The DJ will play “Spotlight” by Jennifer Hudson and all I can think of is her hideously murdered family members. It’s not really all that conducive to raising your fists in the air and going “Woo!”
Then they play “Please Don’t Stop The Music” and all that comes to mind is the horrid whoopin’ Rihanna got when she was tossed to the curb that time. My twinkle toes stop dead in their tracks and my fake smile melts into a frozen grimace. And when I remember that she later went back to the guy, my eyes start bleeding and I don’t quite feel like dancing a conga.
Rather than scream “Please DO stop the music,” I run off to a piano bar, where they’re playing “Cabaret” and all I can think of is Natasha Richardson‘s accidental death by skiing, the biggest horror in recent memory. By time they get to the part about “going like Elsie,” I’m praying to get hit by a truck on the way home. Party!