Commercials should have internal logic

At issue: the stupid Cadbury ad with that handsome boy who looks like Joel Plaskett. Why do the two girls go into the chocolate shop? When he offers them chocolate they quickly demure... "Oh no! The beach!" Why the HELL are you dumb bunnies in a chocolate store if you don't want chocolate? It's not like they are acting like he is a friend of theirs with whom they simply had to share the news. And it's not like they seem the type to find him that attractive that they had to stop in even with no intention of buying anything.

There is no internal logic and it freakin drives me NUTS!

Sexism & Liquor

HIM [12:06:12 PM]: the use of 'cheers' as i was discussing recently is definitely linked to the same social manouveuring as the drinking of clancy's and now rickard's
HIM [12:07:12 PM]: it's a desire to seem cultured and well-traveled--to be the proverbial 'man about town'
ME [12:07:36 PM]: it's always about a man
ME [12:07:40 PM]: whatever!
ME [12:07:53 PM]: what is the term for a "woman about town"?
ME [12:07:55 PM]: a whore
ME [12:08:02 PM]: you men and your world domination
ME [12:08:10 PM]: and another thing!!
ME [12:08:19 PM]: !!!
ME [12:08:25 PM]: blah blah rant rant
HIM [12:08:40 PM]: *fetal position*
ME [12:08:58 PM]: lol
ME [12:09:00 PM]: j/k
HIM [12:09:08 PM]: you can't touch this dun dun dun dun
HIM [12:09:11 PM]: my my my hammertime
ME [12:09:20 PM]: clancy, rickard, keith... where is the beer named after a woman??
HIM [12:09:38 PM]: don't forget bud
ME [12:09:50 PM]: EXACTLY!!
HIM [12:11:10 PM]: but you women got a whole GROUP of drinks: wine.
HIM [12:11:12 PM]: WINE
HIM [12:11:26 PM]: i knew i'd think of a joke eventually
ME [12:11:33 PM]: argh.

the perilous life of a freelancer

First of all, it was a nightmare job. I was only supposed to be editing for her, and it's bad enough she can't string together a coherent sentence. How does one suppose they can run a magazine if they can't write? You sure as hell don't deserve the title, "Editor".

So after the first issue, the panicked call: "You're a designer too, right?" 36 hours flat out over one weekend starting Saturday at 10 am, and I have the mess I've been given put together into something resembling a magazine so that her regular designer can "massage" it... regular designer having been really busy, don't you know. Working full time myself, along with the half time mother gig, I am a bit stretched as well. However, I needed the $500, and while by design standards it was way underpaid, for a weekend's work it's not bad.

The next issue it was more. "We have longer". Same old disorganized shit, "Here's a pile of paper with some pertinent stuff in with the trash, here are some disks that may or may not have what you are looking for, I'll send you some emails and no direction about what goes where. Voila! work your magic!"

So this last issue, the whole shmozzle was mine, cover and all. An escalated nightmare. I told her how much time I had to work on it, and what I would do if I got all the pieces from her in time, which naturally I didn't. So I broke up wiht her... last issue. That's it.

Six months later, still waiting for the paltry $1500 that was supposed to compensate me for three weeks of spending every evening with her shit, editing, designing, re-writing and illustrating. And I'm getting the old "money is coming... cheque's in the mail... try to get you something this week."

And naturally, my SO is also getting screwed over since I dragged him in for extra editing. Sorry honey!

SO... anyone know anything about collection agencies or small claims court?