Pins in my bottom

In childhood days often we would have a much younger child to stay and because of the age difference we would often tease him, just because. He would get so cross and then storm out the room informing whoever had annoyed him that they were, "A pin in his bottom". His delightful expression of anger has stayed fresh in our minds and is still used to describe any annoyances that happen in our daily living.
I am feeling at the moment that my bottom is more like a pin cushion than anything as so many things seem to be forcing their attention in a prickly manner towards my rear. Television at the moment is more like a hat pin than a sewing pin and as one floats in channel space looking for something they have not seen in the past week despair seems to creep slowly into the soul as once again the realization is made that there is not one single thing to watch that is new and fresh on the screen. It is almost as if we are being forced to go out and by the entire set of DVD's of, "Little house on the prairie", remember that perfect family that perfected boredom for the viewer.
Then there is the filthy supermarket down the road where on hot days one can smell the meat as they step out of their cars. A bit of personal puzzlement here, why would anyone want to buy meat that is very obviously going off in the first place? However perhaps this is an acquired taste as the meat seems to willingly follow its purchasers out the door, often almost on it's own legs.
Can you remember when last you have made an appointment with doctor, beautician, hairdresser, psychiatrist, manicurist or whatever and they were on time? Do they think that their time is more important than yours? Me thinks they all ought to be doing time management courses instead of playing computer games between appointments.
What about medicines that make you feel worse, or am I an unknowing guinea pig made to suffer for the betterment of human kind or whatever? Why if we keep getting told that we are capable of healing ourselves do so few of us manage to do it? Why are we so important that we think we deserve immortality? But that is another subject that might take me more than one lifetime to discuss.
The more I think about things the more punctured my bottom seems to get so perhaps I will hit the coffee pot of pure pleasure and go off into some mindless world of my own where I can visualize the perfect world and perhaps with a bit of luck manifest it into the physical.
Wish me luck.