Google Wonderland
I think I may have a Google problem. Like all addictions, it began harmlessly enough. A handy tool for essential research conducted via the careful inputting of Boolean logic (“restaurants” + “Bristol” NOT “Nandos”).
But before too long I was Googling morning noon and night. You name it. Because the first time I realised I could type, word for word, whatever dimwitted query was buzzing in my head that day and get pages of precise answers it was opening time for those floodgates. Boolean shmoolean! Google instinctively knew whatever it was my heart desired.
When it introduced that drop-down menu of other’s people’s search terms, Google became even more fun. Finding out you’re not the only person in the world ever to wonder if Fleet Foxes really are singing “Lay me down donkey man” in ‘Quiet Houses’ (apparently they aren’t), where the season’s best jumpsuit can be found (TopShop) or how to say cheers in Chinese (“Nien nien nu e”) is really heart-warming. Again: I don’t need to know this stuff. I’m finding it out because I can.
It’s got silly now. Google has come to represent something it can never live up to: a combination of mother, deity and Stephen Fry. Several times this month I’ve assured myself “I’ll Google it!” in response to such questions as “Where is my phone?” or “What’s the name of Finlay’s mum again?” And, scariest of all, I am slightly pissed off when I realize I can’t.
Maybe one day I’ll Google myself to death, like Nicolas Cage with the liquor in ‘Leaving Las Vegas’. You’ll find me slumped over the keyboard while above, on the screen, in that little horizontal box of dreams flicker the words: “Who should I leave my jumpsuit to?”
Chic Geek – Guest Blogger
