Fish oil for a whingey hinge

So my team of scientists, working night and day over the last week, have determined that moving to a new country is stressful. Perhaps I should publish a paper. But that would only add to the stress. Now usually I am a stress resistent super hero. I am cool and collected and happy, no matter what. But I have found my nemesis. I am taking strain the way people my whole life have done just before I laughed at them. Payback is sweet, mother-bitches.

I am stressed because of the following reasons:

1. I have nowhere to live. Life on the street is hard, and I am crap at blowjobs.
2. I am haemorrhaging cash. After tax SA cash. It's like I came to a construction site with a baseball cap and a plastic spade.
3. People who make me feel better are 6000km away.
4. People who make me feel worse (bureaucrats and daft call center monkeys who can't deviate from script) flock here like the swallows of Capistrano

Actually I'm not sure if any of that matters. I think the thing that matters the most is that where my sense of humour usually saves me, it now bounces off stoney faces like an echo that says quack!

But it's not all bad. The other day I went to the fish market. It smells of fish. One of the guys who works there took me to see some of his wares. He's from Pakistan. He listened to my iPod and then gave it back. He asked me to take a photograph of him and his friends. When I get a computer of my own, I'll post it. He was very friendly. He seemed happy, and he made me happy too. He doesn't let anything get to him. Hooray for the bulletproof!