I don't have a problem admitting that I promptly begin to drool shamelessly every time Jason Statham comes on TV. I saw the Bank Job a few times, and I'm pretty sure he gets hotter every time I see it. So much so that I can overlook the fact that his character, a working class car garage owner and former petty criminal, is inexplicably endowed with amazing MMA fighting skills.
I've also seen the Transporter movies. Loved the first one most of all. The second one...well, let's just say if they had set in ANYWHERE in the world besides Miami, I might have been more inclined to watch it. The half naked blonde hitwoman also might have turned me off a bit. Just a thought
Back to the first movie. Remember the pretty Asian girl, Lai? Even if it's been a while since you've seen this movie, and all you remember is that there was probably at some point a pretty Asian girl, and that she and Frank Martin (Statham) at one point probably copulated, you'll be fine. Details aren't exactly necessary here.
Well, in the movie, after pretty Asian girl sleeps in his house (if it had been me, I probably would have somehow ended up in his bed a lot faster, just saying), she gets up to make him breakfast. She makes him those cute little Madeleines. You know, the french cake-like sweet treats that are shaped like something akin to an elongated seashell? The ones that the narrator in Proust's In Search of Lost Time was eating when they experienced a sudden jog of the memory and thus subsequently the cakes became connected to involuntary memory? Yeah she very graciously made him those. The thing about Madeleines is that because of their shape, you would need a special pan with seashell-shaped (trying saying that five times fast) depressions in it. My question is Frank Martin is supposed to be this bigtime badass, hot sexy ball of criminal mastermind, right? So how does he just randomly have a cute, special little Madeleine pan lying around his kitchen such that pretty Asian captives can find them in between the spare gun and scuba suit in the pantry?
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well, if I were a Frank Martin, between the spare gun and the scuba suit is exactly where I'd keep my Madeleine pan. Or I'd keep it duct taped to my chest to ward off stray bullets that happen to mosey close enough to my oiled pecs (keeping the seashell indentations over my nipples to prevent chafing), or perhaps clenched between my tight buttocks... for some reason. And maybe it was a gift from his late mother, the baking assassin Judith Martin, who always hoped her son would end up as a challenger on Iron Chef, rather than shaving his head and kicking people in the face. Anyway, All I'm saying is that he could have a nipple pan around for any number of reasons.
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