Belén.

“WANNA GO HALVSIES ON A BABY?!” is not a good pick-up line.

About a month ago, I posted an entry featuring a funny picture from Amazon. It was about a nicely-built wedding chapel that was being sold to the tune of 20K. However, what really caught my attention was the section underneath suggesting customers purchase gratuitous amounts of Sudoku books, because they’re somehow “related” items. Again: yeah, that makes total sense.

Anyway, I decided that it might be kind of entertaining to scrounge around and find some more mismatched “related items.” The goal was to start with an item, then click on said related item and see where I would end up.

My first item of choice was, of course, bacon. I eventually landed upon this:

The related items for the Patron Saint of Bacon were a book entitled “Everyday Drinking: The Distilled Kingsley Amis”, a magazine subscription to Psychology Today, a package opener and the Aerosmith Guitar Hero bundle. For Wii.

The first three items could be possibly [and I use the word “possibly” with reservations] tied to the toy. The customer that bought the Saint Anthony toy would probably be the type to enjoy not only the “Everyday Drinking” book, but would probably also benefit from the magazine subscription. As for the package opener [it’s a stretch, but]: maybe the toy’s packaging is just that hard to open?

That left the Aerosmith Guitar Hero bundle as the strangest choice. Because really, who is going to open up that cardboard box, take the toy out and say, “Oh man, I’m so excited this finally came in! Oh, you know what we should do now? WE SHOULD PLAY GUITAR HERO.”

Dammit, that makes total sense. Former statement redacted.

The next product was more intriguing than confusing:

“I don’t know about you guys, but after I finish the puzzle while wearing this badass shark hat, I’m going to cozy up next to the fireplace and read about the struggles of Ping. I might kill some Siths after that, and maybe explode into a giant fireball then punch some bears in the face. I dunno. I’m totally up for whatever.”

While in the costume area:

What, did you dress up as the banana from the “Peanut Butter Jelly Time” song and use the Dell as your boombox? Actually, no - no, it doesn’t even matter. There is no logical way to explain the connection between inflatable food items and technolo-

…Touché, Amazon customers. Touché.

At that point, I decided to reroute my search to give Amazon another chance:

I then promptly decided that because Amazon recognized a search for a “nautical themed pashmina afghan” as a Lonely Island reference that we could still be friends.

There weren’t many options to click through that didn’t keep me in the realm of inflatables, so after a while of typing in random phrases, I ended up with “Hello Kitty”:

Honestly, the connection between a Hello Kitty product and a book explaining puberty was understandable. Then I clicked on the book and discovered that it was mainly geared towards boys.

Stranger yet, the puberty book had its own awkward recommendation:

At first glance, it seemed pretty harmless. Then I did a double take:

I knew it! Amazon customers are pedophiles! How could I have missed that?

Amazon was getting creepier by the second. I hastily clicked another related item:

“You can be whatever you want to be when you grow up, Charlotte.” “Does that mean I can be an astronaut?” “Only if you work in the space shuttle kitchen. Where you belong.”

At that point, I started to become restless:

Because all women should be well-rounded enough to know how to craft a giraffe not only out of a tree, but out of their bath towels as well.

I was still pretty wrath-filled at this point, so Amazon turned autopilot on and eventually coupled my chainsaw and machete dreams with this:

So. The book about Robert Pattinson [including what I would imagine to have an entire chapter dedicated to his grotesquely hairy and misshapen nipples] suggested a book called “The End of Overeating: Taking Control of the Insatiable American Appetite.” How quaint! The targeted audience was correct for once!

As one last hurrah, I decided to click through the insanely dimwitted book selection until I ended with this:

That’s it. I’m done. Game over, Amazon, GAME OVER.

And the cherry on top of all of this?

After completing the search, I realized I was still logged into my personal account.

All of my browsing history was saved.

So now, every time I log into Amazon, I have to brace myself for Kama Sutras next to Sarah Palin’s complete joke of a book next to a giant gorilla costume next to Hello Kitty tutu skirts next to machetes next to coloring books next to oven mitts next to rubber chickens and bacon shaped Band-aids.

If my computer ever goes into the possession of the government, there is no way I’m going to be able to talk myself out of the looney bin. All because of my goddamn Amazon account.

Fuck.