Emailing Myself & Replying

I wrote this the day before last.

So here is the problem I'm faced with today. No, it is not tying my shoelaces. I'm not completely incompetent. I have people for that. My problem is two ladies, and I'm the only man. That's not really a problem is it, and sadly not my problem slash... fun?
My problem is I feel like bitching, because I'm so fraking tired.
Bitching numero uno: My eyes are sore from lack of sleep.

...What. You were expecting more complaining? Well, Kathinka so was I. Then I realized I was about eight stories tall and a crustacean from the protozoic era. Well not exactly. I'm a 2.26 feet homosapien. Although I guess heterosapian would more accurately describe the human race. Simply because homo equals “the same” and hetro is the equivalent of “different”. Now I have yet to see two 100% identical individuals both mentally and physically. I mean not even conjoined slash Siamese twins are exactly the same. However! Since we are but mammals doing as they do on the discovery channel, I don't really care. Where was I? Ah! From the cenozoic era (that took forever to find, but now you know were we are on the geological timeline).

It was about that time that I realized I was a 2.26 feet homosapien from the cenozoic era, that a beam of light hit my naked eyeball and momentarily singed my retina. Yes, I was not wearing any form of protectional eye device thingamajiggy. Fortunately this was only temporary. Thanks for you concern.

So you see my temporary blindness obliterated ever shred of complaint. And instead set my brainwaves, or lack there of, in a completely new direction, or just continued flat lining but with more intensity. Because this could only mean one of three things.
1. My death ray is still faulty and bitching will not make it lethal.
2. The cylons are here.
3. A giant star has awakened from it's deep slumber and decided to slap me across my face.

I think it's the latter. Which if you translate from Geek to English you end up with: “YAY sun!”