Ah, the 80s and 90s—those glorious decades when we navigated life with a cassette tape in our Walkman and a hefty supply of neon scrunchies. Back then, "screen time" meant watching your favorite show on a three-channel television, eagerly waiting for the TV Guide to announce reruns, and praying you’d catch an episode of *Perfect Strangers* before your mom made you change the channel to *M*A*S*H*—again. If you complained, she’d just give you the “back in my day” speech, which was basically her version of *The Karate Kid* but without the crane kick at the end.
Let’s talk fashion, shall we? A day wasn’t complete unless you sported shoulder pads large enough to make any NFL linebacker nervous. And don’t even get me started on acid-washed jeans—a fashion statement strong enough to catapult you to the social stratosphere. Remember those multiple hair products that made you feel like a rock star? I’m talking about enough Aqua Net for an entire concert tour. How many of us left the house looking like we’d just survived a wind tunnel explosion? But hey, we were fabulous, weren’t we? *Insert slow clap here.*
And let’s not gloss over the magic of technology, or lack thereof. When your mom sent you to Blockbuster with a list of movies to rent (sorry, no streaming services in this prehistoric age), you had to embody the perseverance of Indiana Jones just to find *The Goonies*, only to realize it was checked out. Or worse, you’d grab a copy of *Mannequin* thinking it’d be great, but you’d end up staring at it, saying, “How did this ever happen?” Of course, you couldn’t just Google it—oh no, you had to dig deep into the dusty archives of your brain. You either watched *Mannequin* or sat through a dismal rewatch of *The Facts of Life*. Spoiler alert: both seemed much better back then.
Now, as we slip into our fleece pajamas and adjust our bifocals, we can’t help but reminisce about those simpler times when the toughest decision of the day was which flavor of Hi-C to order from the cafeteria. Sure, we might feel like we've aged like a fine wine—but let’s be honest: we’re more like that questionable grape soda left at the back of the fridge that “might” have gone bad. But we’ll always have the memories, the “classic” mixtapes, and the unmistakable thrill of debating whether *Saved by the Bell* or *Growing Pains* had the best theme song. Spoiler alert: it’s *Saved by the Bell*. Always.