Scene: My local Gourmet Garage, high-priced purveyors of French butter, organic pears and yellow tulips; a rainy February night
Dramatis personae: Perky checkout girl; a tired and frazzled me
She: Did anybody ever tell you you look like Dita von Teese or Marilyn Monroe?
(A nanosecond pause while I think: You mean the Dita who's my rival for the attentions of my favorite saleslady at the justifiably legendary Trashy Lingerie? You mean the Marilyn I've painstakingly dressed up as for many Halloweens, earning the approbation of drag queens in cities across America? And do you understand that all we have in common is a triumph of will over flesh?)
Me (with best approximation of movie-star smile): What a nice compliment. Thank you so much!
(Exit, mood vastly improved.)