Asleep, With Its Dick in Its Hand
Sex and Death 101 / Dustin Rowles
I’ve been stewing over Sex and Death 101 for a few days now, and I still can’t formulate any sticky thoughts on the movie — the only thing I can say for certain is that it’s an embarrassment. A lazy, stupid, overlong, deliriously unfunny, spectacularly bland embarrassment. Like Amy Heckerling’s straight-to-DVD film I Could Never Be Your Woman, Sex and Death 101 is another brightly lit, poorly executed comedy with a similar brand of bored campiness and a number of veteran actors who are clearly either 1) trying to grasp onto that last bit of fame before toiling away the rest of their years emceeing infomercials or 2) repaying a debt to a past-his-prime director for a big break back in the ’90s. In Heckerling’s film, it was Paul Rudd (Clueless) trying to lend some cultural capital as a solid to Heckerling; and in his first film in six years (and the first anyone has heard of since he wrote Demolition Man in 1993), Daniel Waters’ cashes in a favor from Winona Ryder, reteaming with her for the first time since Heathers in the misguided hope of rekindling that old magic.
But what I’ve come to learn over the past few months watching I Could Never Be Your Woman, Allan Moyle’s Weirdsville (a movie I couldn’t finish, which is why we have no review), and now Sex and Death 101 is that those coming of age standards for late blooming Gen X’ers — Heathers, Moyle’s Pump Up the Volume, and Clueless — were weird aberrations, the product of the exact right cast at the exact right time, movies that were fueled by more than the sum of their parts, films that showed an exceptional potential for awfulness but somehow accidentally struck just the right zietgeistian tone to transcend their mediocre scripts and inept directors. Just look at the other films those three directors are collectively responsible for: Loser, Hudson Hawk, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane, Look Who’s Talking, Look Who’s Talking Now, Jailbait and Happy Campers. In fact, with one exception (Moyle’s Empire Records, another awful film that nevertheless hit the right chord at just the right time for some), the three directors haven’t made anything worthwhile since their generation-defining hits, which is probably why the three are so seldom heard from anymore — they can’t even surpass the low threshold for talent required by today’s studio execs, many of whom grew up on these same films.
And you know exactly how bad Sex and Death 101 is going to be in the opening scene, which features fucking Natalie (Mindy Cohn) from “The Facts of Life” as the lead character’s lesbian receptionist. That lead character is Roderick Blank (Simon Baker), a happily engaged, smuggish, organic fast-food entrepreneur with better hair and teeth than personality (or acting ability). He’s about to get married to the perfect woman (Julie Bowen) when he receives a mysterious email listing the 29 women he’s slept with, in order, as well as the next 72 women he’s about snog. Engaged, he doesn’t initially realize that the next 72 women on the list will be his next lays until his bachelor party, when a stripper trips and falls on his penis (true story). When he learns the stripper’s name, he puts 2 and 99 together and figures it out with the help of an insidious heavenly organization, in the form of three oracles, Alpha (Robert “Bunny Colvin” Wisdom), Beta (Tanc Sade), and Fred (Patton Oswalt), the only semi-amusing character in the film. It turns out, due to a clerical error, Roderick was sent the list of his future conquests by mistake, while a group of other people were inadvertently emailed the date and time of their death. Go figure.
So, what does a man with a list of his next 70 sexual partners do? Well, he finds them and fucks them, of course, a plot contrivance (as Patton Oswalt’s character suggests) perfect for the music montage. Unfortunately, we are instead forced to endure nearly all 72 of his beddings, which include lesbians, an elderly woman on her death bed, a busload of virgins who take advantage of him while he’s unconscious, and — of course — ending with Death Knell (Winona Ryder), a serial coma-inducer who puts men permanently asleep because of an old grudge she has against an ex-husband. But, before the risibly bad climax, we have to cope with Roderick’s emotional struggles — at first, he’s giddy with having a list of his future fuck buddies, but he soon realizes that there is no joy in the conquest if you know who it’s going to be. So, in an effort to subvert the list, we must suffer an extra half-hour, through an interminable relationship with a veterinarian (Leslie Bibb), not on the list, with whom he falls in love.
Sadly, Winona Ryder — who actually manages to rise above the tragically unfunny material — has no more than five minutes’ worth of screen time, just enough to poke her head in and fulfill her career obligations to Daniel Waters (though, to be fair, Beetlejuice probably had more to do with her eventual popularity than did Heathers). Moreover, the maniacal cheerfulness of all the characters suggests that Sex and Death 101 is supposed to be a biting satire of some sort. Unfortunately, it has all the teeth of a geriatric blowjob and no discernible target of satire, and if farce is what Waters is going for, only his attempt is farcical. It’s a shame, too, because he manages to amass a pretty fun cast of likeable faces that few can attach a name to (e.g., Neil Flynn, the janitor on “Scrubs”; Dash Mihok, the poor man’s Michael Rappaport; Rob Benedict, from “Felicity”; Julie Bowen from “Ed”; and Leslie Bibb, Ricky Bobby’s wife in Talledega Nights).
In the end, unfortunately, Sex and Death 101 is the exactly the movie the title portends: Late-night Cinemax fare, the sort of movie to offer just enough exposed breasts to keep a 15-year-old intrigued (yes, Sophie Monks’ are among them), but not enough to entertain him, resulting in next morning’s ultimate embarrassment: A mother who walks in on her son, asleep with his dick in his hand, an appropriate metaphor for Daniel Waters’ efforts here.
Dustin Rowles is the publisher of Pajiba. He lives with his wife and son in Ithaca, New York. You may email him, or leave a comment below.
Deathtrap | | Pajiba Love 04/10/08
Comments
The picture is confusing me >_
Posted by: Dev at April 10, 2008 2:50 PM
Surely you've got the wrong thumb nail for the wrong movie?
Sorry. Noted and corrected. -- DR
Posted by: Andy M at April 10, 2008 2:56 PM
Don't call him Shirley!!
Sorry, sorry...voices.
Posted by: Julie at April 10, 2008 3:02 PM
Wait...What the hell?
That made no sense to me, but it sounds terrible. It's as if this movie and Guy Richie's latest movie Revolver belong on a double bill for Huh? Cinema.
Posted by: Kamikaze Feminist at April 10, 2008 3:03 PM
intern-
• a student or trainee who works, sometimes without pay, at a trade or occupation in order to gain work experience. Otherwise known as, an underling who can watch worthless films for you.
This instance seems to call for one of them.
Posted by: jM at April 10, 2008 3:12 PM
You've got to be freaking kidding me.
Posted by: Megan at April 10, 2008 3:26 PM
Ooh, how titillating - the prospect of seeing Sophie Monk, that pasty anorexic chipmunk, in the buff.
::throws up::
This looks like absolute garbage.
Posted by: TK at April 10, 2008 3:50 PM
"Unfortunately, it has all the teeth of a geriatric blowjob..."
:snickers:
oi, I'm easily amused today.
Posted by: Stella at April 10, 2008 3:53 PM
I just want to tell you good luck. We're all counting on you.
Posted by: Abe Froman at April 10, 2008 3:53 PM
Is Sophie Monk the human blow-up doll in the picture?
Posted by: Todd at April 10, 2008 3:55 PM
Is the picture depicting the moment she falls on his dick? Because that is certainly a "Blimey, I believe I just sat on a cock!" face.
Posted by: Julie at April 10, 2008 4:00 PM
Please, Pump Up the Volume was not that good. All hype.
Posted by: manda at April 10, 2008 4:10 PM
Man, I hate it when random blowup dolls fall on my dick. They act all shocked and apologetic (at least I think they do...hard to tell facial expressions)...but they keep falling repeatedly...in sequence...
Hey, wait a minute...they were just falling, right? I'm not sure if I should keep taking that bus anymore...
Posted by: Shadows of Dakaron at April 10, 2008 4:27 PM
I still believe Allan Moyle's finest film is TIMES SQUARE.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0081635/
It's got a fair amount of cheese, but it definitely has one of the greatest soundtracks (lots of Punk and New Wave) in film history, and Tim Curry as a rabble-rousing radio DJ that's definitely worth the price of admission, and perhaps the inspiration for Eric Bogosian's character in TALK RADIO.
Not the greatest film ever made, but definitely the best film Moyle ever made, and the most honest depiction of youth and punk culture outside of REPO Man, from that general era.
Just thought I'd bring this up since Moyle was mentioned in the review.
Posted by: Mohaski at April 10, 2008 4:34 PM
Man, I hate it when random blowup dolls fall on my dick.
HA!
Pajiba is very sexually oriented today.
On that note: Shadows, I wanna lick your face.
Posted by: J_Capri at April 10, 2008 4:52 PM
Pajiba is very sexually oriented today.
Today?! :)
Posted by: Julie at April 10, 2008 4:54 PM
"...as well as the next 72 women he's about snog."
I believe the more precise Britishism here would be shag not snog.
Posted by: dorkenheimer at April 10, 2008 5:22 PM
Hehe!
Julie I wanna lick your face too.
Posted by: J_Capri at April 10, 2008 5:26 PM
Julie I wanna lick your face too.
Kinky...I like it. Face-lickings for all!
Posted by: Shadows of Dakaron at April 10, 2008 5:28 PM
The picture changed, but it is still confusing me.
Posted by: Rabb at April 10, 2008 5:31 PM
But the premise of finding out your future lays, or the date of your death, is potentially good. I read of some time traveller who would force people to do what he wanted, otherwise he would tell them when they would die. And Ursula Le Guin had a great story within a story about this (on that planet where, when you came into 'heat', you could end up either a man or a woman, we would be considered to be freaks and perverts there). These people really did have sages who could accurately predict the future so the King's spouse asked them when 'he' would die. They said: 'on a Thursday'. The king started to really stress and worry and it drove him insane, so he sent his spouse back to get more information. 'She' then came back and said that he would die after her. That was the final straw and the king strangled his spouse and then killed himself, on a Thursday. (Sorry couldn't avoid the gendered pronouns).
Posted by: ChrisD at April 10, 2008 5:32 PM
Is my perspiration mango margarita flavored or something? :p
Posted by: Julie at April 10, 2008 5:36 PM
J_Capri, go get your own fake Internet girlfriend!
That film just made me feel stupid. No really, it did. I just can't follow what the story is supposed to be. There's a death list, shag list and a woman who induces comas (like...how?) and there are blow-up dolls, falling on somehow exposed dicks...my brain gave up halfway through reading the synopsis and decided to stare at the pretty colours of my rubik's cube (can't solve it, I only have it because it's pretty).
Posted by: joker at April 10, 2008 5:38 PM
"...as well as the next 72 women he's about snog."
I believe the more precise Britishism here would be shag not snog.
Oh yeah, that confused me, snog just means kiss. (When I was a grad we had these conversations every year with all the new students, new either to English or just to Britain)
Posted by: ChrisD at April 10, 2008 5:43 PM
"dick in hand" and "mindy cohn" should never appear on the same page.
maybe she played a lesbian to get lisa whelchel to stop sending her kids Faith Praise Ponies and birthday subscriptions to the "hanging out with jesus" newsletter.
Posted by: celery at April 10, 2008 6:03 PM
I read "The Adventures of Ford Fairlane" as "The Adventures of Claire Forlani" (why?) and I couldn't help but think 'no wonder it fucking sucked'.
Posted by: Stew at April 10, 2008 6:12 PM
I got up to where you insult [i]Empire Records[/i]. You did [b]NOT[/b] just insult my favourite movie of all time! If I didn't love this site so very, very much I would consider a boycott!
But I guess I can can forgive you your bad taste.
Posted by: Chugga at April 10, 2008 6:20 PM
I got up to where you insult Empire Records. You did NOT just insult my favourite movie of all time! If I didn't love this site so very, very much I would consider a boycott!
But I guess I can can forgive you your bad taste.
Posted by: Chugga at April 10, 2008 6:22 PM
Julie, you tramp, don't make the 'jiba menfolk duel over you.
Posted by: Nicole at April 10, 2008 7:23 PM
Actually, he's completely right about Empire Records...it should have sucked, and it should be one of those failed attempts, but strikes exactly the right chord to be spellbinding and iconic. And Rory Cochrane as a zen-like rebel is just precious.
I'm sorry...I'm still hung up on the "a stripper trips and falls on his penis (true story)". I mean, seriously...is this possible? I even googled it (I love using that as a verb, sounds so dirty) to see if there were any instances of anything like that even coming close to happening...but only found something about some cop stalking a stripper.
And it counted as a future lay? I mean, come on!!! This cannot be this brainless. I have to cast some doubt on this...the more I think about it and read this review, the more I think that you had to have made this up. It can't be this bad. I refuse to believe it.
Posted by: Shadows of Dakaron at April 10, 2008 7:34 PM
To be fair, Waters didn't direct Heathers (arguably my favorite movie, ever). And as much as I adore the script - truly brilliant in it's unique, clear, incisive voice (it had much of what folks loved about Juno but with far more depth and nuance) - what made the movie sing was the brilliant direction of Michael Lehman. It breaks my heart that Mssr Waters hasn't managed to contribute anything worthwhile to the culture since the brilliant Heathers but clearly directing is not his strong suit.
Posted by: Beckylooo at April 10, 2008 7:36 PM
Julie, you tramp, don't make the 'jiba menfolk duel over you.
I will kill any guy who comes near your mango margarita-tastin ass.
Hey Julie, come here so I can gnaw on your ass.
Posted by: Shadows of Dakaron at April 10, 2008 7:36 PM
Hells bells. If I had a WGA card, I'd turn it in. I used "brilliant" WAY too many times in that comment. That's what I get for multitasking. Please don't judge me.
Posted by: Beckylooo at April 10, 2008 7:39 PM
*looks down at his crotch, barren of any hot clumsy strippers, and cries. Oh, how he cries.*
Deep, Dark Secret #1288964: I....liked Hudson Hawk. A lot. I think I even looked for it on DVD. I liked the singing showtunes as a way to time the burglary, I liked the candy-named assassins, I liked James Coburn being completely batshit crazy, I even liked Sandra Bernhard. And I KNOW I liked dolphin-squealing nun Andie.
Posted by: Vermillion at April 10, 2008 7:42 PM
Vermillion...don't be ashamed. I LOVED that movie. And I do own it on DVD. I even asked my family for it, and they bought it for me as a gift for Christmas. There's nothing to be ashamed of...it's such a cheesy movie that wraps back around and becomes awesome. I think I developed my tendency to sing at inopportune times from that movie.
Sandra Bernhard played true to character...power-mad batshit crazy.
Posted by: Shadows of Dakaron at April 10, 2008 7:48 PM
Vermillion...don't be ashamed.
Shadows, that was beautiful.
With all this common stuff shared between us, I think we are becoming like Julie and Sarina, only without the hot lesbian subtext.
Posted by: Vermillion at April 10, 2008 8:10 PM
Sniff...I didn't realize you'd cared, Vermillion...
But I thought the hot lesbian subtext was why we loved them...
Posted by: Shadows of Dakaron at April 10, 2008 8:32 PM
Fine! No face licking for anyone*!
I thought this was an open opportunity comments section, but since Julie is claimed I want nothing to do with it.
There go my lesbian passions. I hope you all are happy.
*Shadows, meet me behind the Godtopus statue.
Posted by: J_Capri at April 10, 2008 9:13 PM
Trying to follow the action as described in the review made my brain hurt. This is one I'll skip.
Chris, was that novel "Lathe of Heaven"? That was a really strange but really good book. It made me realize how tied into our gender roles we are. I kept having to think of the characters as "male" or "female" even though they were meant to be neutral.
Posted by: rlr260 at April 10, 2008 9:24 PM
Unfortunately, it has all the teeth of a geriatric blowjob
Heh, I like that; alas, with the implants they have these days, you could be looking at the equivalent of vagina dentata.
Posted by: socalledonlycousins at April 10, 2008 9:39 PM
come here so I can gnaw on your ass.
Bwa!!
And J_Capri, don't let Joker scare you away, she abandoned me for, like, a MONTH. That's equivalent to a decade in Julie years.
I read "The Adventures of Ford Fairlane" as "The Adventures of Claire Forlani" (why?) and I couldn't help but think 'no wonder it fucking sucked'.
Hee hee hee.
Posted by: Julie at April 10, 2008 9:58 PM
I have to agree, I loved Hudson Hawk, ridiculous fun. I have a soft spot for Danny Aiello esp. Jacobs Ladder Danny Aiello. Also, ahem, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane made me giggle. A bunch. Sorry.
Posted by: Auntie Dani at April 10, 2008 10:00 PM
Claire Forlani came into the Borders I was working in downtown when the Bobby Jones movie was filming. I didn't think it was her until she asked if the new Time or Newsweek were in and I heard her accent. The reason I didn't think it was her was because she looked exactly like Claire Forlani, and people never look like the image of themselves. For example, Daryl Hall did not, he looked like a slightly older and rougher around the edges Daryl Hall, thus we were sure it was him.
Why'd I think joker was a guy? I know damn well Julie's barely got any internet straightness. But Mr. Dakaron's gotta decide if that makes him insecure or not. He seems to be able to cope with a lot though.
Oh and I don't think I want to see this. Ain't Carol Vessey got something more enticing for me?
(No, apparently not for several years now)
I don't think I've seen "Times Square" since I was about 7. Probably didn't get much out of it then.
Posted by: Jay at April 10, 2008 10:23 PM
Cope with it? Hell, Jay, haven't you been paying attention? I'm encouraging it! There's nothing hotter than a fiance who'll bring her girlfriends to the marriage bed...
By the way...how was Claire? Did she act celebrisnotty...or did she act like a regular person. Inquiring minds want to stalk...er...know...
Posted by: Shadows of Dakaron at April 10, 2008 10:34 PM
Am I the only one who just did Not. Get. Heathers? My roommate and I rented it a couple years ago and stared at it slackjawed until the credits rolled and then kind of turned to each other and were like, "....WHAT just happened?!"
Maybe we were just expecting something else?
Posted by: Nova at April 10, 2008 10:45 PM
The sex toy conversation, previously seen elsewhere today, still doesn't make sense. In that, it does make sense that joker would want females to discuss masturbation techniques and Consumer Reports your latest vibrator purchases and wishlists with ("makes sense" only in that I know it happens, that is. Blogs where you find no one thinks any men are reading are sometimes more than you want to know, like reading "Summer Sisters" by Judy Blume as part of a cultural exchange, "and you'll read 'High Fidelity'"
"Jesus, this is really what you're talking about?!?"----"What a bastard!!!".
At least you can just leave the page, walking into the room of scary girl talk's trickier).
But now I'm wondering, who are these guys discussing Jackrabbits and such? Is this what guys who have guy friends talk about? I have, I think...one. And we don't. Interesting.
Cope with it? Hell, Jay, haven't you been paying attention? I'm encouraging it! There's nothing hotter than a fiance who'll bring her girlfriends to the marriage bed...
By the way...how was Claire? Did she act celebrisnotty...or did she act like a regular person. Inquiring minds want to stalk...er...know...
Sure, I see your point but...yeah, I'm already concerned about just having to be the best man. Hell, I don't need more competition. I could never handle sex as teamwork anyway, just don't think I'd be able to get a multitasking rhythm going, the same way I can't really play a drum kit. Singing and playing a bass is tricky enough. I'm gonna spin one plate! But I'm gonna spin it to the best of my ability with whatever resources are available to me moment to moment.
Or rather, when I saw "Henry and June" I left the theater terrifed, thinking "oh shit, I'd be Richard E. Grant!". That was a horror movie. "Hey! What's up! You weren't fuckin Fred Ward and Uma Thurman while I was gone, right? What a silly thing to think, HA! Whaddaya want for dinner?" Obviously, lacking a secret identity you'll just see a fairly clean section of my mind, but it's definitely two controllers and not MMORPG.
If you will.
And Claire was entirely lovely and polite, overcast mid-morning, hardly anyone in the store yet, serene, so I felt bad I had to say the weeklies had not yet arrived and thus could not ring up her purchases. Only Jane Fonda.
Posted by: Jay at April 10, 2008 11:18 PM
Reading the second paragraph I was thinking: "Rowles is off his meds and making stuff up as he types"
This is just not a real movie, right?
Posted by: Adere at April 11, 2008 2:49 AM
I was going to launch a spirited defence of Empire Records, until it slowly dawned on me that I can't remember a goddamned thing about the movie. All memory of it has wafted away like breath-mist on a wintry breeze.
Just out of curiosity: how many male Pajibans have actually, at some point in their lives, been caught asleep with dick in hand? And can you remember what you were watching when you passed out?
Just to show I'm game: 'Yes', and 'A cheesy softcore called The Virgins Of Sherwood Forest', respectively.
Posted by: Dill The Devil at April 11, 2008 5:16 AM
I read that list of they-also-made-these movies and I realized, you know what, damn. They really MUST have gotten lucky just the once. I confess I never really loved Heathers OR Pump Up The Volume, although I appreciated them. Clueless, I actually loved. But man, that list is one sad piece of typing. I mean, Hudson Hawk? Look Whos Talking One AND Two? Those were awful gimmick-based movies when they FIRST got here, they certainly haven't freaking stood the test of time. And Loser, I just found cruel. Cruel the way I now find Ben Stiller cruel.
The other sadness is: Bunny Colvin is in this movie? That's a damn shame. As far as I'm concerned, everybody who was ever on The Wire should get an automatic career boost for life. Well, we all gotta eat.
We still love you, Bunny.
Posted by: karstark at April 11, 2008 7:42 AM
Jesus, karstark, I didn't even notice it said Bunny Colvin until I saw what you wrote! I just got done watching season three, and I worship that character like I can't even tell you! And the actor's been reduced to this?! Gaaah!!!
Posted by: Todd at April 11, 2008 9:20 AM
Am I the only one who just did Not. Get. Heathers?
I'm not sure I understand the question, Nova - what's to "get"? It's a movie about teen angst, suicide, cliques, and an ironic take on the absurdities of your teenage years. Maybe it worked better on those of us who were teenagers when it came out... perhaps times have changed since then and we view it through a different lens.
Posted by: TK at April 11, 2008 9:58 AM
In what I assume may be an attempt to insert a groovy British term in the hopes of sounding a bit cutting-edge to your American readers DR, I think you'll find that "snog" means, in your American parlance, to "make out" with someone. Now "shag" means to have sex. Perhaps you meant that?
How was that? Bitchy? Too bitchy? Not bitchy enough? I can never tell.
Posted by: Boogs at April 11, 2008 11:33 AM
Ok that's it, what is it about my comments that makes me come off as male? Is it the sex talk with Julie? She started it, just so you know. And NOW she claims I abandoned her. I went off explorating and stuff, to find new untamed lands (the Red Light District in Amsterdam for example). I thought you would like that! Dammit, woman! Shadows, I'll fight you for her, don't think I won't. And then I'll probably let you bite my ass (it tastes like chocolate). Deal?
Now I don't even remember what this bloody thread is about. Oh yea...shitty film. Carry on.
Posted by: Joker (who is a GIRL!) at April 11, 2008 1:00 PM
Maybe you're leaving it purposefully out of the review, but Amy Heckerling's not just known for Clueless, which was actually her "comeback." I defy anyone to find fault with Fast Times at Ridgemont High, which she directed and Cameron Crowe wrote. Maybe that's why it was left out, because it wasn't one of the "weird aberrations, the product of the exact right cast at the exact right time, movies that were fueled by more than the sum of their parts, films that showed an exceptional potential for awfulness but somehow accidentally struck just the right zietgeistian tone to transcend their mediocre scripts and inept directors." I was actually BORN the year it came out, saw it during my own high school career, and love it even now, the better part of a decade later. But at least, and I know it's not really the point of this review, give the woman credit where credit's due.
Posted by: Ariel at April 11, 2008 1:18 PM
Joker (who is a GIRL!)
Heeeeeee. And how.
Posted by: Julie at April 11, 2008 2:11 PM
movies that were fueled by more than the sum of their parts, films that showed an exceptional potential for awfulness but somehow accidentally struck just the right zietgeistian tone to transcend their mediocre scripts and inept directors
Of course this is also the basis for a statisticy argument as to why sequals are always worse. Chances are if a film was really popular the film making team was batting above average. They make another film and their performance returns to their average, i.e. crap.
Posted by: ChrisD at April 11, 2008 2:17 PM
Well, again, I should've known Julie better, but I tend to think of THE Joker and Private Joker (he of the unsatisfying War Face). Your words themselves seemed pretty unisex, but I haven't read much of your material. Annnyway, no derogation/defeminization intended of course!.
Posted by: Jay at April 11, 2008 2:39 PM
No worries, Jay. Being an engineer who has a thing for anything fast that has an engine and gadgets, I get the "are you sure you're a girl?" thing a lot. No surprises it's somehow seeped into my virtual life as well.
Julie, did you mean for that "and how" to seem that dirty or do I need to take my monthly mind-bath?
Posted by: Joker (who is a GIRL!) at April 11, 2008 2:53 PM
Ariel - I, too, adore "Fast Times." It's actually a poignant, perceptive movie that went down in history as Phoebe Cates's boob shot.
Posted by: samantha t at April 11, 2008 5:02 PM
They are so happy!Do you know "SeekingRich.com"?On "SeekingRich.com",there are many beautiful girls and handsome,rich men,and so many video stars.All of them want to make more friends on that website,but many of them want to find their lover on "SeekingRich.com".If you are single now,you must go to that website.
Posted by: Teddy at April 12, 2008 11:00 AM
joker...I know you're a girl. And how!
That was meant to sound that dirty, by the way. You don't have to fight me for Julie...I'm willing to share. We can be a virtual threesome! And I'd bite your ass any time you ask me to.
Are the spambots getting more verbose, or is it my imagination?
Posted by: Shadows of Dakaron at April 12, 2008 6:51 PM
"Are the spambots getting more verbose, or is it my imagination?"
They're evolving, Shadows. Any day now, they will become self aware.
Posted by: Sarina at April 12, 2008 7:39 PM