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Right? We met with half of the “Jelly Shot Test Kitchen” AND if you don’t know what I’m talking about – you soon will. These Edina ladies (why did I italicize that?) answered a pretty serious question: “What would a jell-o shot look like if it grew up?” 

Here’s the answer:

A Jelly Shot Test Kitchen “cookbook” (cookbook?) is in the works and they have come to Zeichen Press to help create some buzz. I wonder if it’s because they caught wind of our professionalism. Probably.

Does Geek+Spectacular=Geektacular? I was never good at math but I DO know that the State Fairgrounds are going to be wall-to-wall geeks tomorrow. Jen and I will be there handing out love-letters and hugs to all of our loyal customers.

We went there tonight to set up. This baby has been following Jen around for, like, two years:

Creative, elaborate, polite (but persistent) stalking! Nothing against the creative stalkers out there. You know who you are. Please don’t start re-stalking me.

I sent out the press package for Tanek today, it contained everything but a pan of brownies and a lock of my hair.

I hope Neal St. Anthony likes kittens.

Did I hand set that type?

Yes.

I love getting a letter in the mail – and getting a package in the mail is like finding money under your pillow. Or discovering a coin in a freshly gutted fish.

Reading my email goes like this: delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete,  delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete… oh, that’s important… delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete. 

As you know, Zeichen Press is handling all things that fall into the realm of communications for Tanek Inc. This job is usually less messy than gutting a fish but just as satisfying. Contacting reporters is part of the job and we realized that doing so via email might just be a little bit like whispering to your date across a crowded room. Not that we have dates. Or are ever invited to rooms that are crowded.

Here is the first part of a press package going out to local reporters. (Neal St. Anthony, you lucky devil!)

(Here’s a story: Ken Piper of Tanek was the head designer for the brand-new KMOJ station in North Minneapolis. That’s right: North Minneapolis. Watch out, South Minneapolis – the Northside is picking up steam!)

It’s finally Spring! Time to peel off my SmartWool socks and bury them in the backyard following a short – but tasteful – ceremony. They will be missed. Everyone at Zeichen Press went and got a mani/pedi.

Except Jen.

Here is a before and after:

Thanks Roto-Rooter!

It might be. I’m going to have to credit Martha Stewart with sparking the mainstream revival of the craft. Everyone settle down. If Martha and I ever met (someday on NBC 11:00AM CST) I would burst into tears. She’d slap me across the face and tell me to get ahold of myself. Oh, Martha! You always know just what to do! Zeichen Press has designed and printed its share of wedding related invitations – and we’re pretty certain that gives us some sort of carbon-neutral status. How? It’s pretty complicated – something to do with joy and decency neutralizing our usual gaucheness.

Oh, Martha Stewart!

I wish I could believe that you were following Zeichen Press on Twitter because of the recycled Panko Japanese Style Breading box/press kit I sent you last August…

Or because of the letterpress art print I sent you last October…

Or the baby I sent you last November…

We’ll be shooting our opening film using (surprise!) something that pre-dates my birth.

Didn’t I learn my lesson with that stupid typewriter?

Okay, let’s call her “Sheila” and let’s call him “Franz Ferdinand.”

She resented every one of his hair-plugs. Row after row of weak little sprouts – such an offensive landscape. Each bloody little ring contained 4-5 “transplant hairs,” the math was easy enough – she figured that each stubby hair cost $7.40. Her pre-taxed, hourly wage at the Seed-N-Feed was $7.45 – barely enough to cover the cost of a single hair.

He had convinced her that the new hair would make him a better dancer. She knew now that it did not – his “moves” reminded her of the farmhands baling hay. Each jerky swinging of his arms nearly punching her in the stomach.

His unemployment was running out and now, thanks to this unwise investment, they would have to move into his mother’s trailer. Her whole life she wanted to be a professional dancer and had been searching for the perfect partner – why hadn’t she listened to her gut or that certified psychic that really seemed to understand her? Still, she danced with him – her graceful movements, her twirling skirt – he would have been captivated by her beauty if he wasn’t so fixated on the pounding in his chest. 

°°°°°

Wow! We all know what happens next. Thank the Lord she knows CPR and that despite the bitterness the hair-plugs caused, she still wanted to keep him alive. Sheila and Franz Ferdinand might just make it.