What can't so say about this. Beating the crap out of another robot. The feeling you got when his head popped up. Breakin' jaws robot style. This was pure adrenalin. Kiddie cocaine running thru you as you whacked the crap out of each other. Who was going down first? Well, my robots head is still down motherfucker. I can take a few more hits. Can you?

Legos

I love Legos and still do. Well. Till they got all Star Wars on me. Jesus. I can't afford 60 bucks to put together the battle ground of Hoth. They really ruined that by cutting kids creativity and forcing them in a preconceived shell. Yeah. I know. Get off my lawn. But, back in the day we would make huge multicolored castles and then stare at them in pride. Then take them outside, cover them in gas and light them on fire while yelling "The castle is under siege!"

Good times.

G.I. Joe

No. Not the original ones. These were the little figures that spawned the cartoon or comic book or maybe it was the other way around. Hell if I know. All I know was that after the battle was done, we would dunk the fallen soliders into gasoline, lite them on fire and tie them by their necks with dental floss and spin them above our heads till the plastic melted and the little solider would meet a true viking funeral. -T

Micheles shakes her own

Magic 8 Ball

This toy ruined me. It set me up for a lifetime of being indecisive. Should I wear the burgundy corduroys? Shake. Will I pass my math test even if I don’t study? Shake. Will I be ok if I smoke this? Shake. Should I major in English? Do I want French Toast for breakfast? Should I cut my hair like Sue Smith? Should I bail Doug out of jail? Shakeshakeshake. Co-dependency is a bitch. “Should I get rid of the Magic 8 Ball?” Shakeshakeshake. “Concentrate and ask again.” This went on for an hour. It was fucking with me. It had become sentient! I gave it to my sister. The next morning she was wearing burgundy corduroys and sporting a Sue Smith mullet.

Klackers

Oh yea these were a great idea. Solid balls of marble? Plastic? I don’t know but they were hard as fuck. On this rope that you swung around. You were supposed to clack them togehter, for whatever purpose. Not sure what they were really meant for. All I know is that they kept my enemies at bay. That bastard kid across the street who used to throw bricks at me? He got within two feet of me I’d be swinging my klackers around my head like a god damn Ninja. I made contact more than once. The sound of klacker meeting head is immensely satisfying.

E-Z Bake Oven

I sucked at baking then, I suck at it now. Doesn’t matter if I’m using a tiny oven powered by a light bulb or real grown up oven. Everything I bake comes out like shit. But I still loved that stupid oven. The tiny cakes. So cute. But I couldn’t get them to come out like my sister’s. Hers were always perfect. Mine were sunken and hard as hockey pucks. The EZ Bake oven taught me a valuable life lesson about recognizing when someone is better at something than you are and taking it gracefully. And that baking is for pussies. - M

Toys are fun. Mine seem to be about fire and violence, but that's just the way I am. Meh. I don't think about that too much. Micheles were about shaking balls and waiting for something magical to cum out. The fact is we both had fun.

So we told you ours.

What was yours? The favorite toy that you might be ashamed to admit, but hell dudes, I just told you I burned toys as a living, so yours can't be that bad.

So what were they?