Blurry

veryblurryme
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry.

I have not yet completely gotten the hang of the self timer, but on the other hand I think this may be the most accurate portrait of me ever done. Certainly it's how I feel most of the time!

Yesterday was another hangover loss - why, lord, is it that some times I can drink all night and be fine the next day and sometimes I can drink half the night and be sick as the proverbial dog for the entire next day? This article, via Metafilter of course, says that maybe I'm missing some vital acidy thing that breaks down alcohol, and possibly that is true. Except that I'm not East Asian, and I think that in my tangled family tree, the one thing we can all be pretty sure of is that there is no East Asian there at all. Unless, in 1550 or so, a stranded sailor from Singapore made his way through County Clare - or I guess it is just vaguely possible that some seafaring ancestor could have brought home an Asian bride, but it sure doesn't show up in the genotype (or wait, is that phenotype? The visible stuff, the magical genes that make my family tall and fish bellied pale) anywhere. Sometimes I wonder if all the Irish aren't allergic to alcohol, the way Native Americans are supposed to be. God knows I didn't have enough fun (I had some, but nowhere near enough)on Thursday night to warrant what I went through yesterday. I don't think there's enough fun in the universe to warrant that.
But, if I had to pick a day to lose, yesterday was okay since it rained all day anyway and everyone just wanted to sleep. Every time it rains the next morning is like a little voyage of discovery in the garden; the morning glories, blasted weed, are blooming and god, I wish they weren't so invasive, because they are so, so beautiful. It's like the god damned pernicious beer: love and hate, all the way. A few morning glories, like a few drinks, are a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Too many and they choke the hell out of the garden.