The Post About Porn And Not My Sister

Here's the thing I wrote before my sister joined me for a long weekend.

In the spirit of short, funny(?) posts, I'm going to skip the preamble. I started this post one way, and after a full hour, maybe more, I was bored of myself and that is a REALLY bad sign since the post is about porn.

Again, I blame The Bloggess, who delved into writing about clown-porn and that reminded me of a movie I saw once. So I did what you're supposed to do -- I left a comment over there. But after I (just now) re-read my comment, I realized I sounded kind of manic, about porn no less, and so I thought I'd share a little more of my experience here for your benefit. I don't know that I'll end up sounding any less crazy here, but at least you're not all who IS that crazy commenter lady, instead you're probably just rolling with the usual crazy, la la la.

So okay. I once went out with a guy who

Wait, wait.

I know this isn't the point, but do you have any idea how many different ways I could finish that sentence? Between the number of guys I've "gone out with" and my natural-thus-unintentional tendency toward male diversification, that sentence has almost endless possibilities. Off the very top of my head:

I once went out with a guy who*...

...was afraid of sharing food.
...liked to try to convince people he was from the future.
...was a recovering paraplegic.
...showed up in sweatpants for our first date.
...didn't tell me he was married.
...did tell me he was married.
...lied about having a girlfriend (which I discovered when she found my name and number and decided to call me to discuss the situation).
...tried to impress me by taking me to his fancy apartment, despite that it was the apartment he lived in with his parents.
...was obsessed with The Lion King.
...was a Republican.

But right. Porn.

I once went out with a guy who collected porn from the 70s and 80s. Naturally, I was curious about this -- I'd never seen any of the "classics" such as Deep Throat or Debbie Does Dallas, and figured watching such titles could only further my pop-cultural well-roundedness. Or something.

In a nutshell, here's what I thought: Oh, hey. People didn't used to shave ANYTHING.

Anyway. Somehow (gin), we ended up watching a few other movies from this bygone era together, and that's how I came to watch the porn with the midget clown.

(I know I should not use the word "midget" and that I should say "little person" except I don't think ANYONE in ANY demographic wants to be associated with what I saw in this movie. So please do not think I'm being un-PC when in fact, I'm actually being hyper-sensitive. Also, I'm writing about clown porn and if your main issue with this post is the fact that I'm using the word "midget" I don't even know what to say.)

It was a bad movie from the start. Right away, you could tell the movie was making a full-blown attempt at plot -- some guy getting angry at his wife/girlfriend and going for a drive in his truck -- and next thing you know the story has taken a turn and you're suddenly watching a very hairy man getting lost in a magical mansion where there's weird sex stuff happening in every room. (The sex acts themselves, mind you, were not particularly weird. Just the whole magical mansion plot.)

But so you have this guy, and he runs around a mansion and finds himself in a strange room with women wanting to have sex with him. And he's all, Okay, I guess I will, and then immediately after has a moral/ethical/directional crisis and remembers he doesn't know where he is or how to get out.

And that is when the midget clown appears.

Once upon a time, there was a group of writers, and they decided to "craft" a script. For this porno flick. And they got to the part where the man having pretend-reluctant sex in the mansion doesn't know what to do next...so they decided the only thing that made sense was to have a tiny, gruff clown appear. To help him.

Of course!

Except.

EXCEPT.

Except not only that! No!

The midget clown spoke IN VERSE.

And THAT is when, as a couple, you have to pause the DVD and stare at each other because you can't believe what is happening on the television screen.

Did...? Is that...? Did he...? And with the...? IS HE RHYMING?

And also you realize you have to know how the movie ends.

Because yes. Every time the man journeyed from room to room, or felt particularly lost and helpless (such as when he went from the room with the two cowgirls to the room with the amazon woman in a cheetah-print camisole who seemed to be protecting "treasure" -- understandably confusing for any man), the midget clown would appear and say something rhyme-y. So as to give the man a "clue" for how to leave the mansion.

When all was said and done, the man got back to his truck and on the road and I think he decided to return to his angry girlfriend/wife. He may have been influenced by the poetic midget clown, it's hard to say.

Also, there is no point to this entry, except I guess maybe to say that -- as far as I know -- they just don't make midget clown porn movies like they used to.






*Notice (hi, Em!) that I write "a guy WHO" and not "a guy THAT." Because even posts about hairy midget clown porn can use proper grammar.