Amazon Addiction

I love Amazon. No, correction, I am obsessed with Amazon. I spend hours a week meticulously going through all of my recommendations not only to find new stuff, but to laugh at the bizarre things Amazon thinks I might want. For example, because I said I own the Dream Day Wedding game, they thought I might like a Playtex 18 hour bra. Because I bought a Scooby Doo movie, I might like a power saw. I'm more than a little creeped out that, because I bought my dogs some Snausages through their grocery store, they think I should have Slim Jims. I don't even want to know the correlation between the two, but I'm kind of thankful to be a non-mammal eater right about now.

I have yet to figure out their process for recommendations, but I'm sure it's fascinating. Sometimes Amazon must really think they know better, because no matter how many times I tell them I'm not interested in the Burt Reynold's collection, they still keep throwing it up there with every click of the reload button. Amazon also assumes I need to have every item duplicated on every platform available. You said you own Thrillville off the Rails for XBOX 360, we think you should also have it for the Wii! You said you own Nightmare Before Christmas on DVD, buy it on Blu-Ray too! Don't have a Blu-Ray player? Scroll down a few lines, we've recommended twenty nice ones for you! If they don't work, destroy them with that power saw we recommended.

I am also obsessed with adding and deleting things from my six wish lists (one for Jake's books and DVD's, one for Jake's toys, one for books for me, one for DVD's, one for Games, and one for other random stuff). My child's wish list is full of six pages of stuff he doesn't even know he wants. At one point, I thought he might want every single Blues Clues book ever made. I keep adding Llama Llama books to it, even though he only liked the first one, and I have to beg him to let me read the second one. I just really like saying Llama Llama. He also shows no interest in the majority of "Caldicott Winners" books that I get him. If it doesn't have a bad guy and a superhero in it, he's pretty much not interested. He just started getting into fairy tales. Tonight I read him Rumpelstiltskin and Rapunzel. I have questions now. They're far more disturbing than I remember. Did you know the girl in Rumpelstiltskin marries the King who originally locked her in a tower to spin straw into gold, and they lived happily ever after? What kind of message is that sending? Should I be worried that my son is going to lock his pre-school girlfriend in a closet now?

But I digress. This is my tribute to the little company that could, the little book seller that turned into the largest internet retailer of all time. This is my thank-you to them for filling my boring hours with amusement and excitement. I used to order from them every other day when I had Prime. Pay $80 once a year, get unlimited two-day shipping for free. Except how is it free when I had to pay $80 to get it? I was short on cash this year, so I had to pass on the renewal. Now what will I do? Where will I be able to find six tubes of expiring bug-bite lotion for $2? Four bottles of expiring Tylenol PM for $5? What will my son do now that I can't log on and purchase a toy he doesn't even know exists for 85% off? It's a nightmare, it's depressing, and I'm going through impulse purchase withdrawal. Probably a good thing, since I can't even afford food on my own anymore.