Note to self: don't rent porn from Blockbuster

A few months ago, Facebook launched a new ad partnership in which, when users purchased certain goods or services online, the social networking site would announce the activity to all of the user's contacts. So, if say, I rented a movie from Blockbuster, that news would magically appear via feed on my profile, announcing to everyone in my address book what I was watching. The partnership has been panned in the press and with users nationwide, but I rarely download anything on Facebook and shop online less often, so the issue has never really affected me. Until now.

I spent the afternoon creating a wedding website for my friend Kristin. To do so, I created a new email account under her name and signed into TheKnot.com using her contact information. So imagine my surprise when I logged onto Facebook an hour later and there, in bold letters under my profile, was news that - surprise! - I had created a wedding website on The Knot!

I'm sorry, what? The email address I use for Facebook and the one I created to set up for Kristin are completely separate; one is Yahoo, the other, Gmail. I'm a little annoyed at Facebook, and more than a little freaked out that such a connection could be made from what I thought was unconnected information. What's really killing me though, is that I have been kind of dating someone on Facebook for a few weeks (Hi! What's up?! You know that wasn't about you, right?) and I can just imagine his reaction at six dates in, thinking I have started planning our future. I have enough problems with dating as it is. I don't need Facebook getting in on the action.

Otherwise, the weekend was interesting. Friday night I saw Atonement at the new Landmark theater down the street. The movie was okay, but the seating was fantastic - it was an entire theater filled with couches! Like the Arclight, you can choose your seats in advance, but here, you could actually select which couch you would like to lounge on. The theater nearly empty, we were able to kick back, spread out, and feel like we were guests at a private screening. The only thing missing was a cocktail.

Last night, I went to a birthday party with Lauren and Nicole. The party was being held at a bar in my neighborhood, so they came over early to drink some wine and catch up. We headed out around 10:30, and, as I went to lock the door behind me, the key broke in half. Just simply, neatly, snapped off - the head in my hand, the body of the key flush with the lock.

There was nothing we could do at that hour, however, other than go and have a good time, so that we did. I stayed at Lauren's house in Malibu, borrowing clothes and amenities so at least I felt more human than homeless. And we started today off right, waking up to waves crashing, the sun streaming in through picture windows, and a yummy, soapy celebrity sighting at Starbucks - Jax, from General Hospital. We lounged in the late morning sun for an hour, until I eventually called a locksmith; 14 hours and $200 later, I was home once again. Getting myself in trouble on the Internet.