bookmark_borderArse

Three quarters of the way through a post about re-mortgaging, Lloyds TSB, Air Jordan Mark V, Lomo and Photoshop and WHAT happens?

My PC turns itself off.

The problem seems to be the cable modem. Someone from Telewest will be getting an ear bashing tomorrow morning!!!!

Bugger this, I’m off to bed.

bookmark_borderLimbering up

So congratulations to Porto for winning the Champions League. The new Chelsea manager seems like a bit of an odd bloke, so he’ll fit in at Stamford Bridge quite well.

Anyhoo, we were visiting a friend tonight who is recuperating after an operation on her back, there was some talk of the details but thankfully my squeam-o-meter kicked in and disengaged my brain before any of them made it too far. Ick.

Mind you, after four swift bottles of Corona I’m feeling a tad light-headed (christ, what a light-weight I’m becoming) so it’ll be off to bed for me soon.

But not before I mention that I’ll be buying Jordan’s “autobiography” at the weekend. No, not for me, it’s been requested as a birthday present for someone, and no I won’t be borrowing it as I’m not the slightest bit bothered about that “celebrity”. The birthday in question is my brother-in-laws girlfriend’s and will involve a 3pm start in a pub in the West End of Glasgow (somewhere in Ashton Lane). I’ve already written off Sunday.

bookmark_border23 reasons to hate Beckham

Number One: If his ‘ultimate sporting hero’ is Michael Jordan, then he has some bloody nerve stealing his number! Doesn’t he realise that shirt numbers are retired in the US when a legend leaves the game?

Number 2 – 23: Because.

Sorry, thoroughly sick of all the hype surrounding a ‘slightly better than average’ football player.