Dirty Love

One of Dirty Love's scenes has McCarthy slipping and sliding in a gargantuan pool of her own menstrual blood while shopping for feminine-hygiene products in a supermarket chockablock with hunky men. In the following scene, a cashier screams over the intercom, "Irv, can we get a price check, please, on the supersized maxi pads for the woman who keeps bleeding all over the store?" Later still, a butch policewoman forces McCarthy to strip down to underwear in front of her date. "What is that, a mattress?" she barks at the sight of the jumbo pad sticking out of McCarthy's undies. Next the cop yanks a long chain of colored scarves out of the date's ass—he's a magician, see? "I was saving that trick for later," he says sheepishly to McCarthy. Then there's the part where McCarthy, tripping on acid, walks into the bedroom of this guy she picked up in a bar to find him on all fours with a big fish sticking out of his ass. "Touch my bass," he screams, repeatedly. There's also this bit where—but no, that will do. Suffice to say that the screenplay for Dirty Love was written by McCarthy, and that her comedic sensibility is, uh, earthy.—Cliff Doerksen