Being too lazy to ask any experts or conduct a telephone poll, I can neither confirm nor deny the rumour that I spend more time thinking about what colour t-shirt to wear than I do about my best friend, relatives, or the needy.
In an ironic twist, I am actually quite needy myself; my inability to grasp even the most basic of social conventions stems from the near constant navel gazing I indulge in.
This morning as I lay in bed thinking about myself I noticed that something was interfering with the ceiling fan; it was my big head!
Yesterday, as I walked to the post office, I was concentrating so hard on the essence of what it is to be me that I inadvertently blocked the way of on old man on a mobility scooter, forcing him to swerve into the road, narrowly missing the oncoming traffic. I thought about apologising, but it just didn’t seem important enough!
John F Kennedy once said: “ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country”. I can’t even remember what country I’m from!
At my last job interview I spent the first 45 minutes describing what my perfect job would be, which only left 15 minutes for the competency questions. I became distracted, however, by a group of people I could see in another high rise building out of the corner of the window, and was unable to respond to the questions because I was imagining what it would be like to be friends with them.
You scratch my back – I’ll describe how it feels
My habits, gestures, feelings and movements just seem so much more interesting than other people’s. Their desires and achievements so fleeting. Poor them, I think, if only they could fathom what it is like to be me.
If I ever do any work, I expect to be rewarded in a way which is completely disproportionate to the effort that I have put in in the first place. I have actually discovered that when I try to help, even the smallest accomplishment makes me so obnoxious that people have given up asking me to do things for them. If only they were as clever as me, none of us what have to do anything at all!
Except discuss the local news in a patronising and self-involved way, which is so counter-productive it would almost be better if we didn’t watch any news at all. Or change things so that all the news was about ourselves. For example:
Breaking news: I had a piece of lemon cake for lunch, which I don’t normally do – but I had been thinking about it for a while. Just in: I can’t be bothered to wait for the bus so I think I will just walk home, even though this will make me late for the dinner my loved ones are cooking for me.
You would think that my selfish and arrogant behaviour would drive people away – far from it! People flock around me as if I was a shit on a stick hanging from the retractable roof of a sports or concert venue, and they were flies, but without the compound eyes, meaning they could see just one of me, the shit, rather than 100 different versions like they normally do, which is why it is so difficult to hit them on the head with an outstretched palm or piece of rolled up newspaper. Because they have 100 chances to see you coming. That’s science.
Blame it on the boogie
Sometimes I wonder if one day I will become so full of myself that, when I am listening to a song that I like, or solving an unchallenging puzzle slowly, I will simply burst, and pieces of my soft, warm flesh will fly wobbling through the air, creating a kind of moist pitter-patter on the pavement, or gymnasium floor (if I was doing yoga at the time, or getting a tattoo).
Passers-by would mutter and complain, unfurling umbrellas and grimacing, but nobody would be that upset, because I am just so lovable. Stepping in a puddle of me?
I should be so lucky.