Remember when the only thing getting you out of bed in the morning was the anticipation of your daily spin on the Wheel of Wow?

Remember when you designed that house for your 40+ digital pets that should've won you a spot on HGTV?

Remember when ten-year-olds swarmed Hallmark stores across the nation in the mid-2000s, giving that damn card company the most business it's ever seen all because of some plastic tags?

Of course you do. Who could forget Webkinz?

I reflect back on the days of Webkinz fondly. I long for the lost days of spending endless amounts of money on themed bedroom furniture at the W Shop. I reminisce on end about the hours spent at the Arcade playing Cash Cow (and it's finer successor, Cash Cow 2). I pay my respects to all of the beloved Webkinz that went into retirement. I indulge in my nostalgia about all of the fashion show contests I won at the Tournament Arena. Webkinz gave me the tools to walk the halls of Glengary Elementary School with the confidence of a third grade prima donna.

However, Webkinz wasn't all rainbows and butterflies in the Magic Forest...

It turned me into a perpetrator of rampant consumerism. I fell victim to the desire for peer acceptance. I wasted years of birthday presents on poorly made stuffed animals fabricated at the expense of exploited laborers. I did it all for the KinzCash, and where did it get me? Sad, hungry and alone.

Despite the fact that I am sad, hungry and alone I suppose it's not all Webkinz's fault. I must give credit where credit is due. The virtual world of Webkinz brought me and countless other children unadulterated joy. I didn't learn anything, but I had a heck of a lot of fun. I spent a ridiculous amount of time making sludge in my digital blender and I bankrupted my parents. What more could I really ask for?

Webkinz, you are deeply missed. My only regret lies in the fact that I could probably pay off my student loans with the amount of money that was invested into achieving elementary school popularity.