Monday, March 10, 2008

I Am Not Lindsay Lohan (or that Heather Steele)

I gave the paparazzo the camera tonight.

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He complained that it was "blurry" and "not focusing right." (Could also have been that I was running away from the snapping lens as fast as I could.)

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This was, quite possibly, more embarrassing than it looks. I don't know how Lindsay Lohan does it day-in and day-out. (Answer: she has 1,472 servants carrying things and opening doors for her. Also, probably the L.A. Baja Fresh crowd wouldn't be quite as, well, confused by a random person taking pictures of another random person on a random Monday night.)

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Speaking of embarrassing things, something both hilarious and awful happened at work today. My phone intercom rang and someone said, "Heather, its a client to talk to you." (Which is scary enough in itself....), and I picked up the phone, cleared my throat, and gave it my very best I'm-a-big-grown-up-professional voice and said, "This is Heather."

"Heather, hello, its Very-Important-Client, here. Couple questions for you."

"Sure, what can I help you with?" (says the professional Heather voice).

"Well, first of all, will we get our money when we settle this case?"

"Actually, yes, we're drafting your settlement documents now...." (professional Heather voice continues to say very professional legal words like "timeline" and "revise" and "bankruptcy implications").

"Ok great," says Very Important Client. "Well, one other question for you. I was just googling a little here, as I tend to do from time to time, and, well...."

The client stops and clears his throat. "Are you aware of, um, www.heathersteele.com?"

Oh dear God.

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For those of you who have not yet had the joy of googling yourself to find out what other people exist in the world with your same name, I recommend you do so. Post haste. You need to know what's out there.

And I know. Believe me, I know. And its mortifying. Click if you dare.

(This is a good time for a disclaimer to my parents: Mom and Dad, don't panic. It's just a girl in a bathing suit. (A really small bathing suit, but at least she's clothed.) And its not me!)

Seriously. I knew it would happen eventually. Everyone at work had already found it, had a big laugh at my very-red-faced expense, and then promptly forgotten about it. Which was a good thing for me.

But now, my namesake has once again been, um, exposed. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I quickly informed Mr. Very Important Client that, no, that was absolutely not me. Which is why I always include my middle initial, I told the client. Because I'm fully aware of the Other Ms. Steele. Adding my initial provides more benign Google results.

Luckily, the client just laughed it off, and agreed that it was a good idea to keep including my middle initial. He hung up, and I crawled under my desk and hid.

I'm thinking of writing her a letter. Asking her, maybe, could she please go by some other name? I could think of a few really snazzy ones -- Candy? Bubbles? Jessica Rabbit? Really, anything other than mine would be great, thanks.

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(Hello world. This is me. I wear big wool coats and stand in line at Baja Fresh. I am not selling signed 8 by 10s of myself. That's someone else.)

Steven would like to take this opportunity to let you know that his namesake is a magician.

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Watch closely, and he will make that soda... disappear.

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