So I went to see Starsky and Hutch tonight. Shut up . . . don't judge me. Monkey Boy was chewing up the scenery as usual. The Other One gave adequate line readings.

I've decided to turn straight and marry this girl, who was amusing and was able to kiss Monkey Boy without retching. You're a better man than I, Amy Smart.

The surpise of the evening was watching this man's portrayal of Huggy Bear. Not because he was good. Oh, dear God, no . . . not because he was good. But because I've just realized that he is the African-American version of my friend Mike's (of Mike'nDavid) old boyfriend. Same facial expressions. Same, uh, interesting grasp on the English language. Just darker-complected.

Despite how horrible I expected it to be, it wasn't too bad. It certainly wasn't worth $10.25. Sadly, few movies are. But it was okay. I laughed a little. I got to see some good homo context between Starsky and Hutch. And, frankly, I'd pay to watch Vince Vaughn read the phone book.

One thing that I struck me about watching a movie set in the '70s; tight pants look really good on guys with nice bodies. With all due respect to all the skater boys (no, I won't use the word bois . . . that's French for 'woods' and misspelling shit just for the hell of it is stoopid [see]), I want that trend to come back. Soon.