Great Scott!

(editor's note: Sleepy Chris was in charge of posting the following blog on Friday night in lieu of studying for his last final of the semester. Apparently, in his drowsy state, he pressed the "Save as Draft" button, rather than "Publish Post" We here at You're a Blog would like to let our readership know that the parties responsible have been sacked.

Check in around noon for your regularly scheduled blog.)

Am I that much fun to be?

Don't get me wrong, I am aware of how psycha-awesome I can be. I mean, I can spin anything under the sun (except, sadly, a basketball), I can wreak havoc at any dining experience with my southpawthian ways, and I can see over cubicles at work while others must resort to standing on their desks. I'd hire an assistant to take notes on my ubercool ways, but, well, then I would have to cancel another utility. Let's see...Assistant or Cable..Assistant or Cable...

Yep, can't do without the new Gilligan's Island. Sorry, assistant-to-be. You're so fired.

So it appears that others have taken noticed of the Essence du Condon. Well, at least one other person. There is some yokel running around out there with my likeness and identity, and there's not a whole lot I can do about it. I'm not sure why I'm being targeted in the biggest cloning case since Martin Lawrence and a dumb rock, but that's just how it is. Someone is living the Condon high-life, impersonating the Editor in Chief of You're a Blog, and making millions of my visage.

Millions? (Ok, I can dream, I suppose.)

Three times today I have been mistaken for this other guy. Due to a lack of creativity at 11:38 on a Friday night, I could give him the moniker "Chris Condon Number Two." But, an invented nickname would only be required if I did not know his name. But, as fate would have it, I do, and he is the one they call Scott.

And, now in turn, I am now the one they call Scott.

Three times today. 3. This can't be coincidence. The only rational explanation possible is that Scott has stolen my identity and left me with his crummy existence. Here, I'll explain.

1. I check the mail often on my way to the car in the morning. There's the same stuff every day. Lots of junk flyers, some invitation for my roommate to sign his name in blood to the Federalist Society, some mail for a former tenant of the Random of Run, normally of Indian descent. (Or so is my guess. Last name averages 18 letters long Always.) And finally, a grad school application packet for yours truly. (Apparently, those fine folks at the GMAT testing board are still sending my information to schools, despite my repeated attempts to let them know I am already enrolled at a university.) Well, maybe it's not me they are wooing after all. The recipient on the envelope "Scot Chrondon"
2. Spent a lot of the day doing account reconciliation at work. I had to call Verizon for the sake of our telecom service over in the Falls Church location. Someone hasn't been paying their bills, and now I have to clean this mess up. "Hello, this is Chris with SAIC, can I spek with Jennifer Shandlin?" This is how I started the conversation. We talked, negotiated payment terms, the whole deal. And then she called me Scott . ??? Then, Ms. Shandlin went into a 45 second monologue has she confuses me (Scott) with Scott White, who also works for SAIC, and she can never keep us straight. Yeah, I hate when I randomly assign a name to a person and then confuse them with someone with a real name. I hear ya, Jennifer, I hear ya.
3. Just got back from my MBA's Christmas party. Open bar, good appetizers, anything to try and win us back on the same day the next semester's tuition bill arrives. Al Razick, the head of the PMBA program greeted Katie and me at the door. Even took the elevator with us to the top floor of the Hotel Washington. Told Katie that Scott (referring to me, duh) was one of our best and brightest. He later corrected himself when one of my classmates referred to me as "Chris," but how can this mistaken identity have happened? You accepted my application, man.

Once my Christmas shopping is over, I've got some Christmas cards of Doom to write.

And just for the heck of it, here's one more on the list.