It happened about a week ago, when I went home to Long Island for mid-semester break. My friend Carol and I were chilling on her bed as she meandered through Facebook, chitchatting, laughing, gossiping. And then I saw it. Right on her profile page, a gray ball of fluff the shape of a pear, with a little squashed black-and-white head -a "hatchling" one of her friends had given her through the "Hatching Eggs" application. It was a baby penguin.

And then I snapped.

"NO MORE EFFING PENGUINS!!!" I was like Joan Crawford after getting back her dry cleaning.

As you may be able to tell, I'm on penguin overload. I remember a friend telling me about his obsession with penguins. I thought it was quirky and different. "Penguins, that's a new one." If he told me the same thing today, I would have just thought he was trying to be trendy.

In case you haven't noticed, these aquatic, flightless fowl have been absolutely everywhere in the last few years. They're downright more ubiquitous than Britney Spears' crotch shot. Ever since 2005's "March of the Penguins," these Antarctic waddlers have been featured all throughout the media, including movies, television, books, DVDs, advertising, merchandising, fashion and now, Facebook. Also, you may not realize it, but penguins are definitely the new teddy bear. I can't go anywhere without seeing toy replicas of these birds stuffed and fluffed for your kid's (or girlfriend's) delight. Even online gaming seems to be teeming with these bizarre birds (see www.Miniclip.com's five different penguin-related games). Penguins even made a cameo on last year's North Dorm shirt. And they don't even live in the North Pole! This, of course, is not to say that penguins haven't been around in pop culture before (Chilly Willy or Oswald Cobblepot, anyone?). But penguins of past years were sprinkled every once in a while into the zeitgeist. Now they've been positively dumped on us.

To be honest with you, my heart's not completely made of ice (get it? ice? penguins? slippy-slidey?). I will be the first to admit that these animals are ridiculously, heart-wrenchingly, squeeze-worthily adorable. (If you didn't want to squeeze baby Mumble from "Happy Feet" to death with cuddling, than you're a soulless monster.) Yet, I also realize that half the appeal of penguins is the novelty. They're comical and bumbling. They waddle. They can't fly. Their gender roles are reversed. They're from exotic reaches of the globe. They've been known to exhibit bisexual behavior (and one male-male penguin couple even raised a baby of their own at the Central Park Zoo). You have to admit it, penguins are, well, certainly different. But when is enough, enough?

If you think about it, how much can you really do with penguins after a while, anyway? "Surf's Up" was the limit in my book. Penguins who love to … surf. Radical! This concept sort of re minds me of the cutaway from an episode of "Family Guy" in which Stephen King attempts to pitch a novel about a couple being attacked by a giant lamp monster. "You're not even trying anymore, are you?" his editor sighs.

So, come on now, all you penguin fanatics, this cash cow is dry. Find a new "It" creature. I suggest the mongoose. Or Nicole Richie.

As for me, at this point, the only thing penguin-related I'm interested in seeing is someone on Food Network whipping up some penguin cutlets.

Pass the ketchup.