I've been browsing around that Rapture Ready site, and for once my brain feels icky. I can accept the people saying "No one knows when the hour will come!" and all that, but telling people it's time to stop worrying about putting money into your retirement fund and kids' college accounts, and saying Obama may not be the Antichrist but he's probably a major signpost--and pretending to have proof . . .
Then there was the section on "What to do if you weren't one of the people pulled up by the Rapture" . . . because of course the web will still be around . . . unless I'm supposed to print it out just in case . . .
Damn that strict Methodist upbringing that has left the tiny, tiny voice in the depths of my brain that says, "Maybe?" I wonder if people from strict religious upbringings can ever fully purge that voice that sounds like a parent you loved.
At first I thought all I saw was a turkey's wishbone, cementing the fact that I had a seat on the bullet train to hell reserved alongside tommy, but then I looked again.
I see two men floating in the air and kissing, while a burning cake hovers above them. Behind the cake is a bloody ax.
Here you can vote on whether you see the BVM: [link]
"No" = 49%
"Yes"=27%
"Somewhat"=22%
I see two men floating in the air and kissing, while a burning cake hovers above them. Behind the cake is a bloody ax.
That's disturbing as hell.
I'm impressed.
tommyrot sees gay vikings with cake.
or possibly gay lumberjacks
Yikes!
tommyrot sees gay vikings with cake.
He used to live in San Francisco where that wouldn't be an uncommon sight.
Re maternity leave, my company offers eight weeks' paid parental leave for the primary caregiver. (Mothers are
required
to take at least six weeks after giving birth.) I will get one week's paid leave; were I to be the primary care-giver, I could take eight weeks. (I can also take - I think this applies to both parents - up to 52 weeks off total, though most of that would be unpaid.)
Man, I was rage girl today. I knew it was getting bad when I really had to refrain from muttering aloud
fuck you and you and you
when the damned ad on the Baltimore Sun website kept expanding whenever I tried to follow a link. I hate those ads normally, but not usually to the point I'm wishing the server would implode.
One of my friends was back to teaching within less than five days after having her second and third kids. For the second one, she hired an undergrad to keep an eye on the baby in her office while she taught. For the third, she just put him in a Baby Bjorn. (We all told her that any one of us would be happy to cover her classes for her for a week or so, but she insisted that she come right back. I think one of the older professors had said something to her about deciding what her priorities were when she failed an exam about two weeks after her first kid was born, and she was determined to prove that she could do whatever was expected of her.)
