Okay, let’s start with a disclaimer: I don’t want to sleep with any of these people. At all. In any way. But, again, if I were a $1000-an-hour hooker, it would be part of my work. And as much as I wouldn’t want to make lunch for Colin Powell, cut Condoleezza Rice’s hair, or sell Arlen Spector shoes, work is work and sometimes you have to suck it up. Nevertheless, the President is kind of a big deal, and you could score major blackmail points–especially with the Republicans–if it came out that certain candidates were big pole-smokers. Now, THIS IS ALL TOTALLY HYPOTHETICAL AND I’M NOT IMPLYING ANYTHING ABOUT THE SEXUAL PREFERENCES OF ANY CANDIDATES, REAL OR FICTIONAL, AND IF ANY OF YOU REPUBLICANS DO GET ELECTED I’D RATHER NOT BE THROWN INTO A SECRET POLITICAL PRISON IN EASTERN EUROPE AND TORTURED, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. I’m also not implying that hookers should blackmail their clients. But, nevertheless, here are my going rates for the current Republican Presidential candidates.
Rudy Giuliani. The frontrunner. Possibly the most heterosexual man alive. He strikes me as a big vag-muncher, and even though he’s probably not that great at it I also can’t imagine what he’d do if some other guy’s peepee got anywhere near him, even if it was a totally not-gay threeway and the girl was in the middle on all fours and so they dudes would be at least a couple of heterosexual feet apart from each other. I don’t like him at all, but he’s not offensively ugly. I mean, he’s ugly, don’t get me wrong, just not offensively so. As much as I don’t want to sleep with him and I think he’d be a terrible president, I’d just charge my regular $1000. And, you know, make sure that My My Metrocard was playing on repeat.
Fred Thompson. Euggh. He makes Chris Dodd look like a catch. Despite what the British press and country star Lorrie Morgan apparently think. Also, Law and Order is a boring, boring program and I don’t care how many hours of the day it’s on, it’s still boring. There, I said it. $2500.
John McCain. Apparently he has trouble keeping his pants zipped. And, you know, certain members of his campaign aren’t beyond paying for sex (although Christ, even the nasty cracked-out hookers in front of the 7-11 near my house charge more than that dude was offering.) And I have to say, McCain has a certain charisma (that seems to have come with age, judging from the unattractive Vietnam-era pictures that just came up when I Google image-searched “young John McCain.” I think he’s pretty lame and I don’t advise voting for him, but I’d do him for the regular $1000 and bet it would be better than average.
Mitt Romney. Mitt Romney is, more or less, the devil incarnate. Plus he’s mean to animals. And his kids are clearly zombies, which means his semen is probably, you know, an unnatural color. Like dark gray. Now, I’m not above having innocent little crushes on pasty Mormons here and there. And, in certain pictures, Romney even looks like a good-looking guy. But, for the love of Christ, I don’t think I could handle this man’s flesh touching mine. $5000. No, $7,500. Plus monthly payouts for the next five years. And lots of drugs, to dull the memories. And if it was some pre-arranged thing where I didn’t know who it was beforehand, I’d totally make myself throw up on his shoes to get out of it.
Ron Paul. Wearing a really absurd tie. Judging from his Wikipedia entry, he doesn’t seem like such a bad guy. He’s against the war in Iraq, the war on drugs, and the Patriot Act. He even wants to get rid of the Department of Homeland Security. And while yes, he’s anti-abortion and, well, not so into protecting the environment or allowing the gays to adopt babies, he’s at least less evil than a lot of other candidates. On the other hand, can you imagine trying to get a boner around this guy? $1000. And hopefully he’d just want a no-recip hummer.
Mike Huckabee. Well, he’s, a frat boy in training, which means that it’s pretty likely he likes penises in his mouth. Plus, I appreciate his stance as “a rock and roller who used to be fat.” And by Republican standards, he looks like frigging David Beckham, which probably is helped by the fact that he’s younger than my parents. (He may possibly have the Romney bad sperm thing going on, though.) And, since I started doing some research into Mr Huckabee (you know, like, nine minutes ago), I’ve become sort of fascinated with him. In fact, I’d probably bone the dude for free once you got a couple of drinks in me–and, as much as I think hunting is stupid, he does look kinda cute in those fatigues. But politically he’s not so great (he’s okay about the environment, sort of, but supports teaching creationism in schools and keeping the war going.) So, I might give him a discount for not being Mitt Romney, but only 10% or so. $900.
Duncan Hunter. Duncan Hunter is wrong about everything he could possibly be wrong about. On the other hand, he talks with his hands, which means he’s probably into role-playing and/or watersports. $1000, but only because I doubt I’d even recognize him if he showed up at my door. Otherwise, $1500.
Sam Brownback looks like my eighth grade math teacher, only more sinister. Actually, he kind of looks like a pedophile, in this picture at least, which means that more likely than not he’d have no interest in my services, since I’m what you might call somewhat bear-like. Like Duncan Hunter, I doubt I’d know who he was if he showed up at my door, even if he said his name, and so I’d just charge him the regular $1000. Plus, you know, it’d be hard to drive up the price for someone who’s clearly not going to amount to anything anyway.
Tom Tancredo. A racist and an idiot. $2000, because he’s goofy enough that I might actually recognize him.
And now, gentle readers, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go wash my brain out with soap.
This is a new feature on Mixtapes For Hookers. It’s frigging hot outside and my mind is melting, so what better to do than pour myself an extra-strong cocktail and prowl dudes on Manhunt that live 2500 miles away. Actually, I figured I’d go state by state, and since I’m not even remotely committed to this concept I figured I’d start with Wyoming, since it’s (I’m assuming) the state with the fewest dudes on Manhunt.
In fact, searching for men that are online now, there’s only 19. And the only one I’d even remotely try to bang is this dude. And the worst part is, he’s only looking for friends! He’s committed to someone 8000 miles away which, according to my half-assed Googling means he might be in Saudi Arabia or Antarctica or thereabouts. Also, I don’t like a couple of his pictures. Like, okay, you need a paying account to see them all, and I’m assuming you don’t have one of those, but that last one is totally this vague chest shot that’s been, like, shat on with a Photoshop watercolor effect. But at least he’s not afraid to show his face in his main picture.
Okay, I just refreshed the men online list and there’s only 16 now. But one of them is this other dude who wasn’t on a minute ago who actually appears to be genuinely hot, even though he has an absurd haircut in the next-to-last photo. But that furry hoodie is hot, as is the black and white buttonfly jeans one. And he appears to have a hot body. Plus he’s from a city I’ve heard of which means that, if I actually were in Wyoming, he might be within a reasonable driving distance. And now I’m going to ask him if he could unlock the dirty ones for me. So, I crown this dude the new Mr Wyoming. Sorry, MrBinx77!
So, I came to work today feeling fine, but my entire workplace is swarming with sick people and they’re dragging me down. I’ve got the sniffles, and for some reason my legs are really achy. I might literally kill for a massage right now, except that I don’t know how murder would lead to someone standing over me and rubbing the various knots out of my person.
I kind of want to just go home and sit around with a book and a hot toddy. Because, as much as you might think it’s an old lady drink, it’s not. It’s really good. Even on unseasonably hot days like this one.
Right now I’m reading British Queer Cinema by Robin Griffiths. I was reading Tine by Herman Bang, but it was driving me crazy and I had to give up on it. I had it for two weeks and was only about to get through about four pages a day. Reading about Danish crofters in 1864 is something i just can’t relate to at all, it turns out. Although someone in it had a hot toddy, right before I put the book away for good.
Anyway, British Queer Cinema’s pretty good. There’s an essay about gay movies in the mid-nineties, and while it doesn’t mention Priest (which is a big one, no?) but it talks about Peter’s Friends, which used to be one of my favorites, even though in retrospect it’s not exactly Kenneth Branagh’s finest moment. But the thing about Peter’s Friends is about the Stephen Fry character, and about how in that movie he’s celibate and basically alone, but at least not miserable and crazy like everybody else.
So I was thinking about Stephen Fry, and about how I read the novels he wrote in the nineties about if Hitler had won the war and stuff, and his autobiography, which I feel like was a major influence on me even though I barely remember it. And it occurred to me that, even though he’s been in lots of stuff (the Harry Potter movies and V For Vendetta, say) I haven’t actually seen most of them. And the movies I do like him in (Tristram Shandy, Cold Comfort Farm, Gosford Park) are movies with big casts where he’s not really a major character. For some reason I had never noticed that before.
Anyway, my roommate tells me Stephen Fry has a blog. It’s apparently a one-entry thing about iphones that goes on for like sixty-two pages. Interesting….
Dear Hookers,
A few rules and suggestions about the music you play during your in-calls.
1. Always play music. Always always always. It loosens everybody up, and if you get stuck with a moaner then it provides a great distraction.
2. Play music you like, but not music you love. Here’s why: Say for instance you’re a big Smiths fan, and you’re about to meet a new client and you throw on The Queen Is Dead to set the mood (thinking Morrissey’s sad tale of reckless bus drivers crashing into you and your loved one would surely enhance your sexual performance, even if your client’s totally hideous and has corpsy breath.) Only then it turns out that the guy is one of those people that get off on body odor, and proceeds to rub his socks in his armpits and then shoves them in your face without any forewarning and it’s totally disgusting and you want to die (you know, for instance.) And then any time after that even the thought of the Smiths knowing how Joan of Arc felt gives you flashbacks to that terrible, terrible day and how you wish Morrissey would just shut up because if anybody knows about a martyr it’s you, well…. that’s not any good, is it? The moral: NEVER LET BAD SEX RUIN GREAT MUSIC FOR YOU.
3. Johns like to think they’re kind of hip, so if you play anything from the sixties or early seventies they’ll think it’s cool. Even if it’s kind of obscure and they probably didn’t even know it when it was new, they’ll think they did and have pleasant memories of when they were younger and didn’t need to pay somebody to get them off. Even better, if you play something newish that sounds like it’s old, they’ll think they’re still kind of cool because they actually understand what the kids are into these days. The Aislers Set are excellent for this purpose.
4. Shuffling itunes playlists is dangerous. What if your guy is almost there and all of a sudden your computer decides it wants to play you the theme song from Count Duckula? Or Territorial Pissings? Or some tAtU b-side? There’s all kinds of music that can kill a mood, and itunes is really good at selecting that kind of song about a minute and a half before ejaculation. I don’t know why. But it’s not worth the risk of distracting your client and delaying the inevitable because Do They Know It’s Christmas just came on.
Okay, so here it is: a Mixtape For Hookers, the first of many (hopefully) that I’ll be posting here every Monday. Here’s how to use it:
These sixteen tracks here comprise an hour of music–well, fifty-nine minutes and fifty-three seconds of music, but close enough. Next time you’re doing an in-call, throw this playlist on. Listen to it a couple of times beforehand, and get used to the track order. If your guy’s paying by the hour, now you know (without being a dreaded clockwatcher) how to time the session. Say you want to give a 25-minute massage, followed by a 5-minute handjob, a 20-minute mutual blowjob, and no more than five minutes of fucking. Well, now you have minute-by-minute cues! Ditto if you’re with an ugly old schmo that’s only going to need 20 minutes before he spooges. You can get him off and then have a little dance party while he’s cleaning off in your bathroom. Unlike a regular dance mix, though, these songs were chosen because they’re fairly concise. No ten-minute remixes–you can lose track of time with those!!–and no seamless transitions. This music will keep you on your toes, even when you’re on your back. There’s songs to make the dude feel hip, some conversation pieces in case things aren’t going too well, and just some catchy tunes to keep time with, should you need them.
(NB: If you like these songs, maybe you should use some of your hard-earned money to buy the albums. Especially since these tracks will only be up until next Monday’s mix comes out.)
1. I’ll Be By Your Side (Rude 66 808 Remix), Sally Shapiro
2. Laissez Tomber Les Filles, France Gall
3. The Sun Is A Very Magic Fellow, Donovan
4. Alien Sex Fiend, Garbage
5. Puppet On A String, Ken Boothe
6. A Diana’s Diana, Lilys
7. Amylase, Cajun Dance Party
8. What Fades First (Demo), The Aislers Set
9. Are U That Somebody, Aaliyah
10. Soul Time, Shirley Ellis
11. Tainted Love, Gloria Jones
12. Summer, Shy Child
13. If You Go, Sophie Ellis-Bextor
14. Cruel Summer, Bananarama
15. (Feels Like) Heaven, Fiction Factory
16. Bentley’s Gonna Sort You Out, BentleyRhythm Ace
Hi guys. This is a new feature I’m going to be doing every Friday on my blog here. Each week I’ll present to you some famous people and then go on a little rant about what it would be like to fuck them. And, with the presidential election ONLY FIFTY-NINE WEEKS AWAY I figured there would be no one better to start with than the eight sexy asses* running for president next year. Now, I’m not a $1000-an-hour hooker or anything. But let’s for the sake of argument pretend that I was, just for funsakes. Now, these people running for president are all pretty loaded, obviously, and were they going to employ the services of a boy-for-hire they’d probably be willing to pay something extra to, you know, shut him up. But at the same time your politically aware rentboy might be tempted to give a reduced rate as a campaign contribution. So, here’s the lowdown on how much I’d charge each candidate if they were all gayish and wanted to employ my services.
(*Because ass is another word for a donkey. And they’re Democrats. Get it? Get it?)
Okay, first things first. Mr Obama. I think he’s very unattractive in the facial region, don’t you? Kind of like a puppy, with those eyebrows and big cheeks. I bet he was a cute kid, but, as is often the case, the cutest kids make for really funny-looking and unattractive adults. And he doesn’t have much of a body, either. I sort of assumed that he’d at least be the most physically fit of the candidates, but thanks to the intrepid sleuthing of People Magazine photographers I now realize that’s probably not the case. Anyway, I know the Senate’s not exactly a hotbed of hotties, but I’d take Jack Reed over this dude any night. (Okay, confession–I have a big crush on Jack Reed! And we’re from the same town! OMG! Um, anyway.) I don’t particularly agree with him on many issues, either, so I’d charge him the full $1000/hr.
Next, The Hils. Now, I don’t normally go for the ladies, and if I did I can’t say that Hilary would be my type. (Although, I guess now would be the time to confess that I did have a thing for her husband back when I was thirteen and had a thing for most people’s husbands.) I have to say, though, that she’s not totally unattractive (even if she does remind me of an overly chipper dental hygienist), and since my biggest problem with her physically is her hair, then I’m sure some tousling in the sack render her slightly hot . I wouldn’t go out of my way to switch teams for her or anything, but I’d take her over Obama any day. At the same time, she might qualify for a reduced rate since I’m not sure how well I’d perform for a lady–you know, since I’ve never done it before. My rate for Hilary: $875/hr.
Now, I can’t say I agree much with John Edwards, although I think the whole repenting for Iraq thing is sort of good in a way, I guess. But I don’t necessarily have to agree with someone politically to appreciate them in bed, if you catch my drift. Sure, he has bad politician hair. And yes, maybe he does look like he should be hanging out in a bad strip club with John Tesh. But something in his smile is just a little bit…. dare I say… kinky? Yes, Edwards gets my vote for Most Likely To Be Secretly Gay And Into Twink Bondage. Which, while it’s not my kind of thing, I can at least respect in a leader. Rate: $750/hr.
Joe Biden, on the other hand, I’d totally let screw my living daylights out. He’s 64, which is two years older than the oldest dude I’ve ever fucked around with (lest I can recall.) But the Delaware senator actually kinda gives me a boner. I wish he’d do something about his hair (I guess non-awful hair is the one thing Obama has going for him), and I definitely don’t want to see him in the Oval Office, but I’d definitely be excited if he just showed up in my bed one day with a wad of cash asking for a blowjob. Plus, I have a feeling he’s the best-hung of all the candidates. I mean, look, if you squint a lot you can totally even see a big dangly nut through his pants in this picture. Rate: $250/hr. Or maybe $200. What a hunk!
Unlike Joe Biden, Chris Dodd is wicked ugly. Even his vague resemblance to Sam The Eagle, a characteristic I usually think is hot in humans, doesn’t do anything to save him from being Chancellor of Unattractivania. He’s so…. pasty. Yet so shiny. Like somebody rubbed some Rain Dance on a TB victim. Plus he just looks like somebody with a diaper fetish. Ick. He’s my least favorite, even though apparently back in the day he managed to snag Princess Leia. $1000/hr.
Bill Richardson’s not such a handsome guy either, this hilarious photo notwithstanding. He’s kind of a pudgebucket, which you can carry off if you’re like, you know, a bear. But he isn’t. He’s a politician with a really lame hairdo. Also, I know nothing about him or his politics. $1000/hr.
Dennis Kucinich is an interesting guy. For one thing, he’s the candidate that I actually want to win. For another thing, he seems like a really cool and funny guy, and while he too suffers from dumb politician hair, he at least has a different dumb politician hairdo than everybody else. And, judging from this picture, has had it forever. Anywizzle, the poor guy has no shot of winning, even though he does have a chance of scoring mad votes from horny frat boys and/or stylish gay fellows who want to see a giant redheaded first lady who’s not even thirty yet. Anyway, the dude’s not attractive, and I’m guessing not even a little gay (although he is Catholic and vegan….) And even my depraved imagination can’t imagine what he’d be like in bed, although I’m pretty sure he’d be the kind of guy that just wanted a long massage and then maybe just a relaxing blowjob. But, regardless, I’d do him for free.
This is Mike Gravel back in the day when he was a slammin’ hunk of sexxxy Alaskan man-meat. Now he’s 77 and crotchety and damn if he didn’t come out with the best political ad I’ve ever seen. He’s a solid fifteen years older than the oldest dude I’ve ever done it with (lest I can recall.) I have no idea what he’d be like in bed but I’m guessing pretty needy and not much fun. So even though I think he’s great to watch in a debate, I think I’d probably have to charge him $250 or so just because I’d probably hate both of us for the duration of the transaction. And if you’re going to go to the effort of hating yourself and others you might as well get paid for it.
So, there you have it. Candidates take note: Kucinich is the only one that gets a free ride. Next week check back and I’ll let you know about how much I never ever want to screw Tommy Thompson or the rest of the Republicans.
(Oh, by the way, if you know of any presidential hopeful slash fiction, send it my way. I’m always looking for disturbing reading material.)
“This limo looks like my dick, it’s so big and long!”
Lil Jon’s Vivid Las Vegas Party
Vivid, 2005
Just days before heading out to Vegas for my first-ever AVN show (oh
boy!), I decided to throw this trashy-looking doozy into my DVD player
to see what might be in store for me.
And, oddly, the movie’s sort of accurate. The pace is slow and the
frills are almost non-existent; the sound quality is terrible and the
whole thing is really just an excuse to watch a bunch of drunk people
run around at a big party. Which, it turns out, is pretty much what a
real weekend in Vegas for AVN is like (I even rode in a big and long
limo myself, which is such an absurd experience that I highly
recommend it to anyone who’s in a group of over ten and driving less
than two miles.) Who knew?
Vivid Vegas Party starts off slowly the night of the AVN Awards show,
with a lot of standing around and talking. Afterwards, we follow Jon
and his entourage back to the hotel, where Cherokee (the spirit guide
from Camp Cuddly Pines) does a split and then makes out with someone
named Mercedez.
Anyway, even though I like Cherokee (kind of a lot, actually), the
scene’s not very exciting. I think part of the problem is the music.
Lil’ Jon produced it himself, but it’s Dullsville. I mean, I complain
about how boring hip-hop is a lot, but this is the guy who made Get
Low, for Christ’s sake! The man who does nothing but get people to
yell words like “Shake it like a salt shaker!” and “Yayuh!” over pervy
beats. But does that happen in this scene? No, no it doesn’t. Instead
we get any old porn music. It’s like he totally thought the thing he
does best didn’t matter. Way to blow it, little man.
Also, it’s over half an hour before we see anybody’s uglies get
bumped. Which is a really long buildup, if you ask me. And it’s also
kind of annoying because the sex scenes are actually pretty good.
There’s only three of them, mind you, and they’re each about five
minutes too long, but the cast is cute and they know what they’re
doing. It’s just too bad the scenes are drawn out to the point that
soon the margins of my notes said things like “People’s Choice
Awards–Army Archerd still alive? How old?” and “Sicilian girls like
to fuck and fuck and fuck.” (I’m assuming that second one actually had
some relevance to the movie, but for some reason I can’t remember what
that might relate to…)
In the last scene, which takes place in a shower, the music’s gotten
noticeably better, but there appear to be some distracting drainage
issues with the shower. Overall, the performers are attractive but the
sex is a little too vanilla and nobody seems that into it. Also, and I
probably only noticed because the movie was in the interracial section
of the video store, there’s no interracial sex. There’s three guys and
six ladies in the movie. The limo driver, for some reason played by
Tommy Gunn, is the only white guy in the bunch, and he screws Lexie
Marie, the only white girl in the movie. Not that I’m offended or
anything–I just think it’s interesting.
Of course Jon’s not in any of the sex scenes at all, although he does
make a brief appearance during a limo scene to check in on the action.
I wonder when the day’s going to come when one of these rappers
actually performs in their porn production…
“Gloog, gloog, gloog…Ow, my nose!”
Toss My Salad 7: Citizens On Patrol (2004)
Legend Direct
What could there possibly be to not like about a movie called Toss My Salad 7?
A lot, it turns out.
I imagine that the movie came out thanks to its star Rod Fontana, who
gets his salad tossed in half of the scenes in the film. I bet he
called up his friends Rick Masters and Dwayne Cummins and Steven
French.
“Hey guys,” he probably said over the phone. “So I had this idea. I
want to get rimjobs from a bunch of hot chicks, but since I’m mad ugly
and my penis is of an unimpressive size, I think I’m going to film the
whole thing! That way, in addition to seeing my big ol’ guy and lil’
ol’ weenie, the girls will think they’re going to be PORN stars! Then
they’ll have to toss my salad! And yours, too, if you come over
today!”
“And hey,” he would have added to one of them. “Why don’t you bring
your wife over? It doesn’t matter if she’s twenty years older than the
other hot smokin’ babes, I’d really like to see her toss my salad!”
And he probably would have said “toss my salad,” too, because he’s
like that. Even though that expression makes no sense. I mean, really.
I’ve tossed salads and I’ve eaten asses and there is no relation
whatsoever, physically or even metaphorically, between the two. If
anyone, anyone at all, can explain this to me, please do. I really
want to know. Seriously.
But anyway, after he got off the phone, it turned out that he and his
friends couldn’t actually “score” any “hot” “smokin’” “babes”
(although that one guy’s wife was happy to come along) so they had to
go to the nearest corner and find whatever junkies happened to be
passing by.
Seriously, the girls in this movie do not look healthy. Especially the
one named Kandi, who a) keeps looking at the camera as though she
can’t believe she’s really giving a rimjob to the nasty guy down the
street, and b) has matching piercings on both of her…. face-sides. I
was watching this with my roommate and we really couldn’t figure out
what the hell was going on with her piercings. They were on possibly
the only part of the face we couldn’t name. Like, start at your
earlobes and come forward a couple of inches. Then move up until
you’re not on the cheekbone anymore. So it’s down from the temple a
little, but higher than the cheek. Kind of in the general eye area.
Honestly, out of all her 2000 parts, why would this crazy loon want to
get THAT one pierced? On both sides? Jesus.
Anyway, the movie’s 99 percent abysmal. Every scene takes place in the
same room by the same ugly brown couch. At one point Rod Fontana
actually uses the phrase “ass juice,” at which point the girl he’s
with (Krysta Lynn Lovely) takes ona decidedly suicidal appearance.
The only bright spot, which is the hottest thing ever in comparison
with the rest of the movie, is the scene with Gen Padova and Steven
French. Unlike the other guys, French isn’t horrifying to behold and
Padova looks more like a homely-but-kinky lady and not the village
crackwhore. This scene has a lot of spit in it, which is nice, and
while he has a tendency of squeezing her Semitic nose for no reason
and she makes a ton of unnecessary noises, well, it’s downright hot
compared to the rest of the movie.
And I won’t even get into the fact that this movie is subtitled
Citizens On Patrol. Referencing one of the Police Academy movies for
NO DISCERNABLE FUCKING REASON is too stupid to even approach.
(Okay, oddly I just did some research on Rod Fontana, and he’s in the
AVN Hall of Fame. I mean, WTF?!?! Can somebody explain that one to
me?)
“I brought him home for you.”
Big Tease
Control T, 2002
Sometimes, I don’t even know why movies try to have a premise.
Especially in an industry where it’s perfectly acceptable to create a
product that’s nothing but sex, there’s no reason to give a movie a
half-assed setup.
Big Tease, another gay fetish movie (okay, so there were two in the
store…), starts out in what is allegedly an arcade but is clearly
someone’s dining room. Some guy is in playing pool (making it the
second movie this week to have a pool/billiards opening…) He’s not
particularly attractive.
In the arcade’s other room (read: rumpus room), this twinky-looking
guy whose name is apparently Stonie is playing pinball. I couldn’t
really concentrate on what was happening because I was too busy trying
to figure out who the hell would ever believe that these two people
were actually in an arcade. The carpeted rooms were separated by
French doors! Fucking French doors, people!
Anyway, Mr. Twink gives a blowjob to Mr. Unattractive Other Guy. They
both stick their tongues out in a way that makes them seem like
walking Mr. Yuck stickers. Stonie is wearing a jersey that says OLHC
and I try to remember what that means, but can’t. Neither one of them
can act. Yawn.
Anyway, the scene ends really, really abruptly.
The next thing we know we’re in a dungeon and there’s some guy all
restrained and whatever. Mr. Unattractive Other Guy then proceeds to
paddle Mr. Restrained Guy and stick a dildo in him and stuff. There’s
an ugly print on the wall and the music is amazingly cheesy.
Afterwards, Mr. Unattractive Other Guy unties Mr. Restrained Guy and
the two of them have their way with Stonie. Mr. Unattractive Other Guy
puts on a condom, which is interesting to see, except that he puts it
on all stupidly. There’s obviously only one microphone on the set,
because one guy’s grunting is always way louder than the other guys.
The orgasm at the end is weird, too.
I’m not at all into bondage, but it’s something I’d probably get off
on watching. I don’t even think the guys would necessarily need to be
hot (or for the movie to be particularly well-produced), but this
movie’s downright shitty in just about every way.
“The boss killed your husband. I saw him.”
La Veuve
2006, Marc Dorcel
dir. Tony del Duomo
La Veuve (The Widow) was recommended to me by Brandy, the
exceptionally helpful manager at the video store I’ve been going to .
She remembered me saying that I liked my movies a little less
mainstream, and said this would be a good one.
I’ll talk about the movie in a minute, but first I thought I’d mention
the really crazy thing about the DVD, which is the totally fucking
insane condom PSAs that were appended to it. In one, a woman is
handcuffed to a bed in a remote cabin in the snowy woods when her
lover, on top of her, suddenly has a heart attack. In the other one, a
film crew is making a porn scene with this couple in a hot tub when
one of the camera guys accidentally drops a big light into the tub and
electrocutes them. The message is that you can never be 100 percent
safe while having sex, but that you can stop the spread of AIDS by
using condoms. I’m not sure, but I think the French message in the
original is translated totally differently into English. I should also
note that in the ad they said (in French) AIDS, when the last time I
took a French class (which was, you know, a long time ago) they were
calling it SIDA over there. The other is that safe sex in French is
apparently called un rapport protégé, which for some reason I think is
insanely funny.
Anyway. La Veuve. It’s the dramatically told story about a mob wife
(Oksana) who needs money after her husband is suddenly offed. She goes
to the Don (Mr. Corleone–get it?!) to ask for a loan, after we get a
flashback of her and her (wicked hot) husband fucking. After a few
minutes of sex Mr Corleone (Horst Baron) walks in and pulls his dick
out. He owns them both, and he can do whatever he wants. Blah blah
blah, evil laughter blah. His penis is unattractive.
So this is who the widow goes to for money later. He tries to whore
her out and she doesn’t want to. The women who surround him and his
goons exchange catty glances and then have really attractive but not
particularly exciting sex. One of the girls wears really long gloves
and it’s kind of the best part of the movie.
About halfway through the movie, Oksana gets a phone call from an
anonymous woman saying that the mob boss killed her husband. The
widow, who is apparently an idiot, is shocked.
The movie goes on with its attractive cast and unattractive sex, which
culminates in an orgy scene where a lot of girls with masks on make
unattractive faces and someone who looks a lot like Katie Holmes with
big hair wanders around and looks bored.
Overall, nothing about La Veuve particularly impressed me, although
the cast was for the most part really good-looking (exceptions being
Mr Corleone and Omar Galanti, the goober from the Rocco Siffredi
movies.) The girls, including Tera Bond, Monica Sweetheart, and
Claudia Rossi, are all kinda gorgeous. (Although, in that typical porn
way, I can’t actually match the actresses to who they played. And the
internet doesn’t help, annoyingly….) But the plot wasn’t very
well-constructed and the editing was a little clunky, despite the fact
that the movie obviously cost a shitload of money to produce.
Also, the film seemed like it was made the Italian way, where
everybody was speaking a different language. Some people spoke clear
English, some spoke heavily accented English, and Oksana was clearly
dubbed. It seemed like the movie was filmed entirely in several
languages, though, because when I first started the movie it was in
French with Romanian subtitles. Weird.
8:57 – Okay, I turned the TV on early the see the first episode of the new cycle of ANT Model. Apparently some girl from Walpole didn’t make it, which is understandable because she has the worst Boston accent ever, even though Walpole is like 22 exits south of Boston. Also, trivia: Walpole is known as the town that’s known for its residents’ tendency to wave around confederate flags, EVEN THOUGH IT’S IN MASSACHUSETTS.
9:00 – Alright, now Gossip Girl is on. Odd that the first episode should start up to the strains of Young Folks, since it’s a song about, um, not caring what the young folks are up to. And, you know, this is a show about gossipy teenagers. I’m sure this was an oversight and not an ironic commentary on today’s society.
9:01 – Why is Veronica Mars talking?
9:03 – Okay, so it’s three minutes into the show and we’ve already heard Rihanna and Justin Timberlake in addition to the PB&J song. Initial impressions of the casting: Serena, good. Blair’s mom, not so good. Nate, not good. No opinion on Blair, although her dress is cute. Here’s some pictures.
9:05 – What a weird non-theme opening credits title thing. And by weird I mean sort of awful.
9:06 – Ooh, Erik is Serena’s suicidal younger brother with a bad dye job as opposed to the older stoner brother that goes to Brown in the books. I can live with that. Actually, I kind of like that they’re splitting off from the books this early in the show.
9:07 – Commercials. What’s that song in the Feel The Noise commercial? I like it. Saturn’s Rethink Excess campaign might be lost on this show’s target audience of vapid teenagers. Just like how it’s lost on me.
9:09 – Serena’s dressed like the Hamburglar.
9:10 – Ooh, somebody mentioned Rhode Island! Dan’s kinda hot, in a way that I never thought of him as being hot in the books. Jenny’s boobs are too small (since, in the books, it’s her defining characteristic). Also, she’s talking like she’d rather be on Gilmore Girls. There’s some kind of weird skipping thing going on like I’m watching a scratched DVD. I thought that only happened when you had cable.
9:12 – Kati and Isabel are played by minorities! I’d complain about how the only minority characters are lame and irritating and basically are just there to fawn over the white folks, but, then again, that’s probably what rich teenagers in New York are really like anyway.
9:16 – Commercials. What’s that song in the ipod nano commercials? It sounds Swedish. Like this whole PB&J thing is totally going to be a trend now. Also, Smallville is still on? And you know what I hate? Commercials where people like their shitty fast food so much they won’t trade it for something really fancy. Like HELLO! You can get more shitty-ass McNuggets on your way home, you stupid ass. Take the dumb cow’s purse. God, I hate TV.
9:21 – Part of the scene is missing! Also, it’s okay to smoke pot on network TV? I would’ve thought it wasn’t. Also, I don’t want to be watching Nate and Chuck when I could be watching Dan. He’s totally dreamy and now I’m probably going to watch this show no matter how shitty it gets just because there’s a cute boy on it.
9:24 – Ooh, Amy Winehouse is on. I like totally had her CD on when I was in the shower this morning.
9:25 – Serena’s boarding school was in Connecticut, not Switzerland (like it was in the books.) Or was she really even at boarding school? Her mother lied about Suicidal Dyejob’s disappearance, so should we assume that Serena’s really been at rehab or something? Was the Amy Winehouse song really some sort of clue?
9:26 – Blair and Gwyneth—er, Serena–are actually calling each other B&S. Which makes me wonder about the Gossip Girl phenomenon and what it’s like for the characters. It’s somehow a lot clearer in the books. Also, commercials. Hewlett Packard is apparently cashing in on the craze of People During This Hour Being Named Serena. And Subway wants to protect your kids from obesity. I’m sure all the gossipy twelve-year olds this show is aimed at are really concerned about their overweight children.
9:28 – Skipipng and darkness again. Chuck has the exact same voice as someone, but I can’t place who.
9:30 – SERENA LEFT TOWN BECAUSE SHE LOST HER VIRGNITY TO NATE?!?!?!
9:31 – The sex flashback is decent and I’m not repulsed by Nate the way I am when he’s talking. Chuck Bass is totally Ian Somerhalder from Rules of Attraction in the way that he’s annoying and gay but plays into hipster stereotypes way more than gay ones. Also in the way that I’m totally unattracted to him even though he’s my type. Sadly, though, the makeout party turns into a typical CW (formerly WB) montage of everybody learning everything about everybody else at the same time with an Air soundtrack.
9:34 – Commercials. Christ, this show is like 11 minutes long if you take out the ads. And boy does Hayden Panetierre like to wash her face! Also, there’s a website called shortperiod.com that I’m about to check out. And this Aliens In America show could be good but looks, um, a little bit on the not good (ie. Totally offensive in a bad way) side. Somebody better call Casey Kasem!
9:37 – Nate looks better with sweaty hair, but his eyes freak me out. On the other hand, I totally have a crush on Gwyneth’s mom. Serena’s mom. I meant Serena’s mom.
9:41 – Dan and Gwy, um, Serena are going to see Rufus’s band. In the book it was Ruby’s band. Hey, I just realized there’s no Ruby! And there’s no Vanessa! Now whose student film is Serena going to be the star of?
9:45 – Rufus owns a gallery? And knows Gwynethrena’s MILFy mom? And she did it once on a Nine Inch Nails tour bus? But, wait, Rufus knows that his son totally has a boner for her daughter and he ever once mentioned that they were acquainted? God, what an ass. I thought he was supposed to be the cool hip aging rock star dad like Peter Gallagher on the OC or like John Doe was on Roswell. God, CW, with the changing up your stock characters!
9:46 – The show is freezing again. What year is this?
9:47 – Timbaland’s playing now. The CW has officially now managed to squeeze in every hit song that has been recorded since the year 2004.
9:48 – Commercials. The makers of the New Resident Evil movie would like to assure us that when the apocalypse comes, New York will be totally destroyed but the Statue of Liberty will be totally fine. Garnier Fructis hasn’t taken that fucking horrible Transplants song out of their ads, still, even though it’s been like fifty-seven years since anyone wanted to hear a fucking Blink-182 side project. And next week on ANT Model, they all take a bath together! But with some clothes on! And make jokes about water conservation! Ha!
9:52-ish – Akon’s on, telling us that it don’t matter that sleazy Chuck Bass is trying to take advantage of small-chested freshman Jenny Humphrey.
9:56 – The screen goes black again.
9:57 — A syndicated episode of Friends comes on. Monica bought expensive boots and Chandler’s being snarky. Seriously, Local CW Affiliate. What the hell.
