My cousin died of 3,000 poison dart stings

Have you ever just couldn't wait to tell someone about something that happened to you? something really quite remarkable, or bad, or well, just about anything you think is worthy of comment?
I sat this morning, patiently wading through the morning's conversations at the office. Last night some one broke into my car and stole my GPS device. I wanted to tell. I waited. Then a pause, and my chance. You tell your story. there. Ahh, completion, satisfaction, wait for the response. the anticipated response. and.
And you hear about all the times stuff was stolen from someone else and all the horrible things and this and that and my uncle one time had his whole fucking spleen, heart and lungs stolen - right OUT OF HIS BODY. And my friend like, had their house stolen while they slept and the thieves moved it to like, Pennsylvania of all places overnight and then they, and then they.... yada, yada.
Geezus H. fucking Christ. Ok, yeah, boy THAT sure was worse than what happened to me. For sure. Really? Boy, what tough luck.
What the fuck is up with the fact that every time EVERY TIME you tell someone something that caused you grief, well like your brother died of cancer, and the person says something like "gosh that's awful. My sister died of 3,000 poison dart stings while walking through the amazon on a guided tour for 'saving the forests of earth' project last year.
Give me a break. Ok. I get it. i am supposed to just listen.