You’re an asshole parent.

I’m being extra judg-y and petty right now.  I also don’t care.  Now that’s out of the way…

I don’t have kids, but one thing I know for certain is that if you and hubs have split ways and share your kids here’s a tip:

FUCKING COMMUNICATE!

Normally I don’t like to ‘drag’ other people into my blog life because it’s just not right.  However when history repeats itself time and time again and I get screwed over?

Game over motherfucker.

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I made plans back in APRIL to have my mom and my niece come visit me in Montreal.  My mom always comes to visit me once a year and this year the Lion King (the Broadway musical) is making a comeback so I bought really awesome seats for my niece and I.  It was a major splurge but I figured since it was for her birthday and part of Christmas, why not?

Well her dad booked his vacation during the EXACT same time that my niece is supposed to be in Montreal with my mom and myself.

Apparently it was asking for too much to wait for four measly days for his daughter to have the time of her life, enjoying what is most likely to be a once in a lifetime opportunity for his daughter to see a beautifully done musical in Montreal.

Lot’s of blame has been tossed around but you know what?

I made plans with her first, I should have first priority since I only get to see her once or twice a year.  Apparently none of that matters because someone doesn’t know how to communicate effectively.

Did I mention that the travel tickets and the musical tickets are also non refundable?

So you are an asshole parent Jeff.

That’s really fucking low.  Your daughter should come before your needs.

I’ve lost all respect for you now.

 

I committed career suicide.

Apparently.

I’ll admit it, I’ve gotten really spoiled the past few years with a nice cushy culinary job.

I earned it. 

What a lot of people don’t realize is that the culinary industry is very egocentric and God help your sorry ass if you have a vagina and are *gasp* better at something than some guy on your line.  It’s also very, very sexist.  Growing up and pursuing this particular art form was nothing short of a hellish nightmare.  I was constantly told that I would never make it as a Chef.

Except I did.  I even wrote my own damn cook book too.  Because I am AWESOME. 

I have spent the last 4.5 years in a upscale, private daycare.  On June 13th 2014 I was unceremoniously fired for reasons I can not currently discuss in a public forum.

So I did what any self respecting Chef would do.  Dusted off my CV (which is a work of art) and hit the ground running looking for work.  There is no shortage of restaurants in this lovely city and generally at any point I found myself without a job I always found one within a week or two.  Usually within in a few days.  When you work in a restaurant, jobs as a line cook are plentiful.  As are other higher ranked opportunities (such as Chef de partie, sous chef and so forth).

That is until you work in a daycare for almost five years…

That right there?  That’s what you call career suicide.

I have lost count of how many CV’s I have sent out.  I have, to be fair gotten my fair share of call backs as well.  Which is great until you show up for the interview and they compliment you on how ballin your CV is, but then when it gets to your qualifications and experience, it’s like they never read the fucking thing!?!  It’s pretty clear that I haven’t worked on a line in almost five years and I’m straight up about that too.

Oh and I can’t forget the times that I have been either scheduled for a job trial and/or an interview only to show up and be told that the position has been filled.  Because clearly calling me as a courtesy is too taxing for you.

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So I finally caught a break.

Or so I thought. 

I accepted a job at a not to be disclosed location and all of a sudden I became the most popular person ever!  My phone was going INSANE with interviews and job offers.  I have one place BEGGING me to come there.  Except I had committed to one and I told the others that I would get back to them.

Well the really nice, high paying sous chef job required me to be more bilingual than I am and that made me sad because I couldn’t accept it in the end.  Another job trial was in a production kitchen but the kitchen manager was a giant douche bag and I knew the minute I laid eyes on him, it wasn’t going to work out.  I was right.  Which was fine actually because holy shit listening to CJAD all day and cutting vegetables? zzzzzzzzzzz  Yeah I would have done it for now because well bills and stuff.  I could go on and on but needless to say, it just wasn’t working out.  It’s basically been what’s stated above, lather, rinse, repeat.
I need a few days to settle in somewhere and get organized.  The first few shifts for me are always clumsy and awkward but you team that up with not being in that environment for so long?

You’re fucked.

Metaphorically it’s like this: It’s like an old friend you’ve known for years and years and all of a sudden you don’t talk for 4.5 years.  Then you get reunited.  Which is great, it’s familiar but a lot has changed too.  So you need to spend time playing catch up with this person.

Except no one can afford to give you that time, or you’re not French speaking enough or lacking your papers or a car and the list goes on and on.

So I took the last option I had handed to me, they’re really nice people, gorgeous restaurant and then as we were setting up to open I noticed that there was 4 different types of meat on the counter.  I put my hand on them thinking that they had just been pulled out of the fridge.  Nope.

THEY WERE ROOM TEMPERATURE! RAW MEAT, LEFT OUT ON THE COUNTER, OVERNIGHT IN JULY.

Oh hell no.

So.  So much for that place.  Back to the grind I go, more interviews, more of the oh, you’ve been out of restaurants for a while.  Yeah this isn’t going to work out (Again, read my f’ing CV jackass).

Yet I didn’t give up, that is until yesterday.  I had a training shift schedule at a place that I thought would be a good re-introduction back into a line.  I was flat out honest about where I stood, how long it had been since I had worked on a line and blah blah blah.  He didn’t care, thanked me for being honest and I thought OK cool it’ll do for now.   I was asked to be there at 5pm and I waited and I waited until 5:30 and that’s when I left.  Because if you can’t be bothered to be there on time or at least make the effort to call me or your restaurant, that says a lot of things about you and they’re not nice.

I had one last interview today.  It was more of the same, but I got points for being honest.  No real loss there, the place is an hour away.  *Note to self, no more jobs in the mile end.

So that being said, i’m moving onto to other things I’ve had in the works for a few weeks.  Just need to finalize some details first.

 

 

Twatwaffle’s

I am really, truly starting to develop an even deeper seeded hatred for mankind.

Who in the hell thought that was possible?!? 

We live in a world where people are nothing but giant, ungrateful twatwaffles and I am calling your ass out on it.

I decided to go back to school.  I’m currently juggling a full time job and college.  Just for fun, i’m throwing university in the mix as well.

I LOVE being an over-achiever.

Almost about as much as I love being an asshole, but I digress.

So I took a camera basics class, it’s a fantastic introduction to all kinds of photography bits and pieces and great for anyone who wants to have better knowledge of their camera and see if maybe, just maybe commercial photography is for you.

I loved everything about it.

Except for one person.

Because let’s face it, there’s ALWAYS one.

ALWAYS!

So we did a round in studio (fucking amazing day) and the group consensus was that we would exchange pictures when we were done.  Fair enough, it’s good experience which is the whole point.

That is until you nag the ever loving shit out of me to give you your pictures in the middle of our last class, which was Photoshop.  So you know, in other words, one that was worth learning.

Nagging me is one thing.

Nagging me when I have PMS?

Ohhelltothenoyoujustdidn’t!

Nothing says klass like screaming: ‘calm your tits bitch i’ll give you your fucking pictures!’

I have some really nice shots of this ungrateful CUNextTuesday but I purposely gave her the shitty ones because i’m petty and spiteful like that.  There was a few passable one’s in there but I was rushed, using a MAC (so foreign to me) on top of other things and she says to me, only give me one’s I can use.  I can’t use these.

The fuck you say?

Oh hellllllllllllllllllll no.

Well I want a nice picture for my website, I need a picture I can use.

No. Just no.

Twatwaffle.

Dear Dustin

An open letter to my nephew who turned 18 today.

Dearest Dustin.

I remember when your mom told me she was pregnant with you.

Instant Joy. 

I was SO excited, I couldn’t wait for you to arrive!  I took your mom and dad out to Mr. Sub and your mom got the most disgusting concoction I have ever seen.  I still lived at home and your mom and dad lived next door and I was the one who answered the phone when your mom called in the wee hours of the morning panicking because she was pretty sure that her water broke and she couldn’t pee and could I please get mom.

I was fortunate enough to be let into the delivery room minutes after your arrival, which technically wasn’t allowed but the rules were bent for me that day and I remember the first time I held you in my arms.  Your dad was glaring at me because I was hogging you and had a real hard time giving you back.  I absolutely adored you from that moment and that’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

I promised your parents that I would be your guardian should something happen to them.  I was honored that your parents asked me to be your God mother and I stood before all of our loved one’s and God as I promised to do everything I could in my power to help you, to guide you, to protect you and most importantly to love you no matter what.

I never, ever go back on my word.

I’ll never forget the time you asked me about being gay, which also led to a discussion about adoption all the while wondering where on earth your mother was! Ha ha >.<  We (your mom and I) still laugh about that to this day and about how mortified *I* was.

When you were small, I used to sing you are my sunshine and that has proven to be true all these years.  No matter how rough things got, I could always count on you (and your sister when she arrived) to brighten my day and to remind me of how blessed I truly am.  Through the years there’s been some insane ups and downs.  Lot’s of sleepover’s, trips to the park, ice cream, hugs,  tears, joy, frustrations and times when I was sorry and very angry that I couldn’t be there with you to take the hurt away when I moved to Montreal.  Just remember my dear heart, death before dishonor.  I promised you and your sister that I wouldn’t ever hurt you.

I will beat the snot out of anyone who dares to hurt the love of my life.   

I can’t believe that you’re 18.  *I* was 18 when you came into this world and you have turned into a remarkable young man and I am so proud of you and the man you have become and I can only begin to imagine what an outstanding man you’re going to become.  Here are some pearls of wisdom  and there’s some more here and some more here.  There’s a lot of validity in those pearls of wisdom.  Cherish them.

The only piece of advice I wish to leave to leave you with is this: Be true to yourself, because at the end of the day that’s who you have to live with.  I’ll love you no matter what. xoxo

You are my sunshine.  I’ll love you forever, i’ll like you for always.  As long as i’m living, my nephew you’ll be. <3

All my love, Aunt Stephie