Fantastic. Terrific.: My Look-A-Likes

It is already hard not being pretty, but then to add salted insult to injury, perfect strangers come up to me and tell me who I look like. The first day I was in Charm City, a female employee at Ikea was telling me how hard nursing school is when you have to wait on transfer credit and not live at home anymore. I barely blinked and nodded when she asked, "Who do people say you look like?"

The conversation progressed like this:

"

and

"Ooooh...Paul Newman? I guess the eyes [is the trait you two might share]."

"So who do you think I look like?"

I flinched. In my mind I thought why couldn't I look like Simon? Everyone likes Simon. He even has a game named after him where you have to do what he says. None of the little boys and girls want to play "Garfunkel Says" because even little boys and girls know you cannot respect someone who does not respect themselves. Unkempt. Egregious.

She then said, "It doesn't matter, you're cute anyhow."

Hello Mrs Robinson.

I then asked her if she worked on commission. She said that she did not, so then we platonically cuddled on a sofa that folds into a bed that folds into chair that folds into a handkerchief that folds into a single Lingonberry and Allen wrench.

A few days later I was exiting a building and I heard the security guard say to a patron in the lobby, "Do you know who that boy who just left looks like ?" And then the door shut and I thought I would never find out. Well, it turns out that TB tests that fester purple need to be checked twice, so I returned to the building and sure enough she was working again. I asked her if she remembered me from the other day. She said that she did. I asked her if she remembered what she had said about me. She said I looked like someone from "the t.v.", but she could not place who.

I volunteered, begrudgingly:

"

She said that that was not it. Thank goodness. I'm likened to this Hyde guy way too often. So often that I did not even mention it to "No Commission- yet on a Mission" Nursing Student at Ikea. I pressed the security guard, and she said with a snap of her fingers, "Everwood - you look like the football star. Ooh, I loved that show."

I have never seen Everwood. I went home and researched it, and found out it was set in Colorado, which besides being square, also plays host to South Park and the #1 Party School in the world. Nevermind the Nobel Prize winning physicist who contracted and lost his arm to the flesh-eating disease, the world (or at least France) just cares about taking a swig of alcohol whenever the kid in the orange coat is killed during a Comedy Central SP marathon. Anyway, this kind lady must have been sampling the Sharpies after the Locking of the Revolving Door Hour, for I do not look as Abercromb Pomp as this: