Ranter Claus and her cranky sack (this has nothing to do with Christmas)

I was in full Ranter Claus mode yesterday.
I had a sack full of cranky and I was handing some out to what ever victims dare stumbled my way.
While I didn't go as far as to stand on my front veranda yelling "Ho! Ho! Ho! Oh, and look, another skanky Ho!" at the high school girls walking past after school. I still did have quite a few more cranky gifts stowed away.
After 2 hours sleep the night before and a week of virulent gastro attacking my household, my temper was slightly frayed.
It all started with the fact that my very fragile esophagus (due to my channeling Mr Creosote from Monty Python for the last couple of days) was not cooperating with my usual morning ritual of pouring percolators full of coffee down my throat until my eyelids stayed open of their own free will. I had massive heartburn, so I was forced into doing coffee shots with a Quik-eze chaser.
After that was a blur of rantings about George Carlin and the unfair aesthetic advantage puppies have over lobsters, why they hire postmen that can't read, I growled at my chickens about why they eat better than me and I threw a few loads of clothes at the clothes line (where they'd better freaking dry, no matter WHERE they landed!)

I thought i'd do a bit of cathartic online forum "opinion sharing", so I headed to one of my favourite parenting sites where they were having the eternal "natural birth Vs gimmie-loadsa-drugs birth" debate, where I offered my very informative, balanced and concise views on the subject:

"The term "natural childbirth" always makes me a tad puzzled. I don't really understand what is so "natural" about inviting and welcoming pain. If you want an epidural, do it, if you want a drug free birth do it, but please don't strut around like the guy at the gym with the big bulge under his towel trying to prove their manhood. Childbirth is not an egotistical competition about proving who has the biggest lady-balls. Birth how you want to, just don't do it on a soap box."

Feeling slightly better at being able to vent to something that didnt have feathers, pegs or had their eyes glued to ABC2 ignoring me anyway, I took the boys out for a walk.

I was fairly well behaved, except for that little moment when I gave the crazy eye to the woman standing in the middle of the footpath who was trying to pretend not to notice I was approaching with a pram. I looked her in the eye as I tried to maneuver the pram past her, and muttered "Odd!!" in a weird voice. Some day people will learn that women with prams are mental, and it's best just to move.
But. The biggest reason that I have unleashed the sack'o'cranky is that my computer's hard drive has died and I have to get it repaired. So not only do I have to be without my compy for the next few days, I can't accompany my blogs with my awesome dodgy photoshopping skills!
I'm lost!