Keke Rosberg = half walrus, half god

Yesterday I managed to sort out the internet on my computer at home. However, me being me, it wasn't quite as simple as that. What I actually managed to do was delete the wireless network we have and basically fuck up everyone elses computers. I got shouted at. I knew I shouldn't have done it myself. It eventually took over five hours to fix and get my PC working, but this all means that I am in my very own home, on my very own computer, writing to you. Which means that there is a potential for drunken journal entries, so lucky you, lucky you.

It's Day 4 of my weekend and it's been quite fun, barring me crying, hitting my head against the wall, and throwing the house phone at the wall in frustration yesterday. Highlights have included going to see Boredoms last night, the glorious glorious sight of Michael Schumacher being sent to the back of the grid for being a cheating toe rag, David Coulthard in a cape and the prospect of seeing Christian Horner jump into a swimming pool naked (this is only good in theory - I don't think my stomach is strong enough to cope with the sight... it would be like when I went to Gunter Van Hagens exhibition = not pleasant), eating far too much generally, and being looked upon as some sort of Property guru. I like to think of myself as a poor man's Sarah Beenie. Lowlights include falling over twice in the bathroom and being a bit worried about my lack of co-ordination, my phenomenal skill with electronic devices, the end result of the grand prix, and an old man hitting me with his umbrella on the bus.

More from me later, as I have to revise (yes, revise, implying prior knowledge, acquired yesterday) hedge funds. And then read "Principles of Corporate Finance" because I'm going to be a fund manager and I'll eventually be able to afford to buy Phil Elverum and keep him in a cupboard in the living room.