Erm Erm Erm. I think I'm jealous.
Something totally disconnected, yet perhaps more incredulous are these...

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Some pretty girl killed herself today. Someone old died lonely. And our lives just got enriched with trivia. I feel hopelessly angry at nothing right at this present moment.