But my love comes with an acceptance of the darker side of Google. Do you ever notice the sponsored links in the Gmail window? They always correspond exactly to the specific subjects of your emails. And I have to admit, I find that a little bit creepy. It's like some little Google man is watching you on your computer to see exactly what you type, and then throws some links in there that relate to your topic. Weird.
Though some of the links kind of pertain to the email, some of them are just downright random. And hilarious.
In an email chain with my boyfriend asking what I should wear to chaperone his high school prom, (Oh wait, that sounded bad. He's a teacher there and I'm his date. I'm not a cougar, no worries. He is legal, I am legal, we're all good.) the sponsored links include Pretty Dress with Sleeves and Ghetto Prom Dresses. So if I want to dress like J.Lo in the 80s, I know where to go. Thank God.
In an email informing me of a comment on my last post "Will Walk for Cupcakes", one of the links was for Chocolate Whoopie Pies. Yum. For some reason it reminds me of old people hooking up and that just isn't a pleasant thought.
An email from a friend asking for my t-shirt size came with a link for an I am McLovin T-Shirt. Sweet.
Another link in an email from my boyfriend suggested I find out Why Is My Baby Crying? The email said "Good morning" and asked how my day was going...and it was a good day. Random.
And though some links are funny, some are little disturbing, too.
In an email from my mom asking me about my plans, I got a nice little link to Jump Into the Spirit World. No thanks.
In the same prom email with J, I got a link for Human Interaction Design. Doesn't that remind you of a geeky kid who needs to find a date to prom and instead of asking a real girl, he creates a female robot to bring with him? Yeah, I watched too much TV as a kid.
Another email notifying me of a comment on my last post had a link for Quality Walk-In Ovens. A walk-in oven? Really? That sounds horrifying. Why would someone need to walk into an oven?
And finally, in an email from Facebook letting me know I had been tagged in a photo, Google suggested I look at a Female Anatomy Photo. Great. Google thinks I'm a pervert. I'll pass, thanks.
So thank you Google for keeping me entertained...and constantly wondering where the little man is who's watching me type.