Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Lost in Translation in NZ

First off Merry Christmas to all!  This is my second Southern hemisphere Jesus Day and for the second time I can't get my head around the Christmas in summer thing.  I guess for most Kiwis, it would feel strange at this time of year to be huddled around a crackling fire in sweaters drinking hot beverages (hopefully alcoholic ones....that'll warm ya right up!) Also strange to me is the idea of skiing in August. I've never done winter in another hemisphere. That will certainly take some mental preparation, should I take that plunge......
Pardon me, brief pause there to help myself to a glass of purple booze of epic proportions. Yes, I am referring to Pinot Noir, my friends, the juice of life here in Central Otago. Some would argue that water, indeed is the actual juice of life, but let's be fair here, and culturally sensitive as well, Pinot Noir runs the show, the boss, the big red, the captain, the grape of all grapes. For me anyway. Oh and other people like it too. I'm pretty sure.
Which brings me to another issue, slightly related but more so disturbing. Yes I am going to continue to talk about myself.
WHY is it that I hoard things like booze and food? One (I) could argue that I am greedy, or chubby, or both but what REALLY lies at the heart of this issue folks? Was I deprived of these things at some point and now I am afraid of running out? I am afraid of being hungry (and sober) and not being able to find nourishment (or a buzz)?  Today is the day before Christmas and all supermarkets, liquor stores, and bars are closed tomorrow. Not for a week, just for one day. That is 24 hours. So because I fear hunger and sobriety of the worst degree on this very important Christian holiday, lets remind all of you that I hardly identify myself as Christian, but anyway, god forbid I don't buy enough wine. God forbid. Sweet Jesus. What is my problem? I bought four bottles of wine, a bottle of bubbly and a box of beer. Like I could ever consume all of that in one day, well now that I am heading towards the big 3-0, the possibility of that happening is slim to none, but challenge me to a.......well nevermind now, not the point. What is the point? Oh yes, now I have A LOT of booze that I will just allow myself to drink into oblivion with the justification that it is a 'holiday'. Oh and the food.  I am definitely afraid of being hungry without means of obtaining food. I get real bitchy if I get too hungry. Most of you know that already. Sorry. So I buy a bunch of extra stuff so that I have it, then I just end up eating twice as much because its there and 'I might be hungry later'. Yeah, of course I am going to be 'hungry later' I'm an f'in human being, thats what humans do, eat, metabolize, eat, metabolize and so on and so forth. I'm like a dog. Eat as much as quickly as possible then stare at others while they finish. Gross.
Speaking of eating too much.......I knew I would run into a lot of Americans in Queenstown. It happens to be one of the most heavily touristed towns in New Zealand, a clean, first-world, English speaking country. In my past travel experiences, I have found the least amount of Americans in poor, dirty, non-English speaking countries, which is where generally I have preferred to be. Until now for some reason. So because of my job I have a lot of interaction with tourists. And a large proportion of those tourists happen to be Americans.  They are fascinated by me, a fellow countryman, living in New Zealand.  The other day I went up to a table and asked them if they wanted something to drink. The woman's eyes grew large (unfortunately not because she was about to order a Pinot Noir......) and ignored my question and demanded "WHERE ARE YOU FROM????" with a thick American accent.  And I replied "Massachusetts" and she laughed "Oh, we're from New Jersey!" First of all, I don't care. Second of all, that doesn't mean we have anything in common. Thirdly, how am I supposed to respond? 'Oh COOL, we should get coffee while you are in town, awesome, New Jersey, eh? What a great state, all those highways and stuff!' And fourth of all, if I can even say that, New Zealand is full of Americans, and Queenstown is LOADED with them. I couldn't possibly have been the first American accent she has heard in New Zealand. There are over 300 million Americans, and I am in Queenstown, New Zealand, WE ARE NOT A NOVELTY HERE! 
Get excited to have a conversation with a Kiwi.  
I had to spell Massachusetts for a customer the other day. She wasn't American, but I wouldn't have been surprised if she had been.  


Friday, December 12, 2008

Camel Toes, Skinny Jeans, and Moms in Bondage

Right.
So maybe you expect something a bit more profound for my first 'official' blog entry, aside from the 'Welcome Friends to My Page of Wisdom' bit from a few days ago.....
Well, I just have to get a few things off my chest.
First, how do women not know that they have a piece of woven material shoved up their you-know-whats? Hoo-hoo, ha-ha, wee-wee, la-la, whatever the f you call it, I haven't got time to list the countless ways you name a woman's bits. Anyway. Often when I see a phenomenon such as this, and don't ask me why I am spending so much time talking about this, or why my glance is turned toward other women's crotches, well, that's something I need to sort out for myself but anyway, what was I saying, oh yeah, what is going on here? I simply cannot imagine anything more uncomfortable than this! I truly would rather wear high heels two sizes too small (which, by the way, I am not above, and have been known on occasion to wear things that are too small for me all in the name of sex appeal, but that's another entry ENTIRELY...) than have a giant wedgie back to front or front to back or wherever that massive horrific disaster starts or finishes. Ugh. I guess if I were a man, it would be similar to having a strip of material wedged firmly BETWEEN your balls, not off to one side, or in the front, or no no no not in the back, yes RIGHT DOWN THE MIDDLE. Could someone with balls and a uterus please let me know? Thanks. There is no excuse for this. If you can't feel a camel toe, well, I suggest you make an appointment somewhere.
I have been known on occasion to say how I feel. I guess that statement should have been the first in this blog entry. Oh well. Most of you know me well enough by now to take me for what I am. That is, someone who will under no circumstances compromise my integrity when it comes to skinny jeans. They do not look good on skinny people. Or fat people. Or cute people. Or anyone AT ALL. I can't wait for this trend to go away. Especially amongst these funky little 'hipster' boys. As if we couldn't tell your bum didn't exist to begin with, please add saggy jean material and bunched up legs and wow, NOW you have a figure? Who told you that looked good? Honestly, tell me, and I will kill them for you. Its been going strong for two plus years now, and seems to be a worldwide movement! They say all good things must come to an end, yes? Well how about 'effin skinny jeans, I'm ready for this trend to hit the garbage can.
The restaurant I work at is located just next to a wicked cheesy club where girls dance on the bar Coyote Ugly style and do body shots and well, yeah thats about all the do, oh some splits sometimes, yeah its a real hoot. Anyway, they do a lot of promo work (and I use the term 'work' loosely) by prancing around town in cowboy hats, and not much by way of clothing, passing out flyers about drink specials and stuff. Well tonight, at around, 10:30 or so, just when the streets begin to heat up for the night, a femal fire dancer/twirler appeared out front and began swinging about this way and that some fire props. She was dressed in a sort of red, skin tight leatherish looking getup, that was probably about a size too big for her. So it hung around her hips and it was rolled up on the bottom, but was still tight in certain parts, and as I stared fascinatingly at this fashion specimen, with sheer concentration and my head slightly cocked to the side, a co-worker of mine stood next to me, in similar awe, and stated "that looks like something my mom would wear if she was into bondage". Right. So I just sorta pondered a bit, and murmured in agreement, and plodded off to set a table, and a millisecond later I whirled around and said "WHAT?". What a sicko. It took me a second to realize that Chris had assessed what this woman was wearing in terms of his MOTHER and BONDAGE. What was a seemingly casual statement set my psychological and sociological loins on fire (you know, if I had a separate set of 'psychological and sociological' loins). What kind of relationship between a mother and son would produce a statement like that? Do I want to know? Regardless, it was hilarious and awkwardly enough, kinda true, I mean, if you know, moms wore tightish leather outfits and you know, um, twirled fire, and er, well you know what I mean.........
Why do I care so much about other people's outfits and personal expressions of themselves or whatever you call not being naked?
You might have all been expecting a little bit more about New Zealand, but it will come, as I am living my life here, funny shit happens all the time, whether I choose to write it down or not is another story. And oh, there will be many more stories, I promise.
I like New Zealand so far, they have peanut butter and cute boys, reason enough to stay here forever, really...........Oh yeah, the scenery is pretty bitchin' too.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Just the Beginning

So..........
It's been a long time coming, this whole blog thing.....
Gone are the days of mass emails, attaching photos and all the other time consuming methods of sharing my travel tales with all of my lovelies, who are scattered all over the world!
This is my blog. I will do my best to update it as much as possible.  I've had numerous requests over the years for more email updates, which I have been quite lazy about passing around in these last few years, so I feel as though I 'owe' you all at this stage!  I think it may have started back in '04 with the motorbike accident in 'Nam, and then you all were hooked.  But that's another story entirely.......
Funny, scary, embarrassing, interesting, silly, crazy, unpredictable, and glorious. This is my life.
I hope you enjoy following along as it unfolds for me in New Zealand.........