From the magical Wikipedia, a list of famous people past and present who share my birthday of June 19 ...

• Blaise Pascal (1623), French philosopher and mathematician, and namesake of the programming language in which i was fluent once upon a time.

• Yankee great Lou Gehrig (1903), although my enthusiasm over this coincidence is diminished by thoughts of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

• Actor Louis Jourdan (1919), who i previously knew only from his silly villain roles in Octopussy and Swamp Thing, but thanks to Wiki learned he was a member of the French Resistance during the German occupation of France in World War II. Also cool is that he was born on June 19, 1919 ... 6/19/1919. If only there was a 19th month. I suppose September 19, 1919 (9/19/1919) is the best possible, but Wikipedia tells me no one (important) was born on that day.

• Aage Niels Bohr (1922), Danish Nobel laureate physicist and son of the pioneering Niels Bohr, who produced one of the first working quantum models of the atom.

• Salman Rushdie (1947), author of the enormously controversial Satanic Verses that i tried to read in high school but couldn't penetrate.

• Actress Phylicia Rashad (1948), who honestly i could care less about, but i certainly had to mention that i have the same birthday as Mrs. Huxtable.

• The brilliant and tragically short-lived British musician Nick Drake (1948), who produced three albums of spellbinding folk rock that laid the foundation for future indie pop torchbearers like Belle & Sebastian and Iron & Wine.

• Actress Kathleen Turner (1954), who i thought was really hot around the time of Romancing the Stone. Unfortunately, her recent role as Chandler's transsexual father on Friends is now all too fitting.

• Paula Abdul (1962) ... oh f@$#ing hell.

• American striker Brian McBride (1972), one of the members of the U.S. team that put in a fantastic performance against the odds to frustrate Italy last Saturday and breathe some life into the World Cup credibility of our developing soccer program. I watched the match and was amazed that this was the same team that completely folded against the Czech Republic five days earlier. The introduction of winger Clint Dempsey worked wonders, as he ran straight at a totally flat Italian squad and opened up several attacks. The flurry of red cards was unbelievable ... the first on Daniele de Rossi for a nasty intentional elbow on birthday boy McBride was completely deserved, while the second on Pablo Mastroeni was perhaps less clear cut and obviously intended to bring both teams level at ten men. The third on Eddie Pope was bizarre ... i have to think the ref forgot Pope already had a yellow card, whipped out a yellow for a Pope's illegal but not malicious tackle, and then realized he would have to follow it with a red. But even a man down at nine on ten, the U.S. played with confidence, technique, and heart, and produced chances to win. Kasey Keller made several fantastic saves and lived up to his rep as a superstar keeper. Way to go U.S. ... whether or not we qualify for the second round, you've done me proud.

• Dallas Mavericks forward Dirk Nowitzki (1978), who looked totally ridiculous trying to punch and kick anything he could get his hands on while exiting the court in Miami last night after his Mavs lost in overtime in Game 5 of the NBA Finals. Dirk smash exercycle! Dirk smash water cooler! Dirk mad! I've been pulling for the Heat, so their three game surge to come back from 2-0 down to be within one game of a championship has been great. Sure, cantankerous Mavs owner Mark Cuban's level of involvement with his team is laudable, but he's a f@$#ing whiner that cries when he doesn't get his way. He also always seems to be able to generate piles of statistics and video that support his team. I wonder if he's ever found similar data suggesting his team have their own advantages. I hope Shaq and the real next-MJ Dwyane Wade sieze the trophy in Dallas as Cuban looks on broken-hearted.

Also, Chelsea midfield general Frank Lampard was born on June 20, 1978, which frankly (yay! puns!) is close enough for me.

My weekend again began on Saturday and Sunday with watching the World Cup. Ghana surprised me by completely outplaying the previously outstanding Czech Republic, earning a deserved 2-nil win that should've been 4- or 5-nil if the Ghana strikers hadn't wasted a handful of chances. Saturday was red card day ... in addition to the three in the U.S./Italy match, Czech defender Tomas Ujfalusi was sent off for altering Matthew Amoah's shot from behind. That may have been a bit harsh, but by the letter of the law he was the last defender and off he must go. Coupled with the U.S. match, the best day of the Cup so far. Although Ghana's emergence has ominous portents for the U.S.'s final, must-win group match. Sunday was less exciting ... Brazil again failed to impress despite running out 2-nil winners over Australia, and France are beginning to look frustrated with their World Cup malaise, giving up a late equalizer to draw 1-1 with Korea and failing to win their first World Cup match since the final of the 1998 tourney.

Our gardeners worked all weekend, removing five trees/overgrown hedges from our backyard fence, leveling the lawn area, and laying down about 80% of the "Medallion Dwarf Bonsai" sod on our new backyard. We now have a yard that welcomes rather than horrifies me when i pull into our driveway. Man, watching those guys labor out there in the baking heat was brutal. I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

On Saturday night Veronica and i prepared a batch of my now-standard chipotle-rubbed t-bones and cilantro-lime butter and drove down to have dinner with my MIPS colleague/gym buddy/softball coach Fred and his wife Amanda, nine month old son Ethan, and mother-in-law. We supplied the steaks for Fred's grill, while he prepared corn on the cob, vegetable skewers, garlic bread, salad, and several huge Dungeness crabs. After a gargantuan meal we settled down on the couch and watched the decent Steve Martin novella-turned-film Shopgirl. Quite heavy on the symbolism, and not entirely cohesive. But Jason Schwartzman was entertaining. A fun night out with some new friends.

We had dinner with my parents and Hilary and Jeff at Café La Scala in Burlingame last night to celebrate Father's Day as well as my early birthday. V and i got my dad a Tommy Bahama shirt for his upcoming cruise with mom around Scandinavia ... not a tropical trip, but a cruise nonetheless and deserving of cruisewear. We then came home and i cleaned the kitchen before completing a particularly tough level on Ghost Recon: Advanced Warfighter. I was down to minimal health (i.e., one shot and i'm dead), and had to cross a railroad depot chock full of concealed enemy soldiers to get to the extraction point. I must've died twenty times before i finally was able to successfully whittle down their numbers with my sniper rifle and cautiously creep across the tracks, eliminating the few remaining dug-in enemies. What a game. Tonight V is organizing something for me in the city with some friends. I'm content to have a beer and toast to another year.