Life's a Bitch...Get Over It!

Once, many eons ago, I was sitting by myself in the Waffle House that once existed on South U.S. 441 in Gainesville late at night, doing something esoteric like deciphering a Vietnamese translation of Jack London's short stories or codifying physics formulae into matrices while eating one of their classic breakfasts with raisin toast and cheesy scrambled eggs. A party was seated in the booth in front of me, and everybody seemed to have something to say to each other about what was going on in their lives. All of it was negative, one complaining rant after another about their problems with people in their families, people at work, people, people, people. I could tell that the group as a whole seemed to be getting off on each other's woes, almost as if they were passing around a joint. But there was one middle-aged, haggard-looking woman there whose only contribution to the conversation was the periodic interjection, "Life's a bitch." It could well be that this woman was drunk (they all seemed to have been drinking) and she was trying to fit into the spirit of the proceedings without being able to come up with any beefs of her own. But the more I thought about it, the more I came to a different conclusion. Maybe she was trying to tell others, in her own limited way, that all of their travails were normal elements of a typical life and that, sure, problems make you feel bad, but EVERYBODY'S got problems. So stop whining like a bunch of crybabies. Yeah sure, life's a bitch... get over it and move on!

Then again, most likely she was just stone drunk!