Posts Tagged ‘jesus’

This was the least morbid "Jesus' suffering"-picture I could find that still had James Caviezel as Jesus. And I really think that if there is a God his son would truly be as hot as James Caviezel.

1) He died for our sins and all that, so if you are to believe in him it was important for him to die to complete his mission. (This also makes Judas less of a traitor, and the Romans just one of many pawns in God’s everlasting game of chess, or something along those lines.)

2) It doesn’t matter whether he died or not if you don’t believe in him, so really: To you he’s just a crazy guy from some millenia ago who had the misfortune of making some powerfull guys really cross (this is if you believe in him as a real historian person, just not the religion) and dying in a manner that many died in when found in the same situation. Or he never existed. Either way: His death wouldn’t be much to get riled up over today.

3) The Romans planned their killing of Jesus so well that it gives us hardworking students one extra week (or two, or more, depending on what school and country you are in..) of not having to be hardworking students, mid-semester.

I love these! I always torture them. Bahaha! (No, not really. I wouldn't do that... Probably.)

4) The capitalist-franchises realized that blood, crowns of thorns and big nails wouldn’t do well to celebrate, so they created cutesy bunnies that hands out eggs, either made of chocolate or consisting of chocolate and other tasty treats. Sometimes even the bunny is chocolate, just to embrace some of the macabre feeling of this otherwise cheerfull holiday, and their ears taste so good! (Especially those with white-chocolate layers, or fillings of some sort…)

5) His death gives way for some amazing “Dead Messiah”-jokes. I’m telling you: Way better than those boring and slightly less-morbid ones about dead babies.

Yes people, this year I’m a sucker for easter. And I know you’re all wondering why.
Because I’m going home today, that’s why. Currently I’m *cough* packing my bags *cough* *cough* and preparing for the flight that leaves in less than 5 hours. At least I will do that, soon, after writing this. And having a shower. And then it’ll be me and my man-friend on our way to Bodø to visit my friends and family. So I officially love the fact that Jesus died for our sins, because it means I’ll be skiing and… Well, doing basically all the same stuff I do in Tromsø (boardgames, read crime-novels, see some crime-movies and just being awesome…) but at least I haven’t gone skiing in quite some time.

Also: These past days were nice too. I finally met the last part of my man-friends family, and went on a really nice family-outing to this polar-museum where we watched seals being fed and I nearly broke my back on a slide with his niece. (At least that’s what I thought I almost did for some time, untill I realized I’m just too old for that stuff. That’s right, stuff.)

So all in all: I’m good. You now know a bit more about my personal life, as in “Yes, my man-friend has got a family and he’s not actually hiding me away from them.” I’m taking that as a good sign.

My own lovey-doveyness is now making me so sick I think I need a shower… (Just kidding, I needed one anyways. Have to be clean before I sit on a plane and get gross and plane-dirty again…)

I do kind of wish to know how my fellow bloggers and our readers are vacationing for this easter break. And what is your favourite thing about Jesus dying and stuff?

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I just got back from possibly the best 3 hours of my life: an Elton John concert. The man is a God. Seriously. Okay, maybe I’m slightly delusional but something- no, everything about him speaks to my soul! The way he moves on stage (something in between a gremlin and hobbit), the way his short/stubby fingers caress the ivory keys, the way he belts out a note for way too long but somehow pulls it off….he is magic, I tell you. MAGIC!!!

I must admit, I have loved Elton for some time. Ever since high school when my friend introduced me to his amazing records, he’s been one of my favorites. And guess what, ya’ll…he played my favorite song tonight!

“And Jesus, he wants to gooo to Venus!
And leave Levon far behi-i-ind!
Take a balloon and go sailing,
While Levon, Levon slowly dies!!!!!!

He was born a pauper to a pawn,
On a Christmas day,
When the New York Times said God is dead,
And the war’s begun.
Alvin Tostig had a son today-aaaay-yayay!”

It’s so good. I’m not even joking you, I had a tear in my eye on some of his songs (i.e. “Candle In the Wind,” “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me,” and “Sorry Seems To Be the Hardest Word”). That could possibly be due to the fact that I am PMSing right now, but I like to think it has to do with the raw emotion only my Elty can accomplish.

And now, dear readers, I am off to bed! Tomorrow I must get up and get a haircut. I’m kinda rockin’ a mullet right now, so I definitely need it.


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I’m sick of opening this web page and the first thing I see being that depressing, way-too-serious blog of mine, so I have decided to write a new one!

Now, now, what to write about…


I should’ve thought this one through a little better…

Oh! I can write about the strange happening that occurred this day. Some of you may already know of it (cough, Michael, cough), but most probably do not. It all started with me deciding to mow the front yard as a kind gesture to my mother. I went outside in my mowing finest (AKA gross pants/shirt combo with awesome grass-stained shoes) and started to pull the mower out of the garage when, all of a sudden, this man- late-20’s, good looking- comes a-walkin’ up the driveway. I was a little, no- A LOT- wary at first because that kind of thing just doesn’t happen where I live. Turns out, his car had broken down on his way to a city nearby and he needed some gas money. He’d been wandering around my neighborhood for two hours with no luck. Of course, he didn’t just outright ask for a donation on my part, he offered to work for it. So, I told him he could mow the front yard for me and I’d pay him $10. He was happy to do it and so I went inside and, as any rational person would do, ran around and locked all the doors and then watched him suspiciously as he completed the task.

{On a side note, I should add that before he started mowing he asked me if I wanted him to mow in any particular pattern, as in diagonal lines or whatever. I responded with a, “No, it doesn’t matter,” to which he then responded, “Oh alright, I didn’t want to upset your husband or anything.” Despite my intense urge to laugh hysterically, I decided it would be a good idea to let him believe that I was a married woman. I figured he’d probably be less likely to kill and/or rape me if he knew I was married. Why I thought that, I do not know. Another thought that passed through my mind was, “Hey, if he does decide to rape me, at least he’s hot.”}

Anyways, he finished the job, I paid him, and he went on his merry way. I guess he really was a decent person who just needed some gas money. I felt kinda bad for the guy. I mean, he’s stranded in a city fondly known as Spokompton (Note: Spokompton = a play on words combining Spokane and Compton. Additional note: Compton is basically the most hardcore, dangerous, gang-filled city on the West Coast.) and has no idea how to get enough money to get the hell out. I hope he somehow managed to find some help and eventually gets home okay.

And that was my story of the day. My song of the day is “No One’s Gonna Love You” by Band of Horses. It’s pretty much my song of the past month, actually. Ya’ll should listen to it:

We are the ever-living ghost of what once was.

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