Okay. I need to have a talk with Google. For the second, third, and fourth times in the last couple weeks, this pleasant little search who could has gotten me into trouble. When your husband walks into the room and says, “What the hell are you looking at?” and immediately walks right back out the door, you know it can’t be anything good. And it’s not. Which is why I’m sharing with you.
Here’s the first “wasn’t my fault” search moment:
I meant to do a search for “monk” and accidentally typed “mok.” Yes, I clicked the link. Yes, I clicked several other links. But not for the reasons you think! I was honestly trying to see if I had turned on my porn filters (we do have kids). I guess I didn’t, which is about the time Nick walked into the room. He thought I was moking him. Thanks Goog!
Here’s the next “maybe Google knows me better than I know myself” or maybe I AM going THERE when I croak moment:
I was actually looking up another name for wallflower for a post I’m working on. But these came up before I had the words out of my fingers. Somewhere in this lively mashup is a warning. I’m sure of it.
And the final “now you really got me” moment of searching:
Can one simple look up butter alternatives without getting a big ole’ android ass tossed in their face? Really Google. We need to have a talk.
