the fragmentation of heller's brain
Feb. 24th, 2003 03:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wickedfleaI had a pretty good weekend. Did some shopping, read a good bit, and played a lot of guitar and bass. I think I'm going to have to knock it off with the bass, though; it's aggravating my tendonitis. (Or, as we say down south, 'aggervatin'.'')
Twice in the last week or so I've gotten nosebleeds while in the shower. I look down and it's like Psycho up in there. I get nosebleeds every once in a while because of sinus problems, but what's up with the shower deal? Maybe I should stop doing three lines of cocaine before jumping in the shower each morning.
I used to get nosebleeds as a kid a lot. It never bothered me--I'd just jam a tissue or a sheet of notebook paper up there and keep doing whatever I was doing. But certain teachers used to make a big deal about it. I particularly remember Ms. Hefner, my sixth-grade science teacher, FREAKING out and sending me to the nurse once.
No, I never actually jammed a sheet of notebook paper up my nose.
This strike thing is going to be really interesting. There doesn't seem to be anyone at the press who's really hardcore into it, even the old-timers in accounting and such who have been in their same jobs forever and are going to stay there--that is, the people who are affected most by the issues (retirement benefits, etc.). It's weird, because reportedly there has always been almost 100% participation among press people who are in the union. But I really chalk this up to the communication issue: the union has done nothing in the way of letting anyone at the press know what in the fuck is going on. Actually, I take that back. This morning I got an email from someone in marketing saying that a union person had called her and told her that there will be $150 per week in strike pay available for people who strike--but I don't know exactly what that means. Does that mean just not showing up for work, or does that mean actually getting out there with picket signs? Oh, and the dude said that he's going to be at the pizza place on the next block at lunch tomorrow to answer questions people from the press have. But I happen to know that the real reason he's going to be there is to meet with two of the new people at the press, presumably to persuade them to join the union and strike. (New people generally don't have to make a decision about whether to join the union until they've been here for several months.) So he's not really concerned with keeping us informed (if he were, he'd have done it before now)--just with having the biggest turnout.
Arrrgggh. It just kills me. I don't even know why I'm worrying about this. I should just do what I think is best and motherfuck the rest, right right? Right right.
I was just talking on the phone with our editor who lives in Virginia. She's been having nightmarish troubles with her mouth--root canals and nerve damage and all kinds of stuff. I asked her if they were giving her anything good for the pain. She said yeah, but they had just given her something else. She said, "Hey, you can have my Vicodin!" And of course now I'm sitting here thinking, "Mmmmmm, Vicodin . . ." I can't help it, it's just the way my brain is wired.
Subject line of an email I just received: "Refinance Your Ho."
Twice in the last week or so I've gotten nosebleeds while in the shower. I look down and it's like Psycho up in there. I get nosebleeds every once in a while because of sinus problems, but what's up with the shower deal? Maybe I should stop doing three lines of cocaine before jumping in the shower each morning.
I used to get nosebleeds as a kid a lot. It never bothered me--I'd just jam a tissue or a sheet of notebook paper up there and keep doing whatever I was doing. But certain teachers used to make a big deal about it. I particularly remember Ms. Hefner, my sixth-grade science teacher, FREAKING out and sending me to the nurse once.
No, I never actually jammed a sheet of notebook paper up my nose.
This strike thing is going to be really interesting. There doesn't seem to be anyone at the press who's really hardcore into it, even the old-timers in accounting and such who have been in their same jobs forever and are going to stay there--that is, the people who are affected most by the issues (retirement benefits, etc.). It's weird, because reportedly there has always been almost 100% participation among press people who are in the union. But I really chalk this up to the communication issue: the union has done nothing in the way of letting anyone at the press know what in the fuck is going on. Actually, I take that back. This morning I got an email from someone in marketing saying that a union person had called her and told her that there will be $150 per week in strike pay available for people who strike--but I don't know exactly what that means. Does that mean just not showing up for work, or does that mean actually getting out there with picket signs? Oh, and the dude said that he's going to be at the pizza place on the next block at lunch tomorrow to answer questions people from the press have. But I happen to know that the real reason he's going to be there is to meet with two of the new people at the press, presumably to persuade them to join the union and strike. (New people generally don't have to make a decision about whether to join the union until they've been here for several months.) So he's not really concerned with keeping us informed (if he were, he'd have done it before now)--just with having the biggest turnout.
Arrrgggh. It just kills me. I don't even know why I'm worrying about this. I should just do what I think is best and motherfuck the rest, right right? Right right.
I was just talking on the phone with our editor who lives in Virginia. She's been having nightmarish troubles with her mouth--root canals and nerve damage and all kinds of stuff. I asked her if they were giving her anything good for the pain. She said yeah, but they had just given her something else. She said, "Hey, you can have my Vicodin!" And of course now I'm sitting here thinking, "Mmmmmm, Vicodin . . ." I can't help it, it's just the way my brain is wired.
Subject line of an email I just received: "Refinance Your Ho."
