Роюсь в ящиках, пытаясь найти свой старый самсунг с московскими номерами — пока без особого успеха. Бормочу себе под нос: “What the hell... The hell with that, where did I leave that old piece of nothing? So much crap in that drawer, I remember I told myself countless times I had to clean it — and I never did, oh what a moron, oh come on, show up you stupid thing!..”

Стоп. С собой же можно по-русски, вроде.