Why I’d make a kick-ass master criminal
It’s 15 minutes into Oceans 8 and I’m ready to spring out of my chair and go commit petty theft in the nearest chain store.
I would make a kick-ass master criminal. Or secret agent. Or both (they’re pretty much the same thing, right?). Why? Because I have a fabulous body, an outstanding IQ, a massive ego and a weak grasp on reality.
And I’m very good at making quips.
Things I would do better than other spies:
- I wouldn’t go around telling anyone who will listen my real name (*cough* Bond, James Bond).
- I would take my own snacks so I wouldn’t risk being poisoned.
- I wouldn’t bonk my way through my assignments, or use coercion when the occasion arises — my hotness speaks for itself.
- I wouldn’t wear a fedora and a trench coat, or a baseball cap and sunglasses. Way too obvious. I’d wear a black leather catsuit with built-in high heels (so they don’t fall off — I always worry for women in action movies running around in high heels, don’t you?). I’d be ready for anything. Any time. Anywhere. Tart it up for cocktail parties, dress it down for grocery shopping.
- I would give my superiors cheek, cockily solve cases in five minutes that they’ve been slaving over for months and disobey direct orders at every opportunity. Similarly, I would abuse my authority, fake clearance and operation approval and destroy government property wherever possible. This will ensure that I get suspended from duties at least once a year and thus add to my annual leave (which I would then spend soaking up the sun and having multiple dalliances in the Caribbean or Vienna). It would also contribute to my Five Year Plan, which would be to have the word “insubordinate” added to my file.
- Similarly, I would break every civilian law I came across to add to the hell I already give my superiors by burying them under a mountain of parking tickets, damage claims and lawsuits.
- I would speak in riddles to everyone so that my mission wouldn’t be discovered and potential double agents would get nothing out of me (including my boss).
- I would leave pregnant pauses before giving pertinent information or …
… making sex jokes.
- I would master staring down opponents and arching my eyebrows for optimum effect.
- I would smoke properly, instead of playing with my cigarettes, putting them in my mouth and never lighting them, or taking mini puffs.
- I would also master the art of instantly sobering up after consuming six Martinis.
- I would never admit I was scared like Bond did in Dr. No (fear is for wimps!) and never turn my back on the enemy like he did in From Russia With Love.
- I would always, ALWAYS, double tap (less reason to feel scared when you know your enemies are for real dead).
- I would never do anything the same way twice, to avoid being profiled. This would be incredibly difficult and time-consuming, but my immense intellect can handle it.
- I can hide a gun anywhere. And I mean ANYWHERE.
- And I know how to use it:
(hand to hand combat is the best use of a gun because it saves ammo)
- I would learn how to make bombs out of a piece of lint and a packet of pistachios (that’s actually a real thing).
- I would use my inhuman ability to withstand the effects of sleep deprivation, drugging, torture and other work-related injuries. And none of it even messes up my makeup. I’ve just got good genes, I guess.
- I’d practice my one-liners and write them all over my arm in case I forget.
- I would always wear my hair up (or stiff like Emma Peel), so it doesn’t look like an octopus and get caught in my opponent’s belt buckle while we are fighting.
- I would treat all bald men as prime suspects; ditto men dressed in black, sporting facial scars or smoking with too much enthusiasm.
- Wherever possible, I would destroy priceless artifacts, monuments and other items of cultural significance, preferably while causing significant loss of life and, optimally, sparking war in the process (or at least an international incident). This would probably cost my superiors their job, which fulfills my Ten Year Plan.
- I would never monologue before killing my enemy, or tell them at any point how I caught them, just in case they survive or someone has planted a listening device.
If you enjoyed this piece, check out Part Two:
(An addendum to Why I’d make a kick-ass master criminal)medium.com
“Extreme glamour” is trending in makeup this season. So extreme, in fact, it may just have you reaching for the phone…medium.com