I have one complaint about my new abode. During our first morning together it tried to kill me.

It was a normal start to a normal day. I woke up late, as usual. I hit walls while walking to the bathroom and I fiddled with the temperature of the shower. I noticed the tub was unusually curved. When I groggily turned to grab the shampoo and sing like Ferris Bueller my feet lost their grip and, as usual, gravity was pitiless.

I fell in the tub. I was embarrassed, even though I was alone. I carefully stood up, dressed myself and went to the doctor. I thought I fractured a rib.

After giving me a series of hugs to assess the damage to my rib cage the doctor said, “You probably have a small fracture. Don’t be a pussy and go to work.”

Apparently I like to start a new year by breaking bones. One year ago I broke my toe. January is a dangerous month.

When I told a colleague at work I slipped in the tub, she said when her mother fell in the bath she broke her nose. When I told Richard about my accident, he said his grandfather died from slipping in the tub.

Be careful, reader. Tubs are dangerous.

They told me you wouldn’t need to do this. But I don’t believe them!

This is the correct RSS feed: http://feeds2.feedburner.com/JefWeg

Stink!

The time: Sometime after coffee but before lunch.

The chief offender: Rod Drury.

§

My phone receives a text message:

“We will probably go to drink around 4. Do you have a lot of work today?”

I look at my phone. It’s sitting on my desk. As my hand moves from the keyboard to the phone, time slows. From out of nowhere, Rod swoops down like an eagle, and within a jiff his talons dig into the guts of my phone, lifting it off my desk.

I see his index finger slide across the surface. He has successfully unlocked my iPhone.

His fingers work it over. He responds:

“It’s Jeff’s boss¹ here. He works until 5.”

Slave driver. The nerve! To think I have to work all day.

At least the message was innocent. I thought an iPhone was a full-proof mechanism against Rod. I guess not. The rumors are true — His fingers are in all the pies.

Now if I leave early he’s going to notice!

_{1. Not only is he the boss, he is the CEO of Xero}

Here’s the whole foot, notice the break in the pinky toe.

And here’s the break.

How did I break it, you ask?

By saving the life of a child standing in the middle of the road. He was almost hit by a bus!

Actually I hit my toe on the edge of my couch. I heard the crack, too.

I thought I had strong bones from all the milk I drank as a kid. I guess not.

Last weekend I went skiing on the North Island’s most popular volcano and it was beautiful:

This photo is pathetic! You have to see it for yourself.

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When I arrived at the ski area, I went to the ticket counter to buy my gear and lift pass.

“Hi, can I have skis, boots and poles, and a upper mountain lift pass?”

“Sure, you might be eligible for a youth discount. Are your parents here? How old are you?”

“I’m 27.”

§

By the end of the day, I had a fresh set of bruises from:

• falling off a t-bar lift with Anouk

As Egon said about crossing the streams, “Try to imagine all life as you know it stopping instantaneously and every molecule in your body exploding at the speed of light.” The same applies to crossing your skis. Anouk was not happy!

• jumping into a wall of snow

Not nice, fluffy snow. The water which formed this snow used to flow in the sewers of Gary, Indiana, I’m sure of it.

• dodging a boy (like a good samaritan), who happened to fall next to a ski ramp

When I landed, my skies, gloves, hat, etc. were scattered across the field, as if I were Mr. Potato Head and a screaming child threw me against a wall.

In a few weeks I’m flying to Queenstown for some more skiing (yes, I am a masochist). Feel free to fly down and join me!

On my way to Crazy Horse¹ someone threw a water balloon out of a window and it nearly hit me. It landed next to my right leg.

I looked up at the sky and shook my fist! They were out there somewhere! It was probably the same person who hit the back of my head with a fork.

I thought I escaped embarrassment. But during dinner, Vicky said, “You should go salsa dancing.”

“I don’t salsa dance,” I said.

“Why not? They always need more men.”

“The last time salsa danced I kicked the toenail off my date.”

“Ouch!”

“I had to make a tourniquet out of a napkin for her bleeding toe,” I said.

“Right,” Vicky said. “I always forget that story!”

Salsa dancing confuses me because there’s too much stepping. One wrong move and bang! She loses a toenail.

If I tried again, I would make her wear steel-toed boots. Not very sexy, but safe.

_{1. Crazy Horse is an excellent steak house in Wellington. I had filet mignon. In New Zealand “filet” is pronounced “fill it.”}

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.}

Noumea’s a nice place. Almost everyone I met knew how to play chess and poker. Games are important when the people you meet can’t speak English.

The city was different… it smelled like Paris.

My camera isn’t used to sunlight so it saturated the hell out of my photos. Everyday looked like this:

(near the Baie des Citrons)

Some interesting people too. The first day at the hostel I had this conversation (imagine my broken French):

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“Hi. Are you okay? What happened?” I asked.

“This morning my cell phone was stolen. It fell out of my pocket and someone picked it up and turned it off.” he said.

“That sucks. My phone was stolen in Australia too.”

§

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“Last night I left my wallet on the table outside. Someone stole 500 dollars from me.” He frowned.

“That really sucks. I hate carrying money.”

§

I was playing chess with a baker and he walked past our table, looking like death.

“What’s wrong with him? Is he still sad about his cell phone and cash?” I asked the baker.

“No, did you know his father was in the hospital? This afternoon he passed away.”

“Shit.” I said.

§

I don’t know how to console someone in French, and quite stupidly, I felt compelled to say something.

I said, “Tu n’as pas de la chance,” which means, “You’re not lucky.”

It didn’t make him feel better and made me feel like the king of understatements.

Life’s hard, eh?

I poured a bottle of cream into a whipping machine, and while fiddling with the plug the machine slipped from my hands! In one instant my kitchen floor went from dirty to rancid².

While this commotion was in locomotion, the chocolate on the stove was burning in the pot.

Burnt chocolate, cream-less pavlova, rancid floor. How lame.

<sub>1. a dessert consisting of a meringue base or cup filled with fruit and whipped cream.
2. our floor was already gross, cream excluded. Instead of tiles we walk on doormats.</sub>

At six in the morning, my heater, which was on the floor, turned on and seconds later the voice of God boomed, “Let there be light!” Or fire, in this case. It was not good.

Ten minutes later I woke up, coughing, and through the haze I saw my pillow burning. I opened the windows and poured water on the fire.

I feel lucky. If I was religious, I would pray to God. If I was a scientist, I would thank my olfactory neurons on my epithelium for sending smoke signals to my brain. I’m neither, so I’ll thank dumb luck.

My flat mates saw my pillow in the morning. I told them what happened and said, “I’m sorry for almost killing you and burning the house down.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But look at my pillow! I need a new one now.”

They said, “Why? It just ends up on the floor!”

Lesson learned.