You Think You've Got Problems, Daniel Powter?

I had a really jarring experience last night. I'm still a little shaky, so forgive me if I'm not myself.

I was making coffee for this morning, and despite the fact that I had my glasses on (which usually cause me to see worse than without them, they're so old) I happened to glance at the ingredients on my sack of coffee. "100% Decaffeinated Arabica Beans."

My first thought: They start with decaf, then inject caffeine? I thought it was the other way around? (Hey, it was late. I was sleepy.)

I shook the nearly empty bag. Then, the realization hit me: I've been drinking decaf for the last two weeks, thinking it was regular.

Suddenly, the cosmic tumblers kicked into place. The exhaustion. The headaches. The irritability. The constant need to buy clothing and shoes. (Oh, wait. That's not unusual). I had seriously been thinking about calling the doctor to report my malaise, thinking my thyroid might be hypo- or hyper-active. Whichever.

Repeatedly drinking decaf which you believe to be caffeinated coffee is like being given a placebo in an experiement you have no idea you're participating in. Am I in my own personal Truman Show? Are there ginormous movie sets everywhere I go, with some bald director hoping I do something really uncharacteristic because of my lack of caffeine, like road rage or mowing the lawn?

It was a very surreal moment.

So today, I doubled up on the caffeine, just to be sure. Kinda like when I used to forget to take my birth control pills one morning--I'd double up the next day and use condoms that night.

I don't think I'll need the condoms for a lack of caffeine in my body though. I know I drank decaf when I was pregnant, but not till after I got pregnant. Getting pregnant was not a direct result of drinking decaf.

That was the Guinness.

********************************************************************

Awhile back I wrote that there weren't many causes less troubling to me than the cork shortage. I like real cork in my wine just like the next lush, but I can deal with rubber corks or, less typically, screw caps.

Then, I found a news item that changed all that. The Cork Shortage isn't my new least important cause. This is.

Call the Pope! Tell him to forget about The DaVinci Code! THE MODELS AREN'T POSING!!!!!

I know everyone's gotta stand for something, but c'mon. Are we really supposed to be moved by the sight of pouty models, well, pouting?

"My industree is treeeting mee so unfairlee. I will nut smile, and I weel cross my arms. And my styleest weel nut brush my hair. Weee are een protest! Quoi? Donatella ees here? I weel go. But I weel nut go via the catwalk. Because I am protesting!"

Yes, you do that. People are starving, no clean water, no clothing, being shot in the street. But you go have your little protest and don't pose. I promise we'll all give a rat's ass.

Just as soon as someone fixes the rest of the world's problems. But we'll get to yours soon, I promise.