More uncool things on a Tuesday afternoon.

Obviously my mood has not been elevated. Pity... but the rain is falling even harder now. What's a girl to do but sulk?

So sulk I shall.

One of my high school teachers used to use phrases like, "You know what really sticks in my craw?" and "It just really ices my grommet." Now, I don't know what those things are, so I just sounded them out for spelling purposes. But here's what really ices my grommet:

Google is reading my email. Oh, and yours too.

It's not okay. (Hear that, Google?! I bet you're reading this right now, aren't you, you slimy sneak?) And don't act like you're not. It's just too much of a coincidence that I should write my friend Matt an email about Egypt on Sunday and by Tuesday the advertisements on my Gmail site are offering cruises on the Nile. I talk to my mom about Israel, and suddenly Google suggests I take a luxury tour of Petra. I join Wade's Pick 'Em league, and you suspect I'm interested in ESPN's latest updates on the safety of Larry Bird's job. Well, I'm not, so bug off!

Cut that crap out, Google. You are like a crazed ex-girlfriend rifling through my stuff, like an out of control mom reading my diary. So stop it, or else. I bet Yahoo! wouldn't read my email... I have options, Google. Don't you forget it.