Isn't it Ironic?

That song has always bothered me. I think it's true title is "Ironic" by Alanis Morisette. To begin with, I find her highly hypocritical. I mean, there was all the man-hating, girl power stuff that "Ironic" came from, and then as soon as Mr. Reynolds came along she had the happy-go-lucky pop churning out like nobodies business, and right after he moved on to greener, less angsty, pastures she was right back down to man-hating. So which is it? Are women supposed to only feel happy and valued with a man in their lives? It would seem so.
But that one song in particular... nothing that happens in it is actually ironic... it's just bad luck. Maybe that's the irony of the song, but something tells me Miss. Teen-Angst had actual irony in mind. What the world needs is some true irony, the world needs to laugh at itself instead of becomming embittered songstresses.
The greatest source of this "worldwide [web]" irony is FML. It's an enjoyable way to capitalize off the pain of others. In case you haven't hopped on the most recent internet bandwagon (I feel like that word should be updated considering the inclination towards technology the world has experienced...), FML is basically a site where people can post sad, hysterical, ironic, and terrible occurrances in their lives. In the style of Mr. Tucker Max it's a fantastic idea. What's more is that random strangers can actually rate whether your life sucks or you deserved what you got. Isn't the internet grand?
Recently, I've actually been toying with posting my own FML. Now, as much as I like the spot light I don't care for pity... or strangers telling me that I deserve my pain, but I can imagine that it would be quite satisfying to post something. I mean, it's not as though just anyone can say anything on FML, it has to really be something that causes your insides to curl up just a little bit. So far the rough draft of mine looks like, "I came home triumphantly from university to a town that is gray, freezing, and essentially suburbia hell today. As if that wasn't bad enough, five hours after arriving I was hit by a drunk driving a huge truck (in the suburbs!!) in a crosswalk. The light was mine. I was training to run a half marathon and have to work to pay for my beloved university. I now have a fractured knee. FML."
Not too shabby, huh? The insides curled yet? Well, it's true, and I'm avoiding the coos of pity simply because I don't need people to feel bad, just to get better. The conclusion? I get to chronicle my bitter healing process for the next two months to a soundtrack of "Changes" by Bowie.