A quest for identity

And I say your uncle was a crooked French Canadian
And he was gut-shot running gin
And how his guts were all suspended in his fingers
And how he held 'em in

Poor helpdesk lady.

The saga started with me forgetting the password to my online bank account (or "forgetting" as in thinking I was so clever when I spent ages creating a foolproof password the last time I was logged in). I phoned the help desk, and the quest for proving I was who I said I was began.

( It was no easy task )

Also watched Arsenic and Old Lace (1944). Have decided I'll just give up on Capra movies, I must be the one person in the world who doesn't think they're dead charming and hilarious.

And while two hours of Cary Grant doing double-takes and tripping over things only left me cold, all Peter Lorre had to do was smile apologetically and say "I was intoxicated" and I burst out laughing.

I love love love Peter Lorre.