Corpse Run 185: Holy forecast
FRIDAY UPDATE: I might not have internet service this weekend… WILL I SURVIVE?
While events like the above strip do happen to me from time to time, when it comes to being confronted about religion in New York, I am more often than not asked if I’m Jewish. I guess my dark hair, big nose, and glasses or something. Stereotypes, such fun!
My favorite instance where someone mistook me for being Jewish went a little like this:
I was walking around Washington Square Park when a man donning Hasidic clothing and haircut was staring at me. I figured he just caught a glimpse of me and kept walking. After a block I turned around and he was right behind me; he had been following me. Once I stopped he quickly blurted out, “Are you Jewish?”
“No, sorry,” I said.
“Oh,” he said absentmindedly, “nobody’s perfect.”
Then he just walked off, leaving me confused on the sidewalk.
People will very often think I’m Russian as well.
In the store one day a man came up to me asking if I was Russian. Now, during high school I had a Russian friend, and every phone conversation I witnessed him having with relatives contained only one word from him, “da.” I then learned that “da” meant “yes.”
As I joke, I told the man “da.”
Suddenly, he started talking really quickly in Russian and kept going despite my best efforts to stop him. After about a minute or so of speaking Russian, he walked off, again leaving me totally confused.
I get confused a lot.
Seriously… HOW DO YOU COME ACROSS THESE PEOPLE?!!!
Now I want to be mistaken for interesting people. I’ve only been thought to be a drug dealer.
Hey now, I bet drug dealers are super interesting!
You would think so, but after saying I have no drugs, the people either just leave or turn violent. I’d rather avoid the later, and the first just isn’t funny.
I’ve often been mistaken for “That guy who hangs out in the back of Spencer’s all the time.” Whom I later learned is a pimp.
This russian thing bothers me, I’m french, painfully obviously french, but people from around where I live think I’m either finnish or russian and I had a call in for support, arguing with me that I was russian, even though I told him I was french, and he refused telling me what his problem was until I gave in and said I was russian -__- silly texan…
I’ve been called British before. Also, I concur with the last line. Welcome to the Corner of Confus, Population: 2
There are many more residents.
When I was at Columbia a block from my dorm, a trenchcoat-wearing guy came up to me and said, “You got shrooms?” I said, “No.” He then immediately opened his trenchcoat and replied, “You want some?” I said, “No.” He said “Thank you very much,” and hurried off. I was confused for the rest of the day.
That with your avatar made me laugh.
Nice.
That awkward moment you realize that Alex is being nipple-groped in the third panel.
thank you I was blissfully ignorant of that now it is burned in my mind
Eh. I volunteer teach at the elementary schools in town to help with the music programs, in addition to my private teaching of brass high schoolers, and the only thing I’ve ever been mistaken for is another student. “what grade are you in?” and “do you go to the high school” are the most common ones…