I don't think anyone much enjoys ads these days. They're the stuff that takes up the first 50 pages of any self-respecting magazine, the fliers that Coupon Suzy tells us we should mine so as to pay only $1.80 for $200 worth of groceries, and the commercials that pushed everyone to DVR and satellite radio. It's a good thing Mad Men is set during the Nixon and Kennedy administrations. Back then, people were so excited to simply have a television, they'd gladly watch a dancing Wonderbread sandwich.
What I think my reader found interesting was how the ad correlated to the post it hitched a ride to.
Sometimes the connection is impressively direct. For example, in my post about my daughter's last day of school, there's an ad for "innovative preschools." In my post on Bridezillas, there's an ad for rehearsal dinner favors. And in my post about moving the baby chicks out of the house, there's an ad for backyard chicken coops.
Sometimes, the ad acts like a supporting cast member to the post. In my post about LeBron James' ridiculous eyewear, there's an ad for eyebuydirect.com. In my post about the dire state of my closet, there's an ad for JCPenney's. In my post about the face-eating, bath-salting maniac in Miami, there's an ad for "Zombify yourself." (Um, thanks, but I'm good.)
Sometimes, the ads are just mean and insulting. I mean, in my post about the gym, there's an ad for gastric bypass surgery, and in my post about our morning routine, there's an ad for the top 3 asthmas symptoms. Great. Just great. Now even my ads are mocking me.
Given this ad-post relationship, my reader seems to think my blog is magic. Right you are, reader. Right. You. Are! It is Google magic! My blog is hosted by Google and the ads are run by Google AdSense. If you haven't heard of Google, well, it's this search engine that -- WTF? You haven't heard of Google? (Okay. Mum & dad, I'll explain Google some other time.)
Is it mind-blowing to you, dear reader, that Google is as good at the ad game as it is at the search game? You do realize that this is a company that's made a bajillion dollars by indexing the Internet, right? I think if they can find you a massage therapist near Tajikstan and answer what Tiffani Amber Thiessen has been up to since Beverly Hills, 90210, they can hone in on my use of the word "bride" and pull out a wedding dress promotion from its rolodex.
If this is revelatory, hug your keyboard close. I've got a few other things to hit you with. Justin Timberlake is appealing to women. That guy who keeps emailing you from Nigeria doesn't have $4 million for you from that lottery you never entered. If you walk onto a plane waving a gun and polling for "favorite emergency landing spot," you will be escorted off. Your vote doesn't count. (Actually, Donald Trump has made a lot of money. I know. It's weird.)
Now that the educational portion of this blog post has concluded, let's have some fun. I'm going to just type some of the random words that come into my head today, Friday June 15th at 11:47AM EST, and we'll see what, if anything, Google does with any of them. This will be fun, guys. Seriously. Cancel your plans for tonight. (Unless those plans include Justin Timberlake giving you $4 million to take a plane with him to Australia to cast a vote in The Voice: Australia. In that case, you should go.)
1. Lunch
2. Father's Day
3. Dial tone
4. Post-it
5. Paper towels
6. Turbo vac
7. Dust buster
8. Paris
9. Decadent chocolate-based dessert
(1. Because it's almost time. 2. Because it's coming up. 3. Because that's all I hear when I pick up the phone. 4. Because there's one in front of me with a list of to-do's. 5. Because one of those to-do's is to buy paper towels. 6. Because I need to clean my car. 7. Because it would be handy to have one at home. 8. Because I wish I was there. 9. Because. Just because.)
All right, Google. Your move!
Submit your idea or suggestion for a "Dear Abby" post by emailing me at abbysblog@rocketmail.com. All the other intricate details of this something-for-everyone are explained here.
Write about time machines!
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