My life is a big, fat cosmic joke of late. I can hear the fates chuckling evilly and plotting new and exorbitant twists of fortune. As it happens, I am Gumby, philosophically speaking.

Found a new book called Classic Literature Signs on to Facebook with such status updates as "Ophelia joined the group Maidens That Don't Float" and "Lady Macbeth could use a good stain remover." HA! Why do people fart in stairwells? Especially if they can hear the door opening one floor above them? Is it an altruistic effort to keep one's co-worker's sinuses clear? Or perhaps a new form of anti viral in this cold and flu season?

I want to wrap my hands around my children's necks and squuuuueeeeeeezzzzzeeee until their little eyes bug out of their sockets. Or at least get the oldest one to stop lurking like an overgrown garden gnome, not announcing his presence in the dark of night, while I wait for the spin cycle to finish. And then act as though I was the perpetrator when I scream like a fishwife.

Got my flu shot today, which I was planning on getting anyway, but would have been press ganged into by my employer overlords. The choices being get jabbed or wear a mask during all patient care for the next 6-8 months. They marked each of us with a red badge tag like we're in a gulag, making it easier to distinguish the protected from the unclean. My arm hurts like a sumbitch, due I'm sure to my delicate flower constitution; but Bill and the Nav both have to suffer through a series of Anthrax innoculations, making me a complete candy ass for complaining so I'll just shut the hell up now.

What's with the chick in Costco examining each and every egg out of a dozen and a half for any infinitesimal flaw like she had Steve Austin's bionic eye complete with cross hairs, and then replacing all flawed eggs with eggs from a separate container, equally well examined until she had 18 whole and perfect eggs. What the hell lady, I just want some eggs and milk. Open the carton, give a quick look and, barring any huge breaches in the integrity of the shells, move the fuck on. WHat was with the cross hair in Steve Austin's eye anyway? As far as I can tell, he was never lining up a shot; wouldn't it just be a distraction? Or did it just help to judge distance. And how come Jaime Sommers couldn't hear shit unless she pulled her hair away from her bionic ear? Was her hair that thick and luxurious? I'm just sayin'.