Let's talk about Chris March.

No, no, not me. I mean the large effeminate designer who wears loud clashing clothing and gets kicked off reality shows and then somehow weasels his way back in. Yeah, THAT Chris March.

I swear, not a day goes by where I don't get a "Hey! I saw you on TV last night" or a "did you know you're on television?" And I get emails from my old school pals alerting me to his recent accomplishments on the show. It doesn't help that fans of Project Runway have fallen in love with him.

Listen folks. I get it. We got the same name. But you won't catch me dead in a gutter with a leopard print jacket on or a pink scarf around my neck. I haven't impressed Sarah Jessica Parker once in my life. No one refers to me as the "dragtastic" Chris March either. Unless of course, they think they're funny, which they wouldn't be. Nor have I ever been dressed as an obese Wonder Woman.

The day he starts listening to obscure indie music, circulating Dylan bootlegs among his friends, becomes a little blond dude with a beard, and gets a job writing about other Chris Marchs at The Mercury... that's the day you can compare us.

Until then, my response to those who ask "Why don't you change your name," my disgruntled reply will be cribbed from the infamous Michael Bolton bit on Office Space---WHY SHOULD I CHANGE MY NAME?! HE'S THE ONE WHO SUCKS!!