Library of the Poison Mind

Today's topic is celebrity look-alikes.

I don't get compared to a lot of celebrities. I just ddn't look like anyone. One time, someone told me I look like Marilyn Manson crosses with Tina Fey. But normal Marilyn Manson, when he's not wearing makeup to look like an alien goth fetus. I've also been told I look like David Bowie on more than one occasion... again, when he's looking like a weirdo, but at least he was pretty cool.

So recently, I was on an elevator at work with one of the cleaning guys. Custodian? Janitor? I never know the proper terms for people, I grew up calling Asian people "Orientals." Anyway, he's friendly and somehow decided I look exactly (exactly, not just a little bit) like Boy George.

Boy. George. You've got to be kidding me.

He backpedalled a little and said "Well, a young Boy George, you look just like a young Boy George."

Now will somebody please tell me because I really want to know just why do people always compare me to men whose identities are firmly grounded in gender-bending and cosmetic experimentation?

Look at this picture. Does something about my person, who I will remind you is today a librarian in a cardigan, that screams "Viva glam?" In college one year around Halloween, I lost count of the number of people who recommended I go as Hedwig because I was already half way there.

So I'm walking into the library after lunch last week, and this particular custodian is talking to another outside, and I distinctly heard him say "Oh, right there, he's the one" to which his companion replied "Hey, you're right!" So apparently my appearance inspires water cooler conversation and now the entire cleaning staff is in on my secret identity. "HEY BOY GEORGE!" he yelled. "Yes, hello, do you like my new sweater. It is from Zara" is not really the way to answer that so instead, I just used "Hey, what's up" and accepted my new reputation.

So I guess that is the way of things. I'm the only person I know who can wear brown hair, a beige sweater, Kenneth Cole shoes and a Michael Cors shirt and be told he looks like a glam rockstar.

No, not a glam rockstar. Every glam rockstar.

If my blog had any actual readers, I'd ask them to comment and name someone I look like who is NOT a glam rocker, but alas, you'd probably just say Marcel Duchamp anyway. You wouldn't be the first.

So I accept it. At least I have something to look forward to: