What's my name again?

Last night, I was sitting in a waiting room. Waiting for my name to be called for an appointment, when a bubbly, exasperated girl burst through the doors and sidled up to me.

I was flicking through some dated mags (don't say you've never done the same thing) when exasperated girl leaned over and read my name off the info sheet that was attached to a clipboard on my lap.
What happened next was odd: she started talking to me like she knew me. Throwing my name in at every other sentence.

'Well, Kaite, I don't know if you'd find this interesting but I've just spent the day examining bodies post mortem.'

What do you say to that?

'Oh is that so? I've been filing and sending packages via express-post myself.'
I didn't know what to say and ended up smiling. I was trying to search her face, see if I knew her when she asked me where we know each other from. I'd never seen this girl in my life. She started rattling off suburbs and coffee shops, uni courses and other people who I might know but nup, nada, nothing. Perky and I are definitely not acquainted. Finally she gave up and said

'Maybe you just have on of those faces.'

Let me assure you, I don't. Well, I don't think I do. I'm not particularly generic-looking, and not stunning enough to be mistaken for a Kirsten Dunst. But perhaps I'm wrong, because the guy next to her piped up and threw in:

'I think she does. I thought I knew her from somewhere too. Is your dad's name George?'

It was all quite bizarre really.
I don't know how to feel about the whole situation.

Have you ever been mistaken for someone before? If so I hope it was someone fabulous like Anne Hathaway. (What can I say? She won me over with cute hat and coat combinations in Prada.)

love a mistaken cactus
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