What a corker of a match that was. USA should count themselves lucky to come away with a point against Italy, in a match where anything could (and did) happen.

I have a dream. It's not a big dream, it's a little dream. My dream is that the USA will actually score a goal in this tournament.

It can all turn around next weekend. Our group is completely up for grabs. We need to beat Ghana (which will NOT be easy) and for Italy to beat the Czech Republic (which, well, who knows?). It will be something to watch.

My schedule today:

5am: Wake to watch USA v. Italy.
10am: Soccer match. I'm back! I've asked to play only 15 minutes though.
2:30pm: Wine tasting.
7pm-1am: Nap.
1am-3am: Australia v. Brazil. Right now I'm planning on going down to Federation Square to watch. It'll be cold as heck, and the middle of the night, and the trams will stop running by the end of the game -- but the amazing might happen.

What a sweet moment last night as Australia came back with three goals in the final six minutes to cancel out Japan's unjust early goal. It was enough to make an Aussie march on Parliament! Marjorie came out at around 3 a.m. to find me dancing around the living room. (Next game is against the Brazilians, who will hand the Socceroos their asses of course, but you never know, so I'm definitely going to head down there.)

My bliss lasted about an hour, until about five minutes into the USA game. Ugh. In true soccer fandom tradition, I'm already of the opinion that we need a new coach. I think he forgot to tell the Team USA players that they were playing in the World Cup.

When in Rome. In LA I also did yoga for the first time ever. It was pretty tough. There was no experience of enlightenment or even relaxation, but I didn't really expect any the first time. Mostly I just tried to keep from falling down.

It is 5 AM, and you are listening to Los Angeles. Or at least, when you are on still on Los Angeles time, you are getting up at 5 AM. At least there's stuff to watch on TV.

We are back in Melbourne now and trying to get back on schedule. Luckily, Monday is a public holiday, but Monday night Australia and the USA play back-to-back into the wee hours. Sleep is overrated anyway.

We really had a fantastic visit back to the states. I can say, objectively, that my six nieces and nephews are the most adorable in the world. What a great day we all had, splashing around the water park.

The flight back was, to get back into using local phraseology, a piece of piss; we slept most of the way, and our neighbor stayed in her seat. Kudos to Air New Zealand.

Arriving in Melbourne we were greeted with bitter cold and grey. The sun's out now but it's still all nipply outside. Inside our house, it's at least not windy.

Atlanta summary:

Saw a lot of friends, but not everyone we wanted to see.

Ate a lot of good food, but missed several restaurants we wanted to eat at.

Wow, I forgot how fast everyone drives.

Also forgot how every new condo is called a "loft" so that they can charge you an extra 20% for not finishing the place.

I can't believe Chic-Fil-A is still using those morbid cows in their ads.

Likewise for Geico and the gecko.

Strip malls are breeding exponentially.

Marjorie's parents are the best! (After my own, of course.)

Things I had completely forgotten about in the US:

Check-cashing stores

Radio Shack

Popeye's fried chicken

Cashiers at clothing stores asking "Did anyone help you with this?"

Just how big a Super Target store can be

TV ads for feminine products

Right on red
The standard US coins seem smaller than I remember, too. And why are all the dollar bill denominations the same size and color?

We did have a blast in LA. After too much shopping in Santa Monica, we finally went our for proper Mexican, and just hung out in the booth all night while friends of Michael and Kristina stopped by and took off again. From that description it doesn't sound like a glamorous LA night, but you had to be there.

We're in (very north) Atlanta now, doing to much shopping and taking care of other errands. I thought we were getting over the jet lag but last night we were both awake from 4 am until 7 or 8. Bleah.

Well, I claimed to like flying, but this flight wasn't all that great. Not the airline's fault -- Air New Zealand was timely, with good food and service, and TVs in every seat back, which is getting more common these days, thankfully. I watched The Fastest Indian and The Matador, which were both good; also parts of Syriana, The Producers, and a lot of TV episodes. Interesting cultural aside -- the pilot interrupted everyone's movies to announce the result of a New Zealand rugby match.

But I was stuck in a center seat, next to a guy with serious personal space issues. Crying babies will eventually stop, but a guy who huffs at you when you try to push his knee out of your space is a flying nightmare. Of course, it's tough to sleep while being constantly irked. I would have got into it with him verbally, but I knew the adreneline that would result would've made sleep impossible. I thought about queuing up Brokeback Mountain on my TV and then rubbing his leg seductively as an aversion tactic but was afraid it might've had the opposite effect I was intending.

So I'm operating on sunlight and Mountain Dew at the moment (the first thing we did was make a run for the border). We're about to run out to Santa Monica to do some shopping, and there's a shindig of some sort tonight, so I'm just going to push through.

What's a good day for you? For me it's sitting on plane for the whole day, watching movies, reading, doing puzzles, looking out the window... I'm a freak, sure. But that's my tomorrow. And what's waiting for me at the other end of this flight? Three words: proper Mexican food.

I'm an idiot, because after mentally preparing for my dentist appointment today, and mentioning it to several people, I plum forgot to go. Rescheduled for Friday.

It only adds to what promises to be a mad week of preparing for our trip stateside which we embark on next weekend. So much to do, still, and lots to wrap up at work, plus two talks to give.

It's been two years, four months since I've set foot in the US. Crazy, man. I can't wait to see everyone -- especially all the nieces and nephews, include one niece I've (shamefully) never met, who's four. We're all going to go for a bit of splash, which should be a hoot.

I'm twenty five years and ten thousand miles from where I last had to face a dentist's drill, so I was a bit apprehensive. There are four fillings to replace; I was hoping to do them all today, just to get it done with, so he just did one side.

"We can fire up the camera again if you want to watch what's going on," he said.

Yeah, no thanks.

The worst part is still the needle. I just have to close my eyes and go to my happy place as soon as he whips that thing out. The other worst part was that the drill occasionally found the resonant frequency of my skull. Yesh, I did thound like thish for a while afterwards, but beyond the needle, the procedure was without pain.

I'm glad to get rid of these fillings. Not because they're mercury -- I don't buy the hysteria about that -- but because they were leaking. My mouth has been like a petri dish lately (ick, I know, sorry). As a bonus, the new fillings are white instead of dark.

I get to do it all again on the other side next Monday. At least I know what to expect now.

Singapore and the UK have banned this ad for Australian tourism in their respective countries.

Singapore I can understand, but the UK? The people who brought us this and this and this?

Had my visit today with Arthur O'Scoppy (he's friends with Fizzy O'Therapist).

The last time I had surgery I was in my twenties, and so had that immortal, indestructable feeling going in. This time I was a little more apprehensive. Still, I couldn't have been that nervous, as I took an hour long nap before the operation after they were done with the prep work.

I couldn't help having the opening theme from Six Feet Under in my head as they wheeled me down the hall, though.

They put me on the operating table, then turned on my drip and said "You're going to start to feel a little strange." "Stranger than being surrounded by all these people and lights and equipment while half naked, you mean?" That was the last I remember, before waking up in post op and asking, "Stupid question, I know, but have I had the operation yet?"

Apparently, it took about twenty minutes. I can walk, without crutches, but slowly and gingerly. It's six hours later, and I just took a couple of pills but probably could have done without. Signs are good for a quick recovery.

No numb groin neither!

Last fall every weekend was gorgeous, it seems. This fall, not so lucky. Today was drizzly and cold. But, we went to check out the Melbourne Sports and Aquatic Centre and had a nice romp around their facilities. It was good practice for our impending trip back to the states -- we're planning a big family gathering at Disney's Typhoon Lagoon. Fortunately, Marjorie and I still have the ability to run around like kids and even went on their waterslide.

The other movie we watched last weekend, at least partly, was Devdas -- the most expensive Bollywood epic ever made.

The quality of music, dancing, and acting were an order of magnitude above your average cheesy Bollywood potboiler, but that only made it less fun.

In fact, several incidents really gave us pause. In one, the main character Devdas finds that his true love is marrying someone else, after he spurned her. They argue, and he sucker-smacks her with a necklace, making her bleed from the forehead. On her wedding day, I might add. Instead of her giving him the heave-ho, they instead decide together that this injury will be a symbol of their love.

In another, her mother is expecting his family to welcome her daughter, but instead they reject her, because she is of low caste. The mother, distraught, is heard to comment, "I came here to wish you a long life and grandsons. But instead I wish you granddaughters!"

India's a messed up place.

Happy Easter! Just wrapping up a nice four-day weekend. Highlights:

Soccer practice on Thursday night. Scrimmaged when I probably shouldn't have, but it was a tonne of fun. Drinks afterwards at The Limerick Arms.

Lots of movies. Somehow I had never seen "Glengarry Glen Ross": outstanding.

Bowling at Melbourne Central while waiting to see "March of the Penguins". Video jukebox played our videos on screen right next to the scoring. Sophie Ellis Bextor, woo hoo!

A fine bottle of Prosecco to celebrate Easter.

Sleeping in.

Finally found the book in a local Borders. Fun to see your name (and words!) in print. Would've bought it, but I can get it cheaper back in the states. For some reason, I didn't expect to see it in the "self help" section. While browsing there, I learned an interesting fact: women, it seems, are from Venus, while men are from Mars. Who knew?

Right now, there's a bit of kangaroo meat stuck in my teeth.

It's actually quite good. I found some on sale at the grocery -- three dollars for three chunks of it. It looks kind of dark and unappetizing in the package. But it cooks up much like a beef roast; it comes apart in strands, but wasn't gamey at all. I ate all three pieces.

Laika likes it too.

Can't I just trade it for some free drinks? I won this funky bike at pub trivia. Any takers?

At work I got sick of trying to figure out every Friday how many hours I worked on various projects to log to my time sheet. We're supposed to show not only project by project totals, but subtasks within projects as well, down to every tenth of an hour. Some weeks it would take me nearly an hour to figure out everything.

So, during some down time I wrote a little program where you can enter your tasks and just click on them to start a timer. At the end of the week you can view the totals in a nice little table. It works like a charm, and I use it every day. My time sheets are accurate to the minute these days. And a couple of my coworkers have started using it as well. I'm going to ask if I can release the program as open source so anyone can use (or modify) it.

The problem is that I've been having "work dreams" almost every night recently, and it dawned on me that they started right around the time I started using my timer. I think the program is like a little Sword of Damocles that's been subtly poisoning my subconcious, to mix a metaphor. If I remember correctly, my dad once refused a job because he didn't want to punch a time clock. Something in my blood, maybe.

Name envy. On my current project, I work with people with last names of Oh, Ho, Ng, and Lam. It would probably save me a million keystrokes over the course of my career if my name were that short.