Separated At Birth?

The masses have spoken! Here are the most likely candidates (other than Alexander McQueen) for people roaming the planet who may be my separated-at-birth twin brother.

Vincent D'Onofrio as Private Pyle in Full Metal Jacket
Back in the mid-90s, I was actually once asked by a waitress in a restaurant if I was "the guy from Full Metal Jacket." I guess I can see the resemblance, but I'm guessing that Mrs. TBF should really be the judge since she's the one who sees me in this pose (minus the assault rifle) pretty much every morning. Sorry...long-time married couple thing!

Ainsley Harriott - British celebrity chef
Ainsley Harriott is, or at least used to be (haven't seen him for a while), a pretty big star on the UK Food Network. Back in the late 90s, I worked with this American guy named John who had a British wife and had lived in the England for many years. One day, out of the blue, he said to me: "You know what? You remind me EXACTLY of this British TV chef named Ainsley Harriott. He's a dead ringer for you. He's big and he shaves his head. He's exactly like you. Ummmm....except he's black."

Christian Gross - coach of the FC Basel professional soccer team
What are the odds that I would resemble (down to the bulging vein I get in my temple when I drink wine) the head coach of Basel's soccer team? One time, several years back, we went out to dinner with some friends (Christian and Nimashini) of ours. It just so happened that FC Basel had won the Swiss League Championship - or whatever it's called (I'm not a big soccer fan) - earlier that day. Christian - who's taller than I am - and I walked into the restaurant, and suddenly we heard everyone start yelling "Christian Gross!!!" I figured that they were calling out to Christian because he was Christian AND gross.

TBF: Do you know those guys?
Christian: No.
TBF: Why are they yelling at you?
Christian: I...have no...idea.

I figured out about a year later that they were really yelling at me. I should have tried for some free drinks. Opportunity lost!

And...the perennial favorite:

Mr. Clean. I've been called Maestro Lindo in Italy, Meister Proper in Germany, and Monsieur Propre in France. Oddly enough, nobody has ever called me Mr. Clean in America. Maybe it'll happen when I get older and my eyebrows turn white.

Are there any others out there?

Let me know.

Mistaken Identity...

We're back.

I flew to Chicago nearly two weeks ago. After spending a few days in Chicago, I flew down to Palm Beach International to spend a few days with my folks in the Florida warmth and sunshine. Then, I flew back to Chicago, met up with Mrs. TBF, spent a couple of quick days visiting family and friends, and then we flew back together to Basel.

As we were getting off the plane in Basel, a British woman who was standing behind me said to me:

"Excuse me... I'm sure you get this all the time, but are you a designer?"

I had to admit that I'd never been asked that question before in my life, so I just had to find out who she thought I was.

It turns out that she thought I was Alexander McQueen.

I don't think I look anything like him, but...whatever. Maybe I'll grow a mustache and chin-beard and try to get some free meals at London restaurants.

I was once asked (when we were on our way back from Japan a couple of years ago) in the BA lounge at Heathrow by an American woman: "Did you used to play basketball?" to which I replied, "Why yes, I did." I'm sure she thought I used to be a professional basketball player, but I did, in fact, play basketball when I was a kid, so I didn't feel like I was lying. Ok, I'm tall. Yes, I can understand if somebody would think that I used to be a basketball player, but...

A designer?

I guess each one of us has a "separated at birth" twin somewhere in the world.

Who do people say you look like?

I slept for four hours yesterday afternoon, and then like a rock for nearly eight hours last night. Give me a couple of days to get back on track, and maybe I'll find, and post, a couple of photos from my trip to the U.S.

Moonlighting...

I was on the tram this morning when I suddenly noticed I was reading this article from the 20 Minuten over a fellow rider's shoulder...um...like the Swiss tend to do.

Ok...OK! I know...

...get the Swiss citizenship papers started!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo!

So...anyway...

The article is about how the high price of gasoline is affecting the price of pizza delivery here in Switzerland. Am I concerned?

No!

You see, we have never ordered either a carry-out pizza or pizza delivery during the entire time (2,790 days, and counting) we have lived here in Basel. Occasionally we'll go out for pizza and just eat it in the restaurant; different from Chicago pizza, but still very good. Or, better yet, Mrs. TBF will just make one of her fantastic pizzas that she has been making me for nearly 25 years now. As a matter of fact, I just bought a new Weber pizza stone yesterday to replace our old pizza stone that pretty much cracked from overuse. So no, the price of pizza delivery does not really affect us one way or another. Why then, you ask, was I so interested in this article?

What actually caught my eye was the picture of the delivery man. I looked at the picture, did a double take, and I now have only one question:

When did my brother-in-law begin delivering pizzas here in Switzerland?