While I don’t think I’m a full-edge hypochondriac, I am probably half the way there. Whenever I hear about illnesses, I tend to get the itches in the corresponding regions of my body, requiring a fair bit of willpower to tell myself that I’m just making that up because of the report I saw or the article I read. And then, there are of course the nights when I have twitches or even a slight pain around my hart or in the left arm and I am so sure there’s a heart attack coming up…
And you can be sure that things won’t get better when visiting those of my friends who study medicine. Quite a few of them do. And they take great pride in sharing stories about the weird and interesting cases they saw recently. Which invariably exposes me to a number of new illnesses that I could project onto myself. Oh, and they let me know that people at emergency rooms absolutely hate people who come there just because they are ‘sure’ they’ve had a heart attack… (apparently you won’t keep lying in bed idly thinking whether you’ve just had one if you really do).
Uh, and I really loved this one:
At Hypochondriacs Anonymous. People sitting around waiting for latecomers when the meeting was supposed to have started five minutes ago. Some guy speaks up and says: “Could we start please, my butt is starting to be sore”.
At the cinema tonight I saw a number of crap trailers. But I also saw two trailers I liked. One was for La Science des rêves (Science of Sleep) which looked hilariously weird – with choice quotes in the trailer and The Strokes in the soundtrack, the other is Little Miss Sunshine, which looked like fun as well, but may be a bit too ‘fun’ for my taste – particularly when it turns out that they don’t play The Flaming Lips throughout the film itself…
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