By Dustin Seibert

This is why I wanted to watch “Sex Tape.” And this. And this.

I didn’t go see it because I think Jason Segel is funny — hell, he’s probably the least appealing Freaks and Geeks alumni, and Forgetting Sarah Marshall was more overrated than a Crash/Shakespeare in Love double feature set to a soundtrack of Beyoncé records. I wanted to see it because Cameron Diaz promised us that we'd see "everything" — that she would finally let slip the Areolas of War after 20 years of teasing knobs all over the world.

So imagine my surprise when I made it through the whole goddamn movie and saw not one nipple. There was some quick sideboobage and she had some strainers through a white T-shirt, but that’s like getting a hummer through a condom: you feel it, but not the way God meant it to be felt.

Cameron’s been killing it for decades, and while she still looks better than a vast majority of women half her age, at 41, she’s not getting any younger. Father Time comes to bestow wrinkly old balls and saggy boobs on us all, and in this humble critic's opinion, she needs to release the beasts before it’s too late. She’s already masturbated on a car, had jizz in her hair and been in more terrible movies in the past decade or so than I can count off the top of my head, so what’s she really hiding from? I mean, she could always pull a Farrah Fawcett and do Playboy at age 50, but why tempt fate and gravity?

As for the movie itself, it was about as funny as a late-term abortion. If you wanna make a whole movie predicated on a bullshit premise that any failing high school student with an iPhone would dismiss as absurd, it’d better be hilarious. And Christ almighty, it just wasn’t. There’s a reason that Sex Tape got trounced in its opening weekend, pulling in a lackluster $15 million.

The takeaway: if you’re gonna make a shitbox movie later in your career with a promise of a big nude scene, you’d better at least follow through.