One of the many things I like about my relationship with E.S. is that the sex is consistently fabulous. However, he being a first-year resident at a hospital, there are perforce occasional periods during which we don’t see each other for a while; at such times, I have not infrequently performed certain endorphin-releasing activities on my own. On these occasions I have been content to use as visual aids the small stash of pornographic videos I collected in the early 1990s, when my taste in such things seems to have been formed. The haircuts are most unfortunate, but I find the body shapes on the whole more pleasing than those in videos being made today.
However, a couple weeks ago, I ordered a new video from the folks at TLA (that link is safe for work, by the way, though certain pages on the site are most certainly not). The detailed review of the movie on the web site indicated that it contained a scene involving a fairly uncommon sexual activity that I find particularly arousing. The one or two times I’ve actually participated in this activity, the experience has been unerotic and, in fact, somewhat distasteful, so I have no plans to try it again; nevertheless, the idea of it remains exciting.
A few days later, the TLA package arrived–on a day, it so happened, when E.S. was going to be on overnight call at the hospital, so I had ample time to enjoy my purchase. The film started off promisingly enough, with someone who could conceivably be a high school student if high school started at age 26 entering what could conceivably be the principal’s office if principals’ offices were badly-lit rooms empty of all appointments save a curiously bare desk. Someone who could conceivably be the principal entered and began to castigate the student for spending so much time sucking cock that his grades were suffering; the scene progressed satisfyingly if predictably from there to its inevitable conclusion. The next scene had similar credibility issues but was equally fulfilling–from a mathematical perspective, in fact, it was twice as fulfilling, as it had twice as many people in it.
The third scene was the one in which, according to the review, the activity for which I’d purchased the movie occurred. I watched as the school janitor (the first well-cast role in the piece) chanced upon some contraband material in a student’s locker and took the student down to the boiler room to punish him. Strangely enough, these two were inclined to behave in the the same manner as the principal, the detainee, the athlete, his coach, and his two teammates; however, after a while they stopped doing that, and seemed to be preparing to do something else. Breathless with, um, anticipation, I awaited eagerly the extensive scene the TLA review had described–
–and got about thirty seconds of the tail end of it, after which the two actors moved on to something else.
I went nearly mad with shock and dismay. After finishing the task at hand–not nearly as pleasant an accomplishment as I’d expected it would be–I called up the web page and reread the review, thinking that perhaps my wishful memory had played me false. But no: right there in black and white–with full color photographs–was a description of events that did not take place in the movie I had bought.
Clearly this was an untenable state of affairs. But resolving it was going to be tricky. After all, the all-but-omitted sexual activity was just enough beyond the pale for me not to feel comfortable calling the company and identifying myself as an aficionado in an effort to correct the error. True, I could simply return the movie for a refund, but that would destroy any chance I had of actually obtaining the movie I’d thought I was buying, which was of course the most desirable outcome.
Eventually I hit upon the brilliant solution of sending TLA an e-mail into which I pasted the relevant paragraphs from their own review; I bolded the parts that had been left out and asked them to let me know how I could get a copy with those parts put back in. That way I didn’t even have to refer to the damning sex act by name–whoever got the e-mail couldn’t very well turn his nose up at his own company’s language. Pleased as punch with myself (and full of endorphins, however unfulfillingly released), I went to bed.
And woke up the next morning to find an e-mail in my inbox saying, “Pardon the inconvenience, but please contact us by phone to resolve this issue.”
So today, when I got home from the gym, I called them.
“Hello, this is Nick,” said the guy on the other end of the phone. “How can I help you?”
“Well,” said I, “I recently bought a video from you that seems to have part of a scene missing. There’s a scene described on the web site that isn’t all there.”
“Oh?” he asked, concern filling his voice. “What was the movie?”
“It was [Name of Movie],” I answered, after which I gave him my order number.
“So you say there was part of a scene missing?”
I was silent, hoping against hope that Nick, wonderful Nick, cute, understanding Nick, would know exactly what the problem was without my having to explain it.
“What was missing?” he asked.
Hateful, ugly Nick.
I wondered desperately if Nick spoke French. My French is good enough to return a movie.
Then I realized I didn’t know the name of the activity in French.
“Um,” I continued in English, “well, there’s a [name of activity] scene, and only part of it appears on the disc.”
“Yes, I can see that there’s a [name of activity] scene. But what part of it is missing?”
I attempted to develop spontaneously the ability to project my thoughts into the minds of others, so as not to have to continue this conversation, but I failed.
“Do you have e-mail?” I asked wildly. “I could just e-mail you a description of what’s missing.”
“If you send an e-mail it won’t be dealt with properly.”
I thought about becoming an ex-gay so as to have an excuse not to own this movie, but realized quickly that I like getting fucked too much to become an ex-gay. There was nothing for it but to plow ahead.
“How about if I just read you the section from your web site that describes the part that’s missing?”
“Okay, so see where there’s the paragraph that ends, um, ‘A willing Chad takes stream after stream of Matt’s impressive load in the face without flinching’?”
I considered traveling back in time and preventing human beings from developing the power of speech.
“Yeah, I see that.”
“Okay, well, the next paragraph, the one that starts, ah, ‘Next up is the adorable Billy, who [performs the activity in question on] Eric like there’s no tomorrow,’ nothing described in that paragraph is on the disc I got. And then the first sentence of the next paragraph, the one that says, ‘Then we’re treated to the delightful sight of Eric [performing the activity in another way,]’ that’s not there either. I only have the scene starting from the next sentence, ‘To finish things off before going in for the kill, Billy [performs the activity in yet a third way.]'”
By this point I was strangling with mortification.
“Hmm,” said Nick. “Okay, let me go check with my manager, who’s in charge of ordering these.”
During the two minutes during which I was on hold, I started to check out airfares to Siberia, where I could drown myself in Lake Baikal, the largest freshwater lake in the world. Unfortunately, Nick returned before I’d been able to finalize my purchase.
“My manager says we must somehow have sent you the retail version. He says the [activity] scene is really quite extensive in the director’s cut. Let me give you a return authorization number so you can send the disc back. As soon as we get it, we’ll ship you out the correct version.”
“Oh, great,” I said tearfully, grateful that I would soon be able to hang up and instantly repress all memory of this conversation.
“I’m so sorry for the trouble. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“No, thank you.”
And it was over. Slowly–oh, so slowly–but surely, the excess blood began to drain from my face and redistribute itself throughout the rest of my body. My breathing started to return to normal, and I thought, Well, at least I know I’ll never be that embarrassed ever again in my entire life.
Then I realized that my door was open and my brother’s houseguest had been sitting on the couch in the next room the whole time.
This is the funniest thing I have ever read.
Well, that was a fun research project, but I couldn’t figure out the video and act in question. I really spent WAY too much time on that!
Patrick (the other one), I’m glad you think so. Adam875, I actually changed the names and paraphrased the quotes precisely so that nobody would be able to figure out the video and act in question.
::dies for you::
::then cracks up::
Fabulous story, sir. Although it really isn’t fair that you won’t share your personal perversion – everyone has their quirks. Embrace your perversity! 🙂
bloody brilliant! Sadly there is jut no way of explaining to my colleagues just why it is that I’m laughing so hard at 9h45 on friday morning…
Faustus, you are bloody wicked; to change the name of the characters and the lines… and you are amazingly funny. This confirms that you can stop worrying about running out of creativity while blogging.
My money is on fisting or spanking. Any takers? I’ll give you odds of 5 to 1 on.
God that was really funny.
Somehow I don’t think it’s fisting… maybe golden showers? C’mon fess us Faustus, are golden showers your secret thing?
Lol. I’m curious to know what your brother’s houseguest did after that. 🙂
\__”_*___\, v. i. 1. To become clear, pure, or free. – Goldsmith
[Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary, Â© 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc.]
Davy, I do embrace my perversity. I just don’t want everybody else embracing it as well. Sarrah, yes, there is; just tell them you’ve been diagnosed with pseudobulbar affect. This will excuse all sorts of interesting behaviors on your part. Kris, you are much too kind, though I can’t decide which I want to be more prevalent, bloodiness or wickedness. Campbell and Jay, the only thing that would lead me to reveal that information is a guarantee that doing so would somehow cause George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, John Ashcroft, Karl Rove, and Condoleezza Rice to explode into smithereens. Plumpernickel, she pretended she hadn’t heard a word, which required a far quicker wit than I would have been able to summon under the circumstances. Mr. D., actually, no, it was just shy of 60 bucks. I. bendito, you are brilliant, but I’m still not telling.
What a great entry! You’re a riot!
Does your brother’s houseguest have a blog?
Does your brother have a blog?
If so, do you have the names?
You can see where I am going with this, can’t you?
I’m doing a show this weekend. Please let me use this!
That was hilarious, but honestly, not knowing the name of the activity in French isn’t that embarrassing.
And all this time, you were worrying that being in a relationship would deprive you of interesting topics about which to write….
May I please have Nicks number?
Are you sure part of Giuliani’s legacy isn’t that all porn delivered to the city confines come with the apaprently unspeakable acts sanitized and removed? And though you say you couldn’t do it in French, are there languages other than English in which you could have described the act? Spanish? German? Give it to us in whatever gutteral tones you can provide. We can all go to freetranslation.com and work it out.
Faustus: your life consistently provides such good humour; it’s almost enough to make one jealous – that life can actually be so comical! I haven’t laughed so hard since reading “Does your mother know how gay your are?” and the related commentary that went with it.
Priceless. Postively priceless.
By the way, I’ve spoken with Nick, too. He’s far too professional for the “art film” business!
oh god!!! *laughing hilariously* that was bloody brilliant!! and so mortifying!! ahahaaahahahaa…. and u worried u’d hv nothing interesting to write??
this entry is so funny! hilarious! i really love reading your blog.
That was good one. I nearly got my heart in my throat when you mentioned the last paragraph. It happened to the best of us.
One time, I forgot to take the DVD out when I’m done with it — my female roommate found it. 🙁
My last year of college my roomate (female) was a nanny during the afternoons – a time when I always knew I could be alone. So with video aid at hand I was dancing the Roman Helmet Rhumba one lovely spring afternoon only to have my roomate arrive home unexpectedly.
Unfortunately I have a partial hearing loss and thus didn’t hear her arrival.
And I left my bedroom door open.
With the sound of vintage 70’s porn blasting away I only had enough time to swing my legs around of the bed and cover my crotch, yet my jeans were still down around my ankles. Hunched over I looked up to see her eyes wide open. She asked what I was doing and all I could do was simply stutter, “I’m, I’m, I’m,” (pause) “I’m masturbating.” She said ok then walked into the kitchen and collapsed on the floor into hysterical laughter. To this day it’s her husband’s favorite story.
Dear Faustus too bad I was not put in detention for my bad behavior. But fortunately I brought my umbrella as the forecast called for showers that afternoon.
I had a similar experience, though I did not have the courage to call and complain about the missing [activity which is fascinating to me in concept]. So I’m stuck with a mediocre video with no [said activity], which would have been its only redeeming value. As it is, I think the exchange deadline has passed.
An adult film studio which subjects its customers to more humiliation and degradation than its actors…
Where’s your four-digit paycheck?
Fantastic! I hadn’t laughed that hard in ages… You are the wind beneath my wings.
So there are others besides me who do such things. Good.
this is my first time here……this was so funny I almost p*ssed myself…..
Classic moment….so Three’s Company….
I love it.
That is truly hilarious!! (At least you got to do the transaction over the phone.)
Did your brother’s houseguest quickly excuse himself to the bathroom? If so, maybe he was…tantalized by what he overheard!
I’m betting the activity has to do with, um, voiding. Correct?!
Oh my god. That is the funniest story I have heard in months! Great story-telling skill, too. It’s even better without actually knowing the exact act of which you were embarrassed to speak.
I made my coworkers read it so they would know why hyena laughing was coming from my office. 😛
Wow. There are too many Patricks here. Never had this problem in my life. Well, I wrote the last comment (just beneath this one) then read through the others. Just wanted to say I’m different Patrick than the other two. 😛
A friend sent this page to me and halfway through the article I realized “I own this flick!” I couldn’t figure out what you missed…
…so I went to TLA, put in the title and Viola! Now I have to go out and buy the director’s cut. If I hadn’t known, I’d never have missed it… now I need to buy it (and I guess I’ll get Part II as well).