Ok, So Get This...

I have bad luck. But, not in the got-held-up-in-a-back-alley or I-lost-all-my-money-gambling sense of the phrase: just really small things that hinder my daily progress/make others laugh at my minor misfortunes. Overall, I know life is good for me, but the cynic comes out of me every now and then. These are everyday occurrences and not wholly unusual, but the way they tend to pile on seems straight out of a movie/tv show. So incredulous are my mother and friends when I regale them with tales of my day (cuz I have to vent of course) they often say, "you should write these down!" And, now I will be.

Last night, I went through the elaborate process of budget hairstyling and managed to achieve a semi-perfect blowout, springy curls and all. Like any "beauty is pain" mantra worshiper, I endured a fitful night of sleep on balled fists to preserve my coiffure (yeah, it was that good). Because I took so long dipping into REM sleep, I woke up late. Jumping into my non-ironed clothes was punctuated with a frantic search for my gloves, resulting in spilling a large glass of water on my (closed, luckily) brand new laptop. Freaking out, (natch), I mopped it up with a towel: a towel on which were attached...dunh-dunh-dunh...said gloves, now sopping wet. With no time to cry over spilled milk - er, water, I headed out the door to begin my daily subway journey to university.

On the train, I mention the rain to my friend, and he makes an "umbrella-ella-ella" joke. I proceed to rant about how played the phrase is (it's 2008, people!) and the song as well. Like usual, I got dramatically overzealous in complaining about how overrated Rihanna and the Dream (songwriter) are in my distaste. Nothing new there. Upon leaving the Metro stop, I opened my umbrella (eh, eh) only to have it close on my head. Like a Venus Flytrap. The nifty little compact with the pop-out function snapped. I tried to force it back open only to realize I would have to hold it open the entire uphill journey to class (which isn't short, I should mention). Great.

Upon reaching class, I realize that my semi-closed umbrella caused a steady accumulation of water to drip, drip, drip onto my shiny bouncy hair, reducing it to a stiff, frizzy nest, as it would stay until the close of my day. As I pulled out my (soggy!) notebook from my (open!) tote, with numb red hands I concluded three things about God, or Karma, at least: He loves irony, has impeccable comedic timing, and is a huge Rihanna fan.