I use an iPhone app to track my cycles. I joke that this makes me feel like a badass cyborg, but what it actually makes me is a woman sitting at the bus stop hitting buttons with disgusting pink frowny faces to indicate my mood. The graphic indicating breast tenderness is a fork. None of my guy friends understand why I think this is funny.
Last week I got mad at Amazon because it recommended I buy The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Great Sex. Tonight it recommended I buy Scotch tape, dishwasher detergent, a book about the New World Order and the international banking conspiracy, and another book asserting that the moon is a manmade object. I realize this is the sort of thing that happens when your purchasing history includes The Turner Diaries and the collected works of Charles Fort. The fact that I pay this much attention to Amazon’s recommendations certainly suggests that I’m an idiot, and that my sex life is on the lackluster. Fine, Amazon. You win.