Big Data Secretly Uses Your Dirty Browsing History To Sell You Stuff!

Captive beneath an ominous cloud known as the web.

In the vast sea of cyber trends, it’s easy to become distracted by get-rich-quick scams, phony royal inheritances, glamorous product hype, celebrity gossip and endless streams of “News” from everybody everywhere. With so many glitzy pages promising riches, commercials pushing some berry for instant weight loss, new magic creams for effortless wrinkle removal, new drinks to attract our dream partner, magic pills to enhance the…package for that previously mentioned dream partner, it’s easy to get lost in the buzz of it all.  I find my internet browsing routine has become tedious and at times rather humiliating.  I am captive beneath the ominous cloud known as the web.

 can’t quit scrolling.  I can not do it.

Somewhere between tiny alert banners announcing  “One easy trick that doctors do not want you to know about!” and the latest “Top 10 Worst Celebrity Bikini Photos”   I get some satisfaction,  evidently.   Amidst all the chaos and hype, I click on like a steadfast soldier, totally committed to my daily Internet usage.   Without reason,  I MUST repeatedly check the social media updates of friends,  shamelessly compare my best selfies to those of my nemesis, who doesn’t know she exists as such, and I can’t forget to click around in my data dashboards with no real purpose, daily. In addition,  I must scroll through enhanced photos of the “it-girl” of the week, watch videos of Baby’s Laughing,  take a quick peek at the politically slanted headlines and reset a password or two along the way.   Now, if it wasn’t hard enough to stay focused on the wholesome things in life, it seems that the internet can now read my mind.   The Internet has officially climbed into my mind and actively monitors my thoughts, with my permission, in order to sell me exactly what I am looking for, via BIG BANNERS.   HUH?

Yes, the internet (or Bill Gates or Mark Zuckerberg from Facebook, or Google or Apple, or WHOEVER ) is now reading my mind better than any psychic alive. The ads that are selling embarrassing subject matter, like toe fungus fixer and medical marijuana candy canes are aimed right at me.  These ads turn my face bright red every day.It’ss comical and sad because I know why I am seeing ads about curing garlic breath and worse.

    The internet knows the real me.

The internet sells me what I have searched for at some point, but it seems like it’s only when my hot boyfriend is peeking over my shoulder as I try to type “everything.com” that my browser fills in the space with “everybodypoops.com”.   Omg.REALLY? That is when I begin fumbling with explanations like ” Everybodypoops.com was a site I referred to when my kid was potty training!”  Thanks a lot,  technology!  Now I can never escape my embarrassing moments.  I swear the pop up ads about buying more friends on social media sites- those are a fluke.  I never BOUGHT friends.  I just researched the idea. A few times.  I hope nobody sees my inquiry that says  “How to hide the smell of a fart”.  Oh, and the blinky photo of pot brownies that keeps showing up in little box and banner ads started appearing in my feed after a tipsy web search one night, in 2003.

I am human, and yes, my searches get a little out of hand. I hope that the internet will overlook the time I searched for ways to smuggle candy into a theater … because I repeat… I am HUMAN.  I am terrible at keeping my browsing history polite. I think all these naughty things, and I am forced to relive every single weak moment that has occurred, going back to the day the internet was invented. I go through all this, usually before I even eat breakfast. Then as I quickly finish a forgettable meal I point the focus to the to-do list of the day, just before I procrastinate some more.


I just realized something wonderful. 

It will be easy for me to reveal all of the dirty truths to you. It will be easy to confess and ponder here,  simply because I am cloaked behind a fabulous curtain of anonymity. For that I thank you WordPress.  You can’t see me, therefore, I don’t care if you judge me. Ha!

So yes you probably know me and no I will never tell you who I really am,  because you would not like me anymore if I was wearing my other, more boring mask.  The girl who follows rules and doesn’t stir trouble up … SHE wears the other mask and she wouldn’t dare say offensive things like I will.

Thus begins the saga.

****To get more BitsSpyder Girl in your head and on yourscreens , follow me, stalk me and find a way to talk to me about what you like to read. ****












Failure as a Catalyst To Success

Lemonade is evidence of our ability to alter nature just enough to make challenging tasks, such as eating a lemon, more tolerable, and possibly even delicious!

Thank you for stumbling across my written works.   Lucky Day!   I know that sounds cocky and presumptuous,  and I will admit now, in advance of your own discovery, that I am quite fond of myself.  I pat myself on the proverbial back, and I often give myself high fives.  Admittedly, when one gives one’s own self high fives it is clapping.    I love this  complex and winding mind of mine and I invite you to stay with me, follow me, keep  in touch.  Just don’t stalk me.  Unless you stalk me while showering me with divine gifts and with no intentions of ever hurting me.  In that case, stalk on stalker.

I am glad that I have your undivided attention at the moment. I invite you to continue to read along as I journey through a confusing but promising life as a Mother, and Wild  Woman, and one half of a two-person unit ( it isn’t marriage but it’s the next best thing!).   I have dabbled in darkness and in light.  I believe in the magnitude of our potential of the human beings story,  and I really wish I was a lot less lazy so I could contribute more magnificence to the Universe.  Aha!  This is a good time to practice a formulating theory.   I will reroute us, now, at this moment.  I will  start a positive sequence of events, and not a negative sequence.

My contribution will be of value if I use my gifts and talents to connect the pieces to life’s puzzle.   Here is the tricky new development in my world.

As I stumble along the previously paved neuro pathways in my mind, I have fallen many times.  I have fallen victim, fallen in love, fallen down,  fallen in line and fallen flat broke more than once.  There was a time when I had clarity.  There was a period of my life that was magical.  I had all the limitless fruits of good work, life was good to me and I was good to it.   So inevitably I made a few choices that led me to less fortune, because life’s carousel offers us so many temptations along the way… doesn’t it?    I am finding out now that all of my stupid decisions have a much longer lasting affect than the smart choices. Why is this ?   What a great and unfair paradox.  It is good for you so …it isn’t as enjoyable??  WTF.

To be continued.

Disenchanted Blue

Unraveled now, at the last strand of myself, I am stunned, and I am annoyed at my own reflection. Is it possible that one human can be the entire Universe? Of course I look around and see that clearly I am not the chair that I am sitting on. I am not the cigarette that I am sneaking as I type this. I am not the cracked iPhone screen through which I see the internet, and I certainly am not the mess I made of my life.
All of this shit and I am none of it, yet I experience this world, and this time that I am spending, as if I am the sole center of it all.
Sparks of rage can awaken something too hideous to truly be the center of it. Shimmers of light so beautiful reveal love so sweet I cannot be the reason for its existence.
Yet here I am, an aftermath of another love combustion, eyes red from tears and defiance. My nostrils sticky with salt from unwelcome tears. My cheeks wet with spineless little tears. Helpless, shameless, destructive, stupid tears.
Center of the universe. Me. Ya.

It is a strange and unfair sequence of reactions that we insist on, in matters of love.
To be continued and truly this one is a good one .

Which Is Sexier?Pajamas or Latex Panties?

Lucky for my man, I am a sinfully sexual creature.  I enjoy curling up into a purring, sweaty puddle at the end of a vigorous session between the sheets.  In fact I crave it.  On the bed.  Over the arm of the chair, in the kitchen at midnight, on the floor spontaneously, I love getting down with my love. It serves as fuel for my life.  Without it I get cranky.  Without it I get whiny. I get needy. Jealous. Untrusting. All kinds of bitchy things start spewing from my lips if I don’t get to wrap my lips around him, every where… get the drift?

The problem is I am a tiny bit demanding and I want to always be the center of his universe of course… but that’s impossible isn’t it? To ALWAYS be the complete focus of another…  it is not a rational desire but I can’t shake it.

I have this unreasonable need to be sexy and attractive to him at all times.  I probably look hilarious when I am pouting while trying to get some action but at the same time trying to be hard-to-get …  I am not convincing, as I strut by him slowly staring at his crotch my mind shouting

“Wait..oops I have to suck in my gut and poke out my rear end to appear sexy.  Now I can’t make it easy for him, gotta make him work for it… ”

All these thoughts on my Mind kill the horny buzz and it makes me tired and slightly less vixeny.    Dam.  So, sometimes I chicken out.  I reluctantly shy back into my closet where I peel of my latex panties and remove my high heel hooker boots. Unclasp my wonder mega boob bra and slip my old green tee shirt from Vacation when I was a teen, and pair it with my pink and yellow striped pajama pants. I wind up looking like a mix between a candy raver and a crack head, but it is comfort to the max so save the judgment.

Funny thing is, my pajamas are the cure for any sexual distance between my love and I.  I always forget.  As soon as he sees me wearing my big striped pants and any old teeshirt he becomes magnetized to me.  He can’t resist me for some reason when I am ready for a nap.  I can’t stop laughing even as I type this because I am picturing a common scene at my place. I am usually shuffling to the fridge at midnight in tattered pjs, and as I  rifle through the various leftovers  I turn around to be greeted by a whopping, full sail, ready-to-get -beddy lover. He can’t even try to hide that thing.  Really??

My latex looks BANGIN but this is what makes me irresistible. Old cotton.

So, ladies,  try relaxing.  Slip into your hideous you.  Your worst cozy stuff. Magic I tell you. Magic.

Sexy Reflection After Battling an Enemy

Today, I had to face my most unforgiving, most relentless critic.   She embodies the most cruel and unyielding monster.   I know when she is approaching, but I only get a minute or two to prepare for the tsunami that is her glare.  Today I decided I was going to try a new approach with this awful woman.  The moment she appeared before me, I gave her a bottled water and a honey crisp apple.  Then I pointed at her and declared “Don’t fuck with my head today, Lady!” I continued, quickly hissing “Be cool!”

I stood before her,  my finger pointed stiffly at her face.    I was quiet for a moment and, to my surprise, the beast retracted her claws.

I burst into laughter at my own reflection.   You see,  I am that woman.  I had won the battle against myself.   I bit into the delicious apple, and winked at myself in the mirror.   .   I am so crazy for about 2 days every month.

It is the cost of being an all American female . We are trained very young to behave like spoiled Disney step sisters.  I admit, in the changing days of each month there are days when I succumb to my early PMS training .  I become an Irrational cry baby, and since I am the queen of the universe all those near me should be armed with at least one cupcake.

I am amused and embarrassed, simultaneously.   I Imagine what the world experiences as I throw another tantrum. Then, as madness set it’s grips a bit tighter around my throat, the mere thought of my  extreme emotions… sends me back into a bad mood.

That is why I love and loathe being  a female.  We are at once, poetry and disruption.  Venomous Medicine, fierce ferocious  feline, wearing a polite mask  to be civil.  What has happened to women in America?   We, as a group, have become cranky, whiny, self entitled  narcissist thinkers.

Today I won though!  I offered myself an apple and a water instead of a delicious cupcake. This action is not as immediately rewarding as the frosting on a chocolate desert, but it is a way to simmer down my inner critic for the moment.

I feel like apples are my bullet proof vest in the war on me.   Now does anyone have a peanut butter chocolate milkshake I can wash it down with??  Just kidding.    Girls:  go be nice to your boyfriends and husbands.   They really are saints in street clothes.   Guys:  Tell her she is sexy even if she appears a tiny bit disheveled, that’s all it takes.

Bye for now !


Perceived Judgement

As a tolerant woman who has seen “it all” I can undoubtedly guess what is on any persons mind. I didn’t say I guess correctly.  The problem I have is my own wild mind.  I often times forget that when I am formulating my theories on why people act a certain way, I am GUESSING.   When I forget that I am just guessing, I essentially replace REALITY with my GUESSES and they are seldom mild on  the spectrum of possibilities.

For example,  if I wonder why a sales clerk is behaving in a cranky way,  I might jump to the assumption that she doesn’t like me.  I then might compute the reasons she doesn’t think I am amazing.

I would utter to myself.  “Is it because she saw me sniff my armpit? I need to be more discreet.” or I would re-cap all of the interactions with the sales clerk trying to figure out why I am the target of her grumpy daggers.

This is an extremely selfish point of view!  I am the center of MY world, but not the cashier’s world too.  How absurd is it that I am jumping to conclusions about the motives for other people and how they relate to ME and MY world, which all about me.

That is a wake up call people.

How selfish is it to GUESS what is going on in someone else’s head?  If they know your guessing, should they just ease your wretched worry by explaining?

How conceited must I be to continue pretending like someone else’s odd or uncharacteristic behavior is something I caused?

How cruel is it to GUESS about another persons reasons, then to consider you home-made hypothesis to be the truth?


Is it wrong to assume things if your gut instinct tells you the whole truth is not available?

Blog: A Stupid Word

Ok. I have this thing about words.  I like words whose sound when spoken aloud seem to fit the thing or concept they describe.

For example.  The word Baby is perfect.  It sounds like a chubby, squishy, cute-little- boo type of a word. Another perfect word like this is the word burp.  A burp IS what it sounds like, precisely.

Since I am a genuine word- nerd, this dork-babble would be incomplete without the evidence to support my point and the proper opposition is Called for also.

You know how I feel about magnificent words whose sound when pronounced matches the item or concept for which it aims to describe.  On the contrary, certain words have a completely unmatched phonetic sound in relation to itself. An example of this abomination is the word CUSTARD. It makes me cringe, that word.  First, we have the item, which is a fluffy, creamy, incredible desert that could save lives in my world, and we named it custard?  So many kinds of bad. I imagine the dried up shards of MUSTARD when I hear the word custard.  My husband wisely pointed out the wombo (It means word combo)  of Custard has two sounds that could be the wombo for CUSS and TURD. Not yummy things to associate with desert!  I bet this linguistic phenomenon has a name.  I will personally take you on a lunch date if you find this word and teach it to me in the comments.

My point has gone astray, I simply wanted to say that the word “BLOG” makes me feel stupid and embarrassed every time I say it.  Couldn’t it have been named something cooler and less barfy?  It is actually the sound people make when vomiting.  Think about it.  BlooooGggg .