Dear Underwear Company,
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Dear Underwear Company,
I bought a pair of underwear. They are nice underwear. I like my new underwear. The underwear are well made and comfortable. I am likely to buy another pair of underwear when I need them. At least, I was.
At first, everything was great with my new underwear. They were cute, really cute. They had hearts and pretty sugar skulls and slightly creepy but also cute dead looking but still colorful butterflies with translucent wings. They were comfy underwear, and made me feel good. When I wore them, I felt cute myself. They were, I thought at the time, the perfect underwear.
So when I got a message about my new underwear, I was excited. Yes, I said, I do love my underwear. Yes, I said, I would buy more underwear. Yes, I thought, this is what buying underwear should be like.
But then another message came. And another. And another. Soon, I was getting multiple messages a day.
Yes, my underwear arrived. Yes, I like my underwear. Yes, I know you have other styles of underwear. Yes, I still like my underwear. Yes, I want to unsubscribe. Yes, I know you still have other styles of underwear. Yes, I saw this new line of underwear. Yes, I really tried to unsubscribe. Yes, I know where I can buy more underwear. Yes, I tried again to unsubscribe. Yes, please, I’m begging you, unsubscribe me, please.
It was becoming too much. I didn’t realize just how far it would go.
Soon I saw my underwear on every site I visited. Reading the news. “This is your underwear.” Looking for a recipe. “Your underwear look like this.” Chatting with my friends. “I know what you are wearing for underwear.”
There was nowhere to go. Anywhere I went, you were there, showing me my underwear, telling me you could find me, letting me know in your friendly voice of customer service and product joy that you will never leave me. Making very sure I understand that you will always be right there, wherever I go, whatever I do. You will will always be as close to me as my underwear.
I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this and I don’t know how to escape. I’m just a girl who wanted a new pair of underwear. I didn’t want to be married to your presence, for ever stalked through the darkened streets of the information highway unable to escape. I didn’t want to be followed around the internet worried who is watching me behind every page scroll. I just wanted a pair of underwear.
Please, please stop stalking me. Please, just let me go. I’m begging you. I don’t even wear underwear anymore. I can’t wear them. I wear loose pants, long skirts, with nothing on underneath. I’m afraid of even trying to wear underwear. I can’t stand the feel them constricting me, holding me, pinning me to an existence of reminders and suggestions and ever present images of what I might be wearing underneath my clothing.
I can’t take another day of you hiding beneath an amateur video of baby sea otters playing in the surf only to spring out at me to tell me that I should buy another pair of your underwear in the Baby Sea Otter Collection which you know I will like. Which you are telling me I will like. Which you are making clear that either I will like or you will follow me until I see reason and buy another pair of underwear so you can wrap yourself around my existence, slowly, gently, firmly, like a python coiling around its beloved prey.
Please, Company. Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want another pair of underwear. I don’t want an unsubscribe button, I don’t want an apology, I don’t want reconciliation. I don’t want anything from you at all. I just want to have a normal life. I just want to be left alone.
Please, Company. Please just stop following me. Please.
@FinalGirl happened to be listening to this while reading this and had an emotional experience https://youtu.be/bcEoHjGdbbY
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Dear Underwear Company,
I bought a pair of underwear. They are nice underwear. I like my new underwear. The underwear are well made and comfortable. I am likely to buy another pair of underwear when I need them. At least, I was.
At first, everything was great with my new underwear. They were cute, really cute. They had hearts and pretty sugar skulls and slightly creepy but also cute dead looking but still colorful butterflies with translucent wings. They were comfy underwear, and made me feel good. When I wore them, I felt cute myself. They were, I thought at the time, the perfect underwear.
So when I got a message about my new underwear, I was excited. Yes, I said, I do love my underwear. Yes, I said, I would buy more underwear. Yes, I thought, this is what buying underwear should be like.
But then another message came. And another. And another. Soon, I was getting multiple messages a day.
Yes, my underwear arrived. Yes, I like my underwear. Yes, I know you have other styles of underwear. Yes, I still like my underwear. Yes, I want to unsubscribe. Yes, I know you still have other styles of underwear. Yes, I saw this new line of underwear. Yes, I really tried to unsubscribe. Yes, I know where I can buy more underwear. Yes, I tried again to unsubscribe. Yes, please, I’m begging you, unsubscribe me, please.
It was becoming too much. I didn’t realize just how far it would go.
Soon I saw my underwear on every site I visited. Reading the news. “This is your underwear.” Looking for a recipe. “Your underwear look like this.” Chatting with my friends. “I know what you are wearing for underwear.”
There was nowhere to go. Anywhere I went, you were there, showing me my underwear, telling me you could find me, letting me know in your friendly voice of customer service and product joy that you will never leave me. Making very sure I understand that you will always be right there, wherever I go, whatever I do. You will will always be as close to me as my underwear.
I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this and I don’t know how to escape. I’m just a girl who wanted a new pair of underwear. I didn’t want to be married to your presence, for ever stalked through the darkened streets of the information highway unable to escape. I didn’t want to be followed around the internet worried who is watching me behind every page scroll. I just wanted a pair of underwear.
Please, please stop stalking me. Please, just let me go. I’m begging you. I don’t even wear underwear anymore. I can’t wear them. I wear loose pants, long skirts, with nothing on underneath. I’m afraid of even trying to wear underwear. I can’t stand the feel them constricting me, holding me, pinning me to an existence of reminders and suggestions and ever present images of what I might be wearing underneath my clothing.
I can’t take another day of you hiding beneath an amateur video of baby sea otters playing in the surf only to spring out at me to tell me that I should buy another pair of your underwear in the Baby Sea Otter Collection which you know I will like. Which you are telling me I will like. Which you are making clear that either I will like or you will follow me until I see reason and buy another pair of underwear so you can wrap yourself around my existence, slowly, gently, firmly, like a python coiling around its beloved prey.
Please, Company. Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want another pair of underwear. I don’t want an unsubscribe button, I don’t want an apology, I don’t want reconciliation. I don’t want anything from you at all. I just want to have a normal life. I just want to be left alone.
Please, Company. Please just stop following me. Please.
@FinalGirl@blackqueer.life This but with literally everything.
-
Dear Underwear Company,
I bought a pair of underwear. They are nice underwear. I like my new underwear. The underwear are well made and comfortable. I am likely to buy another pair of underwear when I need them. At least, I was.
At first, everything was great with my new underwear. They were cute, really cute. They had hearts and pretty sugar skulls and slightly creepy but also cute dead looking but still colorful butterflies with translucent wings. They were comfy underwear, and made me feel good. When I wore them, I felt cute myself. They were, I thought at the time, the perfect underwear.
So when I got a message about my new underwear, I was excited. Yes, I said, I do love my underwear. Yes, I said, I would buy more underwear. Yes, I thought, this is what buying underwear should be like.
But then another message came. And another. And another. Soon, I was getting multiple messages a day.
Yes, my underwear arrived. Yes, I like my underwear. Yes, I know you have other styles of underwear. Yes, I still like my underwear. Yes, I want to unsubscribe. Yes, I know you still have other styles of underwear. Yes, I saw this new line of underwear. Yes, I really tried to unsubscribe. Yes, I know where I can buy more underwear. Yes, I tried again to unsubscribe. Yes, please, I’m begging you, unsubscribe me, please.
It was becoming too much. I didn’t realize just how far it would go.
Soon I saw my underwear on every site I visited. Reading the news. “This is your underwear.” Looking for a recipe. “Your underwear look like this.” Chatting with my friends. “I know what you are wearing for underwear.”
There was nowhere to go. Anywhere I went, you were there, showing me my underwear, telling me you could find me, letting me know in your friendly voice of customer service and product joy that you will never leave me. Making very sure I understand that you will always be right there, wherever I go, whatever I do. You will will always be as close to me as my underwear.
I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this and I don’t know how to escape. I’m just a girl who wanted a new pair of underwear. I didn’t want to be married to your presence, for ever stalked through the darkened streets of the information highway unable to escape. I didn’t want to be followed around the internet worried who is watching me behind every page scroll. I just wanted a pair of underwear.
Please, please stop stalking me. Please, just let me go. I’m begging you. I don’t even wear underwear anymore. I can’t wear them. I wear loose pants, long skirts, with nothing on underneath. I’m afraid of even trying to wear underwear. I can’t stand the feel them constricting me, holding me, pinning me to an existence of reminders and suggestions and ever present images of what I might be wearing underneath my clothing.
I can’t take another day of you hiding beneath an amateur video of baby sea otters playing in the surf only to spring out at me to tell me that I should buy another pair of your underwear in the Baby Sea Otter Collection which you know I will like. Which you are telling me I will like. Which you are making clear that either I will like or you will follow me until I see reason and buy another pair of underwear so you can wrap yourself around my existence, slowly, gently, firmly, like a python coiling around its beloved prey.
Please, Company. Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want another pair of underwear. I don’t want an unsubscribe button, I don’t want an apology, I don’t want reconciliation. I don’t want anything from you at all. I just want to have a normal life. I just want to be left alone.
Please, Company. Please just stop following me. Please.
@FinalGirl , lol, sign of the times.
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J jwcph@helvede.net shared this topic
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Dear Underwear Company,
I bought a pair of underwear. They are nice underwear. I like my new underwear. The underwear are well made and comfortable. I am likely to buy another pair of underwear when I need them. At least, I was.
At first, everything was great with my new underwear. They were cute, really cute. They had hearts and pretty sugar skulls and slightly creepy but also cute dead looking but still colorful butterflies with translucent wings. They were comfy underwear, and made me feel good. When I wore them, I felt cute myself. They were, I thought at the time, the perfect underwear.
So when I got a message about my new underwear, I was excited. Yes, I said, I do love my underwear. Yes, I said, I would buy more underwear. Yes, I thought, this is what buying underwear should be like.
But then another message came. And another. And another. Soon, I was getting multiple messages a day.
Yes, my underwear arrived. Yes, I like my underwear. Yes, I know you have other styles of underwear. Yes, I still like my underwear. Yes, I want to unsubscribe. Yes, I know you still have other styles of underwear. Yes, I saw this new line of underwear. Yes, I really tried to unsubscribe. Yes, I know where I can buy more underwear. Yes, I tried again to unsubscribe. Yes, please, I’m begging you, unsubscribe me, please.
It was becoming too much. I didn’t realize just how far it would go.
Soon I saw my underwear on every site I visited. Reading the news. “This is your underwear.” Looking for a recipe. “Your underwear look like this.” Chatting with my friends. “I know what you are wearing for underwear.”
There was nowhere to go. Anywhere I went, you were there, showing me my underwear, telling me you could find me, letting me know in your friendly voice of customer service and product joy that you will never leave me. Making very sure I understand that you will always be right there, wherever I go, whatever I do. You will will always be as close to me as my underwear.
I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this and I don’t know how to escape. I’m just a girl who wanted a new pair of underwear. I didn’t want to be married to your presence, for ever stalked through the darkened streets of the information highway unable to escape. I didn’t want to be followed around the internet worried who is watching me behind every page scroll. I just wanted a pair of underwear.
Please, please stop stalking me. Please, just let me go. I’m begging you. I don’t even wear underwear anymore. I can’t wear them. I wear loose pants, long skirts, with nothing on underneath. I’m afraid of even trying to wear underwear. I can’t stand the feel them constricting me, holding me, pinning me to an existence of reminders and suggestions and ever present images of what I might be wearing underneath my clothing.
I can’t take another day of you hiding beneath an amateur video of baby sea otters playing in the surf only to spring out at me to tell me that I should buy another pair of your underwear in the Baby Sea Otter Collection which you know I will like. Which you are telling me I will like. Which you are making clear that either I will like or you will follow me until I see reason and buy another pair of underwear so you can wrap yourself around my existence, slowly, gently, firmly, like a python coiling around its beloved prey.
Please, Company. Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want another pair of underwear. I don’t want an unsubscribe button, I don’t want an apology, I don’t want reconciliation. I don’t want anything from you at all. I just want to have a normal life. I just want to be left alone.
Please, Company. Please just stop following me. Please.
@FinalGirl
Creepy but awesome....2 things. Ublock origin, dont use chrome. And what ads you are forced to see in life, let them teach you what products to NEVER BUY.
Advertisers must go extinct because it is the same technology weaponized for political mind control. A society can't have ads but not have the rich controlling peoples minds and elections. Its all or nothing.
-
Dear Underwear Company,
I bought a pair of underwear. They are nice underwear. I like my new underwear. The underwear are well made and comfortable. I am likely to buy another pair of underwear when I need them. At least, I was.
At first, everything was great with my new underwear. They were cute, really cute. They had hearts and pretty sugar skulls and slightly creepy but also cute dead looking but still colorful butterflies with translucent wings. They were comfy underwear, and made me feel good. When I wore them, I felt cute myself. They were, I thought at the time, the perfect underwear.
So when I got a message about my new underwear, I was excited. Yes, I said, I do love my underwear. Yes, I said, I would buy more underwear. Yes, I thought, this is what buying underwear should be like.
But then another message came. And another. And another. Soon, I was getting multiple messages a day.
Yes, my underwear arrived. Yes, I like my underwear. Yes, I know you have other styles of underwear. Yes, I still like my underwear. Yes, I want to unsubscribe. Yes, I know you still have other styles of underwear. Yes, I saw this new line of underwear. Yes, I really tried to unsubscribe. Yes, I know where I can buy more underwear. Yes, I tried again to unsubscribe. Yes, please, I’m begging you, unsubscribe me, please.
It was becoming too much. I didn’t realize just how far it would go.
Soon I saw my underwear on every site I visited. Reading the news. “This is your underwear.” Looking for a recipe. “Your underwear look like this.” Chatting with my friends. “I know what you are wearing for underwear.”
There was nowhere to go. Anywhere I went, you were there, showing me my underwear, telling me you could find me, letting me know in your friendly voice of customer service and product joy that you will never leave me. Making very sure I understand that you will always be right there, wherever I go, whatever I do. You will will always be as close to me as my underwear.
I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this and I don’t know how to escape. I’m just a girl who wanted a new pair of underwear. I didn’t want to be married to your presence, for ever stalked through the darkened streets of the information highway unable to escape. I didn’t want to be followed around the internet worried who is watching me behind every page scroll. I just wanted a pair of underwear.
Please, please stop stalking me. Please, just let me go. I’m begging you. I don’t even wear underwear anymore. I can’t wear them. I wear loose pants, long skirts, with nothing on underneath. I’m afraid of even trying to wear underwear. I can’t stand the feel them constricting me, holding me, pinning me to an existence of reminders and suggestions and ever present images of what I might be wearing underneath my clothing.
I can’t take another day of you hiding beneath an amateur video of baby sea otters playing in the surf only to spring out at me to tell me that I should buy another pair of your underwear in the Baby Sea Otter Collection which you know I will like. Which you are telling me I will like. Which you are making clear that either I will like or you will follow me until I see reason and buy another pair of underwear so you can wrap yourself around my existence, slowly, gently, firmly, like a python coiling around its beloved prey.
Please, Company. Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want another pair of underwear. I don’t want an unsubscribe button, I don’t want an apology, I don’t want reconciliation. I don’t want anything from you at all. I just want to have a normal life. I just want to be left alone.
Please, Company. Please just stop following me. Please.
@FinalGirl @purplepadma I stayed in a hotel this week, and they emailed and Whatsapped me constantly during my stay.
“Would you like to check in online?”
“How was your check in experience?”
“Is everything alright with your room?”
“Do you need anything for your stay?”
“How was your first night?”
“Have you tried our spa?”I nearly reported them to the cops for stalking.
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(Yes, I pulled it from the archive because it was deleted.)
@FinalGirl It's all over the place lately. Did something happen?
-
Dear Underwear Company,
I bought a pair of underwear. They are nice underwear. I like my new underwear. The underwear are well made and comfortable. I am likely to buy another pair of underwear when I need them. At least, I was.
At first, everything was great with my new underwear. They were cute, really cute. They had hearts and pretty sugar skulls and slightly creepy but also cute dead looking but still colorful butterflies with translucent wings. They were comfy underwear, and made me feel good. When I wore them, I felt cute myself. They were, I thought at the time, the perfect underwear.
So when I got a message about my new underwear, I was excited. Yes, I said, I do love my underwear. Yes, I said, I would buy more underwear. Yes, I thought, this is what buying underwear should be like.
But then another message came. And another. And another. Soon, I was getting multiple messages a day.
Yes, my underwear arrived. Yes, I like my underwear. Yes, I know you have other styles of underwear. Yes, I still like my underwear. Yes, I want to unsubscribe. Yes, I know you still have other styles of underwear. Yes, I saw this new line of underwear. Yes, I really tried to unsubscribe. Yes, I know where I can buy more underwear. Yes, I tried again to unsubscribe. Yes, please, I’m begging you, unsubscribe me, please.
It was becoming too much. I didn’t realize just how far it would go.
Soon I saw my underwear on every site I visited. Reading the news. “This is your underwear.” Looking for a recipe. “Your underwear look like this.” Chatting with my friends. “I know what you are wearing for underwear.”
There was nowhere to go. Anywhere I went, you were there, showing me my underwear, telling me you could find me, letting me know in your friendly voice of customer service and product joy that you will never leave me. Making very sure I understand that you will always be right there, wherever I go, whatever I do. You will will always be as close to me as my underwear.
I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this and I don’t know how to escape. I’m just a girl who wanted a new pair of underwear. I didn’t want to be married to your presence, for ever stalked through the darkened streets of the information highway unable to escape. I didn’t want to be followed around the internet worried who is watching me behind every page scroll. I just wanted a pair of underwear.
Please, please stop stalking me. Please, just let me go. I’m begging you. I don’t even wear underwear anymore. I can’t wear them. I wear loose pants, long skirts, with nothing on underneath. I’m afraid of even trying to wear underwear. I can’t stand the feel them constricting me, holding me, pinning me to an existence of reminders and suggestions and ever present images of what I might be wearing underneath my clothing.
I can’t take another day of you hiding beneath an amateur video of baby sea otters playing in the surf only to spring out at me to tell me that I should buy another pair of your underwear in the Baby Sea Otter Collection which you know I will like. Which you are telling me I will like. Which you are making clear that either I will like or you will follow me until I see reason and buy another pair of underwear so you can wrap yourself around my existence, slowly, gently, firmly, like a python coiling around its beloved prey.
Please, Company. Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want another pair of underwear. I don’t want an unsubscribe button, I don’t want an apology, I don’t want reconciliation. I don’t want anything from you at all. I just want to have a normal life. I just want to be left alone.
Please, Company. Please just stop following me. Please.
@FinalGirl
It's a metaphor for AI, isn't it?
I fell the same way. -
@FinalGirl
It's a metaphor for AI, isn't it?
I fell the same way.@Kaneda_runs @FinalGirl not really, just the way companies do their 'customer engagement' now.
I booked a restaurant for my birthday, once, never been before or since, and had similar.
I get emails and texts about my hair products.
It's exhausting. -
@FinalGirl
Creepy but awesome....2 things. Ublock origin, dont use chrome. And what ads you are forced to see in life, let them teach you what products to NEVER BUY.
Advertisers must go extinct because it is the same technology weaponized for political mind control. A society can't have ads but not have the rich controlling peoples minds and elections. Its all or nothing.
@TrimTab @FinalGirl OK read the room. This is not about ads.
It's about the follow-up you get when you buy a product or experience. Ads are mentioned but aren't the point. Don't be a reply guy. -
Dear Underwear Company,
I bought a pair of underwear. They are nice underwear. I like my new underwear. The underwear are well made and comfortable. I am likely to buy another pair of underwear when I need them. At least, I was.
At first, everything was great with my new underwear. They were cute, really cute. They had hearts and pretty sugar skulls and slightly creepy but also cute dead looking but still colorful butterflies with translucent wings. They were comfy underwear, and made me feel good. When I wore them, I felt cute myself. They were, I thought at the time, the perfect underwear.
So when I got a message about my new underwear, I was excited. Yes, I said, I do love my underwear. Yes, I said, I would buy more underwear. Yes, I thought, this is what buying underwear should be like.
But then another message came. And another. And another. Soon, I was getting multiple messages a day.
Yes, my underwear arrived. Yes, I like my underwear. Yes, I know you have other styles of underwear. Yes, I still like my underwear. Yes, I want to unsubscribe. Yes, I know you still have other styles of underwear. Yes, I saw this new line of underwear. Yes, I really tried to unsubscribe. Yes, I know where I can buy more underwear. Yes, I tried again to unsubscribe. Yes, please, I’m begging you, unsubscribe me, please.
It was becoming too much. I didn’t realize just how far it would go.
Soon I saw my underwear on every site I visited. Reading the news. “This is your underwear.” Looking for a recipe. “Your underwear look like this.” Chatting with my friends. “I know what you are wearing for underwear.”
There was nowhere to go. Anywhere I went, you were there, showing me my underwear, telling me you could find me, letting me know in your friendly voice of customer service and product joy that you will never leave me. Making very sure I understand that you will always be right there, wherever I go, whatever I do. You will will always be as close to me as my underwear.
I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this and I don’t know how to escape. I’m just a girl who wanted a new pair of underwear. I didn’t want to be married to your presence, for ever stalked through the darkened streets of the information highway unable to escape. I didn’t want to be followed around the internet worried who is watching me behind every page scroll. I just wanted a pair of underwear.
Please, please stop stalking me. Please, just let me go. I’m begging you. I don’t even wear underwear anymore. I can’t wear them. I wear loose pants, long skirts, with nothing on underneath. I’m afraid of even trying to wear underwear. I can’t stand the feel them constricting me, holding me, pinning me to an existence of reminders and suggestions and ever present images of what I might be wearing underneath my clothing.
I can’t take another day of you hiding beneath an amateur video of baby sea otters playing in the surf only to spring out at me to tell me that I should buy another pair of your underwear in the Baby Sea Otter Collection which you know I will like. Which you are telling me I will like. Which you are making clear that either I will like or you will follow me until I see reason and buy another pair of underwear so you can wrap yourself around my existence, slowly, gently, firmly, like a python coiling around its beloved prey.
Please, Company. Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want another pair of underwear. I don’t want an unsubscribe button, I don’t want an apology, I don’t want reconciliation. I don’t want anything from you at all. I just want to have a normal life. I just want to be left alone.
Please, Company. Please just stop following me. Please.
@FinalGirl Yes I want to unsubscribe
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T tofticles@helvede.net shared this topic
