Scared to Click

Something Went Very Wrong With This Ad Because I Still Don’t Know What Vajamas Are

I’m minding my own business on Facebook, which mostly consists of me minding other people’s business, when an ad appears. An ad I am too scared to click on because WHAT THE OMG IS GOING ON HERE?

Scared to Click
I swear on everything Internet, I altered nothing in this ad. It didn’t need my help.

Why does Facebook think I’m interested in vajamas? Except for the obvious cat + pajama + vagina equation.

This is worse than the time Facebook tried to get me to like Jesus.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

9 thoughts to “Something Went Very Wrong With This Ad Because I Still Don’t Know What Vajamas Are”

  1. Facebook ads entertain me to no end. For days I have had an ad that says “Buy handmade items” and the picture is a plate of pinto beans.

    I can’t help imagine how blissful my life would be if my legs stopped talking so much and I had a giant plate of handmade pinto beans of my very own!

    A while ago I had an ad for adoption that was something like “You and Your Partner Can Both Be Dads.”

    It’s amusing how supporting the LGBT community, talking about your cats, your pajamas and living in New Mexico makes Facebook assume you are a gay man looking to adopt, while wearing pajamas and craving pinto beans that were handmade (must be the art).

  2. Velour?

    But seriously, companies are getting WAY too into this combining-letters-and-words-to-make-a-new-product thing. I was at Old Navy the other day, and they actually have a top that is called a “tami”… it’s a cross between a tank and a cami. But, as I told my very patient husband after I got home, a cami IS a tank. So I have no idea what they’re playing at. I bet that more than one person named Tammy thinks it’s weird.

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