The Random Ads
I've been amused lately watching the random 'content driven' ads in the banner at the top of my page here. Apparently the banner picks up words in the blogs to find ads that relate to the content of the blogs. For awhile, it was stuck advertising places to buy scrubs. I guess it was fascinated with my blog detailing my wish that I could wear scrubs to work everyday. (my archived permalinks aren't working lately, or I'd link directly to my fine literary work about scrubs on 3/19, scroll down the page)

Now the banner is promoting links to grief and loss recovery and broken hearts and whatnot. I even saw an ad here earlier today advertising caskets and urns. That'll teach me to write about death, huh. I mean, I wasn't aware that the urn business really needed to be advertised. Seems like they've pretty much got the entire world population as a customer at some point. But I guess if I was in the market for a good urn, it would be helpful to have an ad for it magically appearing at the top of my page. However, since I'm okay for now in the urn department, I'll wait for a better ad to come along.

Please don't feel obligated to buy an urn from the link above on my account. You may want to also wait til something really fun is advertised above, based on words found in my blog.

Monkey doodle wishing for a pickle roasted hopscotch basket of marbled candied yams, with a helicopter swarming near Africanized killer bees wielding jackhammers in the balmy rainforest of Brazil, near a Krispy Kreme on the southside of North Hollywood, in the apricot scented candleshop by my mom's Harley Davidson museum arboretum. Bananas, she said. I need more bananas, topped with banana flavored ice cream, traveling by banana boat, near the banana trees in the banana district of Bananatown. Keeping the aardvark inside the station wagon, the pole vaulter ran over the vintage television showing the way to pour milk without splitting the atom, in a flowerpot. Gardening is the loophole of rocket science, often misread as a traveling shoe in the ocean.

Challenge extended to the banner . . .

C.T.