Newsflash, Part XX

Some recent news for the animal lovers:

• Lock up your horses. I don't know how the humans could tell that Red was "exhausted and a bit sore," but I'm glad he arrived home safely.
• Here's something really freaky - a two-headed Australian kitten
• Giraffes set sail!
• In an avian case of mistaken identity, the police held a family at gunpoint to seize their pet parrot.
• While police were preoccupied with that important birdnapping, there was a REAL animal on the loose in downtown Wellington. Silent but furious!

Keep Your Pants On

Further evidence of the promiscuity of the Kiwi female

Sunset - as seen from living room

Gobble, Gobble

Happy Thanksgiving, dear readers!!

Alas, there is no holiday for me to celebrate in New Zealand. No stuffing, no cranberry sauce, no football. It is very difficult and expensive to buy a turkey. Pumpkin pie doesn't exist here either. A girl recently asked me if I ever ate pumpkin pie in America. Well of course! She asked, "But how do they make it sweet?" I don't know? Add sugar.

I'm no Betty Crocker, but you can see that I gave it my best shot last year. My delicious eggnog/pumpkin pie was the most photographed dessert in the history of Thanksgivings. I wore an apron for cripe's sake! I could make the perfect little housewife! Are you listening, young Kiwi male?

So no holiday for me, but no shortage of things to be grateful for this year... including wonderful family and friends like you!

Newsflash, Part XIX

Police may have been surprised to find a child driving a giant construction truck through the streets of New Zealand... but I'm sure not.

Chocolate Fish

The US has a saying to acknowledge a job well done. “You get a gold star.” This is a little bit tongue-in-cheek, a throwback to elementary school. No one actually gives you a gold star sticker… at least not since your 4th grade spelling test.

NZ also has a saying to acknowledge a job well done. “You get a chocolate fish.” The difference is that the Kiwis will physically hand you a chocolate fish, another one of those “essential Kiwi items.” It is a strawberry peep-like marshmallow with a chocolate shell in the shape of a minnow. You also get a chocolate fish on your saucer when you order a fancy coffee drink like a mochaccino.

Rumor has it that the chocolate fish is typically 6-8 inches; however, I find that the mini 2 inch version is much more common. (Sound familiar, girls??) Believe me, dear readers, size does not matter. Smaller is better because the chocolate fish is more like a punishment than a reward. It is kind of gross. When I’m in charge, I will passive-aggressively distribute chocolate fish to poor performers. The high achievers will be lauded with TimTams and Starburst. Or maybe I’ll expect them to tirelessly work their tails off without recognition or reward. That's the American way, after all.

Returning to the topic of stars, New Zealand loves the saying “You’re a star.” This strikes me as very old-fashioned. I picture granddads saying it in the 1950s. I picture black-and-white Hollywood glamour… a skeevy agent telling a young Marilyn Monroe that he’ll make her famous.

Whenever I complete some menial task at work, people say, “Thanks Maureen, you’re a star!”* I hear this left and right. Please, Kiwis, tell me something I don't know.

* When this praise is delivered via email, it is often written as "YOUR a star!" Guess who didn't get a gold star on the 4th grade spelling test.

Texting Capital of the World

NZ is so far behind the times in so many ways, but they are leaps and bounds ahead of us in one arena. TEXT MESSAGING! NZ has taken this new little bit of technology and run with it. I would put a Kiwi of any age up against an American teenager any day. The Kiwis have very dexterous thumbs! In fact, the title of fastest texter in the world belongs to a young Kiwi male.

I have received maybe 7 phone calls in this country (Miss Popularity), but I regularly have to clear out my phone's inbox. Texting is so prevalent because cell phone calls are crazy expensive. A call is 80 cents per minute, whereas a text message is only 20 cents. I see the appeal of texting, but I am still amused by the degree to which it has invaded society. Texting is not only for young people, and it is not only for chatting with pals. If you can't text in NZ, you'd be totally left in the dust.

How do you enroll to vote? How are you reminded of doctor's appointments? How are you notified of sales at your favorite store? How do you check your bank account balance? How do you enter NZ's many sweepstakes? How do you order a pizza? The answer to all these questions (and much more) is TEXT MESSAGING.

Maybe I'm a slow learner, but I only started texting within the last 2 years. NZ, on the other hand, was already fully immersed in texting 2 years ago. Notice that this article is dated November 2006. For the love of the English language, can we please agree that it is horrible idea to allow text language in school exams? Kiwi kids these days!

C U L8r, dear readers.

Scared Straight

New Zealand has some rather graphic public service announcements - I gather that the country's main problems are gambling, domestic violence and binge drinking. The ads can be disturbing and/or unintentionally funny. I've heard quite a few people discuss this ad, which features a drunk man dropping a child at a picnic. It reminds me of this year's Fourth of July (you know who you are...)

As if you need another reason not to mix alcohol and children -- there was a 6-month-old baby at the office's Drinkie Friday this week. I alerted the baby's attentive father: "Um, he just put a bottle cap in his mouth." I am single-handedly saving New Zealand from itself, one young Kiwi male at a time.

Cookie Time Plane

Kiwis are not content to take a run-of-the-mill gas station pit stop. They spice things up by attaching planes to their gas stations. This Cookie Time plane-turned-cafe is a famous NZ landmark along State Highway One in the town of Mangaweka. It is a DC-3 plane manufactured in America during WWII... much bigger inside than I expected.

I'm Back!

Where have I been the last few days? On death's doorstep. A word of advice - don't ever get sick in a foreign country. The cold I had ignored for 2+ weeks turned into strep throat. Feverish, unable to swallow and with glands the size of cricket balls, I finally took a day off work to seek medical attention.

I opened the yellow pages and started dialing. When that was unsuccessful, I turned to friends for suggestions. I would take a nap, be rejected by a few doctors, take another nap, then be rejected by more doctors. I was discriminated against due to my American accent. Over the course of a day, I called just about every doctor in Wellington. Did the combination of severe illness and intense frustration bring me to tears? Maybe.

Every office referred me to an after hours clinic that costs an outrageous fortune for non-residents. I was almost desperate enough to go there, but at the last minute I found a doctor in the suburbs who was willing to give me an appointment... 24 hours later. I decided to extend my suffering an extra day to save $100.

The registration form at the doctor's office asked for my contact details and citizenship. They made a photocopy of my passport and visa, but asked zero questions about my health or medical history. This was the extent of my exam with the 80-year-old 5 foot tall doctor:

Dr: Are you pregnant?
Me: No.
Dr: Not even a little bit?
Me: Um, I hope not. [A ridiculous question deserves a riduculous answer.]
Dr: Open your mouth and say ahhh.
Me: Ahhh.

And with that, he prescribed me 1000mg of penicillin a day for 10 days. (I think this dose is unusually high?) No exam. No throat culture. The Kiwis will soon be wiped out by a super-bug due to rampant antibiotic resistance. I also asked for a renewal of another prescription. The doctor happily obliged. No questions asked. I would have asked for the good stuff if I had known it would be that easy. If you're a junkie, this is the place to be.

By some miracle, I found a pharmacy that was open until 5:30pm. (Don't forget - this is New Zealand.) They gave me penicillin in a box. There was no accompanying drug information sheet with details about how to take it, possible drug interactions, allergies, side effects, etc. Rules don't apply in New Zealand.

Newsflas, Part XVIII

Men have body image issues too. Young Kiwi male, I promise to overlook your shoulder hair if you promise to overlook my big American ass.