I Am So Lame, Part 3

You know, we are long past-due for another peek into how seriously lame I am. I mean, really. Some of you seem to be under the impression that I am cool, when in fact, I am a complete and total dork. And I hate to think that I am in some way deceiving you. So let's talk for a minute about my nerdy habit of coming up with new lyrics to popular songs which somehow fit my current circumstances, shall we?

I believe it started with the song "I Believe I Can Fly" by R. Kelly. If I recall this correctly (and Oscar will set me straight if I'm making this up, I'm sure) we were trying to figure out what to have for dinner one night when one of us suggested Chinese food. At the time, we frequented an establishment just down the street from our house which has a pretty kick-ass combination fried rice. So, before you know it, I'm singing:

I believe in fried rice
I believe it is very nice
Think about it every night and day
Prep my wok and fry away

Now, that was bad enough, but after regaling Hotass with my feat of absolute insanity brilliance, she had to go and contribute the next few lines:

I believe I'd like more
It gets me going like a dirty whore
I believe in fried rice
I believe in fried rice

Of course, the crazy thing about this is that the song as it originally written is difficult enough to get out of your head. But when you start putting your own stamp on it, it's that much worse. I would sing this over and over again, both out loud and in my head for days on end. And I have to say, while I love fried rice, I don't necessarily love it so much that I need 90% of my brain power focused on it for any length of time. Nor, really, do I have that much passion for the song, either my version or R. Kelly's. So I'm glad that one has pretty much been left in the late 90's, where it belongs.

On the other hand, John Denver's song "Sunshine On My Shoulders" is a bit more timeless, which goes a long way to explaining why I will frequently bust out with my version over the breakfast table:

Syrup on my pancakes makes me happy
Syrup on my hash browns makes me cry
Syrup in my sausage is so lovely
Syrup almost always makes me high

Hmm...now that I'm looking at this on paper, I am noticing a trend. I make up a lot of songs about food and eating. You would think that would be Oscar's milieu, given his reputation as our friendly neighborhood foodie. But I guess since I'm the musically inclined member of the family (not to mention the member of the family most likely to embarrass herself in public), it's up to me.

Speaking of embarrassing, I'm almost hesitant to share this last example of my complete dorkiness, because it's almost too lame, even for me. But really, I can't, in good conscience, let any of you go on thinking that I am in any way, shape, or form a normal member of society. So here we go. For Easter, Oscar dyed a beautiful green egg for me that said "Cymber-licious." He wanted me to take a picture of it for my blog, which I really tried to do, but the pictures did not want to come out well AT ALL. It must have been a really shy egg or something. It was not ready for its close up, Mr. DeMille. In any event, he was very proud of this egg. But of course, MY first thought was not "Oh how sweet" or "Oh how cute" or some other variation on how cool it was that Oscar made me an egg to post on my blog. No. Instead, MY first thought was:

I don't think you're ready for this jelly bean
I don't think you're ready for this jelly bean
I don't think you're ready for this
My egg is too Cymber-licious for you, baby

And this is why Destiny's Child never put out a special Easter album.

I would like to say that this is the last song I will ever butcher with my own, less commercially marketable, lyrics. But you and I would both know that I was lying through my teeth. So suffice it to say that this is the last one I will be sharing with you. (Unless, of course, I come up with another one of such overwhelming brilliance, or dorkiness, that it would be a crime not to share it. Then, all bets are off.) Still, I hope this was a large enough sample to prove that I'm not joking when I say I am completely and totally lame. And if not, I'm sure I'll think of more evidence to share with you later. There does seem to be an overwhelming abundance of it, after all.