The Exception

So I've heard that luck is a lady.  If this is true, she must be hanging out with Carmen Sandiego because I'm pretty sure I haven't the foggiest where the heck she is.  Ever. 

I was taking a final this morning that consisted of over 50 multiple-choice questions.  That's a lot of choices.  ...and opportunities to choose... poorly.  It was one of those tests where I could narrow it down to being one of two of the four options, but between those two I had no idea.  Therefore, the narrowing didn't do me much good.  In fact, I think it stressed me out even more.  It's like on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire when the person uses the 50-50 lifeline and it eliminates the two options they already knew were wrong, leaving them with the two they were debating between in the first place. 

I don't know if it's just me, but I am horrible at guessing in situations like that.  I think my luck is bad enough to undermine the very authority of descriptive statistics.  I can almost guarantee you that I do not guess correctly at a 50% clip, which is what statistics state should be mathematic law.  Also according to stats, this should happen rarely ever, but it should happen:  How scrumptious would it be if you were to guess correctly on most of the questions you didn't know?  I mean, it has to happen every once in a while.  Why not to me?  Right now?

Moral of the story:  Life's not fair and I defy math.  They say there is an exception to every rule, and I guess I am the exception to math.  It is, therefore, in indignance that I supplicate the proofs behind binomial distributions and demand that my guessing skills be made better.  I may be bad at math, but I don't think it's too much to ask for me to be subject to the basic rules of statistics. 

Other moral of the story:  Luck may be a lady, but she's a saucy and a flighty wench and she should settle down and show up a bit more often.