I’ve been told that I look like Steve Buscemi more times than I remember. It happens a lot. Usually, what happens is something like this:
Has anyone ever told you that you look like, um, that one guy? That actor, what’s-his-name. You know, he was in . . .
I usually heave a light sigh right about at the first instance of the word “you” in that, knowing what’s coming. Sometimes they remember the name. Usually, I let them flail for a bit mentally before finally supplying it for them: “Steve Buscemi?”
Once, exactly once, someone said “No, that other guy. Christopher Walken! That’s his name.” I’ve been told by a couple other people that I remind them of Christopher Walken, too, but that was under different circumstances than the usual “You look like that one guy!” thing. I’ve been told (exactly once) that I looked like a teenaged Melissa Etheridge — it was actually “You look like a fourteen year old lesbian,” then evolved into a Melissa Etheridge comparison. I was once told that I looked remarkably like k.d. lang, too. Mostly, though, I get told that I look like Steve Buscemi.
I was told many times that I looked like “that kid from Mr. Belvedere”, but it was always the same guy telling me that, so I think that only counts once. I was told once that I reminded someone of Jack Nicholson, but I think she had ulterior motives. No, Steve Buscemi is the person to whom I most often get compared.
I worked retail, once upon a time many many moons ago, at a place where we all wore these neck-lariat-thingies with nametags and keys for the storeroom attached — those lariat-necklace-thingies that look like wide, flat shoelaces. Those have a name, but I don’t remember what they’re called. Anyhow, they all had a clicky thingie for attaching the keys to them, a plastic thingie. There were a couple blue, a couple green, et cetera. There was exactly one with a pink plastic clicky thingie, and I always ended up with that one. They called me “Mr. Pink”, after Steve Buscemi’s character in Reservoir Dogs, at that job.
Just the other day, I was told that I look more like Jonathan Brandis than Steve Buscemi. I barely remembered that such a person existed, and only after others present started telling me some things he’d been in (nothing good). I still didn’t remember his appearance, of course. I’ve seen it now, online, though — and the person who found it said I look more like him (pre-suicide) than Steve Buscemi. I think I probably look kind of like their bastard love child, actually, combining the features of each, possibly with a slight bias toward Brandis. I’m pretty, after all.
. . . but really, everyone keeps telling me I look like Steve Buscemi. Did you know that Steve Buscemi has been a NYC firefighter?
Did you know he was an underwear model in Germany? He was on billboards in his skivvies. There’s a thought to ponder.
A few times, I’ve been told “You look like Steve Buscemi,” shortly followed by “but with better teeth!” in an apologetic, mortified manner, as if the person that said it suddenly realized that she’d (in all cases this happened, it was a she) accidentally spoken aloud when thinking that I looked like sodomized roadkill, or something equally offensive — but the teeth thing made it all better. Whatever.
I’ve been told I was beautiful, in reverent tones, in the same night as being told I looked like Steve Buscemi. Both times, by a total stranger — though not the same stranger. Go fig’.
Maybe it has something to do with whether people are looking at my “good side”. I’m ready for my closeup, Mr. Demille. No, seriously, get that damned camera out of my face.
So, in the midst of investigating what pop culture icons most share my features, I’ve been handed this beauty:
Go read that, unless you are prone to hernias or more than eight months pregnant or have a weak heart — the laughter just might kill you. It did a number on me, anyway.
I’ve been told I have a sense of humor a bit like his, too, for that matter.