Last week, I decided I hated the internet. Why? Because it makes it too easy to be a creepster. You meet someone and instead of asking their friends what they’re like or taking a chance on just oh, I don’t know, getting to know them yourself, you Google them. And not in the metaphoric meaning of “Google them”. You actually type their name in a search engine and find out everything you possibly can about them. Gross. For shame, creepsters. And shame on me as well because that’s exactly what I found myself doing last week- desperately using a search engine to find out everything I could about someone. In the middle of furiously clicking on links I stopped and recognized the monster I’d become. Ick. Blurg. Not. A. Fan. So, I stopped my searching and decided to hate the internet.
The internet was obviously heartbroken over my disdain because it started working really, really hard to win back my love. And let me tell you, the internet has some mad game y’all. Even a stubborn girl like myself couldn’t resist the charm the internet was throwing my way. First, someone directed me to a website that analyzes your blog and tries to glean information from your writing regarding your age, gender, and personality. It said I was *probably* a female between the ages of 15-17 who is always happy and writes about “personal” information. Wow, internet. That was a pretty stellar first move. My resolve to hate the internet started to crack a bit but I was still determined to dislike it.
Then, the internet pulled a big move and directed me (via the Bloggess) to That Can Be My Next Tweet. Obviously, the internet was desperate to get my love back because this was a grand gesture. Here are a few of the jewels this website gave to me.
It makes break-ups easier. Awww, shucks. Now, I’m hungry.
Holla! Up-yours, jerks. Sometimes, I cheat.
Want to know how to read books? I won’t. Apparently all I post is Musical Revolution.
Please assign bail-out percentages to the people at google, they are toe-up.
I make my heart.
Still musically high. Bitchface.
I’m going to please Adele. Also, it really works.
Love me!! Love me!! Aww man, that sucks.
I don’t exist. Holla.
I once dated a mashed chickpea!
#breakuptexts your professor would think of.
When your boyfriend doesn’t think I love pumpkin. But that means I’m hungry.
Finally! An answer. Sort-of. I hope not. That could incriminate my flirting advice.
Give me nachos on your bed.
Oh internet! How could I ever have doubted you? How could I have tried to hate you? Please forgive me and say you’ll take me back! I promise never to hate you again! Although, I also promise never to Google stalk someone either- I still think it’s creeptastic. Let’s agree to disagree on that one. Our love is about compromise.