People tell me I look like a movie star. Actually, they tell me I look like Nicolas Cage, which, despite his standing as a bonafide Hollywood icon (Gone in 60 Seconds, National Treasure, Windtalkers, etc.), is somehow not quite the same thing.
Personally, I don't see the resemblance. Neither does my wife—Jessica, bless her heart, thinks I look like Jimmy Stewart. (Which is fine, because she reminds me of Donna Reed.)
But I am forced to admit there must be something to it. For one thing, when I first saw Nicolas Cage in a movie (sorry, I don't remember which), he reminded me of Jimmy Stewart. But more convincing is the fact that this—"Has anyone ever told you you look like Nicolas Cage?"—happens all the time. Often enough, in fact, that it's become a verb, as in "I got Nicolas Caged at the filling station", which I did, just yesterday.
I've been Nicolas Caged by strangers, acquaintances, and two close friends. I've been Nicolas Caged at the grocery store, the dollar store, and the liquor store; at Ft. McHenry, Homestead National Monument, and the Grand Canyon. I've been Nicolas Caged with my long hair pulled back and worn down; the real Nicolas Cage doesn't even wear his hair long, for crying out loud. (Okay, there was The Sorcerer's Apprentice.)
There must be some way of turning this to my advantage, right? I haven't a clue how, but I'm willing to serve. (Especially since I've never seen a penny from those bastards at Dos Equis.) So Mr. Cage, in the unlikely event you ever read this, have your people get in touch with my people. We'll do lunch.