Men in Short Shorts: Another Reason Why I Love New Zealand

The Kids Are Alright

I went to talk to the NPR's journalism class today and it went very well.

I've had been in some pretty intimidating circumstances before but greeting a room full of unimpressed looking ninth graders really takes the cake.

The teacher had invited me to speak with the class some time ago when we met during a parent/teacher conference to discuss the NPR's progress.

I brought a few clips with me from the journalism heyday, including the article I did for the New York Times. When I pulled out my copy of the story I saw one student whisper the word "awesome" to the guy sitting next to him.

I knew from the NPR that there were some tough cookies in the room and she warned me that some of them might zone out or fall asleep.

I started off telling her class about the wide ways in which journalism and communications skills could come in handy in their future, whether or not they decided to pursue the profession. I explained how powerful the job can be when it comes to bringing about change and solving problems. I told them how each story was something new and never the same old thing twice. I told them how some stories are funny, some are sad and some are just plain weird.

I spoke about the times I had gotten to speed around a NASCAR racetrack, interview Buzz Aldrin and have a country music legend cook me steak.

I said there might be times when they interviewed people they didn't like and that they might be tempted to write that that person was "a giant douchebag" but they should refrain from doing so. They laughed.

The more I spoke, the more they laughed and gave me the eye contact that told me they were listening.

When I spoke about living and working in Mexico a few of the students asked questions about my time there and others seemed interested in my experiences.

They had some good questions too. One guy wanted to know how to become a published photographer and another girl asked how gossip magazines managed to avoid getting sued for some of the things they print.

I had a great experience and I managed not to embarrass the NPR too much. Even better, the teacher invited me back to speak to her other journalism class tomorrow.

I'm happy to do so.

Book Worming

I rediscovered the joy of trading books for books.

Today I traded for:

"The Most of P.G. Wodehouse"

"The Penguin History of New Zealand" (which is not about actual Penguins in New Zealand, sadly)

"Ka Whawhai Tonu Matou" (Maori: Struggle Without End)

"Common Errors in English Usage" (To help me feel both humbled by my own errors and incredibly smug over the errors of others)

"Women Pirates: A Brief Anthology of Thirteen Notorious Female Pirates" (Because Yar!)

I also bought traded some vinyl for a new M83 album.

The Power of Cliffs Compels Me

My Angolan friend Sergio thinks all Americans love cliffs.

Maybe we do.

They are kind of fun to perch on and climb.

They are not for the leaving of old underpants. Ew!

Americans also like old bathtubs in fields.

The Rosca

Rebozo-check. Mexican Coke-check. Dangerous Religious Pasty-check.

One of these people has never chipped a tooth on Jesus.

Close Encounters With Christ

My friend is coming over and bringing a Rosca de Reyes with her.

We are celebrating the Mexican observance of "Three Kings Day" where you get to eat sweet bread and make a wish or something.

The last time I tried the Rosca (which is a sweet bread in a wreath shape) I had an unpleasant encounter with the Son of God.

If you have ever eaten one of those Mardi Gras cakes with the little plastic baby hidden in them, you may know where I'm going with this.

The Rosca has several small figurines hidden it. The baby Jesus is the one that gets you the most points apparently.

I  took my slice and bit into it without a care in the world. Almost immediately, my front tooth crashed against something very hard and the pain radiated up through my skull.

I spit the bread out and pulled a tiny ceramic baby Jesus out of the mess.

There he lay, in his tiny ceramic manger, gazing peacefully at me with the serenity of one who has done no wrong and knows no guilt.

I warned my friend that I would probably tear my bread into tiny pieces before I ate it and she seemed unphased by my unorthodox ways.

I have a tiny chip in my front tooth to remind me of the last time I celebrated with a Rosca and I don't want to have another "come to Jesus moment" with the same painful consequences.

More Maori Love...

Secondary Embarrassment

Secondary embarrassment is when you feel deep shame for someone else's actions.

It's what I feel when I watch Brad Pit spout angst-ridden poetry written by misunderstood ninth grader in this cheesetacular fragrance commercial.

Obviously he lost a bet with someone and this was his punishment.

Oh, my God. His poor children.

Christmas in Cancun

This is how one makes a snowman in the tropics.

Jules sets off my lily white everything.

The Santa hat on the left doubles as a wind sock.

Jules gets glittery

For reasons that escape me, this carousel lion was given testicles.

This is the position my son assumes when he is getting ready to kick up sand.

If I turn my back on the impending storm, maybe it will go away.

Most of my favorite DJs were set to play in Cancun exactly two days after I left.  Tiesto, Avicii and David Guetta were also coming. Frickidity frackin frick!