emma peel is my homegirl

I find that looking at the list of my favorite movies seems very worn in and pedestrian, because I'm so used to them. It's like listing off the specials for the five thousandth customer of the day: it gets old like WOAH. Maybe someday I'll chuck them all out and start anew, bathing myself in movies I never thought I'd watch. I have a movie pattern, see, and it follows me through cinemas, reviews and that Great Netflix in the sky--not deciding what movies I'll enjoy but rather, what ones I will see in the first place (devotion begins with exposure). I watch a preview and thirteen seconds in I know not only if the film in question is any good, but moreover, exactly what I will take out of that movie (this formula was broken only once; Maid in Manhattan, are your ears burning?). This talent of mine is scary accurate: to writ, I totally predicted Pirates of the Caribbean. But only the first one; I take no blame for the second.

This cinematic rebirth? Could finally shake it up. Hey now, brown cow...that sounds like a hot pot of coffee.