.
Finally…. my Facebook algorithm gets me.
.

.
After weeks of revolting ball wash and genital deodorant ads, this….
.

.
Canned mules…. and a margarita mule at that.
.

.
And then?
They really nailed it.
.

.
Chicken fashion.
Now that’s more like it…
.
.
Finally…. my Facebook algorithm gets me.
.

.
After weeks of revolting ball wash and genital deodorant ads, this….
.

.
Canned mules…. and a margarita mule at that.
.

.
And then?
They really nailed it.
.

.
Chicken fashion.
Now that’s more like it…
.
.
Have you ever looked at ads for products and thought, that can’t be real?
.

.
Jerky flower bouquets for the special man in your life?
No way.
.

.
Way.
And they’re not exactly giving them away either.
.

.
The Ball Hammock.
Yes, my Facebook algorithm is back to its old tricks just in time for the holiday. Will I be buying my husband a rocket to put in his pants?
No.
.

.
I will not be asking him to release the Kraken either.
Well, not that one anyway.
And finally the last gift I won’t be buying him…
.

.
Ball therapy.
Just…. no.
.
.
Why?
.

.
Why does Facebook think I need a product from a company called Turdcules?
.

.
I understand algorithms, but I swear I’ve never posted anything about steamy butt nuggets.
.

.
The Throne Room newsletter?
Please, no.
.
.
Facebook has given me a wonderful Christmas gift.
.

.
My usual Ball Wash ads have been replaced by silly pet costumes.
.

.
Never mind the fact we don’t currently have a dog…
.

.
Or have ever bought one of these shamefully humiliating outfits.
.

.
I’m just glad to see an end to the scrotum cleaning products.
Ho! Ho! Ho!
.
.
Cats rule.
.

.
Thank you kitty, I’ve always hated that elf.
.

.
Ah, Facebook. Why your algorithms think I’m in constant need of this product is a mystery I fear I’ll never solve.
.

.
On the bright side, packing for that trip won’t take as long this year.
.

.
Yes Karen… He’s talking to you.
.

.
Chicken Godzilla. Rampaging through a Christmas village near you…
.

.
It’s 2020…. kiss your visions of sugarplums goodbye.
.
.
Facebook ads. They’re never ending and annoying and I pay them very little mind.
.

.
Yes, I like Hint water… but don’t need to see daily videos.
.

.
And yes, those are some sweet shades I could easily see myself rocking next summer, but they don’t need to join the other 15 pairs I never wear in my junk drawer.
While I realize these ads are targeted to me specifically based on algorithms of my search history, every once in a while they surprise me.
As this one did the other day:
.

.
Not being in possession of a pair, I assure you I have never actively searched for ball wash.
Trust me on this.
Of course since it popped up, I had to click. For research/ blog fodder purposes only you understand.
.

.
Don’t be whack, GIVE A SACK.
There’s an ad slogan designed to burrow deep into your frontal cortex.
And while I admit I chortled over this, I’m not chortling now. Because you know what happens when you click on a Facebook ball wash product ad?
This:
.

.
And this:
.

.
I am now being inundated with less than helpful product placement.
Man meat.
What have I done!
.