The Cup of Life runneth over.

I can't explain why, but I love Australian football like my third born son Diego. He's a little bit slow. Pedro and Manuel have set the bar pretty high for him and he has issues. And a slight lazy eye sometimes. But still, his victories are my victories.

We watched the Australia Japan game in an Irish pub in Madrid. They sold Fosters and a fusion Irish-Spanish cuisine which is wrong in theory and, god, so much wronger in practice. There were 6 Irish boys, 2 Aussie guys, 4 Japanese, an American and 3 Queenslanders. They're different you know. Like that son that I sent away and never talk about because I'm embarassed by his Asperger's Syndrome and significant physical deformities.

(I suspect during the course of this blog I may become a prolific giver of births to sons.)

Anyway, as the game went on and I considered re-offering the Japanese Queensland and some parts of the Northern Territory (I'd like to visit Kakadu one day. That'd be kept under Australian control in my terms of proposal) in exchange for the victory I had to keep getting Monique to translate. God how I hate unbiased commentary. They hardly even talked about the supreme injustice of the Japanese goal. They even said that Australia was disoriented and had only a few really strong players. There not a single mention of the Australian spirit at all! Maybe the Spanish don't know, but the Australian spirit means that we want to win, a lot. I mean, doesn't the world know about the Australian Spirit?

The whole time all I could understand was 'Cop-a-feel, Cop-a-feeel!', 'Key-well!'. I like to think I understand soccer. There's like 3 rules or something. But rules a game do not make and I was crazy eager to get Mum's half time extremely over-priced half time call to Monique's mobile. I kept saying that we were too frantic to score but that was only because I had to say something to justify my intermittent squealing. Sometimes being a girl really undermines your credibility.


In this picture you can see me thinking: perhaps dissolving the Queensland parliament will allow for the movement of Peter Beattie into Canberra thus revitalising the federal Labor Party.

Obviously we won. You know that. And if you don't, I don't know why you are my friend and can you please stop reading my blog and leave me alone. And it was great. As the Japanese left I felt I had to console them. I said 'Bueno! Bueno!' because I thought 'Origato' might be patronising. I patted one on the back. They seemed to really appreciate it.

So next it is Brazil. It shall indeed be a challenge. For me. I shall challenge all of Madrid and their horrible, inexplicable, frenzied support for Brazil. I'm not a patriotic person. But I may just take the flag Mum made Monique pack just to counter all of the Brazil paraphenalia. Might even wear it as a bandana or some kind of cape. I'll be honest. I could get bashed. But I'll do it for Ostraya and our boys.