Searching For My Doppelganger

Scientists say that everyone has a twin. Apparently mine is right here in this area. Last week, I was intercepted at the local grocery store by a woman asking me how my kids and husband were. When I told her that I wasn't who she thought I was, she didn't seem to believe me and might of even gotten offended. A few days later, when I opened the door for the cable lady, she exclaimed "Girl... when did you move out here?" Last night I stopped by a local bar where several of the patrons mistook me for her.

From what I have gathered, my doppelganger's name is Kelly and she lives out on Emerald Isle. I just hope she isn't a skank and doesn't owe anyone any money! Funny thing is, I bet we don't even look that much alike.... but it would still be interesting to meet her.

Dirtbag Alert: The Aging Frat Boy

I hated frat boys in college. I only went to their damn parties for the free booze. As I sipped my Pabst Blue Ribbon in a smokey corner surrounded by grunting drones in pukka shell necklaces and Abercrombie cargo shorts, I kept telling myself that someday I would be out in the real world with real men whose life's ambition couldn't be found at the bottom of a beer bong.

Fast forward almost a decade to discover that the guys really haven't changed much. There is a another breed stalking poor unsuspecting women in bars. The Aging Frat Boy still roams in packs. They still tell fart jokes and quote Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller movies with glee. And they still wear those damn pukka shell necklaces and cargo shorts!

But that isn't the worst part. They never reach for their wallets when the bill comes; dates usually end in a half-ass offer to go Dutch. That is, if they even plan an actual date anyways; most of the time it comes down to "Why don't you come over and watch a movie?" (ladies... we all know what that is frat boy-ese for.) When this is all pointed out, they usually fall back on the old stand by of "Well, isn't this what you womens' libbers wanted?" Okay... where is the mens' lib then? If women are becoming more self-sufficient and taking over traditional male roles, why do the men throw temper tantrums and accuse you of emasculation when asked to be more compassionate and caring? I don't want to have to bring home the proverbial bacon, fry it up in the pan and then spend an hour cleaning the kitchen afterward while an aged frat boy sits on the couch playing the latest version of World of Warcraft.

Thanks, but no thanks. Dear Readers... I offer you a glimpse in to my future: