We got our first VCR when I was about 3 years old. I remember it well. I had taken a bath, and was jumping around in the bathtub. I fell and smacked the front of my head on the spout. It was a common occurrence for me, and possibly the reason that some would classify me as mentally retarded.
So there we sat in the living room. Me crying, and mom holding a spoon to my forehead. I don't know why the hell she did it. I guess to make the swelling go down or something. I think it's one of those things she had to suffer through when she was a kid. Maybe it could also be the reason my mom turned out to be close to mentally retarded.
My dad walked in the door, coming home from work. In his hands he had a VCR. I didn't know what it was, but soon was told it could play movies over and over and over. He also has a Muppets video.
Soon enough, we were making regular trips to the video store. Yes, they had these at one time. Think of it as Redbox, but it took up a whole store, not just 3 feet in front of Walgreens.
I always rented the Real Ghostbusters cartoons. I was such a Ghostbusters junkie even back then. Every day when the cartoon was on tv I watched. And then when it was over I cried. (no shit, I really did)
Now that we had the new and inventive technology of a VCR, my mom began to tape The Real Ghostbusters, even prompting me to say "Now I don't have to cry anymore"
Back to the video store
One day I saw it. Ghostbusters. The 1984 movie. I said I wanted to rent that one, but mom told me no. I think she must have thought I wasn't old enough. But a short time later, my dad let me rent it. (mom was always the bad guy!)
We took it home, and I was mesmerized. I watched it over and over and over again. Every time we went to Walmart (which was one of two stores in our little hillbilly town that you could actually buy things at) I would see Ghostbusters on the shelf. My parents would never let me buy it. I was 3. I didn't understand. I had no idea how damn expensive those tapes were.
Every time from then on, Ghostbusters was what I rented at the video store. I even got good at memorizing every line, something that sticks with me to this day. Nobody will watch Ghostbusters with me because I can't help but to say it all aloud. It's a damn sickness. I also always was yelled at for repeating all the bad words. Well guess what? I'm 37 now so ass, shit, balls, fuck.
It even got to the point where I would borrow the movie from kids that my mom babysat, or anytime I went to someone's house, Ghostbusters was my first request.
When we moved to a larger town, I was 5. My mom had taken a job at a daycare, so that meant that I had to go as well. Every day at lunch time, the kids would get to take dishes downstairs to the kitchen to be washed.
One day it was my turn to help. A task I refuse to do now (just ask my fiance, she'll tell you I'm a slob) it was fun to help and be grown up at age 5. I dropped off my pile of dishes covered in dirty nasty slop that I was too young to realize I hated. I was running my way back to the stairs, and slipped on a toy car. Yup, right out of a fucking cartoon, I slipped on the car and next thing I know I'm on my back.
A lady named Joan who worked there picked me up. I tried to stand, but fell right back down. The called upstairs to my mom on the intercom. Right away we rushed to the hospital.
I was terrified. Crying my ass off at the thought of never walking again! We get to the elevator at the hospital and as we get off, mom whacks my already broken ankle on the fucking door!! See, I told you. Mentally retarded.
We get to the desk and the nurse asked if I wanted to ride in a wheel chair. That scared me even more.
Finally I got a cast put on. My parents had to carry me around. I was so tired and out of it. I was in pain, and wanted to sleep, but couldn't.
I got home, and passed out on the couch. My dad had called from work, and told my mom that he had a surprise for me. I didn't care. I mean I did, but when you're 5 and feel like your world just ended and you will never move again, you just don't care.
Well, dad finally got home, carrying a bag in his hand. He reached in, my excitement and drug induced high rising, and pulled out my very own copy of Ghostbusters. From that day forward, I have always had a copy, and still watch it religiously. The only thing better than having my own copy was the scene where the fire their proton streams at the maid. At that point I told my parents I had to pee. Nothing can be funnier than seeing them scramble to carry me to the bathroom.The
