Drunk like a skunk

After three pints of Guiness, a pint of lager, and an entire bottle of white wine, I find myself able to add to my daily blog.

It's worth noting here that I am enthralled in nefarious laughter.

It's St. Patrick's Day in England, and that means one thing-- drinking, drinking, drinking. Actually, it means two things, the other being that I am engaged in the noble endeavor known among my colleagues as "springbreakfuckyeah," in which I have little to no responsibility. I am thinking of starting a game of Suikoden II.

I made phone calls to both David Tyler (cementing end-of-the-year plans) and Finella Murphy, a girl who I have not spoken to in several years (by phone, at least). It was a wonderful evening.

I also deepened my acquaintance with the single most brilliant comic mime I know, and received the phone number of a beautiful lady. All in all, it was a wonderful drunken celebration.

Also, I finished the film comedy essay which has been plaguing me for several days, and I wrote a 2700 word short story called "The Man from the Quiet Country," which takes place in the world of The Silence and which even now, I am quite proud of. I submitted it to the Journal, and I hope to goodness that they accept it (I ran into a Journal person this evening, but I was quite drunk and anyway I seem to recall that they professed no leverage in selecting which entries qualified for publication).

Now, for some drunken Katamari Damacy! It's a wonderful world.