Two days of surgery and stomach-pumping later, I'm in a foul mood. My digestive tract aches, and I'm probably hungry but unable to eat, and I'm broke from the surgery, and usually doped up on cheap morphine-analogs. On top of that, I'm feeling idiotic and filled with self-loathing.
Then I go to an oxygen bar and spend ten bucks to breathe scented air. At that point, I'm in the perfect condition for writing my LiveJournal. Except the title.
To figure out a good title, I usually hang upside-down from a staircase, demanding title ideas from passers-by.