1,007 Crabapples for Google Ruining My Fun. Woof.
It just delivered me a headline spoiling the men's long program tonight. I had cheesy pretzels and ginger ale all set to go. Now my parade is rained on and I will boycott gmail for at least 12 minutes.
I want information, but not before I want it.
Crabapples with razorblades for you, anticipation-wreckers.