Sunday, February 26, 2012

Eff you, Internet.

Google is the devil.

Moreover, those self-diagnostic health websites are the devil.

Sweaty palms become cardiac arrest.

A sudden stomach upset becomes swine flu.

An overly-moody period becomes period cancer.

I don't think there is actually such a thing as period cancer.  But the internet is a big place, and I haven't done a very extensive study of the subject so far.

A rational person would just make a damn doctor's appointment, and stay the fuck off of WebMD until the day arrives.  An irrational person, (ok, me) would make an appointment, suddenly freak the fuck out, start to worry about things more than ever, and google every horrific thing that could possibly happen.  Or not happen.  Because we've established that such a person is fucking irrational.

So now I will go to bed tonight, and toss and turn all night with thoughts of dying from hemorrhoid cancer
 or vitiligo or the plague.  And rickets.  I think there's a thing called rickets.

I totally have rickets, I know it.

Fuck you, internet.  With a condom, tho.  So I don't get herpes.

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