The wild world of freelance PR

I now have 3 freelance clients. I may just say the hell with applying for real jobs and work for myself. Especially since I just talked to my sister, who does the Schaumburg commute, and she says it's looking like an 80-minute trip today. I don't know why Fridays are always the worst.

My friend Jen is also an indie marketer now. Apparently this week she said the hell with her job and now she's starting her own agency! In addition to the usual marcom stuff it has "image consulting" so I assume if you look like a big dork you can pay Jen to tell you that and fix you up.

And I have another friend who's looking to go it alone, but I won't say who, not even obliquely and not even if you put me in a bathtub full of eels or made me work for Donald Trump.

So I guess spring is the season of telling The Man to get bent.

Assuming my sister hasn't been marooned on the highway somewhere, we're going out for stuffed pizza. I honestly thought that was some kind of malicious stereotype, but we really do eat deep dish pizza all the time here. That, and drink beer. No wonder Chicago's one of the fattest cities in America.
 

¶ 6:06 PM