Girls on Film

Wasn't I excited when I opened my mail the other day to find a porno flick based on the life of a sex and love advice columnist! As I tore through the packaging and shoved the DVD in the player, I hoped that it'd be more authentic than the last movie about a lady columnist I'd seen: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Poor Kate Hudson; she's so irresistible, it's gonna take her 10 whole days to convince a man not to love her. Hell, I've inspired full-on hatred in less than 10 seconds.

So Dear Celeste (Pure Play Media) looks right up my alley. I dig the remote up from between the sofa cushions and hit play.

Oh my.

My Special Naked Friend often complains that my skirts are too short, but I look positively Amish compared to this gal! Why, I can see right up to the goodies, which are obscured from view only by a sliver of pretty pink thong.

Celeste, who, judging by her accent, hails from Long Island, explains to us—the viewer—that she thinks it was her skimpy apparel choices that landed her the job of sex columnist. "I'm so naughty," she adds.

Indeed.

Celeste decides it's bath time (writing is a dirty business!), and we get to watch her walk up the stairs. Once comfortably ensconced in her boudoir, Celeste begins getting ready. For most of us this task involves turning on the faucet, dropping trou, and jumping in.

But not our Celeste. She gives herself a full-body rubdown—first fully clothed, and then again, as she painstakingly removes each item of clothing. I would've been bathed and dried in the time it takes her to get down to her skivvies.

"You like my bra? It's cute, huh? It's pink and black," she explains for the color-blind among us. I note that, shockingly, Celeste appears to be rocking unaugmented breasts. I don't have a boob job either—common ground!

As she slips off her thong, I note with dismay a landing strip on an otherwise barren landscape. I cannot believe that pubic hair has become a fetish item.

After another tantalizing full-body rubdown (this time nekkid!), it's finally time for Celeste to get in the damned tub already. She walks over to the bath and gives her nips a tweak before stepping into the bubbles. I generally wait till after the bath to do the nipple tweaking, but to each her own.

"I get letters from my readers—hot, steamy letters," she purrs, lolling about in the bath. "I pick the hottest, steamiest ones." Then, as if to prove she's not lying, Celeste picks one up from a stack that's suddenly appeared next to the tub.

Throwing caution (and good sense!) to the wind, Wet Celeste opens the letter and reads it aloud: "I can't sign my name because I'm a pretty well-known celebrity. But I had the most amazing sex with my bodyguard last week. I've never been with a black guy, and I certainly had never had anal sex before. . . . "

Cut to a pretty Asian lady and her "bodyguard." They start going at it, and I fast-forward to the butt sex. Ow! Oh wait, he's taking it out of her ass and putting it in her mouth!! Ewwww!

Safe Sex Alert: Don't try this at home! This is such an unsafe—not to mention distasteful—practice!

Skip back to Celeste, who is reading another letter. I take a moment to ponder that I'm probably the only person in the history of the universe to fast-forward through the sex in order to get to the talky bits.

In this scene, one of Celeste's girlfriends comes to visit. I love hanging out with my girlfriends, but my buddies and I don't really rub each other's boobies or tongue kiss. I shouldn't even say "really," because that makes it sound like it occasionally happens.

Fast-forward to a boxing segment. I used to box! Oh, wait. . . . While I did box, I never did it in high-heeled sneakers and a latex bikini. And, um, lady, you're supposed to wear boxing gloves when you're hitting the heavy bag!

Frustrated, I yank the DVD out of the player and pitch it across the room. Obviously, the life of a sex and love advice professional is too nuanced and complicated for Hollywood—or even the Valley—to get right.

Frustrated? Write Dategirl at dategirl@seattleweekly.com or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western Ave., Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.

 
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