"Mark. Hey, Mark!"

I give a small sigh, realizing what's coming next. I glance over at the person who is calling me and respond with a small but polite smile. Confused, the person realizes I have no idea who he or she is.

I don't say anything, just to let the person think for awhile. Later, I introduce myself, explaining that I am a twin. Amazed, the person comes up with the now-standard response: "That's really weird!"

I'll admit that twins are unusual, but that comment makes me feel like my brother and I are freaks of nature. Trust me, we're normal -- although if you know either of us, that's a matter of opinion.

However, more than anything, it's the questions that bother me the most. I try to answer them, but I quickly lose my patience when the questions get stupid (and believe me, we get quite a few stupid ones).

So, I somewhat proudly present some of the most common (and the most stupid) questions my brother and I have been asked, just to give you an idea what we go through sometimes:

Are you two twins?

No. When I was three months old, my father set me on top of a Xerox machine, and the rest is history.

Which one is older?

I am, by seven minutes. Mark says he kicked me out because he needed his space.

Are twins rare?

I'd like to say yes, but there were seven sets of twins in my high school graduating class. Go figure.

Do you and your brother have the same birthday?

Yup. It's rare that twins don't (by the way, another set of twins at the University has the same birthday as ours -- Feb. 15. Please give me a call).

Do you and your brother have the same major?

No. I'm a journalism major and my brother is in telecommunications (OK, it's close. Shoot me!)

Do you comb your hair in the morning by looking at your brother?

No. I'd rather not look at my brother when he first gets up. It's not pretty.

If I punch you, will your brother feel it?

No, but if I punch you, I bet you'll feel it. This usually leads into the next question:

Do you and your brother share some kind of psychic link, like ESP?

Surprisingly, I'd have to say yes to this one. When someone asks me this question, I can just hear my brother's voice saying, "God, what a stupid question!"

Do you two like the same kind of music?

No. I like good music. Mark likes Phil Collins.

Do you and your brother get up and go to bed at the same time?

Since I really don't understand the reasoning behind this one, I'll just say no and leave it at that.

Do you two dress alike?

No. I have good taste in clothing.

Seriously though, when my brother and I were in elementary school, my mother used to dress us alike (hey, how was she to know she was messing us up psychologically for the rest of our lives?) All of our classmates used to ask, "Why don't you two dress differently. Then, all our classmates began asking, "Why don't you two dress alike? It would be cute."

Finally, around third grade, we started to dress differently. Then, all our classmates began asking, "Why don't you two dress alike? It would be cute."

It's people like these who have made me into the embittered individual I am today.

Why don't you like sports and your brother does?

We don't have to like the same things. Anyway, I do like to watch some sports on TV, like Steeler games (next year, guys).

However, I'm not the sports junkie that my brother is. On a good Saturday afternoon he watches sports until his ears bleed. This guy missed Hands Across America so he could watch the Indy 500.

Well, that's just a general sampling of the kinds of questions Mark and I are asked. I leave it up to you to decide which ones are stupid -- although I think you have a good idea which ones I picked.

I really do enjoy answering questions about being a twin. It's just that I have a strange preference for intelligent questions.

If you see either Mark or I walking down the street and aren't quite sure which one is which, don't be shy. Go ahead and take a shot at it anyway. Believe me, we won't laugh at you (at least not to your face). We really don't mind being confused for one another.

Well, almost never. There was that one time that one of Mark's friends, who I had not met, ran and tackled me out of the clear blue. As I was lying on the ground, I shook my head to clear it, looked up at him, and said in a calm voice, "Who the hell are you?"

I'll be nice and not identify him, but he still is hesitant around us until he's sure which one is Mark.

And that's where most of the fun is.