Furious Annoyance

There are other things I need to discuss but right now, burningly, I am overwhelmed with righteous indignation at my position on Google.



Don't pretend that you've never googled yourself/others before. I'd call you a liar if you tried to tell me that. And then I'd stab you in the kidney. And you would have no way of protecting yourself because you would be an illiterate, thalidomide luddite and then, only after stabbing you in the kidney would I realise what I'd done and that you had told the truth and then I would cry "why god, oh god, why?? shrug and somehow make it all your fault for being so lame in the first place.

So last night, while enjoying the extended pool party with the social club and somewhere between my fifth or sixteenth rum cocktail I found myself within lurching distance of a shiny computer object with a keyboard. Having the co-ordination and logical facilities of a monkey on rum I found myself punching in the [I need to pause here and reveal that I just typed in someone else's name in an attempt to soothe my rage all, "why no, nothing will come up for this one - I would've sworn they were 'off the grid'" yet - there it is, that name too, in all its first ranked google glory...] least demanding (in spelling sense at least) of names and google came up instantly with... his picture and link.

WTF?! I thundered at the indifferent screen. How could you betray me like this, google?!? If I could find a way of pouring rum down your clearly bad-hair-loving engine I would do it.

The more names I type, the angrier I become. I admit it. As my friends know - I am shallow. I like shiny things and pretty surfaces. I like things that sometimes wander into the dangerous world of Blue States Lose . I like to reduce everything down to filmic analogies so that I don't have to be forced to face anything new or original. And most of all, I like to pretend that I am, somehow, important. Or at the very least, more google-ific than some of the people I know. To be faced with ones own, internet mandated superfluosity - nay, unexistance..... Why, it’s enough to make a finger puppet start making up new words.




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And a snapshot of some of the results are, for anyone who is interested:

(maybe I should cease watching remakes of Shakespeare which seem to encourage murder in any efforts to become number one before bedtime):

JZ - not only number one but also pictured avec beanie
Spakattak - also, annoyingly, head of the class
BFG - You lose out to a plea for justice and some type of life insurance
Park - number one
A* - your name is linked with a flower. And that state known for its inbreeding. Not sure how you feel about that but still - is being number one such a bad thing? (I wouldn't know)
B - You have the honour of not turning up at all. Either that or I've misspelt your name.
"Ferris Bueller" - you'll be happy to know that either Reds and international spies are paying off google or our old uni has some sort of dark deal with a search engine
Mereki's darkplace - goddamnit you were meant to be off the grid
Napoleon dynamite - I can even get your phone number again, first time round
Heardatron - they (I) aren't sure what you're doing but you're still at the front of the class with... whichever university that was
BoyY - AGDA approves
Simone - well, that one wasn't all that surprising
...

I just can't go on. I'm too annoyed.