I Am A Stereotype

The two compliments I get most often are that I have nice eyebrows and that I look like that girl from the iPod commercial. I'll take the latter, especially since it seems like Feist and I lead parallel lives.
It's not every woman who appreciates the honor and distinction that is a video shoot with the Muppets. I wore an outfit not unlike the blue jumpsuit in the 1-2-3-4 to my college senior dinner, although I hope Holly H. never puked on Feist - or Stephen Colbert, for that matter. I'll also take it as a personal shoutout and endorsement of my lifestyle that she released her last album on my birthday.

I suppose there are a few differences between us - I never toured with my college roommate under the pseudonym Bitch Lap Lap, since my roommate transferred after our first year and last I heard, the FBI was looking for her. My english muffins fly out of my toaster oven, and every time I take to the streets of DC riding my white horsie in my nightie with a parade of people behind me, the secret service nabs me or the Columbia Rd. Hari Krishnas drown me out - just two more reasons to apply to grad school in Montreal.

But at the end of the day, it gives me great comfort that another person in the world has a tendency to inspire people to "hurl Molotov cocktails into yoga studios."