Enchanted? Or Merely Dazed?

Shut up already. I DID decide to host ads--not for the thrill of annoying my elderly parents with the pains of depositing a two-cent check to my bank account, but rather for the sheer joy of logging on to find out what Google, in its infinite wisdom, chose to advertise in my blog that day. It's sort of at arranged marriage made by a matchmaker who doesn't know you that well and doesn't really give a rat's ass either. I am hoping that I am NOT advertising PayDay Loans, or Get the Monster C@ck You Deserve! (I'm so afraid that would still have a man attached to it) but I have to admit I get such a kick out of reading a friend's Facebook ad and automatically getting directed to a site for "Plus Size Over Forty Lovin'!" It would be too ironic if my first ad was for some crappy credit union and not for say something I love (Strivectin, J'Adore Dior, Target, See's Chocolate).