Last night I was flipping through the pay-per-view movies on Time Warner Cable with a pal o’ mine who was over for a slumber party.

“The Dark Knight?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I’ve already seen it.”

“Me too.” I scanned the menu more. “Slumdog?”

“Seen it.” Then she said, “I wanna watch Milk! Or The Wrestler!!”

“Seen ’em both,” I said. Then I saw something surprising. Most of the pay-pers cost $3.99, but they had one that was $9.99. Why? It hasn’t been released yet. It’s a premium sneak preview thing…see the movie before it even hits the theaters.

And the movie? The Girlfriend Experience starring Sasha Grey.

We looked at each other, and without saying a word, I shelled out the 10 clams.

10 doll hairs.

10 scheckles.

You get the idea.

I’ve always sat on the sideline when it comes to Sasha Grey.

I interviewed her once.

We took a trip to the gloryhole.

For her 19th birthday, I got Sasha some Big Black Dick.

After all that, I’m still not sure what to make of her.

Some of my friends had no problem stating how they felt about her: the first time I strolled into Adrianna Nicole’s apartment, she had a heavy bag handing from the ceiling, and right where you’d punch the shit out of it the words “Sasha Grey” were scrawled in white letters.

Time to take my stance! Here’s my official take on Sasha Grey: either she’s a genius, or she’s got quite a library of the “For Dummies” titles.

Existentialism For Dummies.

Surrealism For Dummies.

Jean-Luc Godard For Dummies.

That sort of thing.

Really, I want to believe Sasha is the genuine smarty-pants she comes off as. Really, I do. And I have no reason to believe otherwise.

So how come I feel there’s something fraudulent about her?

You probably know this, but whore mongers (AKA “hobbyists”) are always on the hunt for G.F.E. (girlfriend experience) when they’re buying their whore. G.F.E. is exactly that: share a glass of wine and some conversation as she rubs the tension of a long day’s work from your shoulders before a bubble bath and some french kissing and a round of passionate lovemaking.

To me, G.F.E. never made sense. If I’m gonna splurge on a whore, then come piss in my mouth, bitch, right after you tell me I can never please you in the sack. Spank me, make fun of me, fuck me, blow me…but for God’s sake don’t fucking close your eyes and make out with me.

Which is to say the last fucking thing I want from my whore is a girlfriend.

Some hobbyists prefer P.S.E. — “porn star experience” — which is a little more to my liking…if I’m buying a whore.

How did I get off on this tangent?

I was pulling for Sasha and The Girlfriend Experience the second the movie started. I really wanted to see Sasha transcend porn to The Big Time. I really wanted to like the movie, too. Who knows…you might like it. I mean I didn’t hate it…but it wasn’t very good.

The Girlfriend Experience was mediocre at best. I won’t give anything away, in case you do see it…except to say the most powerful part of the movie is the closing few minutes, when Sasha meets her Jewish, diamond-and-gold peddlin’ client.

If only the rest of the movie had 1/10th of the power that scene delivered.

Give Sasha the credit she deserves: she came to LA with a goal she achieved. That says a lot. But, as the credits rolled, I wondered why Soderbergh even cast Sasha? (I found my answer here after writing this). Was he going for authenticity? Cause if that’s the case, Porn Stars and Escorts ain’t even close to being the same Bird. Even though some of them are the same Bird.

I’m not out to shit talk Sasha Grey, but really, The Girlfriend Experience is poor.

Sasha Grey = Traci Lords = Nina Hartley = Katie Morgan.

Or, maybe it’s best to say Sasha’s mainstream acting ability lacks any sort of range…take a look at the pic I posted, and that pretty much sums up Sasha’s big screen acting debut.

It pretty much sums up the movie, too.

Oh well…at least I didn’t have to deal with traffic on Sunset to get to the Arc Light, then pay to park, and then shell out another sawski or two for popcorn.

Everyone look at the two dopes arguing over amending Maryland’s budget to deny any funding to our beloved Diamond Back Terrapins cause they wanted to show a dirty movie on campus.

When I was a Sun Devil frosh, I saw a dirty movie on campus — cause I took O.M. “Organ” Morgan’s class on Human Sexuality. So did everyone else…as in they saw the dirty movie, cause they enrolled in Morgan’s class, cause almost everyone wanted that “easy A”, and Organ Morgan’s class was pretty much that.

I barely earned a B, which goes to show you where my priorities were.

Anyway, they would pack 400+ kids a semester into one of the largest lecture halls on campus, and when we called the good professor Organ Morgan, we’d all laugh. Every single time.

The very first thing Organ wanted on our very first day of class was for someone to yell out a slang term for penis. I’m serious. He introduced himself, and then he asked for a slang term for penis. He didn’t even acknowledge the syllabus his three TA’s were handing out.

Silence.

Remember, this is 1982. Fall semester, too. MTV was in its infancy and almost no one had a cell phone and the internet was a place reserved for Rocket Scientists.

I say this cause I think in the fall of 09 Organ Morgan would have had his request taken care of immediately. But in 1982 we all looked around at each other for a long second or two before anyone said a word.

“Dick!” someone finally yelled, and there was nervous laughter.

A second or two later, “Cock!” — and you’d think Richard Pryor was giving the lecture.

I didn’t think it then, but I do now: are we uptight about our sexuality, or what?

A few seconds later I think I heard every single slang word for penis ever invented…some I had never heard before.

And after all the dicks and cocks and tools and peckers and pricks were shouted out, and after he quieted everyone down, we all got a shot at vagina.

“Cunt!” came almost instantaneously…and again, it brought down the house.

By week two Organ’s 400-person-class was whittled down to the 100 (or so) who would show up. Everyone knew nobody could take roll for a class filled with 400 people, and Organ didn’t even try to fake it. I came and went, and one of the days I made it Organ showed an old film loop, and even by 1982 standards it seemed really old. I’m sure it was at least a decade old, and we all sat there in a kind of stunned silence as the 6 minute (or so) 8mm filmed rolled.

I don’t know where to go with this anymore. I wasn’t even gonna really blog it, but what the fuck? At least it isn’t a blog about some Porn Princess having a melt-down or behaving badly.

Maybe I want to say nothing’s really changed. Not in 25+ years. Maybe Organ Morgan was way ahead of his time?

They decided not to show Pirates II: Stagnetti’s Revenge at Maryland cause the “titillation of porn” overrode the importance of teaching it.

I dunno what’s dumber: that there’s a subject that’s so titillating you can’t teach it — or they wanted to screen Pirates II.

If they woulda shown one of the movies I made, they could have at least added race relations into the mix.