I’m not really clear on what life was like before Google. I may have actually blocked it out. Sort of like computers and cell phones, only different. I don’t remember the moment that Google came into my life. I don’t remember thinking “HOLY FLAMING MONKEY BALLS! THIS IS AMAZING!” Nothing. I vaguely remember my cousin showing me a “search” he did on the “world wide web” and then explaining to me that it was like a card catalog. Or something. It’s almost as if from there, without my knowledge or consent, it became an appendage. It’s like going to the bathroom when you wake up. If you have a question, you Google it. Without Google I don’t even know what color my own eyes are.

It amazes me that it can be so a part of my life and yet I can’t remember when my dependency began. I remember my first cell phone. It was a humiliating second hand Ericsson from the discarded pile of cell phones at my dad’s office. I was so embarrassed by it that I immediately did everything but turn tricks until I could afford to buy myself a Motorola StarTAC. (I’ve always been a touch materialistic.)

My first computer was in ’94. It was a Dell. My brother David immediately downloaded porn onto the desktop in a folder labeled “David’s Research Report.”

But again. No idea about Google. None. Nothing. Don’t remember my first search. Don’t remember why I abandoned Ask.com and Yahoo. I know nothing. Except nowadays I wouldn’t know my face from my asshole if I couldn’t Google it and get a diagram.

Someone recently told me that Internet searches are killing the planet faster than GM which completely wrecked my day. I tried to go a day without Googling anything and I make it until about 10:30AM. It was at that moment that I felt it imperative that I immediately know the calories in a kiwi and the whole plan was shot to hell. That opened Pandora’s Box and I was back to my usual. The sickest part about my searches is how they go completely off the rails and I end up millions of thought miles away from my initial search. I’ll start off Googling recipes for dinner and end up with live video of earth worms having intercourse.

My internet history at work is famous for it’s list of search terms. Just last week I started researching baby names after I saw something on Facebook about the growing popularity of certain names. After calling the hubs twice to tell him factoids I’d learned about baby making (did you know it’s best to avoid lubricants and use egg whites? Say what?) I was cut off. By the end of the day I had put together a ten year baby plan based on the information that I learned. By the time I got home the hubs was a father of three (the ideal number for bonding) and managing his schedule to be home with the boys (I know the secret to dictating my babies’ sex) in the mornings (children mature more holistically when one parent is available to them full time in the first five years).

When Bing came out with those commercials, I knew I was not their target audience. The product actually murdered everything I love about Google. I like to be led down a dark and windy path. I like now knowing if mustache is going to yield the obvious or something more scandalous and R rated. I don’t want Bing to decide. I don’t want Bing to make my life more focused and succinct. I want to continue to grow my useless knowledge base exponentially until I don’t even need Google because I will be Google.

That’s right. I’m going to be Google.