Google me, baby

Yes, I Googled myself last night. I had to check on some things. Let me tell you why.

Tomorrow is the last day of my internship. As a nice thank you, the attorneys took the interns out for drinks and apps, you know, happy hour stuff. It was pretty cool but as the time wore on folks had to get back to their families and whatnot. Soon, there were just a few of us left – the interns, an attorney, and a paralegal. The paralegal is the center of this story.

Her name is… well let’s call her Mandy. Mandy is odd to say the least. Mandy has an identical twin, which should make her cool by default (I don’t’ know, I’ve always thought twins were high on the cool list) but it doesn’t. Mandy is obsessed with a C-list television actor and is the leader of his member’s only internet fan club. Mandy wears t-shirts and sweatshirts with the man’s face ironed-on to ‘em. Mandy keeps laminated color head-shots of this actor on her desk. Mandy writes about 50 pages a night, contributing to her “fan fiction” novel. In this fan fiction, she takes the actor and expounds on roles he’s been in. Her latest work has a character from today going back in time and interacting with a character he played set in the 1940s. She likes the idea of him talking to himself. Ok. While the rest of Philadelphia swelters in heat and humidity, Mandy comes to work in a turtleneck and cardigan. Mandy wears a wig with inexplicably placed bobby pins throughout. Finally, Mandy graduated from an Ivy-League law school yet she’s still a paralegal. Either she didn’t take the Bar at all, or she took it and failed. Either way, makes no sense.

Have I painted a sufficient picture here? I’m saying she’s odd as fuck. Got it? Ok.

Anyway, back to the happy hour. As the evening wound down, I have no idea how we got on the subject (certainly not in a logical way) but Mandy reveals that the very first day she learned of the summer interns’ names, she Googled us. In fact, she has Googled everyone in the office. Alright, I Google myself and others on occasion. This is not really that strange. Who amongst us has not typed a potential mate’s or friend’s name into Google? She couldn’t find anything for anyone else. Me, though? Yeah, I turned up some results. Luckily, nothing bad pops up like how I chopped off a head on a Canadian Greyhound bus. If you put my first and last name into that Google search bar, you’ll find: articles I wrote for the Daily Tar Heel in college, A community service award from high school, info relating to my nonprofit job in NC, and something about a game show I was on in 2000. That’s about it. I hide my dirt under an alias.

So in addition to the weirdo factor spilling from Mandy’s pores, she went beyond Googling me to reading my articles and searching for additional ones on the DTH archives page. She passed the articles on to her twin sister (equally as odd) who read them too. She nonchalantly discussed this over her second margarita, which I imagine for her is the equivalent of 3 Jaeger Bombs, 2 Jell-O shots and a record breaking keg stand.

I mean, isn’t that ODD?

Thank goodness my blog isn’t tied to my name. *double checks*


Filed under Routine Ramblings

5 responses to “Google me, baby

  1. That’s rather frightening.

    My gov’t name only turns up about 6 accurate hits, at best.
    Mainly work stuff.

    But “IhsanAmin” takes you to all my internet fun spots.
    I doubt too much of it could be used against me, though.

  2. You basically just told me and everyone who reads this blog how to Google your “fun spots”.
    You’re so dirty.

  3. BlkBond

    I do find this very odd; however, I believe she may be studying you. You know, like one of those people who dissect everything from your attire to your handwriting. I think everyone does it, but I the odd part remains in the way in which it was done: reading your previous work to gather something personal about you…I guess.

    What is more odd is that she graduated from an Ivy and is a paralegal? You should mess with her, ask her to differentiate b/w commerce clause and dormant commerce clause…

  4. I’m a nasty muhf***a, gurl. © ODB

  5. Polo Bear

    Uhm…. I know Mandy* .

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