JESUS H(ersevort) CHRIST! REALLY?!

Three days before Thanksgiving, I get a flat in my rear tire.
Fix it.
One day after Thanksgiving I get a flat in my rear tire again.
I swear, take the tube out, and find a tiny thorn that eluded me from the first flat on the inside of the tire. I cut my finger on it, pull it out, call it a choice word or two, walk seven blocks to the store and get two tubes.
Come back, replace the tube. Those little tire pryers are made of plastic, which means they break. I hadn't replaced the last ones that snapped on me and am using a butter knife and a miniature and utterly useless screwdriver in lieu of proper tools.
Of course, I end up popping the new tube because of these tools that were made for other things.
I swear.
Pull the tube off, hang it on my bathroom door knob with three other dead tubes and gingerly put a new tube on.
It works, and I am an hour late meeting my friend.
Halfway betwixt downtown and my house, I run over a piece of glass and blow out my front tube.
I swear, try not to cry, take the MAX to downtown and right into the throngs of Day After Christmas sale monkeys.
Fight my way through crowds, go to gas station, replace tube, and all is well.
OK.
Come out of the club at 3 AM on Saturday... got a goddamned flat in the rear tube.
Luckily Mary is there and she gives me a ride home after I dismantle my bike to fit it into her Prius.
Fix the tube, find the business end of what can only be described as a 3" staple inside of my tire. It was a flawless puncture, went right in with no hemming or hawing.
I wonder what it is that I have done to deserve this.
Tonight, three days after club night, I am riding over the Burnside bridge to meet for a burger party with Mary. I have an actual blowout. My rear tube EXPLODES, scaring the holy hell out of me. I sense metal flapping around my ankles and wonder, as I say "What the FUCK?!?!?!", if I had popped all of my spokes. If I did then this would be the second time, and I am out $35 for a new rim, AGAIN.
The blast is so formidable that the bike actually kicks a few degrees sideways and I half expect to flip over.
I stop, look down, and see a 4" nail sticking out of my tire. I pull it out and look at it in disbelief.
Really?! A NAIL!
I throw it down onto the ground so that I can run it over again in three days.
Walk to the Slo Bar, eat a burger, get ANOTHER ride home, and fix the cur'sed thing.
Really, what in the hell is going on?
I blame the rain, to certain degree, for sluicing all of the street garbage to the side and right into the bike lane.
I also blame people who can't seem to drive in the rain and have been crashing into various moving and stationary objects with more frequency. It would appear that the police and/or tow truck drivers are not paid to sweep up the glass and shrapnel from said accidents.
It is up to me and my bike tires.