Get Your Google Out of My Cranium

I swear that Google can read my mind, y'all. Either that or they're staking out my house.

I'm talking about the targeted advertising that appears at the top of my Gmail. Like, one time I was sitting here staring blankly at my computer screen - which happened to be displaying my email at the time - thinking about how someday, some day, I'll finish the novel I've been working on for oh, like a thousand years now. And then all of a sudden, when my focus returned, I looked at the screen and there was an ad for self-publishing.

WTF, Google? WTF?

But as eerie as that was, the targeted ads reach a new level of uncanny the other day. Because Google reached into the depths of my very heart and soul and pulled out my longest-held desire. My desire for ...

... disco ball pants. (Click on the image if you can't see it very well.)

Why yes, that IS "Puzzle Farter" in my favorites bar.

"Finally," the ad says, "soft, shiny pants that reflect light like a disco ball."

Finally, indeed. Do you know how long I've been waiting for light-reflecting pants, people? If I had a dollar for every time I cried over my sorely lacking wardrobe, well ... let's just say I could snatch up all the disco pants that "betabrand.com" has to offer. I mean, can you imagine what such soft, shiny, eye-dazzling pants would do for cellulite?

I just checked my email again, and this time the ad is for "A Brain Surgeon's Must-Have Gizmos."

Oh Google, you know me too well.