POGS to Blogs

What do Eric Montross, Rashaan Salaam, Kyle Brady, and Eek! the Cat all have in common?

These sub-par professional athletes and that crazy, poor-man's Garfield were apart of my illustrious POGS collection back in third grade. Growing up, my school would go through phases where all the kids would get hip with the times and buy into all the propaganda bullshit that TV spoon fed us during the commercials of our favorite shows (Price is Right, Pinky and the Brain, and Ricky Lake if my mom wasn't home.) I bought into it like it was kiddie-crack...It wasn't crack though. They were decorated cardboard circles. They were what communion breads would look like if they let Van Gohg or Monet paint them. They were my religion until its time passed.

This was the case for everyone. (Although I'm pretty sure I was the only child who avidly watched Ricky Lake).

Just about every year something new and cooler would take over as the new trend and everything else became "so last year." For example, third grade was POGS, fourth grade was trading sports cards, fifth grade was a mix of Fireball Yo-Yos and Tomagotchies, and sixth grade was my personal favorite: the split-right-down-the-middle, butt-crack hairstyle with a squirt of product. To this day, I'd like to believe I had the best butt-crack in middle school. I got a lot of positive comments. (Side note regarding the Fireball Yo-yo: I screamed like a girl that just got a pony on Christmas morning when I saw that in my stocking. I walked the dog for days.)

It is amazing how these trends can really run your lives. I remember trading POGS for homework answers and Dunkaroo snacks at lunch. Weekends would consist of me either sitting Indian style (PC: legs crossed) in my room re-organizing them in all imaginable ways, or me sitting in front of Ricky Lake practicing my slammer skills. (Here is a link of how to play the game in case you are forgetful and/or stupid).

I did used to get in trouble for playing with my POGS too much. My mom would hide them from me or yell at me if I was POGing instead of practicing my handwriting on those old-school horizontal papers with the multi-colored lines that were grossly spread out. In fact, POGS, and other fads, could very well be the reason I ended up losing the 5th grade handwriting contest. My handwriting suffers to this day.

I had a lot of great times with the POGS and thinking back on all the games we played with them, I really want to get out the tubes full of POGS, blow my Mighty Ducks whistle to get the 'ole gang together again and play.

Alumni POG game anyone?