(Just for some background here… I was over at Rose Fox’s place and she said “Dear Internets…” and it broke something loose in my brain. Why don’t they have Google Letters, like Penthouse Letters, geek porn letters, basically and well here I am. The first letter also has credit with Rose Fox since she said it first.)

Dear Google,

Tonight I logged onto the Internet without protection. I turned off all scanning: shut down my virus protection, turned off Ad-Aware and flicked Windows Firewall off with a sigh. I had never done anything like that before.

It was so freeing.

I had never felt the Internet around me so purely, untainted and unrestricted. Every url slammed into my browser fast, ActiveX scripts running free all over my hard… spinning… drives. I gasped as my pages faulted and found my hand curled against my neck when an ad popped up on it’s own.

Was it illicit and dangerous? Maybe. Was it freeing and mind-blowing? Oh Gods, yes.

Dear Google,

Just the other night I ordered groceries on-line. I’d done it before, of course, who hasn’t, but this time ended up quite differently. First it was all normal. I put in my order and hit purchase. My credit card worked fine and I got an email confirmation.

But then.

I got mail from Customer Support saying they needed to inspect my order again. I mailed the guy back and we chatted a while, I was just trying to work out what was wrong. He asked for my AIM SN to talk to me off company time, saying he could explain what happened faster that way. I said “Sure”, because what could be the problem, right?

Well it wasn’t long before he stopped telling me about my order and started asking me what I was wearing. I was shocked, but I admit I was also intrigued. He sounded cute. Soon enough… well, I won’t make you blush, Google, but it took me a while to remember how to type with only one hand, and I had to find more batteries.