My Droid Is A Lying Cheating Whore

You may not know this, but Google/Facebook/Droid is out to take over the world.  I know, shocking. Just remember, you heard it here first.

Many of you may have noticed that Facebook uses things like your "likes" to post appropriate ads on your page.  Totally invasive, yes, but also a great way to keep ahead of the curve on Frye boot sales. 

Also, your searches on Google will customizes your ads there, as well.  So if you see ads for shoes, boots, and strange spoon-and-animal-skull-themed jewelry, this is no accident. 

These technological wonders that we can't seem to live without hit a new low the other day, however. 

I have an app on my phone to track certain female cyclical things.  For research purposes, I swear.  Well, I logged in the appropriate info the other day, marveling at how the timing was rotten (husband's reunion this coming weekend and it is easier to play the role of trophy wife when I'm not bloated with 7 pimples on my face), and I was a scant early. No biggie.  Just an observation.

Fast-forward to last night.  I was de-stressing on the couch after a long day of play-dates, chores, football and cheer practices, and a rare meal out. Which means, I was zoned out with my Droid, playing Angry Birds.  Of course, I play the free version, complete with ads that cover the very top of the screen, sometimes blocking the view of the piggies I am trying to explode.  Irritating, but not irritating enough to pay $1.99 for the ad-free version.  I'm no sucker.

Til now.  Angry Birds just got invasive. As in, totally-in-my-business-in-an-inappropriate-way invasive. there, in black and white at the top of the screen, was an ad for:


TAMPAX.  



Seriously??????? It's one thing to steal my phone number for telemarketers, or my credit card info for long-distance calls to Nepal, but my deepest darkest secrets? Out there for just ANYBODY?  My Droid has betrayed my deepest confidences, snuck info from one app, and shared that info in another app.  All for marketing.  This is the Junior High equivalent of telling Susie that Becky just got her first feel-up at the latest boy-girl party, all for the honor of sitting at the cool table. 

Not.  Cool.  At. All.

Droid/Google/Facebook:  I promise to stop protesting the $.11 charges for Russian mail-order brides on my VISA statement, if you stop telling the world I'm feeling "not-so-fresh".
Kthxbai.