I don’t do real well with competition. It’s why I’ve never succeeded at sports. Well, that and my laughable lack of coordination and general all-around fumbliness. But usually if I’m pitted head-to-head against somebody for anything, my nerves will get the better of me and I’ll fold under the pressure.

I was born May 29th, 1986. Fifteen days later, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen were born. Ever since that fateful day, I have been in a perpetual state of losing to the Olsen Twins. Let’s start from the beginning:

I am one, they are two.

If our first competition in life was to see who could be more, they won from the get-go. Clearly, my dad’s sperm were considerably less feisty than Mr. Olsen’s, only one egg having emerged fertilized. So two Olsens popped outta they momma’s baby holder, only one out of mine. You win this round, Olsens.


Quality time with John Stamos.

What five year old child watching Full House didn’t wish they had smooth talkin’ Uncle Jesse to learn clever aphorisms and useful life lessons from, rather than Uncle Larry who spit when he talked and would later cheat on his wife with a very large woman he met on the internet? Full-on attraction to Uncle Jesse would not manifest itself until at least the middle of season eight (and for the duration of Full House’s stint on Nick at Nite), but at the time I just knew every time Michelle Tanner got a wink from Uncle Jesse after whipping out a thumbs up and a “You got it, Dude!” that the Olsens had indeed won round two. They will be forgiven, I suppose, for having laughed at anything that from this:

You can’t solve mysteries without friends.

The Adventures of Mary-Kate and Ashley served as all too painful a reminder that you’re not guaranteed a friend unless you were conceived in the same womb as another human. Hey, instant friend! Not to mention the fact that I would have literally thrown the family dog out the second floor window to have the opportunity to solve a mystery in a trench coat. The Olsen twins would solve any crime by dinner time. I would stare dejectedly at my pile of LEGOS and Tinker Toys and wonder why I hadn’t managed to invent time travel with them yet. MK and A would grab each other’s hands and skip merrily off to their next not-at-all-life-threatening-although-apparently-urgent mystery, and I’d sit in front of my piano and wonder if maybe nobody wanted to hang out with me because I cried in class that day when Rebecca wouldn’t share her crayons. The Olsen’s had round three in the bag.

Fashion? Seriously? That’s hitting below the belt, Olsens.

You usurp the awesomeness of my birthday, you sit on Uncle Jesse’s lap when we want to sit on Uncle Jesse’s lap, you make an early career out of solving crime with a basset hound for a sidekick, and then you have the audacity to hit me right in the one place it hurts most? My closet?! Before they were barely legal enough to appear in bulk on your hard drive, they had fashion lines up the wazoo. I had a closet full of Star Wars t-shirts and jeans I deliberately bought too long because I don’t fucking know why. Can’t you guys at least dye your hair something other than blonde so I don’t have to look at you and see a bizarro version of myself in a dimension where I didn’t spend too much time as a child obsessing over whether both my shoes’ laces were tied with the same PSI? Round four was a TKO.

A sexy life full of sexy boys.

Ashley just broke up with 32-year-old The Hangover star Justin Bartha. Ok, he’s not like sexy sexy, more like sexy in the way that Eddie Munster was sexy, but still. Mary-Kate recently left a long-term relationship with a Greek shipping heir whose name, swear to God, I laughingly guessed would be “Stavros” which I learned only upon Googling is most definitely his name. Need I also mention that Mary-Kate’s bed was the last place Heath Ledger was naked? The Olsen twins have spent the majority of their adolescence and young adult years looking like sunken-eyed old bohemian cat ladies, and I’M the one whose most recent @ tweet is from a guy who said “LOL your super cute check out this video need ur feedback!” I won’t bemoan my love life. I get to spoon tonight. Yeah, it’s my dog. Shut up. Spooning is spooning.

Honorable Mention: Screen time with Steve Guttenberg

This troublesome duo movied-it-up in It Takes Two with this delicious jheri-curled beast of a man.

Katie Sisneros is growing increasingly tired of the Olsen Twins’ one-upmanship.