If my good luck is as good as my bad...

Okay, i don't blog that often now.
But when the Lizzy strikes, the tizzy writes.
Yes, after a few months of hiatus, Mr Lizzy seems to relish the spotlight he was feted a few months ago on my blog.
It's comeback time for him.
Payback time for you, sniggered Mr Lizzy.
Payback? I've always stayed out of the lives of buggies in my house. Even the ants! I've always left them alone, unless they encroach on my space. The ants, for example, are only killed with smashing blows when their hunger-induced delirium caused them to leave pin-like stings on my skin.
Ok, I've drifted. Back to Mr Lizzy.
Yes, it's my cup again. The Lizzy kingdom seemed to have stuck a flag somewhere -- invisible to my naked eyes -- and staked claim on my cup.
I wonder if i accidentally killed their Royal Highness and hence earmarked for doom and pinned down as the number one target on their sniper's list.
Third time lucky. Or rather, third time unlucky. How lucky can I be?!?
It's not the colour of the cup that caught the eyes of the lizzies. The first time was a white cup. The second and third, a black.
It's not the time of the day. The first two times were in the wee hours. The third, at a daringly early time of 9pm.
My conclusion? I'm just plain unlucky.
And you know what? I saw the lizzy in my cup. If my retard mind was not straddling the pre-occupations of the day, i might have reacted faster. And so, before my mind could register what my eyes saw, my hand was already pouring water into the cup. Thereby, allowing me -- the evergreen SWAY one -- to witness the acrobatic act of Mr Lizzy leaping out of the cup to run for his dear life within that split second.
So the sequence is something like this:
Takes the cup, sees Mr Lizzy in the cup, pours water into the cup, retard mind finally registers an extra-terrestrial being lying forth, a shocked being convulses and hand shakes uncontrollably, Mr Lizzy slithers away in fear, a stoned being trying to come to terms with her swayness, an irritated being screams out loud in disbelief, an upset being blogs about her misadventure.
Listen up! Big Lizzy, Small Lizzy, Fat Lizzy, Thin Lizzy, Big Fat Lizzy, Small Tiny Lizzy, Fat Chunky Lizzy, Thin Bamboo Lizzy. Whatever Lizzies there are!
Your perverse affinity for my cup is unfathomable. I don't need to know. What kills me is not the mystery that shrouds these series of curious incidents -- it's knowing your audacity and your lack of mutual respect. How could we ever live in peace and harmony?