Dear Dr. Google:

Remember when I was sad because you wouldn't let me be a hypochondriac?

you have redeemed yourself.

because it turns out that the petichiae on my stomach? it couldn't possibly be from the fact that I tend to rest my burning hot laptop on my bare skin. No, it's more likely that it's from Leukemia. Or Bolivian Hemorrhagic Fever. Which is highly contagious! So me and my kids better rush to the ER.

and remember that one time when they sky turned green and then I fell off my bike and broke my arm? it turns out that it was most likely a childhood seizure.

in fact, all those times that I randomly got that really funny taste in my mouth as a kid? not from bad dental hygiene! also childhood seizures!

and it turns out that hangnails cause amputations.

and that hickeys cause cancer.

and my kids' imaginary friends are a sign of schizophrenia.

and the fact that I keep writing letters to inanimate objects (and Bush) blaming them for things that are obviously my fault? some sort of personality disorder.

maybe even a sign of cyberchondria.

phew. I was worried there for a bit.

xo

me

Because ads can be amazingly entertaining

I put some ads at the bottom of the page not because I want to make a gazillion dollars (that would be nice, of course, but I think I've made a grand total of $0.27 off them, so I'm guessing it's not gonna happen) but because I thought it would be funny to see what google thinks of my blog. See, apparently, they have magic google-bots that troll your website for key phrases and then they use some schmancy algorithm to figure out what kind of person would read such a crazy page. All very illuminating, I assure you.

Today, I'm particularly amused by the plethora of "OMG I might have cancer!" ads, followed by a contextually funny "Mormon Singles" thing.

Especially because (confession) I was just searching Web MD because it's entertaining to have my computer make fun of me for being a hypochondriac. (And, just FYI, today the internet tells me that I don't have cancer, just jet lag. I mean, sheesh!)

you know how the internet is supposed to make it easy to be a hypochondriac?

my internet won't let me.

me: "OMG, I have been throwing up for DAYS, I must have cancer."

internet: "No, it's the stomach flu."

me: "appendicitis?"

internet: "stomach flu."

me: "but my tongue has turned BLACK. BLACK!!"

internet: "you've been taking pepto bismol, haven't you."

me: "what?"

internet: "Pepto turns your tongue black."

me: "well explain to me why the lymph nodes in my legs hurt so bad."

internet: "does your back hurt?"

me: "um..."

internet: "it's not your lymph nodes, it's your back. take some advil and go to yoga more often."

me: "I DO GO TO YOGA."

internet: "but you've been so busy this month you haven't gone much, right?"

me: "um..."

internet: "and that's when those 'lymph nodes' started hurting, right?"

me: "um..."

internet: "Y.O.G.A. (and advil.)"

me: "okay, well explain to me why there's this numb spot on my shoulder blade. I must at least have some sort of neuro degeneration?"

internet: "is the spot about an inch long and about two inches from the bottom of your shoulder blade?"

me: "how did you know that?!"

internet: "your bra is too tight. get a new one."

me: "that costs money."

internet: "I can help you get another job, you know. That might be a better use of my time anyway."