Ah work. Weird, weird, temporary work. I'm blogging now from my job downtown which is foolish - you shouldn't blog about or from work if you value job security. Fuck it, I'm not saying where I am exactly so it doesn't matter much. I might be acquiring a persecution complex. I do not like the manner in which I'm treated by nearly every person that comes into this office. Most of them talk down to me, or don't talk to me at all. They behave very aristocratically which is strange to me, and I fucking hate them for it. I hope I'm never like that, and I'm going to try to be kinder and more personable (without being obnoxious) to the army of people in menial, mind-numbing jobs.

I just realized that the only things I have to post about are complaints.

When I was walking in the Loop this morning I noticed a phenomenon with some women while they walk. They clutch the purse with one hand, but aggressively swing the other in a tomahawking fashion that makes it virtually IMPOSSIBLE to pass them on a crowded sidewalk. This is not against women or whatever, just these people that utilize an exaggurated swinging arm movement to become slow-moving sidewalk dams. All I want to do is walk at my pace.

The last complaint: I wish I had more money. I know that's an oldie, and not one likely to go away while I stay human, but shit does it rub some times. Efi is frustrated that I'm not over there yet and I can't say anything except 'when I have the money I'll come'. I'm working and all, I just it would all hurry up a bit. A little certainty would be nice too, and I know that's one of her sticking points with me. I promise and I promise until I'm blue in the face that I'll be there, and repeatedly I have to say that I'll be there a little later because of money. BLAST! Ultimately my health is good, my life is good, and I'm trying not to be ungrateful, but fucking shit goddamned would I like to be in Greece now.

That is all. Swearing rules.