Reasons Why I Can't Claim to Be Adopted

Sometimes, I'm more than a bit afraid of my gene pool. At these times, I wonder if perhaps there were a switch at the hospital, and somewhere there's a nice, stable, perhaps wealthy family just waiting for a DNA test to prove that I'm the rightful heir.
Then I pull out the family albums.
Anna Luisa Palmieri Serpi, my great-grandmother. Actually, she was pretty sane, and quite a lady. Of course, I look at her, and see my nose and my (lack of) chin. I vaguely remember rambling incoherently to David Hyde Pierce about my profile during the Spamalot photo.
Mom (name has been changed to protect the not-so-innocent) with my uncle. Same face. Similar mannerisms (ok, those could be learned). I have been told that we have the same errr posterior. That actually makes me a bit queasy. It's bad enough to know that someone has been checking out my *** but for that person to also be noticing my mother's? (gets out the Lysol).
Finally, there's my dad. I can't even claim to be the milkman's progeny. Same grin, same walk, same laugh.
Oh well. Guess I'm stuck with the family nut tree.