Last weekend I did something I’ve never done before. It was
something I’d always thought about doing, but I just never had the
time. Something always came up
– like laundry and third grade homework. But last weekend, I did
it.
Last weekend I did something I’ve never done before. It was something I’d always thought about doing, but I just never had the time. Something always came up – like laundry and third grade homework. But last weekend, I did it.
I googled myself.
Now for those of you who aren’t up with the latest technology – and you know who you are – when you “google” yourself, you just type your name into the Google search engine and see what pops up.
For me, what popped up was enlightening – to say the least.
For one thing, I discovered that my name isn’t exclusive. There are a few Laurie Sontags running around the world – and at least one of us is a convicted felon. In fact, Laurie Sontag was the “Featured Felon of the Day” in Sedgwick, Kansas.
Of course, the instant I saw this, I panicked. What had I done? Sure, I’ve been known to exceed the speed limit when I’m trying to get to a really good shoe sale – but is that a valid reason to make me “Felon of the Day?”
And then I realized that – unlike Dorothy and Toto – I’ve never been to Kansas. In fact, I would be hard-pressed to actually pinpoint the exact location of Kansas on a map of the United States. I know it’s over on the right-hand side somewhere, but that’s pretty much my knowledge limit – geographically speaking, of course. Not to mention the fact that this Laurie Sontag was described as being 6 feet tall. I would love to be 6 feet tall. Just once in my life, I would love to purchase jeans and not have to hem them or shop in the petite department.
But I’m not even close to 6 feet – not even in high heels standing on my tippy-toes wearing a stovepipe hat. And once I saw the picture, of a young, tall woman who clearly wasn’t me, I could rest easy and speed to shoe sales once again.
For the most part, the rest of the search results were pretty boring. Oh sure, I was featured on a “My Parents Are Aliens” Web site – along with an exciting article titled “Alien Underwear – Quotes From the Panty Raid” and numerous alerts for the many people who have been abducted by Martians – or hidden by the government in Area 51 after they had returned from their sabbaticals on Mars.
And then I discovered that Laurie Sontag was a porn star.
And that Laurie Sontag wasn’t some 6-foot tall convicted felon in Kansas. And she wasn’t even an alien – wearing underwear or not.
No, that Laurie Sontag was – is – me.
Look, I’m as shocked as the next person. I mean, okay, maybe it would be believable that I was a porn star if there were a porn site for “Suburban Mothers With Large Butts Who Always Wear Clothes and Would Never Dream of Appearing Naked in Public for Fear of Causing Widespread Blindness.” That I could accept. But I’m on a lot of porn sites. And most of them are pretty disgusting.
Not that I looked at them all, of course.
But I have to tell you, it’s a giant shock to google yourself and realize that you are a porn star – well, actually not a “star.” I’m more of a porn trafficker. Which does explain some weird e-mails that I’ve been getting.
But still. It’s not like I set out to become a porn trafficker. And I’m positive those people who are trolling for porn and come across my site are disappointed. For one thing, there are no naked people on my site. It’s kind of a rule for me. No naked people and no porn, either. In fact, the only picture on my site is a drawing of a fully dressed mom pulling her hair out of her head.
Not exactly what porn seekers expect.
So I don’t know why I’m a porn trafficker. I don’t even know why I’m an alien parent – although Junior may have some explaining to do. What I do know is that when you google, be careful. You never know what you’re going to find out about yourself – even if it isn’t really you.
Laurie Sontag is a Gilroy writer and mom who wishes parenthood had come with instructions. Her column is syndicated. She can be reached at la****@la**********.com.
