Goodbye, Warm Weather.

My internet is refusing to allow me to be lazy.

I keep trying to access the magic website of Cuevana to watch 30 Rock, and it continually comes up with the error message BAD GATEWAY.

What??  What does this mean?!  Gateway?  What gateway?!?!!?

I am afraid of the telephone.

It isn’t as though the actual mechanism itself frightens me.  It is simply that the ringing is a sure sign of doom…  If I attempt to answer, chaos will ensue.  For on the other end awaits a Spanish Speaker.

This is more terrifying than I can possibly begin to describe.  For, due to some outrageous reason completely beyond me, Argentina has come to the conclusion that I can now speak Spanish.

This would be fine, except that I cannot.

Unfortunately, I have somehow managed to fool the entire country into thinking I’m practically native, so they ramble on to me with little regard for my comprehension.  Admittedly, I nearly always understand everything, but my Spanish vocabulary does not come complete with good Listening Words. 

I’ve gotten decent at making a good Listening Face, but sadly this does not translate well over a phone line. 

So I’ve developed a rather severe case of Select Deafness to combat the ringing.

I lied to the police.  Though it was the Argentine police, so it practically doesn’t count.

Although I am fairly certain this is still illegal.

Had to report my passport stolen, otherwise they may not have allowed me to leave the country (or fined me, which still means I’d never leave the country to avoid paying).

Yet I felt reporting that my passport was stolen a month ago in a different province would hardly sound spectacularly intelligent, so I may have changed some facts.

Sadly, I am not a particularly talented liar, and was originally informing them that my passport was stolen on Thursday.  If this were true, I would have received a replacement passport four days before I lost the original (I would make a very dumb crook). 

When I realized this, I began shouting in a panic that it was LAST Thursday.  He seemed a bit puzzled by this, but as my Spanish was not exactly at its best and I was accompanied by an incredibly hungover friend who looked as though he may hit the floor at any moment, the nice policeman let it slide.

Then the policeman asked the date of the robbery, and I told him April 19th.  For those of you who do not have a calendar handy, that was a Monday.

I am so clever.

Warm weather seems to have left the area, which presents a bit of a problem for me, as I refuse to wear pants.

For instance, at this very moment, I am shivering and have lost nearly all feeling in my hands, but refuse to change out of my shorts and t-shirt.

I really don’t like wearing pants.