Jim Carrey turns 51 today. But my mom won’t care. She hates him. I think it all goes back to a trailer she saw for Ace Ventura: Pet Detective back in the early ’90s. I’m not entirely sure, all I know is that he was banned from my house. I can’t even tell you how much courage it took to ask my Mom to rent Liar, Liar from Blockbuster back in 1997. It was akin to telling her I was dropping out of the 4th grade to pursue my burlesque dancing career — completely unacceptable in her eyes. No actually, probably worse.
It didn’t matter that she let me check out Flowers in the Attic from the public library in 5th grade or that I had several screennames that I would use to go into AOL chatrooms and say things like “yes, I am an adult. You can confirm this because when someone said press 123 if you’re an adult, I did exactly that.” Those activities didn’t even come close to watching a Jim Carrey movie in her eyes.
Sadly for my childhood, Jim Carrey wasn’t the only thing unequivocally banned from my house as a child. Nope, my mom had a long list of things on her “absolutely not” list. It’s as if she wanted me to be an elementary school pariah who could only converse about The Babysitter’s Club and the complete lack of nutrition in white bread.
What else made her list of horrors? You can read below. Let me just warn you that this reads like a rejected script from American Horror Story. That’s how weird and backwards and confusing it is for an average person who’s mother didn’t turn to stone at the mention of staying up past my bedtime to watch the last thirty minutes of Dawson’s Creek.