Memories from the Forgetful

My dear friends Fran informed me that a saga contains more than two stories, someone should inform her of the virtue "patience".

So the saga continues:

I used to work as a corrections officer in a local jail and it was an interesting job. Not just because of the felons I saw day in and day out. Or the fights, or the handcuffs, or the maglites. It was mostly because of the odd people I worked with. Like a man I will call "Mr. Flynn" to protect the innocent.
One day I was visiting "Mr. Flynn" and he had a knack for saying the darndest things. and he told me I look like... Guess.... Guess who he told me I look like.
No, not beautiful gorgeous Charlize Theron.
Guess again.
Nope, not Scarlett Johansson.
Guess again.
OK give up!
I know this was going to be your next guess.

Well, if you guessed George Hamilton, you guessed correctly. (It doesn't count if you remember this from my Facebook status. That's cheating.)
Don't you see the resemblance?

Obviously we were separated at birth.
I mean look at our hair, it's the exact same shade of Blondey-black.
You certainly can't deny it.... it must be our skin tone, we were both going for that tanny-pale look.
Oh wait, I see what "Mr. Flynn" meant. He was saying how much I looked like a man. I get it. Yeah, I totally see how much I look like that George Hamilton guy.
Or wait.... maybe it's the mole.


Damn mole, always going and trying to make me look like George Hamilton. I'm going to have it removed.