My shirt 110 camera had a plug(boot?) that you could stick a bar of eight flash bulbs in to. Every picture triggered a super satisfying ‘snick!’ and one of the bulbs would be blown out.

I guess that’s better than igniting a pile of phosphorous for illumination, but, what a waste!

I’m a millennial and I remember when Abraham Lincoln walked past the window at school and smiled and waved.

He was going to the bathroom.

My dad had an expensive as hell Olympus point and shoot with this. It was so fucking annoying. Took like a half minute for a snap shot and I’d be blind from all the strobing.

You beat me to it. It was so satisfying to brute force the… Advancement square(?) between each shot. Made me feel like a spy, even though the camera was being blue and my sister had covered it with stickers of holographic dolphins.

There was a brief surge in the 10s where disposable film cameras were given out as party favors at weddings.

Edit: Meant to comment on a comment further down.

I can’t wait to see how Gen Delta turns out.

You totally stole this explanation from Tik Tok, zoomer. I bet you don’t even know how to launch Netscape from command line. /S

As a Xennial, this terrifies me, but I’m thankful I’m old enough to dodge the draft when the first round happens.

I hope I never have to utilize the skills GI Joe taught me.

I immediately jumped to magical thinking and every person you took a picture of was robbed of blood.

Before anyone asks, yes, I’m on the line with RL Stine as we speak.

: Takes a sip of a juice pouch:

It is true. A millennial becomes more bitter with age.

: smacks tongue, eyes roll back as though recalling a childhood memory:

But millennials have these… : swishes liquid millennial over palate:

Bracing tannins that challenge you and require further observation.

: Looking at cup:

And he pondered, how DID he find himself at some sort of pre-historic blood ritual? Was this not his beautiful wife? Was this not his beautiful car?

Don’t leave me high. Don’t leave me dry-igh-igh…

Pissed the hell out of my boomer photography enthusiast dad. Somehow, I ruined every photo he took off me.

My friends and I hit up the pizza hut regularly and would just hang out playing cruisin’ USA and whatever fighting cabinet they had set up in the pickup waiting area. Never once got pizza there.

The employees must have hated our guts, but they never kicked us out so we couldn’t have been that bad.