Sometimes an adult person wakes up one day to find himself in a loving, grown-up relationship with another adult person, a person who is really pretty special once you get to know her and is actually really good for the first person and has totally helped him mature a lot and get serious about starting a productive grown-up life and that, despite what the first person’s stupid idiot friends think, is not at all a horrible controlling succubus bitch who manipulates the first person’s emotions and uses them like child soldiers in an endless fucking trench war of a romantic partnership, which, now that we’re thinking about warfare analogies, likely boasts a similar body count in terms of emotional casualties as the real-life Rwandan genocide. [Ed note: Or to use a “crossing the streams” analogy, try to imagine all life as you know it stopping instantaneously and every molecule in your body exploding at the speed of light, and Janine Melnitz Instagramming it. #totalprotonicreversal]
So anyway, when adult people engage in this type of relationship, sometimes the first person gets to earn certain “perks” in the bedroom. Like, sexual allowances that the second person might choose to make.
Like if the first person is on his best behavior all week and has really started to stand up for himself at work [Ed note: For example, not letting Walter Peck shut down the Containment Unit and letting all the ghosts out!] and has finished all of his chores and not asked too many stupid questions and generally over the course of the week has made significant progress in eliminating all the personal shortcomings and inherited flaws that have prevented him from living up to the second person’s vision of what and who he should be if he ever expects to fuck her ever again.
And sometimes when the first person gets to request a bedroom perk, he asks if maybe if it’s all right with the second person maybe the two can do some role play. Like maybe the first person is allowed to pretend to be Bill Murray’s character from Ghostbusters, and the second person, if she wants, can pretend to be Sigourney Weaver’s character from Ghostbusters, like when that character is possessed by the demi-god Zuul, and the first person can call the second person Dana during foreplay, Dana being the name of Sigourney Weaver’s character in the movie, and the second person can recite that line from the movie and say, “There is no Dana. There is only Zuul,” and talk in like a deep gravelly demon voice throughout the duration of the intercourse. [Ed note: Why doesn’t anybody ever want to pretend to have sex with a pre-Stay-Puft-Marshmallow-Man Gozer the Gozerian?!]
Because honestly the first person feels like he’d probably enjoy being around the second person more and generally be happier in life if the second person were actually possessed by a demon and maybe he’ll leave her one day but until then he really hopes she doesn’t read this because that will be the end of sex for him possibly forever. [Ed note: Tobin’s Spirit Guide is probably full of demon ladies who’ll have sex with you. Like the ghost woman that tried to give Dan Aykroyd a blowjob.
Did she end up getting ghostbusted eventually, do you think? I could never have the heart to put anyone who gave me a blowjob in a ghost containment unit. They probably just let her hang around the firehouse around like Slimer. Wait—is that what Slimer had to do to stay out of ghost jail? Is that why he kept putting so many hot dogs in his mouth?!]
In short, Ghostbusters is a good movie and Bill Murray has aged into a really good actor and consistently exhibits a whimsical and friendly off-screen persona.
In theaters June 8, 1984.