i just got back from sheetz. the "man" refused to put my salad in the bag that the checkout girl was holding open, as i guess is customary for all customers, and i was thnking "do you recognize me, am i famous". ha. i want to write a parody of "how will i know" (cuz i already did "pride gets in the way")

there's a joy i know, keeps my "tongue in cheek" up
look, it moves my pride, makes me feel a star because
oh, since youth i'd glow - can't seem to get enough
if it's hate or zeal, then tell me i'm paris hilton

ooh, how will i know (don't trust your ego)
how will i know
how will i know (much can be misleading)
how will i know

how will i know if fame has become me?
i pray for mail from ev'ry hottie
just call me "bud,' i never can speak
i need for dudes to go about speaking

i think i know if they're thinking of me
i find i know that the victims bash me
strong ladies just will subtle hate-speech
their spite is strong towards who disagree

oh, make me feel famey with your browbeats, ream me out
cuz there's no mistaking, wanna be notorious
ooh, tell me, how will i know (don't trust your ego)
how will i know
how will i know (much can be misleading)
how will i know

some will love me, some will love me not...

then there's the dentist who, out of the blue, was pressing the notion that - since a root canal and one check-up over the past six months - he forgot all about me.


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