Demonising

I’ve noticed something funny about the internet.

There’s a lot of websites I could go on that attract people from all over the world – websites like Imgur or Tumblr. What I’ve noticed with these kinds of sites is that people are relatively tolerant of everyone else’s beliefs and choices. While religion (especially Christianity) still gets hated on a bit, for the most part people on these sites are fair, and stick to the “people are free to believe what they want” mantra.

Not so on websites closer to home.

I came across this article on Stuff.co.nz, talking about those girls making an exorcism documentary. Now, I don’t know much about what they’re up to, but I don’t approve of it as a money-making venture, if that’s what it is. Regardless, some of the things I’ve heard about it (which sound absolutely ridiculous when summed up by a very atheist writer) ring true with my knowledge of the Christian faith.

We do believe in demonic possession, and we do perform exorcisms. We do believe people can take on demons from various different things such as drugs and sex, and most of us don’t advocate turning down medical help in favour of prayer. But boy, do those beliefs take a hammering in the comments section of Stuff.

What I’ve noticed in the Stuff comments section numerous times is that anyone even vaguely religious gets downvoted to oblivion and ridiculed nonstop for what the non-spiritual among us call “being uneducated”.

I believe in God. I am a Christian. Last time I checked, I was not uneducated, I was not a blithering idiot who thinks all science is the work of the devil, and I didn’t want to force every other living being to become a Christian too. If you were to sit down with any random Christian off the street you’d no doubt find they are perfectly sane, reasonable, and logical people, just like you.

One commenter on this article actually said “There should be a law preventing anyone from being religious until the age 18.”

Yes, please, take away our freedom of thought. It’s 2013 now. We’ve come far enough that we should be able to believe in a God (or no God, as the case may be) without being sent to jail. To see a comment like that, with numerous upvotes, in this day and age . . . well, it makes it sound like we’ve started to go backwards.

When it comes down to it, I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I hate how people will call Christians uneducated and blind and compare our faith to a belief in Santa, when we’re the exact opposite and there’s nothing to say they’re in the right anyway. Live and let live.

The sneakmeister

Good on that guy who photobombed Tony Abbot after his election speech.

I just love the fact that he weaseled his way up on that stage like he was meant to be there, shaking hands and whatnot, and the whole time it was a ruse. That guy must have been internally giggling the whole time.

He is my spirit animal.

Sweet loot

The other day my flatmate cleaned out her wardrobe, for possibly the first time in her entire life. It was glorious.

I watched with a greedy gleam in my eye as a pile of clothes grew steadily at my feet – clothes that she didn’t wear enough to justify keeping. Clothes that I would happily take off her hands.

It didn’t stop there. I’m now the proud new owner of several shirts, sweatshirts, and a pair of tights, a handbag, numerous eyeshadows, lip glosses, concealers and foundations, a draw full of body lotions, (it puts the lotion on its skin), conditioners and shampoos, and some shoes.

I also have some random bottles of pills, so that’s a little strange.

I think Sacha needs to clean out her room more often.

All the wonders of the world

Have you ever wished your lips could glow in the dark? Maybe you’ve always yearned to adorn your front lawn with zombie gnomes. Perhaps it’s your previously unrealised life goal to own a tie with a secret compartment to store alcohol in.

Wish no longer, my dear friends, because a little website called Thisiswhyimbroke.com can give you all this and more.

So much more.

Here’s my five favourite items up for grabs. Well, five favourite for now. I haven’t even begun to reach the bottom, wherever it may be.

1. Laser pointer cat toy.

If your cat is anything like mine, you may experience moments of pure, unadulterated hatred for it. While I love our flat’s kitten, Tonka, he does tend to drive me a little bit completely up the wall. The last few nights I’ve let him sleep in my room because I’ve been home alone and (stupidly) reading scary stories on the internet. Some company was appreciated. Until the next morning that is. At 6.30 Tonka’s awake, and apparently his favourite morning activity is to walk all over my face purring, meowing, and trying to smooch me. If only I had something to distract him with . . .

Ah.

2. The car mustache.

I don’t know about you guys, but I for one think my car could do with a little more facial hair. That’s why this big, attachable stache is a dream come true. I’m sure everyone will be able to tell how tough I am by my car’s manly attire.

3. Armoured knight hoodie.
I can’t think of a reason why everybody in the world shouldn’t want one of these. End of story.

4. Brass knuckles taser.

This one actually seems like a fantastic idea. Slip these bad boys on before heading home from work late at night in a dodgy area of town and you’re sussed. Criminals will get a nasty surprise when they try to pull the ol’ kidnaperoo and get an electric punch to the face.

5. Glow in the dark toilet paper.

I can’t not have this. I simply do not want to live in a world where I do not own glow in the dark toilet paper. I mean, yeah, I’m unable to think of any practical reason why I should have it, but that doesn’t matter. I want it anyway.

Aaand on the list of things that I do not want and never will:

Nose shower gel dispenser.

A clear computer mouse with a spider inside it.

Human fetus soap bar.

 

Lickety split

It’s my last day here at Stuff. I can’t figure out if my internship went quickly or slowly, and I can’t figure out how I feel about leaving.

On the one hand, I’m going to miss the people, the work, my grandparents, and my grandparents’ lovely, warm house. On the other hand, I want to see my friends again, and, although I sound like a nerd for saying this, I’m looking forward to class. And, of course, I’ll be closer to my Sam, and will no longer be an eight hour drive from him.

So I feel torn at the moment.

It’ll be strange not hearing the mystery office sneezer let out a high-pitched, yelpy sneeze every single day. I’ve now been informed of who she is, so I suppose there is no longer a mystery at all.

I probably won’t miss the constant uncertainty about whether or not what I just felt was an earthquake. There was another one today that was very short, but just gave the office a quick shake up, like a half-hearted salad toss. I won’t miss that.

Tomorrow my kitten and I shall begin the long drive home.

Hamilton.

Homelton.

Exciting and new

I just finished reading an article about mobile phone etiquette and the dos and don’ts involved. It was all pretty common sense stuff, so, understandably, there were a few comments underneath asking whether the article had been dug up from the 90s.

My favourite comment was this:

“This is just so timely. These new-fangled mobile phones may well catch on so it’s great to see Stuff so ahead of the game and giving us helpful hints for using them.”

 

Golden showers

As I casually perused the Stuff webpage today I stumbled across a story about mobile phones powered by urine, which, of course, immediately caught my attention.

One particular quote made me laugh “They said the technology had the potential to be installed into bathrooms to harness urine to produce enough electricity to power showers, lighting or razors.”

Thinking about urine powered showers amused me.

It’s been awhile

I haven’t posted anything on my blog since Monday, for which I’m most apologetic, dear followers. Somehow I’ve still been getting views on my blog, which is a surprise considering there’s nothing much to look at.

The problem is that since I’ve been working roughly nine till five (though let’s be honest, I came home early every single day but Friday), it seems I never have enough hours in the day to get anything done anymore!

When I get home, all I want to do is collapse on my bed until dinnertime. My cat, of course, demands love and attention when I have neither the time nor energy to give it. Dinner involves a lot of sitting around chatting with my grandparents, and maybe a cup of tea if I feel like it. By the time I’ve left the table and had a shower, it’s usually getting close to nine o’clock. Considering I’ve given myself an 11pm bedtime, that gives me two hours to get some extra work out of the way, scour Stuff for my articles and see if people have commented on them, and just generally get things done. The time is gone before I’ve even blinked, and then i’m resting my weary head down on my pillow, knowing that I’ll be up again at seven and out into the cold. 

It’s been an interesting week, and I’d like to think I haven’t been doing too bad. As my supervisor has pointed out (is that what I call him?), I have a habit of using too many words in my news stories. There are a lot of places where I can cut out the word “that” apparently.

Tonka has been allowed outside a few times and has always come back, but he did manage to get himself stuck up a tree in the back yard. Poppa had to drag him down, and suffered a scratch in the process.

I also got to write a quirky little piece on these amazing things, which 1 Day has called “Head Nap Pillows”. Thanks to my lovely boyfriend and his debit card details, I now have one heading my way in the mail.

Internships, internet stalkers, and abusive biting

Day two of my internship at Stuff.

I’m sitting in the newsroom. It is gigantic. Well, it looks gigantic to me at least. There are big bowls of fruit all around the place that we can just help ourselves to. I saw a woman carrying round a bowl of lollies before. I like this place. I mentioned to my Dad yesterday about the fruit bowls, and he made some joke about how they might be bits of fake fruit to look pretty.

“Well, I ate one of the bananas so I certainly hope they weren’t fake,” I replied.

Kevin Norquay, (I’ve recently learned it’s pronounced ‘Norky’), pointed out all the newsroom cliques. You have the digital staff, the Dominion donut, and us, the national news people. He told me the digital staff are like the naughty teenagers and the Dominion Post reporters are the disapproving adults.

I’ve been punishing myself a little bit by looking at comments where people have shared my gamer piece online. I think the thing that gets me the most is that people assume I’m drawing from horrible stereotypes, even though it’s all drawn from personal experience. If I was trying to stereotype I probably would have gone on about glasses-wearing, acne-covered hermits that haven’t been outside for several months and burst into flames when they step into the sunlight.  Somebody’s been stalking my blog and posting pictures of me somewhere and “negging” them, but the pictures and comments were deleted from the thread by the time I read it. My curiosity remains unsatisfied.

For some reason my thumb is sore today, so typing is quite painful. This may be the end for me.

I have a more serious, actual news story going through today focussing on domestic abuse against men, an issue that I’m quite close to, having a family member who had just that happen to them.

I don’t know how we change people’s attitudes. We’re living in a world where it’s acceptable for a woman to hit a man and she’s just “expressing her anger”. If a man “expressed his anger” there would be Hell to pay. I’m tired of it.

I said to my boyfriend the other day, “Sam, do you ever feel like I physically abuse you?”

“No,” he replied, “except maybe when you bite me.”

I have this bad habit of getting annoyed with Sam and biting his shoulder or arm in frustration. Not hard, just enough so he knows I’m annoyed with him. Guess I oughtta stop that. Frustrated tickle attacks it is.

Failing at failing

I usually try to do the Stuff quiz every day. I’m terrible at it. I average at a about five questions right out of 15. When I get anything higher than six, it’s a fluke.

I’m so bad at it that I’ve gotten into this funny habit. Instead of trying to get all the answers right, I try to get every single answer wrong. I have not yet succeeded in this quest.

Looks like I’m bad at that, too.