I'm bored and I'm reaching

It's been a long time coming. All guys at some point or another go through a man-crush - it's an inevitable fact of life. What is rare, however, is for a man-crush to be mutual. Such is the case with Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino.

These two have been quietly giving one another a quick tug or reach around for years now, it was just a matter of time until they dropped the pretenses and got it on. Now don't get me wrong - I'm not inferring that either of these gentlemen is actually gay (although Quentin was with Margaret Cho - and if any one person screams fag hag, it's her).

What I'm talking about is Grindhouse.

The lovechild of two fine filmmakers - the product of a completely heterosexual mutual man-crush.

It's touching. Really.

Beyond touching, this union also borders on genius. There was no way this movie could fail.

To illustrate why, I'd like you to close your eyes for a moment and picture Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino as nipples. That's right, nipples. Pointy, pink nipples. Do you have the visual?

Good.

Now what usually surrounds a pair of perky nipples? That's right - boobs. Those boobs are the fans. Considering how big their fanbases are, those are some pretty big boobs. And not unlike a real pair of breasts, one boob is slightly bigger than the other (Quentins, natch).

I'm glad you're still with me.

So we take these two lucious boobs and squeeze them together in a dirty, sexy wonder bra.

That wonder bra is Grindhouse. A movie so rich with boobs, and so dirty, it couldn't possibly fail if it tried.

I love boobs. I love Grindhouse.

Coincidence? I think not.