05.12.14
Why 'cooking....for people'? This is a question I assume you're asking because you're someone who thinks when there are 'dot,dot,dot's after a word, that there's some sort of mystery to be solved. Then when that mystery is solved with, say, 'for people', you think "why people? Why not dogs? Dogs are groovy".
Yes, dogs are groovy. I wholly agree. However, I sometimes don't think they truly appreciate the food that's made for them. They're more of the 'I like it or I don't' type and that's okay. I just like a higher echelon to make their judgements on my rare cooking. A dog would've dug dinner tonight, but would they have savored, or appreciated the craft behind it? No....because they're just simple, loving, magical beings.
I cooked tonight. Here's the thing; I NEVER cook. Ever. Except for last night. I also cooked last night. And both times I learned something very special about myself; I am not a total fuck-up. Cooking was the last thing I had to prove to myself and others and my martial-arts teacher, that I could accomplish decently. I think I even exceeded my expectations for myself.
For the love of god - I made something jerk, fruity AND savory. I kicked all the asses! What the fuck!? Hahahahahahahaha!
Oh wow.....wow. I guess what they say is true; be careful of the spoon, the skillet, the pan, the fish, the pineapple, the jerk seasoning and the peas - they'll make you into someone you don't even recognize. But the salt and pepper are cool. Those are cool.
In conclusion; I don't suck at cooking, and I'd like to cook for you! Only, I strictly cook for people with whom I am having or will-be-having sex with so.....ball's in your court.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Friday, April 11, 2014
This 1950's home; the REAL 1950s
04.11.14
It really has been too long. That's a phrase that was very popular in the 1950s, but in the case of the home of a certain 96-year-old-woman, it's gone beyond too long, back into the realm of campy, and now it's downright fucking cool.
The link at the end of this article is of a house that has been completely kept up with authentic 1950s decor, and as long as you can't get enough of bright colors that make it look like noon when bathed in moonlight, then you are going to be floored by this shit!
I don't know when the word 'floored' came to mean hypothetically being knocked off one's feet. I'm certain it was before the 1950s.
Anyway, just look at this place. Personally, it made me long for a time where people covered up their bigotries, prejudices and alcoholism with pastels and "oriental" design. Where women still knew their place and pregnant teens were treated as though they donned the scarlet letter and were explained to others as victims of 'refer madness'.
A time where kids could still deliver newspapers without parental consent because they were still too scared to tell their parents about the guy who says his house is made out of candy...from the inside.
A decade where free love got you nowhere. Unless you were a dude, then it got you a promotion. Women could only be secretaries, which was the style at the time.
Finally, jello-molds. Everywhere. Fucking everywhere a goddamned jello-mold with fruit hidden like "treasure". Fruit is not a treasure it is a terrible necessity! \
I don't like a lot of fruit.
So please, enjoy this great thing guaranteed.....a 96-year-old woman's home, literally, from the 1950s.
http://www.hgtv.ca/photos/gallery/?gid=6de87f25228a34488b5868fba7132c55#!/6
It really has been too long. That's a phrase that was very popular in the 1950s, but in the case of the home of a certain 96-year-old-woman, it's gone beyond too long, back into the realm of campy, and now it's downright fucking cool.
The link at the end of this article is of a house that has been completely kept up with authentic 1950s decor, and as long as you can't get enough of bright colors that make it look like noon when bathed in moonlight, then you are going to be floored by this shit!
I don't know when the word 'floored' came to mean hypothetically being knocked off one's feet. I'm certain it was before the 1950s.
Anyway, just look at this place. Personally, it made me long for a time where people covered up their bigotries, prejudices and alcoholism with pastels and "oriental" design. Where women still knew their place and pregnant teens were treated as though they donned the scarlet letter and were explained to others as victims of 'refer madness'.
A time where kids could still deliver newspapers without parental consent because they were still too scared to tell their parents about the guy who says his house is made out of candy...from the inside.
A decade where free love got you nowhere. Unless you were a dude, then it got you a promotion. Women could only be secretaries, which was the style at the time.
Finally, jello-molds. Everywhere. Fucking everywhere a goddamned jello-mold with fruit hidden like "treasure". Fruit is not a treasure it is a terrible necessity! \
I don't like a lot of fruit.
So please, enjoy this great thing guaranteed.....a 96-year-old woman's home, literally, from the 1950s.
http://www.hgtv.ca/photos/gallery/?gid=6de87f25228a34488b5868fba7132c55#!/6
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Beyonce
04.01.2014
I realize by the date you may assume that I'm foolin' you but indeed I am not.
Who run the world? Girls.
Who told us that? Beyonce.
Unlike a lot of people, I didn't really need Beyonce to tell me that I rule the world; I kind of figured with the comments I get about my great ass and how all I've ever had to do was say "I want" and pretty much everything came to me; but it doesn't hurt to get that little extra ego boost from one of the sexiest, most powerful women in the world.
Oh yeah, that Beyonce is a powerful woman. Jay-Z sure as hell couldn't stay away. Through all the gossip of their break-up, who came off as the biggest testes sack of them all? Oh my god, it was most definitely Jay-Z. Of all the woman at his "finger-tips", Beyonce was the one who broke every tip he poked at her, until he finally conceded that she was, in fact, the Queen and his lucky ass could only hope she'd keep him as her King. Lucky for that guy, she's also a smart business-woman (and loving, I'm sure. I just feel like she's a very loving woman, too, because you can be loving and hard as hell. Just ask me; I'll tell you).
So today's article goes to Beyonce; a great thing/person guaranteed.
I realize by the date you may assume that I'm foolin' you but indeed I am not.
Who run the world? Girls.
Who told us that? Beyonce.
Unlike a lot of people, I didn't really need Beyonce to tell me that I rule the world; I kind of figured with the comments I get about my great ass and how all I've ever had to do was say "I want" and pretty much everything came to me; but it doesn't hurt to get that little extra ego boost from one of the sexiest, most powerful women in the world.
Oh yeah, that Beyonce is a powerful woman. Jay-Z sure as hell couldn't stay away. Through all the gossip of their break-up, who came off as the biggest testes sack of them all? Oh my god, it was most definitely Jay-Z. Of all the woman at his "finger-tips", Beyonce was the one who broke every tip he poked at her, until he finally conceded that she was, in fact, the Queen and his lucky ass could only hope she'd keep him as her King. Lucky for that guy, she's also a smart business-woman (and loving, I'm sure. I just feel like she's a very loving woman, too, because you can be loving and hard as hell. Just ask me; I'll tell you).
So today's article goes to Beyonce; a great thing/person guaranteed.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Pizza By the Goddamnd Slice
02.21.14
First of all, did you know 'damned' has an 'e' in it, but if you put 'god' in front of it, the 'e' becomes unnecessary? What a powerful asshole, that god.
There is a delightful coffee shop/pizza joint/great-beer-selling joint in Peoria called 'Broken Tree'. About a year ago (or so) when this place opened, it started with just some really good coffee. Which was enough for me. Although at that time they ran banker's hours, but that's just because the guy who runs it also runs a bank and couldn't get out of the systemic oppression opposed upon him by his overlords.
I don't think that last part's true.
But if it is, he somehow broke the chains and like a renegade from the ashes (a.k.a. a phoenix), decided 'nay, no more banker's hours and this coffee could use a yeasty companion. I shall call it....pizza!', even though 'pizza' was already a thing. I think he was kidding.
So now, there's a new pizza joint in town. But do you know what the best part of a pizza joint is? If you can't answer this, then you are skimming, not reading, and therefore, not paying close attention. I hope you aren't like this when you're driving.
The answer, of course, is pizza by the slice, DUH! I am so disappointed when I go into a pizza joint and find out that I have to get an ENTIRE pizza for the price of an ENTIRE pizza when all I really want is ONE SLICE OF THAT PIZZA! So of course, I pay for the whole pizza, take my slice, and leave the rest with the perplexed, yet soon-to-be-full, restaurant staff. But never again...thanks to the business genius of this one individual and his lady, I can enjoy a single slice of pizza at anytime! Up to 7 p.m. because that's when I generally stop eating. I am on a pizza-only-before-7 diet.
First of all, did you know 'damned' has an 'e' in it, but if you put 'god' in front of it, the 'e' becomes unnecessary? What a powerful asshole, that god.
There is a delightful coffee shop/pizza joint/great-beer-selling joint in Peoria called 'Broken Tree'. About a year ago (or so) when this place opened, it started with just some really good coffee. Which was enough for me. Although at that time they ran banker's hours, but that's just because the guy who runs it also runs a bank and couldn't get out of the systemic oppression opposed upon him by his overlords.
I don't think that last part's true.
But if it is, he somehow broke the chains and like a renegade from the ashes (a.k.a. a phoenix), decided 'nay, no more banker's hours and this coffee could use a yeasty companion. I shall call it....pizza!', even though 'pizza' was already a thing. I think he was kidding.
So now, there's a new pizza joint in town. But do you know what the best part of a pizza joint is? If you can't answer this, then you are skimming, not reading, and therefore, not paying close attention. I hope you aren't like this when you're driving.
The answer, of course, is pizza by the slice, DUH! I am so disappointed when I go into a pizza joint and find out that I have to get an ENTIRE pizza for the price of an ENTIRE pizza when all I really want is ONE SLICE OF THAT PIZZA! So of course, I pay for the whole pizza, take my slice, and leave the rest with the perplexed, yet soon-to-be-full, restaurant staff. But never again...thanks to the business genius of this one individual and his lady, I can enjoy a single slice of pizza at anytime! Up to 7 p.m. because that's when I generally stop eating. I am on a pizza-only-before-7 diet.
Monday, February 17, 2014
A Few of My Least Favorite Things (i.e. Inspirations)
02.17.14
Mini Vans
Growing up, mini vans were a staple of the family who just knew they had to accept their place in life. There would be no 4x4 or Dodge Durango (family edition) for them, for their poverty-level pay wouldn't afford them beyond a vehicle who's biggest selling point is you can force a child into the back seat and - with a little DIY gumption - build a sound-proof barrier that could carry you across the country knowing everyone would get to live to tell about it.
But they also carry another reality; eternity. This is what you will drive for, literally, the rest of your life. Why? Because you soon realize that this mini van not only suits the needs of your ever growing family, but inspires that little voice in you that says "run.....run the fuck away now and they'll be able to talk about you in therapy with faint recollection and waning sincerity". It's inspiring; it makes you feel that no matter what, there's an escape.
I see things differently.
I see a vehicle that can sub for a boat, and that's not healthy. Any person who's had that vision has likely driven their car into a lake with their children inside. Not out of spite, but out of necessity. And then they blamed a black dude and the news bought it. So to combat postpartum depression and the struggle against racism, I choose not only to not purchase or drive a mini van, but I also choose not to have children & retain this border-line-phobic fear of the auto industries least cool vehicle design.
Stick Figure Window Decals
As a dear friend of mine once said "I'll never have any of those window decals on my vehicle because I don't want serial killers to know how many people they will have to murder" (that is from my dear friend Rishika. She's hilarious. You should follow her on twitter. You can find her on my twitter, @AmeriKaleena, and she'll be the only Rishika, that I know of).
Rishika was not without her point, and it is a very good one, but it's not what makes these stickers so frightening to me.
On the contrary, I'm afraid I would pray for that serial killer so I didn't have to soil my family's good name.
I'm not against families, really. I'm against advertising that you have one. Why do I need to know that? Why does anyone? Isn't it enough that during any sports season, I have a good idea of who your children are, what sports team number they wear and whether or not they're heading to state? Just so we're clear, yes, that should be enough!
I also fear that my approval of any forms of sticker decal families will equal pregnancy. You know when people try to make light of multiple pregnancies with the quip, "haha, don't drink the water!". I never drink the water. Never. If I come into contact with three pregnant women in one town, I will vomit any water I've drank that day and take two RUB-40's (I don't think that's right, but I like the idea that RUB is in the name of a pill that ends pregnancy. It's like a genie lamp, get it?). I don't fucking play when it comes to growing another human being inside my own body.
In conclusion, sticker family decals are great for serial killers, hell on those of us who are trying to be fiscally and environmentally responsible.
Baby Announcements
We are in an age of cleverness. It's everywhere. People are coming out with cakes, announcing their weddings while volunteering in the trenches of a third-world during its civil war, posting dog photos with the dogs dressed as people! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! You'll have to give me a minute; that last one always kills me!
Phew! Oh my.....haha....hahahaha..ahhh....
And of course, there are the baby announcements.
These were already weird, to me. For one, telling anyone about a pregnancy within its first three months is a black-cloud over the whole thing. It's bad luck. It's the one bad-luck thing I hold on to. That and eating an apple before sunrise.
They're also very weird. When a couple announces "they're" pregnant;
Which, okay, I'm going to side-track - we're pregnant? Where's your fetus, dude? Yeah, it's technically your sperm that made this possible (supposedly) but she's the one who's got this thing in her for 9 months - 6 at the least - and you're going to take any credit? In a lot of states, if you ditched out, you wouldn't have to pay child support b/c it's not worth it to a state run mostly by men, to chase down their hero! So until you correct that injustice, how about "She's pregnant and I helped but not as much as I should have and I will not take praise for the hell she's about to bear", as a subject for such an announcement?
Also, I don't hate men. If you're responsible and you love her and blah blah blah...congratulations on not being able to love another human that you didn't create, I guess.
I digress...
I recently saw an announcement in a time-line like the husband was filling his wife's ever-growing belly with air from a tire-pump and in the end - boom! A baby explodes from her! But the photos aren't very realistic when it comes to the birth. If that baby had had to come out of her belly, firstly, it would be bloody, messy and downright un-photogenic. Unless you're a med student and then you get off on that shit, you weirdo (thank you for your service).
Second, a baby doesn't necessarily come from a woman's belly! What lesson do these photos teach children? That having a baby is a beautiful, wonderful and painless experience. It's downright irresponsible.
These are just a few of my pet peeves that plague the town I live in because it's small, boring, and infested with families. Regardless, we're surviving. Thank you all for the support and letters of encouragement. They are greatly appreciated.
Mini Vans
Growing up, mini vans were a staple of the family who just knew they had to accept their place in life. There would be no 4x4 or Dodge Durango (family edition) for them, for their poverty-level pay wouldn't afford them beyond a vehicle who's biggest selling point is you can force a child into the back seat and - with a little DIY gumption - build a sound-proof barrier that could carry you across the country knowing everyone would get to live to tell about it.
But they also carry another reality; eternity. This is what you will drive for, literally, the rest of your life. Why? Because you soon realize that this mini van not only suits the needs of your ever growing family, but inspires that little voice in you that says "run.....run the fuck away now and they'll be able to talk about you in therapy with faint recollection and waning sincerity". It's inspiring; it makes you feel that no matter what, there's an escape.
I see things differently.
I see a vehicle that can sub for a boat, and that's not healthy. Any person who's had that vision has likely driven their car into a lake with their children inside. Not out of spite, but out of necessity. And then they blamed a black dude and the news bought it. So to combat postpartum depression and the struggle against racism, I choose not only to not purchase or drive a mini van, but I also choose not to have children & retain this border-line-phobic fear of the auto industries least cool vehicle design.
Stick Figure Window Decals
As a dear friend of mine once said "I'll never have any of those window decals on my vehicle because I don't want serial killers to know how many people they will have to murder" (that is from my dear friend Rishika. She's hilarious. You should follow her on twitter. You can find her on my twitter, @AmeriKaleena, and she'll be the only Rishika, that I know of).
Rishika was not without her point, and it is a very good one, but it's not what makes these stickers so frightening to me.
On the contrary, I'm afraid I would pray for that serial killer so I didn't have to soil my family's good name.
I'm not against families, really. I'm against advertising that you have one. Why do I need to know that? Why does anyone? Isn't it enough that during any sports season, I have a good idea of who your children are, what sports team number they wear and whether or not they're heading to state? Just so we're clear, yes, that should be enough!
I also fear that my approval of any forms of sticker decal families will equal pregnancy. You know when people try to make light of multiple pregnancies with the quip, "haha, don't drink the water!". I never drink the water. Never. If I come into contact with three pregnant women in one town, I will vomit any water I've drank that day and take two RUB-40's (I don't think that's right, but I like the idea that RUB is in the name of a pill that ends pregnancy. It's like a genie lamp, get it?). I don't fucking play when it comes to growing another human being inside my own body.
In conclusion, sticker family decals are great for serial killers, hell on those of us who are trying to be fiscally and environmentally responsible.
Baby Announcements
We are in an age of cleverness. It's everywhere. People are coming out with cakes, announcing their weddings while volunteering in the trenches of a third-world during its civil war, posting dog photos with the dogs dressed as people! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! You'll have to give me a minute; that last one always kills me!
Phew! Oh my.....haha....hahahaha..ahhh....
And of course, there are the baby announcements.
These were already weird, to me. For one, telling anyone about a pregnancy within its first three months is a black-cloud over the whole thing. It's bad luck. It's the one bad-luck thing I hold on to. That and eating an apple before sunrise.
They're also very weird. When a couple announces "they're" pregnant;
Which, okay, I'm going to side-track - we're pregnant? Where's your fetus, dude? Yeah, it's technically your sperm that made this possible (supposedly) but she's the one who's got this thing in her for 9 months - 6 at the least - and you're going to take any credit? In a lot of states, if you ditched out, you wouldn't have to pay child support b/c it's not worth it to a state run mostly by men, to chase down their hero! So until you correct that injustice, how about "She's pregnant and I helped but not as much as I should have and I will not take praise for the hell she's about to bear", as a subject for such an announcement?
Also, I don't hate men. If you're responsible and you love her and blah blah blah...congratulations on not being able to love another human that you didn't create, I guess.
I digress...
I recently saw an announcement in a time-line like the husband was filling his wife's ever-growing belly with air from a tire-pump and in the end - boom! A baby explodes from her! But the photos aren't very realistic when it comes to the birth. If that baby had had to come out of her belly, firstly, it would be bloody, messy and downright un-photogenic. Unless you're a med student and then you get off on that shit, you weirdo (thank you for your service).
Second, a baby doesn't necessarily come from a woman's belly! What lesson do these photos teach children? That having a baby is a beautiful, wonderful and painless experience. It's downright irresponsible.
These are just a few of my pet peeves that plague the town I live in because it's small, boring, and infested with families. Regardless, we're surviving. Thank you all for the support and letters of encouragement. They are greatly appreciated.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Coporate Irresponsibility
02.16.14
One week ago today, I saw a commercial that I found inappropriate and provocative (not sexually. Unless you're into murder fantasy, then you're going to LOVE this).
It was a commercial for Jello. I followed it pretty well at the time but it's been a week and I didn't have room for that memory. What I do remember of it is, it went from a family eating in their kitchen to a truck of filled with the jello gelatin powder backing up to their pool and proceeding to relieve their approximately three tons of cargo into the family pool. Instead of calling the authorities or at least Googling the safety of "swimming" in a pool full of gelled jello, the family threw caution to the wind and dove right in.
At least, that's what we're meant to believe because that is the moment that the commercial ends. It begs the question; when do we address corporate responsibility in advertising?
It didn't take the public long to crucify Joe Camel for being cool and making adult choices, but when Jello suggests, nay demonstrates, swimming in a pool full of their dense substance, we just sit back and laugh and laugh. While you know there are thousands dead because they are just dumb enough to make this their last contribution to society.
And yet, I see no picket signs, no uproar among MADD members or PBS supporters. In fact, if anything, hospitals are proving they support this type of irresponsible, corporate behavior by serving even more jello than they have in years past!
I am not saying jello doesn't have its place in Americana - it certainly does. Where would this country be if we couldn't make a jello cake that can double as a symbol for our patriotism? Where would our children be if we deprived the children of jello; the American Medical Association's most herbal remedy.
Well I tell you where we wouldn't be; America, goddammit.
Of course, this raises a unique conundrum indeed; how do we support the American freedom of speech whilst boycotting the very food that made this country what it is today? My only idea is this; when you pick up that box, put disgust behind it. Genuine disgust; make sure you crinkle your nose after sniffing the box. Shake your head as you place it with disdain in your basket, and don't stop shaking your head until you're out of the store. If you hold back, no one will believe you're on the side of the angels.
One week ago today, I saw a commercial that I found inappropriate and provocative (not sexually. Unless you're into murder fantasy, then you're going to LOVE this).
It was a commercial for Jello. I followed it pretty well at the time but it's been a week and I didn't have room for that memory. What I do remember of it is, it went from a family eating in their kitchen to a truck of filled with the jello gelatin powder backing up to their pool and proceeding to relieve their approximately three tons of cargo into the family pool. Instead of calling the authorities or at least Googling the safety of "swimming" in a pool full of gelled jello, the family threw caution to the wind and dove right in.
At least, that's what we're meant to believe because that is the moment that the commercial ends. It begs the question; when do we address corporate responsibility in advertising?
It didn't take the public long to crucify Joe Camel for being cool and making adult choices, but when Jello suggests, nay demonstrates, swimming in a pool full of their dense substance, we just sit back and laugh and laugh. While you know there are thousands dead because they are just dumb enough to make this their last contribution to society.
And yet, I see no picket signs, no uproar among MADD members or PBS supporters. In fact, if anything, hospitals are proving they support this type of irresponsible, corporate behavior by serving even more jello than they have in years past!
I am not saying jello doesn't have its place in Americana - it certainly does. Where would this country be if we couldn't make a jello cake that can double as a symbol for our patriotism? Where would our children be if we deprived the children of jello; the American Medical Association's most herbal remedy.
Well I tell you where we wouldn't be; America, goddammit.
Of course, this raises a unique conundrum indeed; how do we support the American freedom of speech whilst boycotting the very food that made this country what it is today? My only idea is this; when you pick up that box, put disgust behind it. Genuine disgust; make sure you crinkle your nose after sniffing the box. Shake your head as you place it with disdain in your basket, and don't stop shaking your head until you're out of the store. If you hold back, no one will believe you're on the side of the angels.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
BONUS.......quizzes & photo stalking
02.13.14
You literally do not have to wonder who you are...ever. There's a quiz for that.
It's so handy. All the questions I've ever wanted answered aren't going to take pain, suffering, joy or experience in order to receive said answer. Instead, all I have to do is open my web browser, click in the question bar on the Google homepage because (even though I see the cursor that's already appeared in the box, I don't necessarily trust it to have had the time to access my senior citizen lap-top's mouse pad),
so I click in the box and I ask for answers;
1. Why Am I Having Trouble Focusing?
A: You have adult ADD and are in immediate need of drugs to control your damn self. Source - Web Ph D (I'm protecting the website's anonymity).
2. Am I Gay?
A: Duh. But you like dick sometimes, too. You're going to struggle like hell with this one, hahahaha! Source - Anne Coulter (take that you uncool strumpet)
3. Are My Parents Really My Parents?
A: No. And they tried to give you up several times before running out of gas money and just deciding you could stay with them if you lived. Source - The Otey Family's 2001 Family Reunion
4. Will I Live A Long Life?
A: Oh absolutely - but you're going to struggle like hell with this one, hahahahaha! Source - my own funny joke (see #2)
As you can see, Google has friends in high places. Google knows you. It feels you. It's inside you because it's filthy but you just can't quit it.
Photo stalking is another thing the internet has given us. What's great about it is - everyone's doing it! So you're not the creep! You're just going with the times. You're hip! You're on point! You're going to be able to weed out the weak from the strong simply by looking at photos of them in their only escape from responsibility and the other 99%. It's allowed us to judge, wrongfully or not. It's also given us the self-esteem that comes from realizing you're so much better off than the other 1% of your friends. And there's really nothing quite like peace of mind to help you sink into your perfectly molded memory foam mattress.
You literally do not have to wonder who you are...ever. There's a quiz for that.
It's so handy. All the questions I've ever wanted answered aren't going to take pain, suffering, joy or experience in order to receive said answer. Instead, all I have to do is open my web browser, click in the question bar on the Google homepage because (even though I see the cursor that's already appeared in the box, I don't necessarily trust it to have had the time to access my senior citizen lap-top's mouse pad),
so I click in the box and I ask for answers;
1. Why Am I Having Trouble Focusing?
A: You have adult ADD and are in immediate need of drugs to control your damn self. Source - Web Ph D (I'm protecting the website's anonymity).
2. Am I Gay?
A: Duh. But you like dick sometimes, too. You're going to struggle like hell with this one, hahahaha! Source - Anne Coulter (take that you uncool strumpet)
3. Are My Parents Really My Parents?
A: No. And they tried to give you up several times before running out of gas money and just deciding you could stay with them if you lived. Source - The Otey Family's 2001 Family Reunion
4. Will I Live A Long Life?
A: Oh absolutely - but you're going to struggle like hell with this one, hahahahaha! Source - my own funny joke (see #2)
As you can see, Google has friends in high places. Google knows you. It feels you. It's inside you because it's filthy but you just can't quit it.
Photo stalking is another thing the internet has given us. What's great about it is - everyone's doing it! So you're not the creep! You're just going with the times. You're hip! You're on point! You're going to be able to weed out the weak from the strong simply by looking at photos of them in their only escape from responsibility and the other 99%. It's allowed us to judge, wrongfully or not. It's also given us the self-esteem that comes from realizing you're so much better off than the other 1% of your friends. And there's really nothing quite like peace of mind to help you sink into your perfectly molded memory foam mattress.
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