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Lately Facebook’s algorithms have given me non stop ball wash and butt deodorant. I have no idea why …. as I don’t have balls or need to perfume my ass.
But this?
This is definitely a bridge too far.
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Tofu!
For the love of all that’s holy…. no.
I don’t eat it.
I won’t eat it.
And you can’t make me eat it.
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A more disgusting thing to put in my mouth I have never met.
And that’s saying something.
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Our town has come up with some marvelously creative ways to keep kids active and engaged during the Covid months. This is the latest.
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Businesses and public areas are all displaying clues.
In other news, people are offering free treasures.
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Dirty, smoke stained old cups from a discontinued set? Christ, don’t tell my husband.. he’d be on them like white on rice.
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An icicle contest. Most excellent!
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Our big one had grown to 5 feet so I proudly entered it to take the lead…..
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Until Robert showed up.
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Damn you Robert. You and your massive projectile.
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The crazy cat lady Facebook algorithm is in full swing.
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Does my furniture require cat feet stockings?
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It most definitely does not.
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That goes the same for my feet….
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And my lips.
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Cat ear beret? Okay, I admit I could almost see myself wearing that.
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Is it me, or does this cat look like he’s plotting his owner’s slow and painful dismemberment?
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Unisex? On what planet….
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But there.
At least they got something right.
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You upload one little photo of your new family member to Facebook.
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Just one, to show everyone how sweet he is…. and that damn algorithm kicks into high gear.
Now, along with the constant ball wash and toilet incense ads?
I’m getting these:
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Cat butt pillow cases?
No.
I love our new little furry friend…. but have absolutely no desire to slip off into dreamland with my face on his ass crack.
One feline does not a crazy cat lady make.
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Turnabout is fair play, right?
So after all those awful Ball Wash ads I kept getting I suppose this was inevitable.
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A pain free ride?
I’m not sure whether to be relieved…
Or scared.
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Finally…. my Facebook algorithm gets me.
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After weeks of revolting ball wash and genital deodorant ads, this….
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Canned mules…. and a margarita mule at that.
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And then?
They really nailed it.
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Chicken fashion.
Now that’s more like it…
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Have you ever looked at ads for products and thought, that can’t be real?
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Jerky flower bouquets for the special man in your life?
No way.
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Way.
And they’re not exactly giving them away either.
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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.
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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…
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Ball therapy.
Just…. no.
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Why?
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Why does Facebook think I need a product from a company called Turdcules?
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I understand algorithms, but I swear I’ve never posted anything about steamy butt nuggets.
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The Throne Room newsletter?
Please, no.
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Because the ball wash ads weren’t bad enough.
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Now I’m seeing this on my Facebook feed.
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Butt incense and polite bacteria?
Sorry, I find them both rude.
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Oh, look. Bright colors and assorted flavors.
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My privates do indeed go everywhere I go (except my uterus which I left at the hospital 5 years ago) but they will continue to go without butt incense for the foreseeable future.
Of this I’m sure.
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I had a blissfully ball free month or two but now they’re back.
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The bizarre ball wash ads Facebook thinks I need to see.
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This time it’s filled with helpful Valentines Day hints… like nut rub.
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And while I am nuts about my husband?
I won’t be purchasing anything from this tacky line of products anytime soon.
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River's world..... 