May 2006 Archives
Dashboard Jesus Doll
Put this Dashboard Jesus in your car and he'll be your co-pilot. Even though he may guide you through the valley of gridlock, he alone cannot get you into the carpool lane. Each 4 inch plastic Jesus figure sits atop a metal spring with an adhesive base. If you don't have a car, stick him up somewhere that you could use a little peace, serenity or forgiveness.
Dashboard Jesus can be fixed to desks, dashboards, helmets, computers or anything else that needs a spiritual lift.
I had to add this to the site... its cool. Buy them now!
I have been working on a large assignment the past few weeks, and part of it covers the Spanish arrival in the Americas, and how the Spaniards pretended to be gods, 'descendants of the sun', so that the Aztecs would fear and worship them. This passage and picture from an article was my favourite.
Amerindians, however, quickly displayed a well-developed spirit of enquiry in their attempts to decide whether or not Spaniards were indeed "Children of the Sun". In San Juan de Porto Rico, Amerindians had at first believed that Spaniards were immortal. They tested this theory by holding a Spaniard under water until he drowned, watching over him for several days to see if he were truly dead, then taking the body to their cheif to inform him of their findings. The Amerindians then rose up against the Spaniards.
I came across this singer/songwriter's livejournal the other day (He happens to be the 'Brenton' in the comments side section), and he wrote a poem about people that need to be desired, or people that are addicted to attention. It touched something with me, and I started playing with it, and re-working it... So I thought I'd post them up here...
BEFORE
To the flirts, to the players, to the new "friend" every weekends:
Attention is a drug, and you're addicted
I've heard it, I've seen it, just admit it
A razor blade Band-Aid (tape it on)
A deception to cover up your wounds
A fix that leaves you hollow
Your scars, your pain, you're cutting it deeper
Break your arm to numb your heart
With your craving increasing immunity
What will it cost you next time
Deal with your lack of self worth
With an ever cheapening appeal
What will it cost them next time
Doesn't make sense to me either.
It could end today.
AFTER
Attention is a drug, and you're addicted,
I've heard it, I've seen it, just admit it.
A razor blade Band-Aid, just tape it on,
You're desire for the spotlight without the song.
A deception to cover up a soul thats bleeding,
A fix that leaves you lost, alone and needing.
Your scars, your pain, you're cutting it deeper,
In designer dollar fame that makes you cheaper.
Breaking your body doesn't numb the heart,
Two hearts together more than thousands apart.
With your craving increasing immunity
Each time it costs you, nothing is free.
Deal with your self-worth deficiency
Your lustre is fading, can't you see?
Lost your reflection in degenerate shine,
What will it cost be for them next time?
Enjoy. Thats 2 writing compliments in the same week. Crazy.
I've been absolutely amazed the past few days. The hype of the past five years has been slowly building and rising to its climax. Yes, I used the word climax. But not in the dirty Hollywood orgasm sense. There... I also used the word orgasm.
But alas, all this climactic orgy of fever and passion, and not a female in sight. All this commotion is over two guys, stripping down to their shorts, and bitch-slapping each other until one either falls over, or until someone else decides that they should have fallen over. (Sam, if you're hurt, stay down). Maybe its more than a slap, but if you have seen a full grown man in a top hat and fur coat, well, lets just its hard to look tough wearing white fur and gold chains, think Mr T meets Elton John... picture a VERY gay pimp.
Yes. After 5 years, Anthony 'the man' Mundine, and Danny 'green machine' Green are finally stripping down, and getting it on. In a non-relations punching heads kind of way.
Seriously, I have not seen this kind of excitement over a fight since I was in high school back in the glory years of year nine. We were all in the main quad playing handball and throwing food, and some boggle eyed year 7 student sprinted up into the centre of the playground, and we all fell silent, watching, waiting for the pink faced child to speak. "FIGHT!!!" he yelled, and we were off... the main quad emptied, and we were down on the basketball courts faster than a fat kid chasing cake.
It was almost over by the time we got there... the poor unfortunate lasted all of 3 hits before he went down, down, down to funky down... crying. Sook. Hopefully Green/Mundine lasts longer for that, especially for all those stooges that forked out over $1000 for the priveledge of being spattered in sweat, spittle and blood in a ring-side seat at Aussie Stadium. Seriously. Boys never grow up. They just get hairy.
We all know (at least you SHOULD all know) that the most important match up in the next 24 hours occurs in Paris, France. Where Arsenal FC and FC Barcelona play off in the champions league final. Ronaldinho and Henry, bring on the crazy play. My head tells me Barca will win, but my heart lies with Arsenal. But seeing as though the game is at 5am, there will be little fanfare over here, and even less celebration.
Everyone will still be drunk from the orgy of the slapping match. I mean boxing match.
Just to fill some people in that might turn up here after trying to view my-myspace (does that even work?), I made a redirect to this site. Because myspace is the absolute ugliest website layout I have ever seen in my life. Its like they got some lovely blind children to to paint a picture, but they had their hands tied behind their backs and were forced to paint with their mouths. Its really bad, like the uncle in the family that has that seedy combover, 80's moustache, and who wears his pants unreasonably high... and who sneezes excessively loud... and who likes to do the arm touching and caressing... ahem.
Anyways, today at school was pretty crazy. Sure, no sexual harassment this time, no booty shaking, but plenty of looks and attempted pick up lines from the students. Pff. Amateurs.
The highlight came in the afternoon when I was marking some year 11 essay papers on a dead guy called 'Lindow man'. For the record (and the 50% of people that visit this site NOT knowing who he was - {I make up the other 50% of visitors}), Lindow man is a 2000 year old preserved sacrficial victim. He was garotted (strangled) had his blood drained through a hole in his neck, had his neck snapped, had his stomach cut open, had his head smashed in, and was drowned in a bog for good measure. It is because of the bog that we have his body today...
I'll stop talking, and simply quote a line from this essay.
"While examining Lindow mans stomach they also discovered that he (Lindow man) had round worms, however other than an itching bottom Lindow was in not too badder shape minusing his death injuries".
Yeah. Lindow was drowned, stabbed, strangled, had his neck snapped, his blood drained and his head smashed in... but besides an itchy bottom, he was in perfect health.
I can almost imaging a bloodied mashed up corpse scratching his "itchy bottom".
Public Education... its time to give it more.
I have had an interesting couple of days... quotewise anyway.
From my little 5 year old sister...
"I'LL KICK YOU IN THE NOODLE".
At the staff meeting...
BOSS "HEY.... This is my story"
KID "Sorry... Toni catching cheese is better."
At Uni, we have this nerd in the class. His name is Ben. We call him Leeroy Jenkins because he is such a non-thinking nerd.
Ben - "There isnt enough passion in that letter..."
Kristine - "BEN WANTS PASSION"
ME - "Well, I thought that was pretty obvious..."
Will out.
