When the general manager at the place where I won my #1 lunch server in North America title belt recommends a film, and he is Dutch, that is a movie I’m willing to watch. Or so I thought. Sunday after eating a beef brisket ruben with Russian dressing I went to the Indian Grocery Store where I have my video membership. The Indian Grocery store has a good collection and they also sell Arnold Palmer tall boys with Arnold Palmers face on them for 99 cents and the Indians do not charge tax and all this is good and their video policy is good. It is only one dollar a night if you buy ten dollars worth of groceries during the day.
After the ruben (& I add here that one bite of that ruben, just one bite yes but a significant bite in the close mouthfuls of the sandwich, was way too salty) I scooted past the blanket-swaddled Indian grandma and scooped up my Arnold Palmer tall boy and headed over to the video aisles to check out the supreme collection. In the action or perhaps drama shelves I saw a movie right out in my face called “Crash” and I remembered working two Saturday nights ago and my Dutch GM had told me to watch that film because it would help ease my anxiety & paranoia, or something to that affect. I picked up the box and scanned it and it saw the word “erotic” yes I saw that word, but thought nothing of it. I rented the movie and the Indian gentleman gave me two Swedish fish (individually wrapped) and a baby bag of Skittles complimentary with my purchases. Did I mention I picked up toilet paper?
Now Monday night I still did not return the video because I planned on watching it with my roommate Ari. My system in my head on my braindrive crashed after some record shopping Monday afternoon and I awoke after a three hour nap to rain and MTV. Ari and I then set up a chill-space in the living room to watch this heralded movie, “Crash” which she had also had had recommended to her. We put the thing on and there were three anal lovemaking scenes in the first minute, as confirmed by the review from allmovie.com:
“The film starts out with three bizarre sex scenes in a row, and many more follow. Although they aren’t strictly exploitive and are necessary to the plot, squeamish viewers may find the film rough going. Crash paints a disturbing and coldly revolting portrait of turn-of-the-century Americans, advanced in technology but retarded emotionally. For these numb, disconnected people, humanity has lost its appeal, and their only remaining thrills can come from twisting their useless bodies into a bloody wreck on the freeway of the millennium.”
After the three scenes of intense anal lovemaking and after Ari and I’s out-of-control giggling died down I turned off the VCR and apologized for not being more careful at the Grocery Store. The Indians love NC-17 and they see me buy cigarettes and give me candy and no questions are asked. Now after doing some search on the internet I find that it was the wrong movie but the right name. The funniest thing about the “Crash” that we started to watch was that it starred James Spader, who I know from watching “Judging Amy” with my aunt and my grandma. Judging Amy is set in Hartford, Conn. James Spader was born and raised in Boston, Mass…
Ok now I don’t think James Spader ever acted on the show “Judging Amy.” Can someone please contact me with the right information on this before I go out and rent another NC-17 movietape?