The diagnosis

Standard

When you look in the mirror, do you look more circular than before? Have your hips begun to explore the horizon, one heading east and the other west? Do all of your new best friends have names like imrtru and lovesickcarrots? Do you understand what imrtru stands for? Have you started eating all of your meals with your imaginary friends in front of a computer screen? Have you experienced dropped eye syndrome: you find it difficult to raise your eyes from the screen to focus on live human beings? Do you sometimes discover that your spouse is gone and you have no idea where because you weren’t listening to a word he or she said because you were commenting on someone’s blog? Do you know the names of all your blog friends’ pets, but regularly forget the names of your spouse and children? Are you increasingly upset with people because they breathe and it breaks your concentration while you are reading online? If they chew food near you when you are trying to read, do you feel the urge to throw things at them?

 

If you answered yes to these questions, you need help. Probably more than I can give you. You have the classic symptoms of sittentuberlocus. (See below for an explanation of this word.) In layman’s terms, you are a couch potato. However, your case is more serious; your sickness is coupled with bloggitis: a serious inflammation of the brain. People with this disease often begin to grow large potato-like lumps on their bodies, called fat. Their vocal cords atrophy due to lack of use. Their hearing becomes increasingly sensitive and they startle at the sound of human voices. Bouts of chortling and sniggering are common, triggered by words and images on their computer screens. If the disease is left unattended, these people are usually left unattended because their caretakers can no longer communicate with them. The final prognosis is brain freeze, known as “death by blogging.”

 

What can be done? Frankly, not much.

 

However, I have developed a revolutionary new treatment that I am offering you free of charge! It is so new and revolutionary that I haven’t even fully developed it. So, you will need to come back tomorrow to find out more. But I can promise you this: my treatment will in no way cure you, change your life, help you make friends, succeed in business, or get published. In fact, I am so confident of that claim that I am offering a money-back guarantee!

 

See you tomorrow.

 

(*See above for the word: Few people have taken the time to research the etymology of this word. Sitten is Low German for “sit,” tuber is Latin for “hump or swelling,” and locus has two possible sources. Some say it comes from the Latin and means “location.” However, others, like myself, who have spent more than 30 minutes researching the word, believe it comes from the Spanish word loco, which is a nice way to say “crazy.” So it could either be translated as “the place a potato sits” or “crazy sitting potato.” Please note that although we call people with this disease “couch potatoes,” not all of them are found on couches. Some sit in recliners that rock.)

 

Photo found here.

31 thoughts on “The diagnosis

  1. You’ve inspired me to legally change my name to “Crazy Sitting Potato.” No doubt had my parents been Native American Indians that’s the name they’d have chosen.

    Thank you, Wise and Amusing One.

  2. Yes, yes, and yes to all the above. I think Hubsey went out for milk a few days ago – I don’t think he’s back yet – I haven’t really checked. But then I’ve been busy globe-blogging on my crazy-sitting-potato derriere haven’t I! Can’t do everything – like check on my family every minute of the day! I’ll be back tomorrow for treatment.

  3. I am self-diagnosing that I haven’t fully succumbed to this disease yet, as hubby is here and got the reasons for all of the chortles read out loud to him, as well as being shown the X-ray picture (in the ergonomic chair).

  4. Hi, my name is ntexas99, and I am a couch potato with mashed taters for brains. They are light and fluffy, with plenty of pepper to keep things spicy. As I sit here eating my cookie, sipping on soda, and reading your words, I can feel my hands becoming frozen over the keyboard, as my hips grow wider by the minute. The Cure? I’ll be back tomorrow to see what miracle your words will deliver. I’m counting on you. To be here again tomorrow – not to provide a cure – I mean, really, who are we kidding? Some people enjoy being ravaged by sittentuberlocus and blogitis. Big words with many syllables make them happy. They revel in their afflictions.

    • I just read your post and understand completely. Blogging is such a good, wonderful activity and yet it consumes so much time. It’s hard to find a balance. I’m left feeling tipsy all the time.

  5. Oh no! I sat down at the computer to actually WORK for a change…it has been two hours now and I haven’t got a lick of work done because I got caught up in catching up on reading blogs. I didn’t realize…I will have to come back tomorrow for your miracle cure. The question is, will I be able to break away?

  6. I believe I haven’t succumbed to the syndrome, so far, at least… but there is a certain frustration when I encounter more and more interesting blogs… but just don’t have the time to read them all. Worse yet, occasionally, I will read an interesting post, and decide to ‘follow’, and then find myself reading tedious posts. Just today, for instance, I read someone describing their problem with ‘writer’s block’ It seems to me that the only decent thing to do, when one suffers from writer’s block, is to stop writing. No? And as long as I’m complaining anyway… what are we obligated to do if someone spills a ‘like’ on our pant leg? Am I supposed to read all of the guy’s many posts till I find something I like?

    • I have grown afraid of even looking for new blogs to read. I can’t keep up.

      I sympathize with your dilemma. I, too, sometimes write tedious posts and wonder if people feel obligated to read them. I hope not.

      You made me laugh with that image of someone spilling a “like” on your pant leg. 🙂

  7. It’s certainly a disease that comes with a lot of happyness…in my own little world at least…I have to differ with you on the German word “Sitten”. The noun means manners/conventions and the verb “to sit” is “sitzen”. And all is proof that I just spend waaaaaay to much time on the internet….while sitting on my couch 😉

    • Certainly the disease brings a degree of happiness.

      As to the etymology of the English word “sit,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary, our word “sit” is related to the Middle Low German and Low German “sitten.” The same spelling is found in Middle Dutch. I haven’t studied German, but It seems that in modern German, “sitzen” is used in the future and conditional tenses.

      • I find etymology fascinating (probably like you) and in no way wanted to indicate that either you or the Oxford English Dictionary has it wrong.
        My grandma still speaks Low German and I always loved hearing it because its similarities to English are so fascinating. It’s a dialect that is dying out, neither my mum nor me can speak it.
        Admittedly the dialect varies depending on what township you live in, but I’ve never heard her saying “sitten” in the meaning of sitting. Mind you, I completely accept just because I haven’t heard her saying it could still exist! I will ask her in my next letter to her and shall report on her reply.

        • It would be interesting to hear if it is still used. Languages are never static, and word usage and spelling change over time. The first few entries for our English word “sit” include various forms: “sittende, satt, sitten, seten.” So, it may be necessary to dig into the history of Low German.

          The only thing I could find online was the etymology of the German word “sitzen.” The entry states says it derived from the Old High German sizzen, originally *sitten. You can find it here: http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/sitzen

          I’m glad you brought this up. It sparked some interest in looking closer at some of our Germanic roots.

  8. Excellent explication, as ever! I will confess that the visual image of today’s post is more than a tiny bit scary to this sufferer from Mad Potato Disease, as I just got my bone density test results and they’re not as perfect as I’d like–not terrible, but if I continue with this addiction to blogging, well, the writing on the wall will also become clearer. Sigh.

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