You know the kind of guy who attends a party and is so determined to have a good time, he won't let anything get in his way? Half a keg later he's pissed in your flower pot, made a pass at your neighbor, broken the antique chair - and then made a pass at your dog.

Ricks and company are much like the party guy. Ricks appears more interested in peppering the vid with impromptu street interviews - brilliant gems like "What makes your panties wet?" Steve Allen must be turning in his grave. Dave Attell must be puking in the parking lot.

Probably laughing himself silly in the cutting room, Rick failed to notice that the editor was getting away with nonlinear murder. The sex scenes don't flow as much as they choke on their own self-indulgence. (To paraphrase Lloyd Benson, "You Sir, are no Quentin Tarantino.")

Madison begins a hot, deep-throat blowjob on Rod Fontana's thick meatsicle, but in runs Rick to break up the action with pointless observations about still photography. A library-aisle lesbothon with Keiko and Becca goes all over the map (and we don't mean cartography) when it interrupts itself for cutaway commentary. Just when the suitably naked Valentino and Amber Peach begin to emit some palpable steam, the scene jumps back to them - fully clothed!! And let's not even get started with the Jolean/Sexton encounter, which plays like a three ring circus of unrelated footage; way too much of which divulges her tongue up his hairy Aussie ass.

String all this together with an unfunny, crudely-animated character named "Word Man," and you've got a technically ambitious but entirely sexless production.