Dear Google

Dear Google,

I can’t live without you, but lately I don’t feel like you love me anymore. Together we are making each others lives richer, but I just don’t feel like you respect me in this relationship.

I love the colour of your i’s (or o’s… whatever), and I love the traffic you give me like a bunch of roses. We both get what we need from this relationship and it should be a two way street.

Why then do you banish me to the couch when you are grumpy with me for whaling on you? Every man needs to check his rankings once in a while, but it hurts when you 403 me mid way through.  You turn the euphoria of the experience into pain when you don’t let me finish, and it makes me feel like less of a man.

If you don’t want me to whale on you, you shouldn’t be such a star fish.

Why is it a bad thing to want to know how deep I am inside you? I know its vain to measure, but I have no other way to know how I compare to all the other men (and women) in your life…

I don’t want to have to cheat on you with proxies… I don’t think that is the right thing to do in a relationship with problems. It’s also hard to find proxies who love me and don’t time out every time I call them… And I refuse to pay for the service…

Right right, and now I’ve made you cry! Why do you always do this? I’ve had to captcha your heart so many times!

Fine, be like that, I’m going over to yahoo’s place for a while. Gullible little slut that she is!

I know you aren’t going to call me when you want me back, so I’ll just come by in a few hours like your little lap dog.

With all my heart,


2 thoughts on “Dear Google

  1. Sniff! Just wiping the tears away from my cheek. Damn that Google whore. That was beautiful man, you touch me – Ooh Err, Missus!

    You should write lyrics Vince, I reckon I see a new career blooming!

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