My Dopplegang

Friday has gone, and now I am in the middle stretch of a disappearing Saturday. This is what happens when I go to work. Of course, it happens when I don't work as well. I guess if I'm sitting on my ass all day, I might as well get paid thirty bucks for it. I'd like to get all pissy about not painting or whatever at home, but we all know that I'm not that hyper-motivated guy anyway. There are some of those types in my illustration classes and I like to spit on them. There is a one who I hang out with every now and then. We'll call him "Jeff." When I first met him, I hated him. He is loud, opinionated, haughty, vain (in a Goodwill kind of way), and a twin. In other words, he is me. (I’m not a twin, but the next step down.) He says things I might say, and I think, "what an ass." I am way too self-critical, and therefore, by extension, judgmental towards people who display similar attributes to mine. I can imagine in a world populated by Steve Haske's, I would be one miserable bastard. But "Jeff" has grown on me. I can talk with him about many a subject and it is like we knew each other from many a year past. We talk about such boring subjects as religious politics, insect anatomy, Photoshop tricks, and loss of innocence as if we both cared. (All except that last one - I really don't care about that.) Now that I have warmed up to "Jeff" there is another me, this time in female form. We'll call her "Miranda." Her, I hate. She is totally loud, opinionated, haughty, vain (in a Goodwill kind of way), and a probably a twin. She’s most likely at home sitting on her ass right now, eating Cheetos for lunch. What a slob. I’m not inviting her to my Game Night party tonight.