Dear Heavens Conspiring Against Me:
This is getting ridiculous.
First you take away my favorite German scarf. Then, my indispensable Book of Days. Then my excellent and well-beloved Thermos (but I know precisely where that is and I'll be retrieving it tommorrow, you petty excuse for a kleptomaniacal meta-cosmic abstraction). Now, my cell phone...?
If you want a piece of me, you come on down here and face me, you pansy-colored ass-hat.
I. Will. Eat. You.