They tease me. Often. People who are supposed to be my love ones. People who are supposed to respect me. Supposed to. Yet, they tease me and called me "Austin Powers".
Ok, maybe I encourage the ribbing, just a bit. Thick glasses and a toothy grin. Yeah Baby!
Fortunately, no one refers to me as "Doctor Evil". Not that I haven't had bombastic thoughts of world domination during those darker moments in my day; my inner geek toying with ideas of starting a laser spine institute so I can graft weapons of deadly light onto sharks (or, at least, glue a laser pointer on their head). But I can't. I'm not evil enough. "[I'm] semi-evil. [I'm] quasi-evil. [I'm] the margarine of evil. [I'm] the Diet Coke of evil. Just one calorie, not evil enough."
For now, I stick to flirting with the "Man of Mystery" image ... and the good-natured teasing.
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