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It seems that this summer we have an assortment of movies coming out that can be described with a single sentence.

For example, “Transformers” is “Big robots blowing things up,” “The Simpsons Movie” is “Homer and company on the big screen after 18 years of television,” and “Spider-Man 3” is “Spidey fights more bad guys than in the previous two movies combined.”

In this vein, “D.O.A.: Dead or Alive” can easily be described as “Hot chicks kicking ass in string bikinis.” And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Does this make me a pig? Sure thing. Does this make me a complete pawn to the marketing of this film? Absolutely. But I’m okay with that. After all, when I realized that we’d get scenes that feature Jaime Pressly in Daisy Duke shorts and a red-white-and-blue bikini top kicking ass all over the bow of a yacht, I was sold.

Ultimately, “D.O.A.: Dead or Alive” falls into the category of “it is what it is.” Over the past several weeks, I’ve had to check out many films on my own dime because the studios were afraid to show them to the critics, and with good reason. “Bug” was a travesty. “The Invisible” was incomprehensible. And “Dead Silence” was better left unsaid.

But I wasn’t sorry that I spent money to see “D.O.A.” Sure, it was mainly because I got more than my fair share of girl-watching during the film, but can someone tell me if this movie was made for any other reason than that?

No one should go to this film expecting an Oscar-caliber script. You shouldn’t expect a great love story to top “Gone with the Wind” or “Titanic.” I doubt anyone going to this movie is even going to expect a coherent plot. And they’d be right on all counts.

But if you want to see a lot of martial arts style ass-kicking, and the scenes featuring hot chicks in skimpy clothes (most of them), then this is the film for you. It’s not even a great martial arts movie, but any criticism I have is softened by the fact that there is plenty of T&A to keep me distracted.

Case in point: near the end of the movie we see an extended fight scene between villain Eric Roberts and another guy. I suddenly lost interest in the movie here. Fortunately, the girls are released again to wail on the other bad guys in the movie, and the jigglefest continues.

Have you noticed that I didn’t spend any time explaining the plot? This was quite deliberate; while the writers hack together a plot, it’s really secondary to the martial arts and boobs. Just think of your standard “Mortal Kombat”-type story, throw in a slate of nubile young babes, and you’ve got the picture.

But who cares about the story anyway? The writing is some of the worst you’ll see this year, arguably worse than the guilty pleasure that is “Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer.” But I still had fun at “D.O.A.”

The real question for Hollywood now is whether I would I buy into a sequel? And the answer is, you bet your ass, as long as you keep Jaime Pressly in those Daisy Dukes and string bikini.

Oink.