost starting a fire in my room that could've burned down the house, not for plaiyng with some expensive toy.
Your Hot Wheels sleeping bag was your most prized possession.
Seriously. Now they're just making this shit up.
You wore a Darth Vader t-shirt with iron-on letters on the back.
That spelled out what, CHICKS PROBABLY WONT BE INTO ME ?
You begged Santa for the electronic game, Simon. (Or maybe hand-held football or basketball games that involved little more than flashing LED light displays.)
I do remember that incredibly worthless football game, one of my friends had it. I remember shaking our heads and thinking "what's next, a series of hyper-text markup languages used to link remote computers all over the world?? HA!"
You could play Rock-‘Em, Sock-‘Em Robots for hours on end.
I'm sure I could've if I had one. Instead I had a stick that I pretended was a rifle in the Civil War as I bravely saved the country from being divided. You're welcome, America.
You spent hours in your backyard on your go-cart. No seat belt, no roll bar.
I spent most waking hours in my backyard, but I didn't grow up the son of a goddam Ambassador/bootlegger in Hyannisport, so there was no fucking go-cart.
Your blood started pumping every time you heard that drum sound with the words, “Steve Austin. Astronaut. A man barely alive.”
I do remember loving me some $6 Million Dollar Man. Although I equate "my blood starting to pump" with "when I heard the clink of my mother opening my father's belt drawer for my daily ass whipping." Hey, what can I say, I was addicted to the rush!!!!!
You had a Planet of the Apes metal lunch box. (Or, if your mom was totally cruel, “The Metric System.”) With the thermos inside -- some were glass inside and broke the first time you dropped them.
I had a different lunch box every year since the big kids on the bus would beat the shit out of it. Unlike Mark Braxton (Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuf!!!!) who somehow roamed a land where the laws of physics and child violence ceased to exist and had his Happy Days lunch box last thru 6 years.
You were a Cowboys guy or a Steelers guy. You had to have one of those big furry coats with one of the team's logos on it.
Cowboys! Tho I don't remember furry coats. But I don't remember giving out blow jobs for cocaine then either, so.
Steve Bartkowski was God. And let's not forget William Andrews, Alfred Jenkins, Billy "White Shoes" Johnson, Jeff Van Note. Falcons fans HATED the Dallas Cowboys for what they did to our team in that playoff game.
I remember all of them. Fuck you, Gaylanta!
You wanted to be Luke Skywalker really bad; you wore that bad feathered haircut in at least one school picture.
I wanted to be Han Solo, since it looked like he was going to get up in Leia's tongety-tong. But then it never occurred to me that getting to wear a "feathered haircut" would be one of the pros for being Skywalker, so obviously I now need to reconsider.
You knew all about that Bo Derek edition of Playboy. At least one of your friends smuggled it into school.
Nope.
Col. Mustard. In the study. With a wrench.
"How did Dana Plato lose her virginity, Alex?"
Four wheelers had only three wheels and were called "three wheelers."
I remember the fucking idiots buying these, and then I remember them being made illegal because they kept flipping over. I consider this my introduction to Charles Darwin.
PONG! ('video tennis' ) was the most remarkable futuristic game you'd ever heard of ! (That is, until Atari came along.)
I think back then the most "futuristic" game I had heard of was trying to not get caught peeping up my first grade teacher's dress. I won!
You can name all the characters on Space Giants.
I have no idea what this is. Sounds like an interplanetary sausage party waiting to happen.
What happened to Wendy and Marvin? Space twins? What the HELL?
Who the fuck are Wendy and Marvin? The Wonder Twins? I have no idea. Tho if they are, I'm guessing he became the form of a dick, she became the form of a pussy, and they gave each other AIDS. Deactivate, indeed.
Ultra Man! Watch out! That light in your chest!
Is hopefully cancer.
Rubik's Cube, Magic Link, or Pyraminx?
Or, as we called them at my house, "shit rich people have."
Mastermind!
Thanks!
You sank my Battleship!
Now take off your top, you dirty little whore.
"I just don't believe it. I don't believe it. The things you can do with a Spirograph."
Well. Draw in circles. I guess that's about it, really. This...kind of sucks. Thanks Santa. Asshole.
Your General Lee OWNED your friend’s Batmobile.
Were these toys? Tho to give the Duke boys credit, twas their luscious cousin who years later accompanied my during my first "managé a moi" session.
You wanted Levi's but your Mom bought Toughskins instead.
This would be the first thing on this list to be true if I had known Levi's existed. Like me thinking I loved cake until I discovered ice cream cake had been there the whole time.
You fantasized about Daisy Duke.
Whoa!!! Now that's weird!
Saturday morning started early, with Big Blue Marble, and ended with "The thrill of victory ... the agony of defeat!"
My Saturday mornings started with "why don't you go outside?" and ended with "stay the hell outside."
You wanted the Izod alligator, but your mom bought "Fox."
No recollection of these in the '70s. Maybe I was high?
If only you’d held onto that Blue Snaggletooth Star Wars action figure.
Then you'd finally have that dream conversation piece when the planet reverses it's own rotation and chicks are into dudes who live in their mom's basement and only wear sweatpants.
It was a big event in your household each year when the 'Wizard of Oz' would come on TV. Your mom would break out the popcorn and sleeping bags! But you tried to pretend like you were too cool for it.
How "cool" can you pretend to be if mom is "breaking out the popcorn and sleeping bags!!" while you watch little girl stories with her on tv? Yes, I'm sure you tore off in your Harley while putting your Marlboro out on her forehead instead.
You got in trouble for hiding your sister’s Magic-8 ball.
That's inappropriate.
You and your brother or sister fought over who got to play with that water game where you pushed the button over and over and over with your thumb to get the little plastic basketball into the hoop. Or some variation thereof.
Yes. Those fights are now legend. And, like the legend of women being able to climax during intercourse, also never actually happened.
You loved Whatchamacallit bars.
No.
If you wound up Evil Kneivel’s motorcycle just right, you knew he could make it over that plastic green “Grand Canyon.”
Sounds like what happened after my prom date drank the spiked punch. Nom nom nom!.
You had to have all the Kiss “solo” records in the collection. You never really listened to them, you just had to have them.
No, but I did buy KISS bubble gum cards. Must say, to this day, they still sound better than the records. Way to go, guys!!!
Weebles wobbled but they didn't fall down.
Yes. No shit.
Bigfoot was real.
I don't think that's necessarily something you "grow out of," no? 30 years later, I find it just as plausible that a huge, hairy ape might be wandering around. See: Kardashian, Khloe.
The Loch Ness Monster and the Bermuda Triangle were real, too. You saw "In Search of," so you knew the score.
No, but I did get lost in some Asian pussy for a coupla weeks back in 2005, so you never know, I guess.
You took apart your Micronauts with a screwdriver and could never get the damn things back together again.
I have no idea what Micronauts are. And don't care.
Your mom tried to get you to do lots of arts and crafts, but you just wanted to watch Gilligan’s Island reruns.
Oh yes, and in my house I always won the "sorry, I'd rather be watching tv" arguments. Hmm. Oh wait, that was some other kid. Probably a kid on tv, funnily enough.
Sea Monkeys. What a disappointment.
The first blowjob I got was a disappointment. Sea Monkeys, I can't say my expectations were that high.
Starbuck was a dude.
I'll take your word for it.
You knew exactly what "Good morning, Captain!" meant.
Well, I still say that every morning. Than I "take care of the Captain."
You used to tape record songs off the radio by holding your portable tape player up to the speaker.
Yes, that never happened after the '70s.
You had subscriptions to Boy’s Life and at least one comic book.
Highlights, I guess. Someone needs to update Goofus & Gallant, and show how that shit really turns out: Goofus awash in a steady stream of hot trim, Gallant bitter as hell wondering what the fuck he was thinking all those years.
Erin Gray as Wilma Deering in blue spandex. Wow.
I didn't catch up to Erin Gray until Silver Spoons, but I get the idea.
You learned everything you needed to know about manliness from watching The Shat on Star Trek reruns.
Such as calling him "The Shat" is tough to do with a dick in your mouth.
Remember those bacon-striped, bacon-flavored pork skin things? You LOVED those.
Sounds a bit too good to be true. Like a unicorn, or a sustainable income.
You suspected Olivia Newton John's song 'Physical' was NOT about aerobics. (But she looked way sluttier on the cover of the next 45 that now you can’t even remember the name of because you hated that freaking music, anyhow.)
That was the fucking '80s, dumbass.
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