Because I am a complete navel gazer, I want to know everything there is to know about me. Particularly, I want to know everything there is to know about me on the WWW. Which is why I have a Google Alert set up with my name. Yep, that’s right. I don’t even have to manually ego-surf anymore; Google does it for me.
Basically, what this means is that when I do something awesome, Google lets me know about it. Like when I Tweet about being hungry or using the toilet, my Lauren Ober Google Alerts light up. Or when I blog about lost sweatshirts or cats stuck in trees, I am notified of my aforementioned awesomeness.
So today’s Lauren Ober Google Alert was sort of a shock. It turns out, according to the Google, I was recently arrested for prostitution and solicitation in Las Vegas. Like as recently as yesterday. This, of course, is somewhat troubling. Imagine my surprise to find out that I had engaged in such activity, especially when I remember neither being in Las Vegas yesterday nor turning any tricks in the alley behind Bill’s Gamblin’ Hall & Saloon.
Apparently, I was housed in the Clark County Detention Center until I posted a $1200 bond. Great, there goes my money from last night. What a waste.
Upon further investigation, I learned that the Lauren Ober arrested in Vegas for hooking was not, in fact, me. The Lauren Ober who was arrested has a middle initial D. My middle initial, while close in alphabetical order, is not D. Phew! I’m so relieved. I mean, I know I’ve done some crazy things in my day, but I’m certain prostitution has never been one of them (unless you count working for someone else, in which case most of us are prostitutes).
This recent Google Alert has taught me a few things: 1. There are people out there who share my name. 2. Some of the people who share my name do unsavory things. 3. It is probably best not to Google Alert myself anymore.
Still, this finding disturbs me. In this Internet age, it is entirely possible that one of my many past enemies (Julie M., Melissa C., Jen von A., for example) could Google my name and see that I got busted for giving cheap hand jobs in the parking lot of the Golden Nugget. Oh, how the tables have turned, they’d cackle. The same is true for my two admirers (Mom and Dad). I’d hate for them to think I was doing anything untoward. Especially in the handicapped restroom at Slots-A-Fun. Come on, Mom and Dad — I have standards.