OK, I know this might be semi-annoying in a bloggerly, I-have-nothing-better-to-do-in-my-life-than-blog-and-read-other-people’s-blogs-and-then!-write-about-reading!-other-people’s-blogs sort of way, but I have to say it:

I have a blog-twin.

I know, I know. What are the chances. You’re thinking, how could anyone be anything but a blobby, amorphous shadow of your verbal dexterity and mordant wit—and while I agree, I have to say, this girl had a damn lot in common with me.

The similarity first struck me when I noticed that her job sounded remarkably similarly to my mind-numblingly not-really-awful-but-sucky-anyway tenure in corporate America in which I rendered impossibly soporific jargon into clear, lucid prose (rather excellently I might add). So it seems she is similarly employed (but sounds like she makes a lot more $$ than I did: hm). Also, she likes to shut the door of her office—another favorite pastime of mine (that is, before I shed the chains of cubicle-dom and paycheck for la France). Which brings me to another similarity: Her writing is absolutely (one might even say irritatingly; fortunately, I am similarly conversant in the international language of sophistication, le français) littered with little French words, the kind you would feel dumb for not knowing, but probably wouldn’t be entirely comfortable with unless you were conversant in the international language of sophistication, le français—like moi and my blog-twin.

That’s not enough? Well try this on for size: We are both Gemini. We are So Alike! Additionally, she has vegetarian tendencies. Hey! I have vegetarian tendencies (although, I think she actually is a vegetarian. But come on, I’m in France, land of delicious saucisson (and Mad Cow, but we’re not talking about that), and it would be a crime not to experience every aspect of French cuisine in all its carnivorous yumminess). And it’s the thought that counts, right? Rack up one more point for our twin-ness. Also: she is Jewish, and modest, and thoughtful, and ravishingly gorgeous (at least in self-descriptions)—all of which are hallmark qualities of yours truly. And she lives on the West Coast. I used to live on the West Coast!

Could we possibly have anything more in common?

The one minute difference being her imminent published author-ness, and my imminent return to U.S. and search for low-paying, mind-numbing corporate job whose only benefit will be, if I’m lucky, an office door I can shut and free Internet access-ness. So I can look up more facts about my blog-twin!

Other minute difference being her Carrie Bradshaw-ness of bloggerdom and my prolonged attachment to V-Dog, my darling boyfriend who calls me “Poopstain” as an endearment (just like Britney used to call Justin “Stinky”, not that I keep up with such things) and tells groups of people I “like the lively sausage” and “have no gag reflex.” (The latter is true!) ...His new thing is telling people I’m waiting for marriage.

But, we both have oodles of time to blog! One more thing we share, my blog-twin and I. (Or at least, we did before she got that book deal. Not that I mind! Au contraire, it makes me even more confident that blogging is a sure path to fame, success, and a disgustingly fulfilling and wonderful life.)

ALSO, some of her ex-boyfriends sound like this stubby little Jewish guy who taught yoga at the studio I used to go to (and who definitely had a crush on me, and whom, who knows, I might have deigned to date, had I not been raking my heart over the coals of a long distance relationship)!

ALSO! She likes climbing and outdoorsy stuff. I like climbing and outdoorsy stuff! (Actually I’ve only gone climbing once, a week ago, and I didn’t really “climb,” per se, at least not any higher than I safely could have climbed without being strapped into that god of bulgification, the climbing belt. But hey, my hands got cold. It was cold, I tell you! And we were climbing up between two vertical rock faces—a fissure in the rock, really—which would have definitely meant that had I gone any higher, I definitely would have ripped a hole in the crotch of my jeans and several people would have definitely seen something I’d definitely prefer they not see. I’ve also been known to say that climbing is the art of taking the least likely, convenient, or common-sensical route from one point to another. …Am I wrong??)

Here’s the best part though: She’s at least 10 years older than me! I can tell by how inadequate I bet I’d feel if I were her reading me that I must be really up to snuff! (Other than the book deal, of course.) Or maybe I’m just insecure.

…Naw.

By the way, for all you etymology dorks out there, I bet you wanted to know where the phrase “up to snuff” came from! I am only too happy to feed your addiction.

Anyway, the whole point of my bringing up my blog-twin, even though, mind you, I already have a twin (yes, a real twin, who is probably a hell of a lot more like me than my blog-twin, but humor me), was to say, O cosmically paired blog-twin: You have inspired me to mine my life ever deeper for odd ducks and interesting situations and to update my adoring public of every notable instance of my existence (of which there are many), especially those involving cute boys (of which there are also many, as is prone to occur in the case of ravishingly gorgeous gals like myself) even though I have a boyfriend, which will not in any way impair my having intriguing, innuendo-laden interactions with said cuties.

Ah! I feel so inspired.