>Back when I had chest congestion and the only thing Google could help me with was whether or not I knew complex equations involving quantum mechanics, I decided to try my hand at the old standby:
Everyone knows that you don’t use the Internet to look up shit like “sniffles” because what will come back in the results is shit like “OH FUCK you have Ebola” or “it’s obviously syphilis, you hideous crack whore” but I figured I’d give it a shot because this technology has to have gotten better, right?
Here’s what came up when I picked ‘nasal congestion’ as my symptom:
Personally, I’d take the “crack whore” insult over being the incurable victim of what is, apparently, a deliberate terrorist attack using castor beans.
Way to encourage me to up my Xanax prescription, assholes.
This is when I realize that WebMD changed their format so you could just plug in any combination of symptoms and they tailor the results so I just started randomly picking some stuff to see how ridiculous things got.
“I’ve been lifting heavy weights for, like, 3 years now and for some reason I have muscle growth.”
“Dude. Don’t fuck around with that shit. You need to see a doctor or at least look that up on the Internet. The longer you wait, the more muscular you’ll probably get.”
Maybe I’m underestimating the effects of narcotics, but I’m pretty sure that if you take Ecstasy and the Ecstasy makes you giddy, the fact that you’re giddy is – in all likelihood – THE FACT THAT YOU TOOK ECSTASY.
Either that, or you’re bipolar. Now you know.
Stop yelling and laughing at me.
I know you’re all thinking the same thing I am which is, “My GOD. How do you look so good, Rodney?” but I think the bigger question here is, “What the Christ is a ‘Jumping Frenchman?'”
Of course if you Google this crap you come up with this:
I’m pretty sure if you were dancing and a French guy landed on your face you’d not only be fully aware of this but would also have a tough time seeing the computer to go on WebMd in the first place so I checked their glossary instead.
Turns out this is some weird mental disorder and has nothing to do with ballet dancers sitting on your face.
Talk about hitting home.
I’m looking at these conditions, though, and none of them seem right. Maybe with some editing…
Still doesn’t explain my friggin’ sniffles, though.
Anyone want some castor beans?