Pictured Above: The growing stable of cartoon characters to which I have been likened over the course of my adult life
The Boy and I were at dinner over the weekend when, upon returning from the ladies' room, I was abruptly stopped by a woman and her tweener daughter at a nearby table. It seems they were overcome by the urge to notify me of my uncanny resemblance to Velma of Scooby Doo fame.
"Ah, yes, the quintessential nerd girl," I replied with feigned empathy, "I suppose it's the bangs and glasses, right? Hey, how is that carne asada?"
Perhaps sensing the contempt dripping from my voice (though certainly not understanding its very primal origin in my distaste for anything that keeps me from my food), the mother-daughter brain trust started uncomfortably clucking about how "cool" and "hip" Velma really is.
"She's the best one!" the elder chowderhead clucked.
"She always solves the crime," added junior.
As my blood sugar dropped and my patience thinned, I replied en route to my seat, "Rokay! Well then who was that hippy, bespeckled girl opposite Daphne?"
(You may not be surprised to learn, Gentle Reader, that my cheese enchiladas tasted rather unfortunately like regret that night. When will I learn...?)