OK so sometimes I’ll type a co-worker’s name into Google to see if they have a tell-all weblog or whatnot. People are supposed to be vaguely web-savvy around here and there are some writers and designers and whatnot, so I figure a handful might have some website on the side. Does that make me creepy? I mean, dudes, it’s just that my soul was a tiny, shrunken seed that I planted in the fertile, loamy, fecund, moist soil of the web and that, later, blossomed into the overripe, lush, zaftig, callipygous explosion of light and color and sound that I pour out here for you to enjoy, and I just want to see if there’s someone else — perhaps in this very office! — who has shared the same magical journey.

But no luck until today when I did a search on a copywriter who started this week. Turns out she’s got an online diary. I nodded grimly to myself, did an atypical amount of typing, chugged lustily at a cola, murmured “I’m in,” pumped my fist in the air and said “Yessss!” — really every hacker movie cliche I could think of. Actually, I did none of those things.

The diary wasn’t super-intimate or anything, but I feel like I know way more about this person than I should, even though all that info was out there for the taking and my creepy-factor is totally at 2.3 or 2.4 tops. But when we’re properly introduced I’ll have to pretend I don’t know jack, and be like: “Hello! I certainly would have no idea about precisely what you were thinking and feeling last night! That information is completely unknown to me ha ha so anyway let me know if you need any extra paper clips and/or Post-Its!”

This of course got me to wondering if other people had typed my name into Google and what they’d garner from the resulting data but I figure the day that happens is the day I get arrested for illicit behavior and mail fraud so who cares at that point anyway.