Mr. Right-Click: Hey, Lady Gaga is on Oprah.
Me: Oh yeah, I meant to watch that.
Mr. Right-Click: Well, there she is.
Me: Is she wearing a sea anemone on her head?
Mini: I want to go there!
Mr. Right-Click: She’s not that great.
Me: She sounds terrible. I mean, she sounds way better on the album.
Me: [Singing] I want your love and I want all your lover’s revenge, you and me can write a bad romance . . .
Mr. Right-Click: [Looking at me, horrified.]
Me: What? I listen to her in spinning.
Mr. Right-Click: Wait, did you see that? Did you see Oprah . . . dancing?
Me: Wow, that was . . . embarrassing.
Mr. Right-Click: Rewind it.
Mr. Right-Click: Does she really think she’s going to break that windshield? Not going to happen.
Me: It’s like they just said, “Hey, Oprah, you’re on camera, look like you’re having fun or something.
Mini: GAGA SHOW GAGA SHOW! I want to go THERE!
Mr. Right-Click: Why is she even doing this? She doesn’t need Gaga.
Me: Dude, Gaga is huge. People want the Gaga.
Mr. Right-Click: Yeah, but her audience?
Mr. Right-Click: Well she seems confused.
Me: She’s trying to figure out if she should just go with Lady Gaga’s comparison of herself to Ghandi, or if she should trouble it. Her ego is at odds with her intellect.
Mr. Right-Click: She’s like . . . she’s like Madonna.
Me: Yeah. Pretty much.
Mr. Right-Click: But you like her?
Me: I . . . like her about as much as I like Madonna.
Mr. Right-Click: Wait, rewind that, look at the audience.
Me: No wait, go back — there’s more of them.
Mr. Right-Click: They’re multiplying.
Me: Is Oprah going to be sick?
Mr. Right-Click: Well, Oprah, people want the Gaga.
Mini: GAGA! GAGA! GAGASHOW! Let’s GOTHERE!