WHO: myself and le best friend
WHAT: The Good Shepard (movie)
WHEN: Friday night
WHERE: le best friend's house
WHY: we were bored.
me: "Oooh, look, it's Matt Damon looking serious and confused!"
Le best friend: "Don't tell me he's going to where those glasses for the entire movie."
me: "What are they doing? Are they speaking in code? Why are they speaking in code?"
lbf: "he IS going to wear those glasses for the entire movie."
*scene switches to an amateur drama at Yale in the thirties*
me: "Is that Matt Damon? Is that Matt Damon? Is that Matt Damon looking serious and confused in a DRESS?"
lbf: "These glasses are just as hideous."
me: "MATT DAMON IS A CROSS DRESSER"
*scene switches to initiation into "secret" Yale society*
me and lbf: *stares* "What?"
me: "It must be a gay Yale thing."
me: "If I have to watch Matt Damon look serious and confused, I want to watch him blow things up. Do you have the Bourne Supremacy?"
So we switched movies. The Bourne movies and their ilk are my secret weakness: mindless, blow-'em-up entertainment, best enjoyed with The Gastrointestinal Disaster (white pizza with sausage, mushroom, and pepperoni: hear your arteries panic!), followed by popcorn and M&M's. I know that girls are supposed to relax with chick flicks and guys with large explosives, but...with the exception of Little Women, almost all chick flicks irritate the bejeezus out of me. Jane Austen? No thank you. Large government conspiricies? Weeelll...*shifty look* Let's keep this between you and me, okay?