The absence of tits in "Tomcats" makes it fairly susceptible to legal prosecution for false advertising. The TV commercial for the teen, er... collegiate, sex romp promises at least a pair of tits will be shown in the film. But like "Orgazmo," the hilarious NC-17 film about porno by Trey Parker and Matt Stone of "South Park" fame, "Tomcats" focuses more on male body parts than the female anatomy. And, of course, that's certainly okay by me. The film takes every opportunity to show off cutie Jerry O'Connell's ("Jerry Maguire") body. He may not be a 10 but he's a 9.2 (were talking as a body not acting skill) - and that's good enough for me.

"Tomcats" is a jumbled mess of a film. That doesn't stop it from often being uproarious. But it is a ragtag junkpile of sex related humor and vignettes that sometimes go nowhere and sometimes make the plot sputter. What plot there is involves a group of male friends who, ala "American Pie," make a bet involving their sex lives. The boys here, a bit older, create a "kitty," to be invested and pooled until the last unmarried man collects. Eventually the bachelor "Tomcats" left are two, O'Connell and Jake Busey, and the kitty, wisely invested before George W. took office and soiled the economy, is up to half a million. When dumbass O'Connell (I can't remember what his character's name is) loses a lot of money in Vegas in a scene contrived by a moron with a word processor, he must try and get Busey hitched so he can win the pool. In order to accomplish this he enlists the aid of a female cop Busey once deflowered. Pretty stupid stuff. But most of this story glides along like KY over latex while the film goofs off, poking lame fun at "Mission Impossible 2" (starring O'Connell's "Jerry Maguire" co-star Tom Cruise) and "American Beauty," among other recent films. The only truly funny sort- of-homage is an extended "chase" scene which riffs off of Tom Greene's testicular cancer special on MTV. Greene, as you may remember, was the star of last year's big summer teen sex romp, "Road Trip." Sheesh.

There are lots of folks who should know better in the cast, including David Ogden Stiers and Garry Marshall. At least O'Connell has already shown his hand at his ability to pick scripts. (Anyone remember "Joe's Apartment?") But the truly biggest mistake here is the casting of Bill Maher, host of ABC-TV's "Politically Incorrect," as a Vegas casino owner. Maher is way, WAY out of his league here - and that's saying something considering his co-stars are "SNL" wannabee-Chris- Farley-only-Hispanic-fatass Horatio Sanz and Shannon Elizabeth. Maher embarrasses himself all over the place here. It's gruesome to watch. Thank God O'Connell generally appears shirtless soon after to ease our sickened minds and unknot our panties.

Of course, our panties are soon wadded again by the lousy job writer and first-time director Gregory Poirier does here. He cannot segue nor pace the film with any style or skill at all. Poirier's kitchen-sink approach finds him never knowing when to edit or move on. Of course, at 92 minutes the film's running time is threadbare at best. And, of course, it's highly likely that Poirier had nothing to do with the "real" commercial decisions of a final cut anyway. This was obviously edited by a committee. (If this is the best 92 minutes of the film, I'd hate to see what ended up on the cutting room floor). And Poirier's use of pop music implies that he simply let Revolution Studios and Sony, in all probability the film's real editors, put whatever fucking alt_rock song they were trying to sell on a soundtrack CD into the film. There's even a product placement for Horny Devil underwear that sticks out bigger than my dick on seeing O'Connell naked and in handcuffs.

Anyway, "Tomcats" is goofy, ineffectual, stupid, potty-humor fun with lotsa males in semi-undress (and a few females too). Hey, sometimes potty humor makes you laugh! Sometimes it hits the mark and sometimes it doesn't. Kinda like a drunk at a bar taking a piss at the kiddie urinal. Sometimes you just gotta laugh when he's pissing on his own shoes. Even if it is stupid. Even if it does make you forget about all the tits on the dancefloor.

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