This one takes “money shot” to a whole new level.
Today, we’re diving into 800 Fantasy Lane. It’s written and directed by Svetlana Mishoff, and it’s the first porn Lisa De Leeuw (the secretary in The Blonde Next Door) was ever in.
So. Yeah. Written and directed by a woman.
Check out these gas prices.
These two knuckleheads, the lowly gas station attendants, have only one true desire in the world: to take a vacation together.
But they’re broke.
They devise a scheme:
I’m surprised they read the paper, to be honest. Maybe literacy standards really have declined.
They read about a hot new real estate agency that hires beautiful, busty wannabe starlets to sell luxury homes over long, leisurely ogling retreats.
They immediately make a phone call.
“Hello. Busty Wannabe Starlet Realty, this is Broker Blondie, how may I help you?”
Mustachio up there tells the eager young agent that he’s an oil baron on the hunt for a 9 or 10 bedroom mansion.
The trap is set!
“This is the greatest thing that we have ever done, Beavis.”
So, they put on their fancy polyester travelling suits and get on a jet plane, then they are whisked away to Sexytimes Mansion.
Real estate is obviously very taxing.
It’s immediately clear that this is where very important businesswomen are doing very important business.
Just take a look at these papers!
So, the story is that all the real estate agents/breast display units live in a 36 room monstrosity of a house while they try to sell it.
Seems legit.
Lilac Leisure Suit Guy just can’t stand it anymore. He humps an architectural column, because that’s not weirdly phallic at all (I’ve seen a lot of porn, and this is the first time I’ve encountered column humping, so, bravo, Svetlana.) Then he yanks out his junk to jerk it while his dude friend is in the same room.
I’m pretty sure this is breaking the dude protocol.
HE CANNOT TAKE IT ANYMORE.
The knuckleheads take in the, er, pleasures of the least likely mansion in all of recorded history.
Then, complication arrives:
Let the Battle of the Creepy Pornstaches commence!
A “fellow” oil magnate arrives at Hottie Mansion.
Our heroes ditch the scene, asking to go look at other mansions. Then Mustachio boots the Lilac Menace, who has been cramping is Champion Mustache Style with all the wall-humping and monkey-spanking.
“Up yours, asshole!”
Mustachio gets his sleaze on next to the most magnificent spider plant anyone ever grew. Because, it’s 1979:
“Of course, I’ll buy this house! As long as we all get to have a threesome.”
Mustachio returns to Hottie Mansion, feeling self-satisfied about ditching his lilac-clad hetero life partner and boning two chicks under false pretenses.
Don’t get too comfy, there, pal.
Things are about to get weird.
First: weird dungeon.
It’s time for random S & M.
Then, Leisure Suit guy comes back.
WE’RE BEST FRIENDS. SO BEST FRIENDS. IF YOU RUIN THIS VAGINA PARADE, I WILL KILL YOU.
And… what appears to be a clear violation of corporate usage rights:
“Hey, those two new guys seem shady, right, Mister Real Oil Magnate?” “M-I-C, K-E-….” “DON’T SAY IT! WE CAN NEVER AFFORD THE LICENSING!”
The next day, Mustachio actually goes through with signing papers for the spider plant house.
“It’s after 5 on the East Coast, and they won’t know I’m gas station attendant until Monday. The check’s in the mail, baby!”
When they leave, Broker Blondie gets a call from The Real Oil Magnate.
He offers to “look into” the “two clowns.”
The clowns further partake of the Hottie Mansion lifestyle.
MOAR SPIDER PLANTS.
Eventually, even Mustachio is all boned out. It’s just too many vaginas.
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!”
AND THEN THE GANG DECIDES TO DO ANGEL DUST.
Nope.
Not kidding.
Welcome to the porno that turns into an after school special.
“HOOOOOOOOOO.”
And, then?
MUAH HA HA HA HA!
Then:
“HA HA HA! MICKEY MOUSE HATS! I’M GOING TO EAT YOUR FACE. AND HATS.”
Then?
Oh, then things get really weird.
It’s now time for the procession.
Oh, yes.
Strike up a jaunty march!
The Lilac Suit has something to share.
This piece is probably in some MOMA right now.
Then?
It erupts.
Seems a waste of milk.
Yup.
“HA HA HA HA HA!”
Gallons and gallons. While a piano plays. A fucking piano.
Gallons and gallons.
THIS ISN’T HOMOEROTIC IN A WAY THAT CONFIRMS THE BASE BROMANCE AT THE HEART OF THIS “FILM” AT ALL. NOT. AT. ALL.
Someone got an art degree, and they needed to use it, okay?
Mustachio is having a time of it.
Fancy lens purchase in the budget? Justified.
He makes it with a tiger lady.
Alas. All the body paint in the world can’t compare to a giant, raining, paper mâché penis.
Yeah.
It’s a little furry-happy.
But, seriously.
That giant penis.
That. Giant. Paper. Mâché. Penis.
Really.
Who cares about the tigers?
The Real Oil Baron shows back up with the promised “500 Gs,” and he delivers the very sad news that Broker Blondie has been entertaining two fakes for a whole weekend.
500 Gs fits in that little briefcase.
Then, Mustachio gets caught spying:
Texans all carry guns, don’tcha know?
But, ever at the ready to protect his one true love, the Lilac Menace is here to save the day!
“I’ll just be taking this 500 Gs.”
Then, in a move so foolish it’s almost incomprehensible, except that they’re all on PCP, Blondie the Broker is totally on-board with a plan to ditch her actually wealthy, actually-buying-real-estate, actually an oil magnate Mouseketeer, so she can fly off into the sunset with Mustachio and his Totally Not Gay Friend.
HEE, HEE, HEE. WE’RE RICH. KIND OF. FOR 1979. GOT ANY MORE OF THAT ANGEL DUST? HEE, HEE, HEE.
Fin.
Also?
The things I do for you guys.
