From now on, I think, I'm going to imagine I have my own a capella background singers. Like my own Pips lurking off to the side, just out of the corner of my eye, echoing every declaration I make with smooth harmonies (Woo-hoo smoo-hooth).
And then whenever I say something particularly hilarious (funny) they'll do a little grapevine sidestep punctuated by knee lifts and locomotion arm circles - that would be the shit (I know it would)
Inevitably people would get annoyed with that, because I am frequently hilarious (funny all the time)
I don't even know if the Pips could keep up with my lightning-quick quips (quips).
My Pips (pips) will have crazy good muscle control and talk like the Micro Machines guy (if it don't say Micro Machines) just to keep up (then, oh then, it's not the real thing).
They should probably be able to hold their breath for over a minute just in case I'm on a roll.
Like astronauts (space)
and spelunkers (caves)
and magicians' assistants (oh yeah - fucking magic!)
And then they could offer me advice in barbershop harmonies when I'm deep in thought, leaning on iron-wrought vine railings (railings) which happens far less often than I ever thought it would. I used to think that iron railings were like everywhere, what with all those people leaning on them and singing at the moon or something (dreams don't always come true, uh uh. No. Uh uh).
After all, it's impossible to think very deeply without leaning (leaning).
And my Pips agree. Don't you, boys?
(You know we do)