Droopy Quotes & Sayings

They always pencil in my boobs. I was only angry when they were really droopy ... For King Arthur, for a poster, they gave me these really strange droopy tits. I thought, well if you're going to make me fantasy breasts, at least make perky breasts. — Keira Knightley

That is why I don't want a cell phone. I don't want a droopy fin. — Penny Reid

I've a habit of placing a happy-face or a frowny-face on my calendar, depending on what kind of day I've had. Often I slap a droopy circle in the box, discouraged by the things I failed to accomplish and the unpleasant encounters endured. But then, invariably, a wise muse stops to ask me these three questions:
Did your children let you hug them today? Yes.
Did you do a kind deed for someone? Anyone? Yes.
Did God forsake you today? No.
Then, my dear, despite your challenges, it was a good day after all.
Standing corrected, I twist that frowny-face upside down and smile. — Richelle E. Goodrich

I took a shower and spent some time on my hair, doing the blow-drying thing, adding some gel and some spray. When I was done I looked like Cher on a bad day. Still, Cher on a bad day wasn't all that bad. I was down to my last clean pair of spandex shorts. I tugged on a matching sports bra that doubled as a halter top and slid a big, loose, purple T-shirt with a large, droopy neck over my head. I laced up my hightop Reeboks, crunched down my white socks, and felt pretty cool. — Janet Evanovich

Boobs exist only to jiggle up and down on the chests of women between the ages of 14 and 32, after which they get too droopy, and then presumably fall off the face of the earth, into space; maybe to eventually become part of the giant rings of Saturn. — Caitlin Moran

They say there's nothing inside but emptiness,' Maureen told me later. I made no comment, but filled in by kissing her hair or something of the kind. Maureen had at that time rather droopy hair, possibly owing to lack of vitamins during the war, which she kept off her brow with a big tortoiseshell slide. Her brow was really beautiful, and so were her eyes. They had that gentle look of being unequal to life, which, as I later realised, always attracts me in a woman. — Robert Aickman

The run I was on made Sinatra, Flynn, Jagger, Richards, all of them look like droopy-eyed armless children. — Charlie Sheen

I'm flatchested, I'm short, I'm brunette, I have droopy eyes, and so people have a hard time casting me as a 'beauty.' — Selma Blair

We're both so into it, neither of us hears the footsteps until a snarl breaks us apart. We turn to find Morpheus standing there with enough rage in his black eyes to send the Devil packing for heaven.
Jeb tugs his fingers from the rings in my belt but keeps a hand at my lower back. I touch my lips; they're throbbing and gluttonous, hungry for more.
"Wel, now, isn't that cozy?" Morpheus's voice isn't liquid this time. It grates like rusted nails along my eardrums. He peels off his gloves and slaps them against his palm, wings droopy and trailing the floor like a cape. "perhaps you might give Alyssa her lipstick back. We haven't time to find more before dinner." — A.G. Howard

I wanted a Fakahatchee ghost orchid, in full bloom, maybe attached to a gnarled piece of custard apple tree, and I wanted its roots to spread as broad as my hand and each root to be only as wide as a toothpick. I wanted the bloom to be snow-white, white as sugar, white as lather, white as teeth. I knew its shape by heart, the peaked face with the droopy mustache of petals, the albino toad with its springy legs. It would not be the biggest or the showiest or the rarest or the finest flower here, except to me, because I wanted it. — Susan Orlean

A dingy emblem on the door depicted a little boy peeing into a pot. The rest of the bar was equally drab and tasteless. Dim bulbs behind red-tasseled lamp shades barely illuminated each of a dozen maroon vinyl booths, which marched along one wall toward the murky front windows. Chipped Formica tables anchored the booths in place. Opposite the row of booths was a long, scarred wooden bar with uncomfortable-looking stools. Behind the bar, sitting on glass shelves in front of a cloudy mirror, were endless rows of bottles, each looking as forlorn as the folks for whom they waited.
He caught the strong odors of liquor and tobacco smoke, and the weaker scents of cleaning chemicals and vomit. In one of the booths , two heads bobbed with the movement of mug-clenching fists. A scrawny bartender with droopy eyelids picked his teeth with a swizzle stick and chatted quietly with a woman seated at the bar. Otherwise the bar was empty. — Robert Liparulo

What? What's your issue now?' I asked, annoyed.
'Jus' wonderin' what's it like for Droopy. This place is intense and he's jus' a lil' guy, you know?'
Of all the bangers in the world, I had to get Mr. Sensitive. Droopy, I assumed, was Hector Amaya's gang moniker. I wondered why they were always so unflattering. Me, I would've at least picked something like Foxy or Jet. Which, I supposed, explained in part why I wasn't gang material. — Marcia Clark

Stupid son of a bitch"
His droopy eyes went huge. "What did you say to me?"
"You heard me. You're too tight-assed. To stubborn, too stupid to put your feelings aside. I can't afford to lose a key member at this stage of the investigation. You know that, so don't come in here and tell me I've got cause to boot you."
"You're the one who's going to get a boot, right straight up your ass."
"You couldn't take me ten years ago," she shot back, "you sure as hell can't take me now."
"Want to test that out, kid? — J.D. Robb