“It’s one of my favorites,” I said.

“I know, right? Can you believe a girl saw it tonight and called it a sissy red?”

“She did? Why’d she do that?”

“Because she’s a bitch.”

§

I met an American from Chicago this week, and we talked about the city and the experiences of moving to New Zealand. She said, “After telling someone I’m from Chicago, I hate when they say ‘from one windy city to another’ or something else about the wind.”

20 minutes later we were standing in a circle, with strangers. Someone asks her, “So where in the states are you from?”

“Chicago,” she said.

“From one windy city to another, eh?”

If you’re moving to Wellington from Chicago, expect a lot of wind talk. Whether you like it or not, it’s where our cultures try to connect.

§

Next Friday I’m flying to Chicago for a seven week holiday. If any of my kiwi friends want something from America, let me know. I have a large suitcase.

I could only watch the surfers because I’m just a beginner. Those waves look small but they’re easily 12 feet high. I saw a man’s surfboard snap it half.

Some other remarkable memories from my three week vacation:

• a street peddler attempted to sell me tickets to a shooting range where I could fire “real guns”
• a customs official asked if I brought marmite. I asked if it was illegal, and she said, “No, I just don’t like the stuff. Yuck.”
• some Hawaiians are fat. Bigger than midwestern fat. I think their island genes compound the fatty foods
• a stranger gave me a lift, and I asked him what to see in O’ahu. He said, “I don’t know. I usually drink with my friends. It’s safer that way.” I didn’t ask
• my parents and I saw lava flow into the ocean at Volcano National Park

I mostly slept in the sun. It was so warm…

§

Thanksgiving Dinner 2008

Toasted Le Moulin baguette with:
Cream cheese & caramelised onions

Apple pie & cream
Christmas fruit mince pie

§

Catherine made everything from scratch, even the coleslaw! Here’s a photo of my adopted family in Wellington. Catherine (the chef) and Craig (the sous-chef) are on the right:

And here we are at the end of dinner, waiting for dessert:

So good! It reminded me of dutch apple pie, without the cinnamon.

Thank you so much C & C, it was superb!

Fascinating!¹ After seeing this I wanted to know how New Zealand compared to the United States. For example, how would the same salary be taxed in Illinois and how would those taxes be spent?

Based on the United States federal budget of 2008² and the net pay calculator for the state of Illinois during the 2008 tax year, here’s the American tax statement:³

Let’s compare any amount over $500 between America and New Zealand:

So what sticks out? America: social security, defense, unemployment, debt and war. New Zealand: transport, social development, health, education and defense.

That’s a cynical and dangerous look at the tax breakdowns, but even so, the War on Terror would proportionately receive almost twice as much tax as the Ministry of Defence.⁵

And what’s that? Interest on National Debt?

Is New Zealand even in debt?

Surprisingly, I would pay more tax in Illinois than in New Zealand (over $2,000 more). And Americans don’t even have the same benefits as Kiwis, like public health care or financial support for accidental injuries. Plus, I don’t need to file a tax return in New Zealand (which is a service I would pay for, and apparently do). Why does the IRD receive so much money?

Which makes me wonder, if you could allocate your tax dollars to specific departments, would you? For example if you don’t want to finance “proactive war,” would you give that money to your favorite department, like the National Aeronautics & Space Administration?⁶

Decades ago this wouldn’t have been possible (logistical nightmare) but this type of government seems feasible today.

Although, it scares me to think about the nutters who would give their tax to the Department of Defense.

But it could be a way to clearly see where the people want their money spent.

<sub>1. This year I started tracking my personal finances. I concluded after two months I am an alcoholic, and if I didn’t drink my wages I would be a millionaire.
2. The budgets from 1996 to 2009 are available online. View the budgets here.
3. The calculated proportions of the budget does not distinguish between income tax, payroll taxes, corporate tax, excise tax, customs, estate and gift taxes. It’s all lumped together, so the figures are at best estimates of how the government spends income tax.
4. Illinois state tax is an additional 3 percent, totalling $2039.16. This brings the total taxed to 29.51%.
5. Spelling defense with a “c,” blasphemy!
6. I did go to space camp, after all.</sub>

Designers (sometimes me) are different than developers (almost everyone at the presentation).¹

For example, before the presentation began, Kirk had an announcement:

“After the presentation we’ll give out a keyboard as a prize, so stick around,” Kirk said.

I said, “A keyboard? Excellent! Is anyone in the audience musical? Can anyone play a song?”

…

“No, it’s not that type of keyboard,” Kirk said. “It’s a Microsoft keyboard.”

…

I was the only person in the room who thought it was a musical keyboard.

The presentation went well, and it was fun to meet new people in the IT community. If you went to the presentation, thanks for coming!

Update: the presentation has been posted to Slideshare.

_{1. Although the title of the presentation made some girls bite the bait! Design can do that.}

“I didn’t cheer for the Yanks,” man number one said.

“I have a shirt that says the US bombs the world. I should have worn that,” man number two said.

Yea, as if the rugby players care. And that shirt is uninformative and lame. Where’s the wit?

_{1. A rugby tournament between 16 countries}

“Hey! You!”

I turned around and saw a red faced man wearing a bright blue vest, which identified him as library staff. He looked like Michael Moore because of his glasses and the fat belly, but he sounded twangy.

“Who gave you permission to take photos?” He barked.

“Oh. Do I need permission?” I asked.

“Yes in fact you do, you need my permission before you take photos inside the library, and you haven’t asked me, so you shouldn’t be taking photos.”

I was shocked into silence. The conversation went on for a bit, and it ended badly.

“Well next time you want to take photos you need permission,” he said.

“Don’t worry, next time I’ll ask for sure!”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Oh.”

§

As I walked out of the building he followed me to make sure of something. I don’t know what.

I still can’t believe a librarian yelled at me! Now I have to avoid the library until I recover my ‘I can do anything because I’m free’ ignorance.

I only wanted a picture of the library so I remember what it looks like.

“Shorpy is a blog about old photos and what life a hundred years ago was like: How people looked and what they did for a living.”

The past looks so poor.

I felt like a cock in the city streets. The pedestrians mocked me. When a young hippy and I crossed paths he called me a wanker, and a wanking motion ensued as he walked across the street.

I thought that was a bit redundant, hippy!

I shrugged my shoulders. After all I was driving a car that demands confidence, a sort of affluent indifference that can only be bought.

I loved it. Now I think I will move to somewhere desolate where dead animal skulls line the highway. I need a fast car.

In an unrelated manner Xero is hiring and we’re looking for an HTML and CSS uber-guru. Here’s the pitch. Go on, apply!

Swallow your filthy burger, woman!