September 28, 2005:
I've been doing a little too much shopping at Target lately -- it's the new Halloween capital of the world. For whatever reason, Target stores seem to get the best of the best, where all of the spooky items I've had trouble finding elsewhere were abundantly stocked at discount prices. Target or not, the department store visit is an essential ingredient of anyone's Halloween season. Condensing all of the needed store trips into one, there we find all of the year's hot new candies, costumes, decorations and other assorted bric-a-brac packed into a scant few aisles. The contrast evident in scouring a brightly lit department store for our darkest desires is something I pine for each and every year, and Target did not disappoint. Aside from various other artifacts littered throughout the Countdown, I stumbled upon a dollar bin absolutely overflowing with Halloweeny goodness. You'll see a huge chunk of the goods in the days and weeks to come, but nothing as gross as the group of novelties featured below...
As someone who has scoured the planet endlessly for Halloween goods over the past several years, the "That's Gross" collection looks awfully familiar. It should: None of the stuff is "new." Without knowing the precise details, I can say for sure that nearly every item has been sold either under a different banner or with no banner at all -- it's like they gathered up all the crap nobody wanted and gave it a family name for some vague sense of alluring camaraderie thrust toward customers. And I guess it works, because I bought every last damn "That's Gross" toy in the place. The new packaging goes a long way into making such cheapo toys feel like a bigger deal.
Aside from just being cool toys, the collection is good for a few very specific purposes. For a kid's Halloween party, I can dream up no better line of party favors. Most of the toys are only fun for the first three minutes, but for children who enjoy being grossed out or grossing somebody else out, that's one heck of a three minutes. Assuming you're willing to offend a few young girls on Halloween night, the "That's Gross" toys would also make for some terrific, memorable giveaways for any incoming trick-or-treaters. They won't remember all of the eighty people who gave them Butterfinger bars, but no child will forget the house that brought them a "Lite Up Eyeball." Those are just two of a dozen purposes the toys could serve. Can you figure out the other ten?
I picked up seven different toys. Though this was the store's entire selection, I'm betting that there's just as many more out there. There's a whole lotta unloved Halloween toys that could use this kind of repackaging. That said, I'm sure the seven I've found fully represent the flavor of the "That's Gross" series, and if anything featured here lights yer fire, head to a department store right friggin' now. You cannot resist things sold in large, cumulative baskets with big "$1" stickers all over them. I know you.
Sticky Eyeballs: I reviewed a different kind of Sticky Eyeballs on the site before; these are much larger, each just a hair away from being the size of a golf ball. I'm not sure how this makes these Sticky Eyeballs feel so much more regal, but it does. With dicks slime toys, size matters. If there was an Able to Caveat's Kane, this is it: the eyes glow in the dark. Really, they do. I've had plenty of g-i-t-d toys, but never something this...bulbous. It isn't some kind of special, magic coating that gives the eye its glowy powers -- it's the material itself, meaning that every last fiber of the things glow. If you stretch it out like a giant, vaguely shaped rubber band, that whole vaguely shaped rubber band glows in the dark. A+, you'll glow your eye out.
Gross Ooze: For those who can never decide between toy slime and rubber body parts, this one ends any need to make that painful choice. The small canisters arrive with many different shades of ooze, and yes, there's all kind of different body parts, many of which I will never be able to identify. It looks like they ran out towards the end of production and started cutting noses in half to make due. Luckily, I circumvent such "why me" thoughts with my fully realized, fully formed miniature brain. As I've said many times, toy slime varies greatly from company to company. "Gross Ooze" slime is of the watery variety. It's kind of like Aunt Jemina made an effort to be less adhesive. Though complimenting the old fake sneeze gag rather impressively, I sadly report that you cannot erect tiny robot statues with slime this loose.
Stretchy Spider: I appreciate the Halloween season for a couple of thousand reasons. #1,426 is the improved chances of making rubber bugs a part of my life. The "That's Gross" Stretchy Spider lives up to its name, with legs so elastic that it can easily be made to resemble the kind of Alaskan super crabs that cost a shitload of money to eat. The collection includes many bugs, with rats, bats and other creepy animals thrown in for gourd measure. I went with this little guy in part because the only spiders I'll touch are fake ones, but more truthfully because it looks so much like a tick the day after Thanksgiving. For its powers of elasticity, the Stretchy Spider sacrificed several eyes. More proof that we all need to be a bit more willing to give if we wanna get.
Squish Toy: These come in a bunch of different shapes and styles, but for the most part, it's a big range of misshapen octopi. Let's say Magneto and friends chose to seek revenge on a Wacky Wall Walker instead of Senator Kelly with that mutant-making spinnyfun machine. This would be the end result. Now a gooey, nigh-liquid mess that sticks to anything and never comes off, the "That's Gross" Squish Toy creatures share a collective under-confidence about their ability to hold shape, always seeming on the verge of a catastrophic, physical breakdown. Personally catastrophic, I should say. It's not like everyone in the whole world will grieve the loss of one green octopus's body structure. Or will they? Even with the creature's plastic jiggly eyes, I'm a bit depressed that I'm not more impressed.
Lite Up Eyeball: This thing does a lot more than normal eyeballs. It's five times bigger, it lights up, and you can throw it at a wall without someone filing suit. And I think the Lite Up Eyeball knows what it has going for it -- it looks way too holier than thou, what with its perfectly aligned veins and the kind of blue iris that even gets unkempt truckers buying cosmetic lenses.
It lights up when squeezed as promised, but the illumination is pretty subdued. It's not going to replace a trick-or-treater's flashlight unless the intent is to get said trick-or-treater run over by a truck.
Stretchy Body Parts: Of all the "That's Gross" toys I found, this is not my favorite, but it is my second favorite. Oh, the endless possibilities brought by a sack of gooey body parts. I've seen these exact toys sold in many different "formats" through the years, but never like this -- never have I seen one company just bag up all of the body parts and charge less for the mound of plop than I've paid for single pieces. Look, I know how this shit's priced, and I know that the gooey tongue alone is worth a buck. I've paid that buck before. The Stretchy Body Parts collection is a genuine bargain, and as a longtime advocate of ears the size of feet, I give this one my most saluting recommendation. (It's the one where I stand up and snap my fingers while sassily mouthing "mmm hmms.")
Yucky Ball: Saving the best for last as I always do, I proudly present the greatest thing in the history of the universe: The Yucky Ball. It doesn't look like much while still retaining its normal shape, but with just one squeeze, a horde of vile insects are revealed, swimming around in what just cannot be considered enough blood for all of them to share. We're not talking cutesy bugs, either -- they go all out with the maggots, centipedes, millipedes and every other pede. As a seasoned rubber bug veteran, it's not easy to make me nauseated by the sight of a few fake worms. The Yucky Ball accomplishes that, and I'm pleased with how disgusted I am. Sold with a variety of different bugs (and body parts) hiding inside, the Yucky Balls also come with assorted juice colors inside. Red and green seem to be the most on-target, but if you want your fake flies swimming in blue blood so you can make a more effortless joke about English royalty, the option's there for you to pick it.
Yo, yer momma costs 8 bucks. I've never had this much fun for 7.
