Yep, I'm old!

Then only conciliatory thing about my birthday is it means my mother is twice my age today as well.

(Oh, and the condolence Vanilla Bean Coolatta I treated myself to this morning. Ah, to be a Cancerian in sultry summer heat!)

You tell dem trade me right f**king now!

To paraphrase Denis Lemieux in that paragon of murder on ice, this is what I told my headhunter last Wednesday. Since then, I have been amidst a flurry of interview insanity as after almost 2 years of exemplary freelance work, my day job tried to boot me with a mere 2 days notice.

This would not normally faze me in the least, as the core principle of contract work is that there is an endpoint (unlike those poor permanent folks who, in theory could slave away forever!) But, there is an unwritten sort of contract code. It maintains, that I will not simply walk offsite without making a reasonable attempt at leaving things finished. They, in turn will give me a heads up that the work will be ending so I can re-book myself in a timely fashion.

Or you could do it the wrong way. My temptation to mock-up up a step-by-step manual on how NOT to terminate an employee and leave it on the studio manager's desk is rather prodigious.

Here are some excerpts from her present manual:

The Wild Kingdom Approach: Call the "former contractor" in question into your office at 12pm as they are headed out the door for lunch; this catches them off-guard and weak from low blood sugar.

The Spacely Sprocket Mentality: Ask for their current job list/deadlines so you can pawn the work of on another staff member; all staff with the same job titles are interchangeable cogs and years of experience on an intricate scientific brand is more of a hindrance than a help.

This should always be followed with:
The Borg Treatment: The cog....er..."former contractor" can easily download her memory chips to the new cog and management can add any physical enhancements to adjust for Photoshop ability and mcps (mouse-clicks-per-second) to easily maintain the current schedule and budget that were laid out with the "former contractor's" attributes in mind.

The Muddled Mambo: What the management does upon realizing the new employee they "hired" hadn't officially accepted their offer yet and needs to give two weeks notice if he does. They are also pounced upon by the "former contractor's" team for lack information flow and attempt at mutilating a crucial project by removing the key worker bee. This tap dance ends, by finally letting the "former contractor" know at 4:55 on Friday afternoon that it would be best if they stayed to finish their work for a sense of continuity.

I wish I were kidding.

Anyone have 1.21 jigawatts of bandwidth available?

Sorry for the delay in posting weekend pics, apparently Blogger is a size critic and did not receive my pretty flipbook of pictures with open arms! Nor did the PhotoCenter enjoy trying to parse it, although those folks were nice enough to send me a smug little email "It's 3072 x 3072 size limit dumbass!"

So, everything is spliced to fit in their nice little round holes, and you can view the rest of thepictures here. Enjoy!

 

That was Rome not Paris. This is Paris and you're drunk.

It's been awhile since I wrote, and this weekend certainly provided a plethora of material! The past weekend was spent in the loving lap of luxury better known as The Four Seasons, Chicago. Bosco had nights to burn before the 11th and I was game to vacation in my own city...really, the four-star accommodations had nothing to do with it *wink*! There was a big surprise in store for both of us though, as an executive suite available and we were upgraded to even nicer digs than usual. Leave it to your beloved writer to misbehave and show her plebeian roots however! On entering the sitting room of said suite, (Bosco had arrived early and not informed of me of the suite-digs) I asked rather perplexed, "Where's the bed?" After it was explained to me that the Four Seasons did not have rooms featuring only pull-out sofas, the glass doors were swung open to reveal the downy white of cumulous of that familiar King-Size bed!

On the way up to the room on Saturday, the elevator provided a moment of comic relief as well; I had hurried back over after a bike ride and was in baggy capris and a Pixies t-shirt. A newlywed couple had entered the elevator ahead of me with a basket of champagne and cheese, mincing quickly behind us was a well-to-do socialite. After punching in her floor number, the new bride tapped me on the shoulder with a funny look upon her face "Funny, I thought I would be the only one wearing a Pixies t-shirt at the Four Seasons!" Sure enough, she had a green one on! We then dished about where we had seen the band and how great it was they had finally re-grouped. Meanwhile, the steam was rising off of the socialite's Louis Vuttion bag faster than you can say "CHARGE-IT"! If we lived in pop-up video world, her thought bubble would've read "I can't believe they let these people into the Four Seasons now, I'M moving to the Peninsula!"

The Saturday night pics of the room that follow were a tad blurry due to several adult beverages consumed by the photographer trying to ease the pain of the Wolves getting their legs broke by the thugs otherwise know as the Philadelphia Phantoms AHL Hockey Club. We shall talk no further of that night!

Sunday brought about the Four Seasons brunch, and might I say if you have the means, do so....it lived up to the hype! I had rose early to get in a nice workout as to be extra hungry; it’s a pretty pricey affair and one should plan on packing away 3-4 plates to make it worthwhile! After a quick shower (yes, that is what we're calling it these days!), Bosco and I headed downstairs, feedbags in tow. The “brunch” featured 3 rooms filled with food of such variety it would take me 4 entries to fully detail it! This also brought about another "Jen Moment". As we were finishing our first plate, I went to refill my coffee out of the tableside sterling silver carafe. The prissy little lid stuck on me and filled my cup, the saucer and a quarter of the linen tablecloth. I blushed in absolute terror and sheepishly looked at Bosco, apologizing profusely. He laughed (this is why I love this man!) and assured me this happened all the time. The room captain came back, took my cup away and brought back a fresh one as I apologized profusely to him for being a very bad bruncher. My shame was eventually hidden as between plates 2 –3, the staff having reset my place setting with a napkin draped over the stain. Thankfully, they didn't also inquire "Are you going to need a place sheet miss?"

So, stuffed with blintzes, duck rolls, quiches, gingered nectarines, garlic shrimp, sweet pea risotto, coconut lobster, hazelnut tiramisu, raspberry pistachio cake, chocolate lava muffins, raspberry chocolate tart, crème brulee, orange juice, coffee and a bloody mary.....yes, I ate all that....a return to the more common, but equally as nice, Studio de Bosco was embarked on, and a really, really, really long nap. I will not be eating until Tuesday!

PS: Sorry no pics yet....someone (no names) saved the dang file too small!