Yup, as both etherlad and amokk noted, it's my birthday. 23 years young. Am I old enough to be a crotchety bastard yet? I don't care.
One thing I don't want any of you to forget is Bastard's Day. That's right, if Guy Fawkes gets all us Brits a day off, I should get everyone a day off. Hence, Bastard's Day. It's a simple enough holiday to celebrate. During the day you do as little as possible, save using it as an excuse to get out of doing things you don't want to do ("But I can't marry you, Jim. It's Bastard's Day!"). Then, on the night, you go out and get absolutely, roaringly shit-faced. Your reason? You're my distributed piss-up. If I can't gather the people I want to spend the day with to me that we can go drinking, we simply all go drinking on the same day. The only rule is that you must drink at least one double vodka, as that is what you are drinking for me by proxy.
So yeah. Birthdays past 21 are shite. All I got were cards and cold coffee. Shit happens, I guess.