Worship Me
Hey, if George W. Bush can demand it, why can’t I? My IQ is way higher than his, trust me. Also? I’m sarcastic, but I’m a generally kind and fair person. Ask my personal references. I’d be a great savior, I’m telling you!
Anyway, the reason why you should worship me is this: Even on four hours of sleep, even with an early morning visit to the dentist, even with no caffeine about me, I have finished my scan and report a day early. I am a goddess. You may now commence scattering rose petals about my feet, telling me how damn beautiful I am and raise a marble statue in my honor. Let’s make it a nude statue, too, just to piss off the exiting Ashcroft.
I am now going to waltz around, singing Queen’s "We Are the Champions" a la Homer Simpson:
"I am the champion!
I am the champion!
No time for losers,
‘cos I am the champion …. (deep breath)
of the world!"
Hmmmm…
“Hmmmm…?” What’s that supposed to mean? You must clarify your thought, kid.
It’s not really a thought, just a sound.
Aha!
You know, like in the Simpsons where the boy goes, “But Mommy, I want it!”
And she just goes, “Hmmmm.”
It’s my all purpose sound when I can’t really think of anything to say. Which is often.
Do you know that segment from MST3K where Tom’s just kind of humming to himself and Gypsy appears to say:
“Tom?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t get you.”
“Nobody does. I’m the wind, baby.”
Yeah, I feel like Gypsy right now.