Week 4 Already

I really enjoyed watching the Swans Freo game last night. They've had the wood on us for years, and this year they've been playing great, though recently they've suffered some injuries. We played really well, much better than Freo, but it seemed every time I looked at the scores they were three points in front! We got up in the end, and the young guys did really well, and there were some inspirational attacks on the ball that were awesome except that they took themselves out of the game. Jack was sensational. He plays a lot like Gary Ablett Jr., except that he doesn't whine constantly like Ablett does.
One thing about whining. I really hate that "Why didn't you kick it to me?" thing that a lot of players do. Typically it goes like this. A midfielder evades a tackle or two and has a shot from forty and misses, and there's a team mate in the goal square with his arms up like "I'm right here!", whether he's covered by an opposition player or not. Fevola does this when he is playing like shit. Most teams have players that do it. If I was the coach, I would absolutely ban it. Any player that does it is off. There is one player at Sydney who does it all the time. Rhyce Shaw. The Human Turnover himself. He's always yelling at teammates when he thinks they did something wrong. The arrogance of this is astounding, especially considering the amount of errors (mostly unforced) that he makes every match. Ted Richards has been doing well lately, but Rhyce, I hope this is your last year at Sydney.
The Chinese guy sitting next to me at work is back from a week in Shanghai, and is as sick as a dog. That's what happens when you don't wash your hands after going to the toilet. And I'm guessing Shanghai toilets are pretty bad. Maybe it's some mad new virus, pig-chicken-human strain that hasn't made the news yet. Maybe it has already killed tens of thousands, and the Chinese government is desperately trying to keep this lethal new virus under wraps for fear of it ending the economic bubble, and this man has somehow slipped though the net. Maybe this man saw some things in Shanghai that made his blood curdle, societies being torn apart, parents dumping the bodies of their dead children, dogs tearing at the corpses on the side of the roads, and he thought he got out. But then he woke up this morning with a runny nose and bleeding rectum, the first symptoms. It's just a cold, he thought. I'll be okay. And now he's sweating up at his desk next to mine, wondering if he's going to make it until lunchtime.
I'd better go check my rectum.
Workouts are going well. I did Just Arms yesterday. Tony is in good form in this one. Funny.
I'm at work today, but tonight I'm joining the family at a hotel in Shizuoka, and spending tomorrow at a pool park. I'll take some photos. The last few days have been Obon, which is traditionally when Japanese people go home and see their parents, or go to the cemeteries and clean up grave sites and all that. I was visited by the dead in my sleep last night. I had a dream about mum that had me waking up like they do on TV, gasping and covered in sweat (actually, I'm always covered in sweat because it's so fucking humid here, but anyway, even more sweat). Mum was sitting in a chair in the blue (or green?) dressing gown she always wore the last few months, and I saw her and came at her, arms out, blubbering, mum, mum, mum, and she kind of started backing away like she was scared of me and she wouldn't let me hug her. Nice, thanks dream-mum. I liked the one I had last year better, when I was walking through the Botanical Gardens in Melbourne talking to her on the phone, saying mum! Where are you! Where are you! and she said "I'm right here" and I could hear her real voice as well as the voice on the phone and I looked up and she was picnicking with all her friends on the lawn right in front of me and we hugged and cried.
Dunno. Messed up. I've been a good boy, and I don't know why mummy is upset at me.