STOP THE WOR AND LET ME OFF

Let me get this out of the way first: evidently, the graffiti-writers in the Camden Town section of London are very opposed to the wor. They write that everywhere. "No wor with Iraq," they say. It is nice to know that people feel so strongly about this.

I know, it's been a while since I posted an update. Actually, I've written a couple of updates, and then didn't have online access to post them, so they're sitting on my computer at home, on a disk (I even transferred them so that I could post them), which I forgot there.

So!

Moving right along.

I'm working at a web development firm, as a contractor. These people are really weird. They like me quite a bit--I'm not saying this to brag or something, it just makes the rest of their behavior seem very odd. They like me, and they tease me about the facts that my work is very good, I get things done at lightning speed, and they think I'm just about the smartest person they've ever met. This last bit is because they keep asking me random questions, which I know the answers to. For example, the other night my boss was saying that he had been watching this program about alcohol consumption, and there was some kind of valve in the stomach, and he asked what it was called, and since he was referring to the pyloric sphincter, I said as much. I think pretty much everyone knows that.

At any rate, they keep hiring other people to do the job I'm doing, and they do these things with me that are kind of insulting, but I just don't think they quite know that they're insulting. Like inviting me to a meeting with the guy they hired to do the job I interviewed for. Um...hello? I don't get it.

But I'm making enough money that, well, when I finally get a paycheck, which hasn't happened yet, I'll be able to stay here for another few months. And I'll have a work permit, which will make finding another job that much easier.

I'm living in a flat in Camden now, which is so far superior to my prior situations, it's unbelievable. Technically, I have a flatmate, but he's never there. He takes care of his ailing parents, and just uses the flat as a place to stop by when he needs a break. So it's more like now and then I have a visitor who lets himself in with his keys.

Of course, I'm afraid to say that, because then he'll turn out to be a freak later on. You know, the old "knock on wood" thing.

Incidentally, Maggie, the woman who used to be a man, and who dated my ex-boyfriend, Scott, when she was a woman? You know, and when I mentioned that she'd said she used to be a boy, he got angry and told me I was a horrible person? She's posted photos of herself as a man in different places online now. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Oh, and my roommates who gave me 10 days' notice have just been given 2 months' notice by their landlord. This is funny, don't you think?

I'll write more later. No, really.