More people are shooting their babies:

After the drive-thru guy at Taco Bell gave me Hot Sauce instead of Atomic, I shot my baby.
When ALF started reappearing in commercials, I shot my baby.
November 2, 2004, I shot my baby.
After stubbing my toe on the coffee table on the third day into trying to quit smoking, I shot my baby.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I shot my baby.
Under the boardwalk, I shot my baby.
As the world crumbled, I shot my baby.
In Baghdad, I was so distraught about not being able to find any WMD but still having to look, I shot my baby.
When they were out of my favorite gin, I shot my baby.
At the office, where I should have been writing in my blog and pretending to work, I shot my baby.
At the Celine Dion concert, I shot my baby, and it thanked me.
Waiting in line for the Port-o-lets, I shot my baby.
From atop the ferris wheel, I shot my baby.
After our romantic dinner at the Cracker Barrel, I shot my baby.
Waiting for a release date for FFTA*, I shot my baby.

Variously from Ufez Jones of Archipelapogo, Aine 42 of czelticgirl.com, Trent of KOTWF, and a reader who is pent up about the release dates of video games.



*FFTA is, I think, Final Fantasy Tactics or something. Although it sounds more fun if it stands for Freelance Fremen Tentacle Angst