This is it, folks. The last one. Probably. I have less than thirty minutes, and I am determined to finish this, once and for all.
ONCE AND FOR ALL.
When we last left our heroes, Dr. Freeman and Dr. Foster, they were worried that they might have accidentally cooked big time tennis pro Christie’s brain with a laser. These things happen. But really, it’s all the fault of ethnic people, because one of them caused the accident because he was disgruntled and ethnic. Ethnic people are the worst, am I right? Never trust anyone remotely swarthy.
According to these two idiots experts, it’ll take three days to see if Christie really does have brain damage, because brain damage is progressive and takes time to manifest, don’t you know. Dr. Freeman doesn’t want to tell her, since it may be a false alarm and he doesn’t want to put her through that torture needlessly. Beth objects but agrees to the plan. The perfect plan that cannot possibly backfire.
Back in her room, Christie wakes up to the three of them hovering over her looking very concerned. Naturally, Christie asks what’s wrong. Dr. Foster, being the smooth talker that he is says, “What? I’m hurt! You’re fine.” Smooth. Christie whines about wanting to go home, but her fiancée (oh yeah, they’re engaged, that’s right) tells her she can in three days. “What?! You said it was only going to be one!” Dr. Foster covers up their lies by saying that he wants to be extra careful. Christy, acting like a normal non-brain damaged person, pouts like a fucking toddler and throws a minor tantrum. “I’m tired. I wanna go to sleep.” Jeez, calm down lady or else you’ll get an aneurism or something.
Later on, Dr. Foster yells at the douche guy in charge of hospital facilities, since you know, he “might have turned a twenty two year old tennis star into a ZOMBIE!” Douche guy admits that a disgruntled employee has been hacking into the system and implanting viruses. Hospitals have computer systems where viruses can cause power failures in ER rooms? Fine, whatever. Speaking of which, disgruntled ethnic guy is making a phone call. Who is he calling?! Apparently it’s Christie since she’s now on the phone, but it’s a woman talking, so it’s just a bad segue. The voice on the phone is a reporter asking Christie about tomorrow’s issue regarding her “botched surgical procedure and that you have brain damage. I know it’s all very horrible. Would you like to make a comment?” Good going, stupid reporter! Man, that gossip got out rather quickly. I’m guessing the ethnic man tipped them off. I’m telling you guys, ethnic people.
Christy is naturally upset at this news, and so runs crying from the hospital. Because when you have possible brain damage, the best place to be is as far from the location of diagnosis and treatment as possible. She bumps into a guy on his way into the hospital, but he stops to see if he can help. She’s all, “My life is ruined!” and “They did this to me!” He just goes, “Hhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Is there, uh, something I can do?” In fact, there is. He can drive her off to some place or another. Um, wasn’t he going into the hospital for some reason? Like, you know, to visit somebody or to get his syphilis medication or something? I guess it doesn’t matter. Also, too many somes. So of course now that Christie has fled the hospital, it’s the perfect time for Dr. Freeman to confirm that she doesn’t have brain damage. I guess it’s been three days already? I say “I guess” a lot with this movie. Oh and Dr. Foster breathes a sigh of relief: “Thank god I didn’t kill her.” I’m not sure if more relieved for her or himself. I’m going to say himself. Yeah.
But oh no, Christie’s gone! Where did she go?! Her “knight in shining armor,” Paul, has driven to her a bar called The Queen, where there’s this big sign that says they have —and I am not fucking kidding here—female impersonators three nights a week. Paul is a little concerned about Christie, and that she shouldn’t be alone right now. “Don’t tell me what to do! Everybody always tells me what to do!” Don’t provoke the crazy woman with brain damage, Paul. She’s still in a huff, so she storms off into the bar, where it’s apparently not Friday, Saturday, or Sunday night yet, because there are only two men along with the bartender. Here’s what the bartender says to the two guys when Christie enters, “I hope so. It was packed last night, so it should pick up a little later.” I’ve been to a drag bar with a show, and they are indeed pretty fun, so I don’t blame Christie for wanting a good time. The show is not likely to start for a while, so Christie asks what’s the fastest way to get drunk. The bartender declares it to be tequila. I’d say Baccardi 151, but they might not have it in a dive drag bar like this. Oh, side note: there’s a black guy in the bar! He doesn’t seem too evil, but he and his buddy start flirting with Christie, who is totally game. She’s so up for it that she wants to dance with both of them. In the most awkward way possible. After a grand total of seven second of dancing, she apparently finds it as embarrassing as I think it is and she excuses herself to the ladies room. The two guys fist bump, and the other guy follows her into the bathroom. Then they have sex on the sink. But first, they say this:
Guy: “Is everything okay in here?”
Christie: “What do you think?”
Guy: “I think you’re so beautiful.”
Cue cheesy porn music.
And once again, an ethnic person doesn’t have a sex scene. Makes me wonder why he’s even there. Probably just to make some bad chit chat about playing doubles. Oh, and I’d just like to point out again the Christie likes to shove her partners off her when she’s finished.
Meanwhile, Paul had left her at the bar but when he heard a news story about her and her brain damage, he returned and is now asleep in his SUV. Christie hops back in and yells at him to drive. He’s all, “Whaaaa…?” and she just keeps yelling, “Drive! Drive!” For someone who hates people telling her what to do she sure is bossy. Paul is concerned that someone’s after her, but she just didn’t want to be there anymore. Typical woman, leaving immediately sex with no word or kiss goodbye. Christie has Paul drive her to a hotel room, and asks him to stick around since she’s so worried about her brain damage. Oh that again? He agrees to stay, and suggests that she clean up while he gets some food. What’s with this movie and people getting cleaned up. Dr. Freeman was always going on and on about Christie getting cleaned up. Weird. Anyway, they eat and watch the news. You all know it’s coming, let’s say it together now: there’s a news report that the rumors about Christie’s brain damage are false and that she’s totally fine. At first Christie’s all, “I don’t believe them,” but then she’s all, ‘I believe them.” And she fells like jumping. So she does, on the bed. And she orders Paul to join her in the bed, to jump on it I mean, not the other thing which is going to happen soon anyway. Paul’s very excited too, so he exclaims, “You’re alive! Touchdown!” Touchdown…? Okay, touchdown. Christie is very grateful that Paul’s been there for her, so she wants him as “a friend for life.” Oh, and sex. Mustn’t forget that. Paul’s the gentlemen and says it’s not necessary, but she’s cool with it. Ew. I mean, she just did it with a random guy in a bar bathroom just hours earlier. Gross. Well, she did get cleaned up…
Next morning, Paul wakes up alone with only a goodbye letter from Christie and a thousand dollars. Ha, he’s totally a man whore now. But no, the money’s to cover the room and the gas. Um, a small but decent hotel room and twenty bucks in cash don’t add up to one thousand dollars. Yep, Paul, you’re a gigolo now. Just accept the money and move on. Christie has also left a goodbye letter to Dr. Freeman. According to her, when she thought she had brain damage, something inside her snapped, so now “The Christie you knew is dead, and I can’t get married until I find out who this new Christie is.” This new Christie appears to be a complete slut who’ll fuck any [white] man that crosses her path. Or, uh, just someone who doesn’t want to play tennis anymore. One of those. So where did she go? Beth informs Dr. Foster over that dinner they didn’t have previously that she’s in Amsterdam, running up a huge credit card bill, and “dating” every guy in Europe.
Yeah, let’s go with complete slut.
Some time later, Dr. Foster calls Raquel (hey, there’s Raquel), and she asks about Dr. Freeman. With Christie out of the way, she seizes in this opportunity to get some sweet, sweet Dr. Freeman love. So she meets him at his house with a huge freaking potted plant. Seriously, this thing is like half her size. And she just got three roses when he first met her. I see how it is. Even Dr. Freeman is taken aback by the size of this plant. “I told you, I treat people, not trees.” Good one, Dr. Freeman. And then Raquel says, “Well, I figured a little bush might brighten your day.”
That’s what she said! She did, if fact, just say that.
So they go inside and do it. I guess one woman was enough wild oats. Afterwards, he’s really appreciative for the sex, but he’s still in love with Christie. Man, that’s gotta sting. You just finished ten seconds ago, dude. You couldn’t wait until you both got cleaned up? Luckily she’s not broken up about it. Oh that’s good. We wouldn’t want drama in a dramatic film or anything.
So now Christie’s back. Woo. And she sneakily arranges a fake appointment with Dr. Freeman. They have The Talk. And it’s boring. Blah, blah, blah, everybody’s been telling me what to do, you’ve been treating me like a child, blah, blah, because I reminded you of your child bride, and so on. Wait, what? Child bride? Anyway, Christie’s a strong woman now and stuff, and she’s still in love with Dr. Freeman. Hooray! So they get back together and get marri—wait, no, hold on. He goes home and asks Raquel to marry him.
I am totally confused. And I think Dr. Freeman is too, because he doesn’t seem too excited about marrying Raquel. Um, shouldn’t you have made, like, absolutely one hundred percent certain that you wanted to marry her before proposing? You shouldn’t throw around engagement rings like it’s Halloween candy, dick. And once again, Raquel is not that broken up about being the second choice. She just kinda shrugs and says, “Oh well, the ring didn’t fit anyway.” Maybe she’s just a bad actress.
So Dr. Freeman goes to Christie’s house, and a sexy black man opens the door. Scandalous! Wait, no, he’s just her bodyguard. A bodyguard with benefits, am I right? So Christie comes out, and they’ll all lovey dovey again and he puts the ring back on her finger. Dude, what did I just say about engagement rings?! It’s like you’re not even listening to me.
Anyway, the end! It’s the end, right? I can finally start writing about something else now? Heh, oh look, Netflix has a movie called The Breastford Wives.
Oh yeah, and as I totally suspected, there was no closure or comeuppance for the evil IT guy. Let this be a warning to all of you: maintain constant diligence against the ethnics.
Random note: There’s a character in the credits named Harold Ramis.
Another random note: Apparently, I’ve been misspelling “Christy’s” name this whole time. Whoops! Too late to fix it now.
Yet another random note: According to imdb, the original title of this movie was Killer Sex. Since no one had died either during or from sex, I have no idea what that’s referring to.