The word "cold" and the fact I actually used it to describe the weather 10/20/2014

Well, I guess pigs do fly.  Sorry I haven't been posting, and uneventful weekend and a stomach bug had sidelined me a few days.

So, to sum up: after a decently fun but entirely too short weekend I ended up back at work on Sunday with an extremely upset insides and a case of the no-sleeps.

It happens from time to time, where you just aren't sure if you slept or you just flopped there with your eyes closed.  Judging by how I felt it was the former.  Those nights are full of fun thoughts and ideas, the kind that can only happen when you're both sick and tired.

Ideas like:
- If I was a spider, would I even want to live here?  Would I trip over my legs a lot?  Weird.
- Is it possible to solve crimes as a hobby in Bahrain?
- Is that a timing belt squealing from an old car every 20 minutes?
- Oh, it is my air conditioner dying.  Can machines actually die?
- I am so glad they never made an Indiana Jones 4 - that would have been a really terrible idea and would have come close to ruining the franchise...

So I drag myself out of bed and get to work to find out that over the weekend, while I was killing brain cells, my work computer was doing the same...but just replace "brain cells" with "every file I had made over the past 10 years of teaching"

I think this quote by Nicolas Cage adequately sums up what my lappy was thinking:

And Lo, Nicolas Cage has sayeth: "Shoot 'em, blast 'em, nab 'em, grab 'em, shake 'em, bake 'em, cook 'em, clean 'em, hold 'em, broil 'em, kick 'em, nab 'em, twist 'em, ALL GONE BYE BYE!!!!"

I would attach the video, but it is simply too much for some people to handle.

Meh.  Screw it.  The line comes near the very end if you are so inclined to hear what my computer actually was yelling while deleting my files:

Don't look directly at his acting or you may be tempted to throw an Oscar right through the screen...

So after some poking and prodding and a lot of me typing: "YES I TURNED IT OFF AND TURNED IT BACK ON AGAIN" the issue is resolved.  

Good.  Means I don't have to plagiarize any work the following morning and can just pull work I had plagiarized previously.

Whew.

But I sit here typing to you good people with a bit of a worry in my head and in my heart.

It happened last night.

It was around 9:20 PM at night, before I retired to the bedroom to read my teen fiction.  I was inside, both hot and cold because I wasn't feeling well, and I decided it was a good idea to water the spit of grass I sometimes refer to as "lawn."  I step outside, and, as though pulled from inside my body I said the following sentence:

"It is kind of cold out here."

Now ladies and gentleman, perhaps I should have asked you to sit down before typing that.  But odds are the shock of such a statement are simply too much for you to process.  So please, have a seat.

Are you comfortable?

Good.

Now, what I had said was: "It is kind of cold out here."

Once more...

I DON'T KNOW EITHER!

To put this in context, let me list for you the top ten words I say here in Bahrain:

1. Holy

2. Shit

3. It

4. Is

5. So

6. Fucking

7. Ridiculously

8. Hot

9. Here

10. Cumdumpster

Don't ask about #10.

Let me get all numerical on you...

The weather from last night around 9:30 PM. 0% is how much me using the word "cold" made sense.

It was 92 degrees Fahrenheit, (that is about 33.5 degrees Celsius for all you "majority of the civilized world" readers out there).

Now, I remember being at home in Annapolis complaining about the heat when it hit 73 degrees last Spring, (that's 23 degrees C for you "majority of the civilized world"ers).

I don't know what has happened to me!  IT WAS 92 DAMN DEGREES AND I WANTED TO PUT A COAT ON.

Perhaps my transition is complete?  I half expected to look in the mirror last night after this happened and see this face staring back at me:

I actually do own this shirt...

What do I do?  Was it because I wasn't feeling well?

Did I dream this?

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN!?

My only course of action is to lie to myself and pretend it never happened.  I could seek counseling but when I lay on a couch...but the second people start talking to me I tend to 

So whatever the reason, the lack of sleep, the being sick, the booting of black tar heroin I had just done, it really doesn't matter I guess.  Those words I spoke are now on their way up into the aether, forever spinning around the small island of Bahrain.

While most likely not a sure sign of the apocalypse, it most definitely isn't NOT a sure sign of the apocalypse.

Sorry about all the upcoming apocalypse, everyone.

That's on me.