Having failed to find the movie at Target—big surprise there, as they're not normally a real hotbed of hard-core direct-to-DVD horror action (unless it's a direct-to-DVD sequel to something that made mega-bucks)—I hied me over to Fry's, where I figured their low standards and massive selection would make me a happy little horror girl.
Issue number one: I couldn't find the damn movie. The horror section contained everything else that's ever been released and titled with something beginning with the letter "T," including The Tingler, which is pointless if you don't have someone standing behind you with a cattle prod (although I suppose you could lick batteries instead). Frustrated by the alphabet, I went looking for an employee.
I should probably have expected a problem when the employee called me "a nice young lady," as in "I'll be with you right after I help this nice young lady." Now, I don't object to any of these words, individually or as a group, and I don't even particularly mind them when applied to me. It's just that when I hear this phrase in a video store, it's almost always coming from someone who's about to try convincing me that I don't want what I want. But I was being hopeful.
"I'm looking for The Thaw. It came out Tuesday."
"Is that the new Sandra Bullock movie?"
I eventually hammered it into his head that I was looking for a) a horror movie, b) a bad horror movie, and c) yes, I really meant it. He admitted that his computer was showing one copy in stock, and suggested I try the horror section. When I said I'd already looked there, he assigned one of the other clerks to help me find it (I think he didn't want to go himself for fear that they'd never find the body, as I was distinctly into "wishing you to the cornfield" mode). The clerk he sent proceeded to spend the next twenty minutes—as we went through the entire horror section, on the off-chance that it had been shelved wrong—trying to convince me that I wanted something else. Something nicer. From a different part of the store.
(Total aside: they put Ice Spiders out on DVD. ICE SPIDERS. Why the hell would anybody want to do that to an innocent blank disk?)
In the end, we didn't find my movie, I got tired of being looked at funny, and I went grumbling off to do something that didn't make me want to punch people. The utterly unhelpful clerk who'd been trying to shift me to the comedy aisle said I could special-order the movie. I told him that on Amazon, no one knows that I'm a perky-looking blonde.
Sometimes it's hard to be an old-school horror girl. And I still don't get to see Val Kilmer eaten alive by horrible prehistoric parasites.