Weird. So very weird.

So for no good reason, I told Tristan to google me this morning while we were on the phone. He did, and he asked me if I'd written a review of this local restaurant, the Lancaster Malt Brewery. I said no, because I've never had the opportunity to write restaurant reviews. He sent me the link and I checked it out, and now I'm completely baffled. I definitely wrote the review, it seems. It's only a few lines on a user-review website called dine.com. The date listed is May 7, 2000, back when I was a freshman in college. But I do not remember writing this review. At all.

So as I was staring at this unfamiliar website, I was wondering if someone, like, invented an account under my name. But that would be absurd and pointless, really. So I signed in. I typed my old college email address (blitzmail, for those of you who know what I'm talking about) and my old password, and... there I was. My info. A profile. And 24 restaurant review-blurbs.

24??? I must have been really bored on May 7, 2000. I reviewed all the places I'd eaten in Chestertown, my favorite spots in Annapolis, several Lancaster restaurants, and even a few places in Boston and Scituate, MA. What the hell?

I feel like someone else must have written all those reviews. Someone else tracked down the cafes and restaurants and diners that I've frequented and scribbled two dozen four-sentence evaluations. Someone else knows that Cafe Normandie in Annapolis has amazing brie and honey and that Jennie's diner in Lancaster is a shithole.

Man, why did Jill of the past join this thing? Jill of the future is totally freaked out.