It’s that time of year again, when we spend way too much money buying cheap party store costumes and drink our faces off to the sound of the Halloween theme song and “Monster Mash” on repeat while eating diabetes-inducing volumes of sugary snacks.
As was the case last year, I’m going to go out of my way to give you some pointers on how to dress up for Halloween on the cheap while also looking like one of your favorite 90s it girls: Kelly Kapowski.
If you’re too stupid or reclusive to know who Kelly Kapowski is, she was by far the most beautiful female from the cast of Saved By The Bell and my personal, lifelong obsession. She was a bouncy, kindhearted, somewhat ditzy cheerleader who was Zack Morris’ one and only. When she wasn’t flipping Valley the bird and rooting for the Bayside Tigers, she was hanging out at the Max and looking fly as fuck in her ever-changing array of colorful wardrobe choices.
As I’ve made clear enough many times on this blog, I’ve always been absolutely infatuated with Saved By The Bell. It could be my overall affinity for teen culture or my inner yearning to live the dramatic teenage high school lifestyle over and over again instead of growing up, but my love for NBC’s unlikely hit kids comedy hasn’t subsided.
Recently, the network that brought you every abusive male stereotype and beautiful teenage girl’s bout with bulimorexia took it upon itself to transform Dustin “Screech Powers” Diamond’s controversial tell-all about his life on the set of Saved by the Bell into an unauthorized biopic TV movie.
As with Camp Cucamonga, the inherent charms of made-for-TV movies cannot be overstated. When I first learned of this venture, I was instantly excited. The idea that young actors and passable lookalikes would be playing the supposedly real-life versions of some of my favorite sitcom celebrities was a fact that filled me with great inner joy.
In the 90s, Robin Williams’ career really started to take off and land him roles beyond the typical comedic romps and propelled him to legendary status as both an improvisational comic and a dramatic actor of the highest caliber.
I was extremely dismayed to hear of his passing earlier this week as a result of self-inflicted asphyxiation and I felt compelled to write an article about one of his movies. I want to pay tribute to a man who brought smiles and entertainment to so many people over the years. There are so many great titles in his catalogue of work from the 90s that are worthy of recognition that it was hard to choose just one.
Hook is a great example of a film that defied genre expectations for a childrens’ movie and successfully mixed a fairy tale story with a live action movie. This type of film paved the way for many more fantastical movies to come and it still stands as a fun, unique, and ultimately satisfying film in its own right. Williams’ acting ability was brilliantly complemented by Dustin Hoffman’s iconic performance as the lead villain and this cinematic duo rallied a fervent following behind this awesome film.
The 90s were a wonderful, exciting, and liberating time to be a kid. Youngsters still played outside for most of the daylight hours, dial-up internet was in its infancy, and pop culture was taking everything great about the 80s and expanding on it. Life was simply radical. I think that’s why so much of my time is spent thinking about the past. It’s not to say that adulthood is a bad thing, as my weekly allowance and level of interaction with girls has grown exponentially, but there are some great things about being a kid that just cannot be replicated.
Childhood and adulthood are vastly different experiences to most of society, and I definitely understand that unfortunate fact, but I suppose my man-child perspective lends itself to believing that there are parts of your younger, more imaginative and curious self that can remain and even flourish well into adult life.
I’ve never really mentioned it during the run of this site’s idiotic articles thus far, but I used to be a HUGE wrestling fan as an elementary and middle schooler. I have vivid memories of dragging my annoyed dad to live tapings in Philadelphia, play “wrestling” and essentially beating the fuck out of each other on my friend’s trampoline, flipping back and forth endlessly between WCW Nitro and WWF Raw is War, watching shitty public access channels to keep up with ECW, and even going so embarrassingly far as joining E-federations and roleplaying as a horribly unoriginal Undertaker rip-off.
There’s something about the sweaty, violent showmanship and the wrestlers’ lack of regard for their personal wellbeing for the sake of adoring fans that hits me right in the pussy. While my initial interest in the sport was forged at a very young age by the likes of the Undertaker, Bret “The Hitman” Hart, Hulk Hogan, Macho Man, and the Ultimate Warrior, it was my pre-teen years where I was most rabidly devoted to everything about wrestling.
That perfect middle school combination of hormonal angst, immaturity, and a love of rebellious douchebaggery had finally found an outlet through the unforgettable WWF stable, D-Generation X.