“God only knows in my lifetime I’ve dealt with a lot of bartenders, I still do now when I go in a place and only order non-alcoholic beverage. But unless it was a topless joint where the bartenders were required to do more than pour and converse and maybe toss out an occasional drunk, I never did see one do the Hippy Hippy Shake. And here Tom Cruise does it tandem with Bryan Brown.”—A review of the movie Cocktail, from 2008, on IMDb.
Spoiler Alert, but we're all going to die anyways so you might as well learn a twist from a children's movie.
My attitude about this hurricane has gone from “Whoicane Iwhat?” to that scene in Toy Story 3 where all the toys join hands and wordlessly accept that they are going to slide into their deaths, burning to puddles in a pit of molten garbage.
I just asked myself, “When will I get to the point with horoscopes where, when I read something that does not sound remotely related to my own life, I’ll think, ‘Well, sure, because horoscopes are fake,’ instead of ‘OhmyGOD, WHAT feelings that lurk beneath the surface?!?’”
But I guess that logical thinking won’t be able to kick in until long after I stop being a person who reads her horoscope every day.
The next time I meet someone and have a hard time talking to them, I’m going to ask them all of the security questions I can think of. “Where were you born?” “What is your father’s middle name?” “What was the name of your first pet?” “What is your mother’s maiden name?” “Who was your first roommate?” “What was your childhood nickname?” “What street did you live on in third grade?” I will keep this up until they realize that I am going to rob them blind. And then I will say, “Get better at talking or I’ll empty your accounts!”