When my roommate informed me that our new and improved air conditioning system can get down to 40 degrees and said she can’t imagine a situation where anyone would want it that cold, it probably would have been a good idea to NOT exclaim excitedly that if we ever had a dead body in here, the police wouldn’t be able to accurately determine the time of death.

In other news, I really love “Forensic Files.”

I have a strange technological problem. A mystery, really.

About, oh, 6 months ago, I started getting personal mail to my gmail account. To a Lauren who is not me. A few things became obvious fairly early on. This girl is in a “school” of some kind. She has many friends. None of them are very bright. And neither is she, for apparently giving them my address instead of her own.

I wish I had copies of them, but unfortunately I submitted them all to spam because they would not stop forwarding me chain letters asking how much I loved Jesus. The first of these was just such an email, to which I replied to the sender, “Hi. Who are you?” She responded “Only your biggest, bestest friend Jennifer [lastname]! I guess you don’t recognize my school address, lol.” I responded, “Sorry, I don’t know a Jennifer [lastname]. You must have the wrong email.” To which she replied, “HAHA, Lauren, such a kidder! See you in class!”

Now I’m getting annoyed, as apparently according to everyone I’ve ever MET, I am severely wont to do. Ahem. I now reply, “I am serious. I am an adult who lives in California. I haven’t been to high school in over 10 years. Please tell your friend Lauren she is giving out the wrong address.” And then, drawing upon years and years of undercover detective lessons taught on Nickelodeon and Disney Channel from 4:00 PM until bedtime, Jennifer LastName responds, “Oh, YEAH? Well, if you’re not my friend Lauren, how did you KNOW I was looking for someone named LAUREN, HUH?! And how else would you be accessing her email, lol!” After facepalming, I decided to let it go and spam it. Until the next day. And the next. And the next. Chain letters upon chain letters, angels, kittens, jokes about Bush. I couldn’t spam them ALL, because they were all different people. And I can’t figure out anything about any of them (and obviously, her) because NONE of their emails were searchable on google. No facebooks, no myspaces, nothing. I didn’t even know this doppleganger Lauren’s last name. Did they all literally JUST discover the internet?

And not only friend emails, verification emails to websites. “Lauren! You have just tried to join Team Disney! Click here to activate!” “Lauren! You want to join the Penguin Parade! Click here, so we know it’s you!” It’s not her! It’s me! Wh- Is she not noticing that none of these emails go to her? Does she just give UP and do something else? Clearly NOT, because *I* keep getting them.

I’ve “Who are you?”d a couple of her friends now, but there’s not much use. It’s the same dialogue. I’ve gotten her last name, and one of the girls mentioned what school *she* goes to, but it’s not necessarily Mystery Lauren’s school. It got to the point in the last “Who are you?” string of emails where I really thought I was gaining ground, being really polite with the “Gee, I’d hate to have your friend Lauren be missing all these important emails! You may want to mention to her that she’s giving out the wrong address! To apparently everyone on the planet!” And the girl was responding with a hopeful, “Well if u don’t know how I can find her real email, I guess I’ll ask next time I talk to her.” I thought I had won. Then she asked me to chat on MSN. I told her I was at work. Working. She responds with, “Can we chat whenever u get this message since u r hopefully my friend.”

I. I don’t even know. Is she accusing me of being her friend Lauren all along? Does…does she think *we’re* friends now? It boggles the mind. I guess nothing can be done with this gaggle of schoolchildren begging me to end the ruse and admit I’m their friend. Hopefully, this doesn’t end Highlander-style with my teenybopping doppelganger attacking me with a sword before declaring herself the One True Lauren and then taking in a Jonas Brothers concert.

Starting about three years or so ago, and with slowly rising frequency, I have been getting what I thought was a very nice compliment.

“You remind me so much of Tina Fey!”

My friends said it, my family said it, people I joked with at parties said it. It was nice. I mean, I sort of do pride myself on my lovable awkwardness, my well-intentioned schemes that never seem to go right, the Star Wars reference uttered at the least appropriate time. Tina Fey chic. The Naughty Secretary glasses helped. But, yes, it was nice. I’d cock my head sideways and crack a sassy joke at dinner with my parents, and my mom would should out, “You are SO Tina Fey!” Which is quite a compliment, as hers is the only hard-core liberal name my mom will utter without subsequently making gagging noises.

Recently, though, I’ve been noticing a disturbing trend. My brother’s girlfriend, funny though she may be, mentioned that people constantly compared HER to Tina Fey. I saw a facebook wall post of a friend of mine, where several people referred to HER as Tina Fey. Now, this girl is very funny, but it is not in a Tina Fey way. Actually, if you want to get technical, my brother’s girlfriend reminds me more of the women from “Absolutely Fabulous”. And my facebook friend is closer to a Maria Bamford or a cleaner Sarah Silverman.

These four women are no less funny but very different comedically from Tina Fey. So what really grinds my gears is that Tina Fey is, like, THE funny woman in America’s eyes. It actually reminds me of when I started comedy in 2003, and everyone compared me to Ellen. I didn’t understand it at all. She was clean and hilarious. I was telling dick jokes at open mic nights in Pittsburgh. She dressed in snazzy business casual on stage. I dressed like I held a stock in silly t-shirts and ill-fitting jeans. Oh, you mean we both have female reproDUCtion systems. Why didn’t you say so?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re finally getting recognition as a sex that is capable of telling a joke, but…like…you wouldn’t go up to a random black person and go, “You know who you remind me of? Obama!” Actually, in Japan they would probably do just that, but not here! I don’t know. It’s weird.

Whatever. I’ll keep taking it as a compliment, even if every girl who’s ever told a joke is a Tina Fey. It could be worse. They could call me Kathy Griffin.