The Bourne Awesome

August 7, 2007

This weekend Naomi and Van and I went to see The Bourne Ultimatum. They both liked it okay.

I liked it so much that on Sunday, when my friend C. called and said “Hey, do you want to see a movie?” I said “Um. Have you seen… BOURNE?”

YES. I am aware that I just got many miles on my Dork America card, thank you.


1) David Strathairn’s glasses. I asked Naomi if she thought I could pull off such glasses, or would just look like that person wearing Interesting, Yet Ultimately Very Unflattering Spectacles, and she gave me that look you give someone when they’re being kind of dumb, but you basically like them, but… come on, shut it down.

2) Jason Bourne’s slight veneer of boring. If he weren’t an international KILLER SPY/ASSASSIN/MAN OF EXTREME MYSTERY, he would probably be a CPA, or a girl’s volleyball coach. That’s what makes it really great when he freaks out and kills people!

3) The shaky camerawork. I know! No one else likes it. But I do. And during my, um, second viewing, we were sitting pretty close to the screen, so I think I’m pretty much confirmed in this preference.

4) The large variety of people in the theater who ALSO enjoyed the lethal CAN KILL YOU WITH A BOOK stylings of Mr. Bourne: moms, grandparents, the fiftyish lady next to me who was totally rocking out to the theme music.

5) Joan Allen makes me want to buy some stylish charcoal turtlenecks. Which is not actually a good idea for me. But still.


When I went to get lunch, there was a cop there. Buying a salad. Not a movie cop! A for-real cop. (I could tell by his hair. It was not fabulous enough for movie-cophood. Although his lunch choice – a heart-healthy antioxidant-loaded salad, which he returned for a second try when it arrived with dressing ON it, gasp! – gave me pause for a moment.)

I am totally fascinated when I see cops up close. Have you ever noticed how much STUFF they have hanging on their belts? There’s a gun, a walkie-talkie, a can of pepper spray (in a weird mid-back location), handcuffs, and something I think may be a telescoping nightstick. (I try not to stare TOO much, because I don’t want to be taken outside for a friendly chat about how prolonged staring tends to give heavily-armed people the creeps.)

I wonder if it’s really uncomfortable to sit down with all that stuff on your belt. Like, in your car! Doesn’t the pepper spray press on your spine? Don’t they ever have terrible pepper spray accidents where someone bumps against a filing cabinet at just the wrong angle and floods the room with PEPPER PARTICLES?

ALSO. When I came back with my lunch (which I will not describe, save to say that it was neither heart-healthy NOR loaded with antioxidants, unless there are a lot of those in melted cheese) and was just about to start eating it, my boss began to IM me.

BOSSLADY: Can you get me a hot dog?


BOSSLADY: Please please please?

BOSSLADY: I won’t even make you pay this time.

BOSSLADY: Kidding.

BOSSLADY: Please please please please please please please please.

ME: Yes.


ME: I already said yes!

BOSSLADY: I just wanted to be sure. I’m really hungry.


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