Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I, and let's face it, who is it less fortunate than I? My tender heart tends to start to bleed. And when someone needs a makeover, I simply have to take over. I know, I know exactly what they need. And even in your case, though it's the toughest case I've yet to face, don't worry, I'm determined to succeed. Follow my lead, and yes, indeed, you will be popular. You're gonna be popular. I'll teach you the proper ploys when you talk to boys, little ways to flirt and flounce. I'll show you what shoes to wear, how to fix your hair, everything that really counts to be popular. I'll help you be popular. You'll hang with the right cohorts. You'll be good at sports. Know the slang you've got to know. So let's start, cause you've got an awfully long way to go. Don't be offended by my frank analysis. Think of it as personality dialysis. Now that I've chosen to become a palassist or an advisor, there's nobody wiser. Not when it comes to popular. I know about popular. And with an assist from me to be who you'll be, instead of dreary who you were, well, are, there's nothing that can stop you from becoming popular. Lar. La, la, la, la. We're gonna make you popular. When I see depressing creatures with unprepossessing features, I remind them on their own behalf to think of celebrated heads of state or specially great communicators. Did they have brains or knowledge? Don't make me laugh. They were popular. It's all about popular. It's not about aptitude. It's the way you're viewed, so it's very shrewd to be very, very popular like me. Why, Miss Elphaba, look at you. You're beautiful. I, I have to go. You're welcome. And though you protest your disinterest, I know clandestinely you're gonna grin and bear it. You know some popularity. Ah! La, la, la, la. You'll be popular, just not quite as popular as me.