Feb 22, 2016 14:11
In one of the stations along the course (slash curse) of an incomprehensible number of annoying errands derived from losing my wallet, I had the pleasant surprise of having to deal with a bank employee called, and I swear or at least hope I wasn't hallucinating, Egon Prox.
Egon Prox. That's a name that has no right to exist outside comic books. I'm extremely envious, and wondering if pulling a Homer Simpson/Max Power move would automatically lead to a lifestyle of rogue artificial intelligences and secret underground laboratories.
Or being a customer service associate for a bank, as the evidence so far suggests. Better not risk it.
(This slightly deranged rant is sponsored by my insufficient sleep and annoying morning.)
weird