Yes, a Parrot-Whisperer is a trainer and chew-toy for my pet parrot. Presently I have a Filipino* who comes in four days a week, but Onan deserves more darn it.
- Really, when I have late-night classes.
Been watching The King And I, have we? 
[in a snit] How the hell should I know? That is why I AM THE DIVA. You watch those hummingbirds and make sure they don’t mate. Then pluck them. [/end of snit]
I demand that nobody in my entourage makes direct eye contact with me, except my agent. My bodyguards must all be Samoan.
I also demand that my toilet flushed with Evian, with the water in the bowl and tank kept heated at precisely 81 degrees Fahrenheit. Not 80. Not 82. 81.
I would have lictors wielding fasces proceed me everywhere
Everyone who interacts with me will be drop dead gorgeous. The way Charlie did it, in 'Charlie’s Angels"
I would have someone who literally wipes my ass, and be utterly professional about it.
I would have a network of people who would retrieve things for me. For example, if I felt like having pizza from Pizzeria Uno in Chicago, they would have to find a way to make it happen
I would have actors on standby to ‘act’ out Straight Dope flame wars.
Actor: No, you’re the asshat who’s backpedaling.
Me: Do it again, but in Shakespearian.
Actor: Uhhh… Nay, me thinks you wear your backside upon your head. Verily thou art…
I would have a personal chef, housekeeper, driver, and hairdresser. That’s it.
Everyone around me has to be polite. To everyone.
The following is a list of my petty and not-so-petty demands:
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At all times, a Yamaha YZF450 will be kept outside the venue I’m currently occupying. It will have a full tank of gas and a Mossberg pump-action shotgun with 150 rounds of Double-O buck will be strapped to the plastic. This will ensure my survival when it all goes down.
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At all times other than when I’m sleeping, there will be an intern within 25 feet of me who wears a Camelbak backpack filled with hot 7-Eleven coffee loaded with skim milk and Sweet N’ Low.
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I will employ a Sumo wrestler to follow me constantly. He will be trained to watch for a hand signal, such as my tugging on my left earlobe, which he will interpret to mean that he should immediately sit on the person in my line of sight.
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Said Sumo wrestler will also be trained to listen for when I accidentally break wind, whereupon he will produce a $100 bill from his fanny pack and light it on fire.
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The vehicle I’m currently driving will be tailed at all times by a massive RV. Said RV will have a ginormous coffin freezer stocked with venison, bison and beef steaks. A charcoal grill made out of a 55-gallon drum will be towed behind the RV. My personal assistant will carry a surplus Army flamethrower for the purpose of lighting it.
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My personal valet will wear a backpack filled with fresh batteries of varying sizes. Any time I reach for a portable electronic device, my valet will snatch it away, replace the batteries, and give it back to me.
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I will employ a band of pimply-faced computer geeks whose primary job will be to sit around and monitor the Internet for mentions of my name. Should anyone mention my name in a negative context in a public Internet forum, said geeks will protect my reputation by counterattacking and flooding any negative posts with comments about the aggressor’s mother. Anyone persisting in maligning my reputation online will be googlebombed such that their name is inextricably associated with the word “asshat.”
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There will be unlimited Balance bars. The peanut butter kind.
That is all.
I’m easy. Massage on demand is all I ask.
On a side note- my late friend used to talk about this all the time, and I more-than-willingly volunteered to be his chauffeur when he became a megastar. As is… Sadly, he died a year and a half ago. I -am- open for celebrity chauffeuring for any of you weirdo… er… Incredibly talented and handsome people! 
Diet Coke and peanut M&Ms will always be available.
There will be one person whose full-time job is to closely study my taste in music, books, and movies, and then move on to procuring said items for me. He/she will hone his/her skills by listening to my response about the purchases.
A personal seamstress will be employed on my behalf.
Whenever I want something (a massage, a pizza, an exotic pet), it will be provided, no questions asked.
Free first-class tickets wherever I want, whenever I want. For my friends and family, also.
All of my outfits will be hand-sown by blind nuns who have spent their entire lives sequestered in a small nunnery in the south of Italy.
Whenever I ask for something to eat, I want it in 10 minutes. I don’t care who makes it as long as it is received in a timely matter. Reheating is not allowed.
I will have a personal pie thrower.
All of the episodes of Andy Richter Controls the Universe will be put on tape and immediately delivered to me.
At all times, I will be accompanied by a lackey with the most advanced model of laptop computer with WiFi internet access. If WiFi is not available in a particular location, it is to be installed before I pass through it.
All cars I use must be electric.
Where available, intracity transport will be by metro only, with all gear toted by the aforesaid lackeys.
An additional lackey will tote an affectionate cat at all times. The cat shall have been given a going-over with a masking-tape fur brush, so it will not shed when I randomly snuggle it.
All lackeys shall sport at least one piercing, as well as insanely poufy silk pants and spangled waistcoats open to expose their Bel Ami-esque physique.
I may be overcome with exquisite languour at any time. A queen-sized bed will therefore be available at all times, regardless of where I am. Duvets only – no oversheet or quilt.
A permanent staff of fag hag groupies shall be on hand at all times for tandem bitchery or moral support.