COLUMN > The Plight of the Über Rube

There's a reason he doesn't live in Los Angeles. He can't stop himself from staring when a star walks by.

By J.R. Moehringer

She was standing by the fax machine, though she didn't seem to be sending a fax, didn't even seem to notice the machine. She appeared lost, unsure where she was, maybe unable to believe where she was. A Kinko's in Studio City? How in the—?!

She didn't notice me either. Like the fax machine, I was part of the furniture. It took more effort not to notice me, though, because I was flat-out gawking. How could I not? Hours earlier I'd seen her giving false testimony, then cavorting naked in a swimming pool. She was Sandra McCoy, star of "Wild Things: Diamonds in the Rough," an R-rated straight-to-video dud released in 2005.

My friends think the really shocking part of this story isn't that I saw McCoy just hours after seeing her movie, but that I saw her movie. Why, they invariably ask—"Why, man, why!?"—was I watching "Wild Things?"

Fair question. Honestly, it was an accident. It was late and I was supposed to be packing for an early morning flight to Los Angeles, but instead I was procrastinating, reading, watching TV. Flipping channels, I chanced upon McCoy and her costar having a catfight. Next thing I knew they were kissing. Kissing like there was no tomorrow. Next thing I knew it was tomorrow—3 a.m. and my bags still weren't packed.

Read on.