Jackie Chan: Dream Lover?

So we're sitting here watching Rush Hour on cable.

Actually, I think my favorite Jackie Chan movie is something I cannot for the life of me find on IMDB, which has a breathtaking fight scene involving stilts and ladders, and which I saw for the first time in Cancun, while on a business trip, 10 weeks pregnant with Anna, and therefore unable in good conscience to take advantage of the trays of fruity, paper-umbrella-festooned drinks in coconut shells which were wafted back and forth under my nose the whole time I was there. Those tropical pineapple-eating bastards.

But I digress! The question that shoulders its way to the forefront of every red-blooded woman's mind, upon watching a Jackie Chan movie, upon admiring his speed and dexterity and creativity in incorporating steering wheels and stepladders and bar accessories and stilts and car doors and whatever else happens to be at hand into his performance at the drop of a hat, is Holy Shit! What's he like in bed?!?

Ladies. Tell me you have never wondered this.

There are a couple of different possible opinions here. One is that he's not really much to write home about (that is, if you're into writing home to the folks about your sexual experiences, you abnormal sicko). I mean, yeah, whee, yee-ha! and all that, but at the end you're left smoking a cigarette 5 seconds later going wait a minute, did something just happen?

The other school of thought is that, fast and bedazzling as it is, it's savored magnificently in retrospect. Okay, so the actual act takes place too quickly for you to appreciate it while it's happening, but afterwards when you reflect back on it, you have something to remember forever.

Okay. Speaking in my official capacity as a mid-thirties female, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say no to scenario #2. Jackie Chan is awe-inspiring and marvelous and dexterous and all, but upon careful consideration, I'll go on the record as saying I wouldn't hit that.

Commercial's over, so back to the movie now. Y'all are so lucky to have me. Ebert totally does not cover this shit.