expiredmilkn lies blogs

There was nothing like the sound of squeaky wheels and the glow of a TV strapped down with duct tape like it had survived three wars. The class would hush, eyes wide, because the sacred cart was coming. It didn’t matter if it was math, history, or gym class—if the cart rolled in, it was movie day, and suddenly education was fun again. 

And we weren’t watching nonsense. We were watching *life lessons*. *Old Yeller*—teaching you that loving something sometimes means losing it (and that Disney wasn’t afraid to emotionally wreck a room full of kids). *The Goonies*—making every kid believe treasure was buried under the neighborhood 7-Eleven. *Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn*—reminding you that adventure could be as simple as a raft and a bad idea. Half the movie was just kids skipping responsibility, tricking adults, and somehow making it look noble. You’d leave class thinking, “Yeah, painting a fence actually *could* be a good hustle,” and plotting how to sell your little brother on doing your chores. Even *RoboCop* snuck in there, showing us justice was best served with a robotic monotone and enough explosions to level Detroit twice. 

Sure, half the time the VHS was so chewed up it looked like you were watching through a snowstorm, and some kid always yelled “rewind it!” like the teacher had NASA clearance. But we didn’t care. Those movies pulled us in anyway. 

These weren’t movies about flashing neon, drug deals gone wrong, or how many F-bombs fit in a minute. They had soul. They had grit. They were about being brave, being dumb in the best way possible, and learning something along the way—even if it was just “don’t shoot your eye out” or “don’t trust grownups with a treasure map.” 

Now? Kids sit with earbuds in, bingeing a dozen shows in a day. No squeaky cart, no dusty VHS, no teacher pretending this counted as “curriculum.” And honestly? They’re missing out. 

Because when that cart rolled in, we weren’t just watching a movie—we were living a rite of passage. Our childhood didn’t need Wi-Fi. It had duct tape, static, and *Old Yeller* breaking our hearts before recess. Those films weren’t disposable; they were the glue that held together a generation of daydreams. Timeless, reckless, unforgettable… just like expired milk.