Wednesday, August 08, 2007

It's My Party and I'll Pay $14.95 If I Want To

This morning I had planned to pay my cable bill, that being one of the two that I always send on time (the other being Netflix) because insurance, shmensurance, I need to see the premiere of LA Ink. I was ready to write the check when I noticed that Time Warner had added $12 in charges for a DVR that I don't have. If I did, obviously I wouldn't have to structure my day around being home for the back-to-back episodes of Reba that air at 3:00.

Not only that, but they also added $14.95 for something listed as "Orgy Party". I considered the idea that this was a service they had performed in my apartment, perhaps when they installed the non-existent DVR. I then realized that was the title of a movie because it was listed in the same column as several indie films I'd watched on Pay Per View. I order this type of flick frequently because I have no problem watching them alone on my sofa but seeing them by myself in a theatre somehow seems more pretentious, if only to me.

I called Time Warner and eventually got through to a woman named, sublimely enough, Reba. I told her about the DVR and she agreed to credit the charges to my account but made me schedule an appointment to have one installed. The technician will be here any time between today and 2037 and they'd appreciate if someone would be home during that time period. One problem solved...but Reba balked at "Orgy Party". In fact, I could hear her recoil every time I said the word 'orgy' and imagined that she was holding the receiver as far away from her ear as possible, which of course just made me say it more. In my head, she also looked a lot like Edie McClurg.

Reba wasn't budging, which I kind of understood. I'm sure they get calls like this all the time, people disputing porn charges, mothers insisting that their teenage son could NOT have ordered "Got MILF?" and the like. After ten minutes of debate in which I said 'orgy' approximately 82 times, either Reba had an epiphany or her arm began to tire from holding the phone so far from her head. She told me that they would not refund the money but if I was interested in viewing 'that selection', as she called it, that I would be allowed to do so immediately after the phone call.

And that is how at 9:13 this morning, I was enjoying a bowl of SmartStart and watching amateur pornography. I will preface this by saying that I have not watched a tremendous amount of porn, but I have seen enough of it to realize that it's incredibly repetitive, that the ones with clever titles like "Grinding Nemo" are just as poorly produced as the ones called "Hot Sucking Asians 22", and that--much like minor league sporting events--you realize that the amateurs are playing the same game as the pros but it's nowhere near as entertaining.

The premise of Orgy Party, if there is one, is that a group of couples have been assembled in what appears to be a hotel conference room, given free drinks, and are encouraged to have intercourse with each other while being filmed by an overeager cameraman who is providing running commentary of the proceedings. I'm unsure about the "party" designation of the title though. I have yet to see any pinatas, festive hats, or streamers. Although getting participants for "Orgy Assembly" would have been difficult, "Orgy Conclave" sounds like a medical procedure and "Orgypalooza" has probably already been trademarked.

As the couples start fondling each other, I start to wonder about the hotel. Are they aware what is, um, going down in Conference Room B? Did they willingly rent this room out for this purpose, knowing full well that all of their furniture will need to be incinerated immediately afterward? Or did the crew convince the staff that this group of overmuscled pockmarked men and their capri-wearing female companions are actually part of the Rotary Club or something? Or perhaps this type of analysis is why I really can't enjoy pornography. And also why most nights I'm alone watching movies about mentally challenged bank robbers.

After about twenty minutes and two bowls of cereal, I'm convinced that the participants are Canadian, just because most of these people are built for cold weather and/or for physical labor. These are people meant to be bundled in sweaters and driving threshers, not naked and tangled in a writhing mass on an upholstered couch that I sincerely hope has been treated with some sort of stain-defender.

Confidential to Scotchguard: Perhaps you could start sponsoring pornographic films?

By 10:00, I'm ready to give up. Obviously, the only reason I'm watching is so I haven't just given $14.95 to the cable company but that just makes this more unsatisfying, like buying a wedding gift for someone then when the wedding is called off, you're stuck with a Magic Bullet blender that you didn't ever want in the first place.

I just have so many unanswered questions. Like if a woman is willing spend five grand to get breasts the size of Jack Russell terriers, wouldn't she be willing to drop a couple hundred to have her teeth fixed? The woman that all of the men and the cameraman (whose repetition of the phrases "oh yeah", "eff yeah", and "hell yeah" make me long for the commentary of Chris Berman who would at least throw in a "he's taking her from the backbackbackbackback") are fixated on has gigantic boobs but her teeth are incredibly jacked and she, like most of the other women, looks like she could be an enforcer for the Ottawa Senators.

I was going to give it another few minutes but I'm distracted by two men who are naked except for white athletic socks. Who wears socks to an orgy? If you're OK with having sex with 9 strangers, you can't be terribly concerned with where you're putting your feet.

After rinsing my bowl in the sink, I turn the TV off. According to my calculations, I got about $3.75 worth of enjoyment back. You win, Time Warner. Now where's my DVR?

2 comments:

Nate said...

Perhaps it was the episode of Reba where they had the giant orgy. I heard that was a two-parter.

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