An open letter to my lover

I've made it known time and time again on this blog that I have a wee bit of an obsession with Google. Today, I am taking the next step and making it official. I am going up to the rooftops and shouting it out for all the world to hear: Google, I freaking love you.

Expressing one's undying love for someone (or in my case, something) isn't a new concept. Authors, poets, and drunk college kids have been doing it for centuries. William Shakespeare and Elizabeth Barrett Browning were the original gangsters of the love letter movement, comparing their lovers to a summer's day and whatnot. Then there was the guy who wrote "Roses are Red, Violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you". Dude, wherever you are, I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you. I don't know how any of us would've made it through Elementary School without your poetic words of wisdom. Of course, we can't forget Big's letters to Carrie after he left her at the altar. Oh wait. Big didn't actually write those letters. He just retyped other great men's letters and sent them off in an email.

an email? Really Big? You're like a multimillionaire, you couldn't afford some nice card stock with a little grosgrain ribbon from Paper Source?

pshhhh. you deserve every whack with those flowers you got Buddy. Mr. Strong and Silent type, my ass.

Now don't you worry Google, my love for you isn't fickle like Mr. Big's. You rank right up there with chocolate, tequila, and Sean and that's a pretty tough trifecta to break into...but you've made it. Welcome. I think we will all be very happy together.

and so for you, I have compiled these words of admiration.

An Ode to Google

How do I love thee... Let me count the ways...

I love you because you never laugh at me or judge me for my silly questions. Sometimes a girl's just gotta know things, like how to boil water or where do babies come from.

I love you because you never cease to amaze me with your accurate direction-giving skills. You're not like those silly guys who refuse to stop and ask for directions. You always know where you're going and you do whatever it takes to get there. and I do mean anything.

For instance, when making the trek from Japan to China, you my clever little Google, have opted to take a jet ski across the Pacific Ocean.


Most men would just hop on a plane to get across the ocean, but no no...not you. You're above all of that, you James Bond GQ McGoogler.

I love you because you showed my ex-boyfriend's salary before we even had our first date. You also showed me his high school ski racing scores and his entire Linked-In profile. (What? Ohhhh, don't even act like you've never google stalked someone. It's 2010 people, get with the program) I only wish that you had shown me that he was a lying, cheating scumbag back then too. But it's okay, Google. I forgive you. You made it up for me by auto-saving all of the closest frozen yogurt locations within a 10 mile radius. I love Frozen Yogurt way more than I ever loved him anyway.

I love you because you pretty much own me. Not in the unhealthy, codependent, this girl needs self-esteem type of way. More in the Brian Adams, Everything I do, I do it for you type of way. My blog? you. My email? you. My calendar? you. Your email capabilities are like a young girl on prom night, easy and free. (oh god I'm sorry I just said that. I don't think I can pull that joke off. I think you need to be a 17 year old boy to deliver it properly)

Today though, Google, today you took our love to new heights. To levels I didn't know existed. Today, you saved my life. You knew I had been craving my crazy ex-roommate's gnocchi recipe. I don't know how you knew, but you did. I think it's because you own , err I mean, are a part of my soul. I didn't have much to go on...just the words gnocchi and vegetables. I knew it was a famous Italian food chef, so we started the journey together. Emeril, Giada, Mario...the list was long so I hunkered down for some quality time with you. And yet, you were so selfless. You knew I had class at 10:30 and couldn't spend all day searching for the recipe and with a click of the mouse and a wooosh of the page, there the gnocchi recipe appeared on foodnetwork.com. My eyes welled up with tears of joy and I wanted to reach out and hug you right there in the school library. But I quickly realized that I couldn't after last week's stripper searching debacle.

Now, my honey bunches of Google love, I can thank you properly. Thank you for saving me from an almost certain demise. I really really really wanted that recipe. To the point where I was contemplating emailing her with something like "hi, I know we hate each other and you're crazy, but could I just grab that delicious gnocchi recipe from you? kthanksbye" and you swooped in like the hero that you are and prevented my potential death. (although, if said psycho ex roommate reads my blog I may already be condemned to a similar fate, but that is why I love the first Amendment. and that there are over 1,000 miles and an entire ocean separating us)

So even though E.B.Browning-izzle (I told you she was gangster) ended her love sonnet with "I shall but love thee better after death", we don't have to worry about that. I can love you just as good from where I am now, alive and kickin'. and you know what? It's Friday night, maybe you, me, the tequila, and Sean can go out for a night on the town. Just don't tell chocolate. She's not invited and she gets jealous very easily.

Editor's Note: updated at 8:40pm GMT. Yet another reason why I freaking love you, Google...I was trying to tell Sean the story about the Asian guy who flew in disguise from Hong Kong. The story had been on MSN all day but when I went to show it to him, it was gone. My first instinct was to turn to you for help. You are always there for me in my times of need. and do you know what I googled?

Old guy asian guy . That's it.

Now I realize that is quite a risky thing to be googling on a Friday night. But I did it. You know why? Because I trusted you, Google. I knew you wouldn't lead me astray. You wouldn't send me on a wild goose chase through anti-aging creams, local Chinese restaurants, or god forbid some nasty pornographic images that'd make me want to jab my retinas out with a hot poker. I even pushed the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button, you frisky little devil.

And lookie lookie at what I found:


Once again, our love prevails.