I beseech Thee, oh Gods of Fortune...

... make this week go better, please!

Not that splitting up with my girlfriend of over 1.5 years is bad enough (read: nausea inducing kick to the groin), but you apparently feel the need to add a few rotton cherries on top. I know how much you love to inflict food-poisoning-esque aliments on me (I'll take partial responsibility as I choose to live in this country) but you always seem to bring on stomach bugs at the most inopportune times. Then, you cause me to loose an all-in bet at poker, to Lee of all people. I had Kings and 6's, and that son-of-a-criminal Aussie beats me with Aces and 6's. I suppose you are doing me a little favor by not making work suck so much this week (things are actually progressing), but I have one favor to ask:

Redeem yourself (and stop kicking me while I'm down) by giving me good news on Wednesday. Really good news, not, "Oh, I'm sorry but you're going to have to wait for another 8 weeks while we decide whether you've gone through enough torturous waiting yet." Tell me news from London that is going to bring this week back up to mamahuhu (means so-so in Mandarin, literally horse horse tiger tiger) level and not one of my worst weeks of the last two years.

I offer you this sacrifice of three pirated DVDs in my microwave (they didn't work so I was going to chuck them anyway). I hope the flying sparks of electricity, and cracking plastic appease Thee.