At the moment, I'm too hungover to be unhappy.
And for the record, the events leading to said hangover are entirely unrelated to any previous unhappiness -- you can blame this one entirely on clubbing for St. Patty, and the fact that I couldn't hold my beer as well as usual. Oy.
Also, I have green poo.
It's recently come to my attention that I haven't been doing that well this month. First, two weeks battling the superflu (well, okay, it was just a cold, but colds suck too!), then a little too much celebrating of the 5/64ths of me that's green (well, green all the time, not just today). Not that I was celebrating because it was St. Patty's Day in particular, I was just hanging out because, well, hanging out is good -- and had what might be conservatively described as a little too much fun. In truth, I haven't gotten that messed up since 1998, or possibly even 1995 or before.
Let's just say, the events of last night are a little hazy, and there are things I don't remember at all, like the entire period between leaving the club and ending up praying to the porcelain goddess.
Of course, all of this would be water off a duck's back (cuz, you know, sometimes you get sick, and very occasionally I gets myself sick), except when I was at Wil's today (not having quite made it all the way back home yet, and still recovering -- well, I'm still still recovering), I dropped my, ah, ensoiled jacket in the wash. With my phone still in the pocket.
So, I now have a completely non-functional phone (mind you, a very, very clean non-functional phone). Which had all of my phone numbers on it. A great many of which I had recorded in no other place.
And that's really aggravating.
And next week, my birthday. Feh.