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they would have me design a super sweet invitation for an important event in your life. IF they REALLY loved you they would call me on the phone and say, “Hey, Fran! My name is Mr. Blee-Blah-Blah! I would like to demonstrate my love for my child by paying you to artistically interpret an upcoming event.  Your design savoir faire is the ONLY match for the depth of love I have for my child. They have a (insert important event) coming up. Let’s do this.” 

CLICK.

I’m just saying.

We created the following Bat Mitzvah invitation for a family that clearly knows how to express their love:

Ding! Round two!

Meeting with Room & Board this afternoon. If all goes according to my master-plan* R&B will bite the inside of their cheeks to stifle their sobs of awe when I reveal The Prints. To diffuse the awesome aura, I will hand out sunglasses. Personally, I think inked antique type is as delicious as kangaroo meat from First Course.

YES. kangaroo meat. 

Round one for Room & Board ended up being a creative exercise – I know, I know. My Reward Will Be In Heaven. I produced some cutey cutes for Children’s Rooms. I dug down deep into that soft part of my heart – it was under a layer of small pebbles – and found these: I call them Franimals:

*master-plan: do not get lost driving to Room & Board HQ.

Dahhhhhhhhhhhhhling!

You simply must see the latest thing! Diamonds are so last week and pearls are so last century. Resin and metal is H-O-T! I hate to muddle-up the Natural Order of the Universe (no, I don’t) but we simply couldn’t say no to Ampersand Designs suggestion of collaboration!

We already sat side-by-side in the Oscar Luncheon gift bags – and – although opening the gift bags caused a face-melting scene ala Raiders of the Lost Ark, we decided to combine our chocolate with their peanut butter for a super-sweet fashion-statement.

Buy one or ten today!

Dear Diary,

Last night was ever so much fun! I went to a party and got a lock of everyone’s hair for my scrapbook. My art was hot glue-gunned to the wall by Jen.

Oh, Jen… will she ever settle down? She wore a short little dress and MOTORCYCLE BOOTS!! She’s trouble. See her little tiny head?:

The young man that sold me my dress failed to tell me that it also doubled as a shirt.

I blame him for the indecent length.

I also blame him for climate change, hiccoughs, Christopher Reeve’s “accident”, and my parents break-up.

~

There were so many tasty bits about that party. Jocelyn’s food and drink was dee. lish.us.

 Scott Parkin‘s street-level office was cooler (and cleaner) than anything I will ever own.

Maybe that’s why he asked me to stand by the door.

And sit in a highchair.

Studio on Fire displayed their goodness on the West Wall. And by that I mean, Ben Levitz stood nude on a chair in front of the West Wall. It wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable. Something about the beard made him seem fully dressed.

Part II of the evening was jam-packed full of comedy. Stephen Lynch was gracious enough to give us front row seats to his show. Um, I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard since he came to town last year. AND did you know that The Hilton grills up Steak Bites for hungry travelers after midnight? Well, they do. We ate them and laughed at Rod Cone.

Or was it the other way around?

BUT there was one thing we all could agree on: It would be better to lose an arm than have your face chewed off by a chimp.

AND never wrestle a Praying Mantis. 

Oh, and somehow during the course of the evening, this happened:

Oh, Diary… what will tomorrow bring?!

I know everyone is DYING to see me operating my big-ass press.

Will wonders never cease? I love you, Internet.

Shu-OOT!! It’s a letterpress extravatacularasm!! This Freitag is gonna be all monster-truck-jam but with no trucks, no face-tattoos, and no NASCAR jackets. WHAT?! How can THAT be any fun?! Don’t tell Scott Parkin but I’m planning to ride in through the double doors and right over his conference table on my pimped-out ATV. It’s gonna kick so much ass. 

So, it’ll be ME, JEN, MR. BEN LEVITZ … and I’m sure he’s got some sort of gun-toting design gang. I’ll be wearing a full Kevlar dress, so I’m not even worried. The thing about Kevlar is that it’s light and airy. Just like me.

So, pack your saddle-bags with hard-tack and whiskey, shave your legs, and kiss yer ma’ goodbye – you’re goin to Northeast Minneapolis. Oh, Northeast Minneapolis… so… artsy, so… much… like… Uptown… wishes… it… were… still…

::The Dirty Details::

Keegan’s Pub was crawling with local bloggers last night. I, too, left my secret headquarters and mingled with fellow pasty-faced Minnesotans. Aside from the table-raping, the evening was pleasant. Nobody noticed that I was suited up and ready for a blogathlon – I have been training all winter for this event – mostly sitting. Also, the interest I’ve had in other “things” and “people” has had to take a back-seat to my “writing”. The only thing that would have made the night more awesome is if James Lileks and I could have performed our Ice Revue. One word: Magic. Here’s a photo of me taken by a fellow blogger :

Doesn’t it look like I’m having fun?! I always have fun when I drink flat Pepsi. Notice my delicate pinky-finger. Notice the food on my sweater and in my hair. Somebody must have thrown that at me because I don’t even eat anymore. I just drink flat Pepsi.  The Nihilist in Golf Pants was also there… he may or may not remember the event. He was with a fellow that had wonderfully shaped eyebrows and spoke of gopher-holes. I think he was talking about gopher-holes. I was so busy staring at the miracle of a man-in-his-third-trimester that I lost track of the conversation.

That was the most recent search on my blog stats page. Somebody NEEDS a birthday card for that special murderer in their life. Somebody typed those words into their little google search window and the 13th result is a link to this blog post.

You’re welcome.

Work is not really the right word for what I do. But I do sit in a particular chair in my living room. I sit with my laptop on my lap. I sit here a lot. Oft. I sit here ofttimes. In front of me is a couch. On the couch is the dog.

Above the couch are a row of windows. I sit and, absentmindedly, stare out the window. I do most everything absentmindedly. Some call it day-dreaming. I call it thoughts and feelings continuously flowing uninterrupted by objective description or conventional dialogue.

My teachers called it “almost failing.”

ANYWAY. I am sitting in my chair and I realize I am absentmindedly staring out the window. I notice the woman across the street (whose name I dare not speak) standing in front of her large picture window. She is an older woman and I’ve see her putter about in her yard scads of times… Now I see her standing in her living room, looking out her window. Not just looking out her window – she is standing stiff and still – as if in confrontation. She is staring, staring at me. I wouldn’t expect a television actor to stop the show and look through the glass at me looking at them. It’s not as if I am standing and staring out my window. I am in my usual slumped position, eyes barely over the screen of the computer, headphones blaring music in my ears.

I am camouflaged. She shouldn’t be able to see me.

But she does.

She sees me and I’m not kidding: She, this elderly lady, gives me TWO MIDDLE FINGERS! I actually pointed at myself “who me?” and turned around, sure to see some scoundrel. But no! The eminem-style-double-flip-off was meant for me. ME! I watched as she closed her blinds.

Robert Downy Jr. is holding My Cards and the cat is throwing up worms. Yin Yang, right??!! I get it. I GET IT. I can’t have the RDJ without the 5″ long vomit-covered, wriggling worms. I wouldn’t even dream of it. I don’t even DESERVE it. I AM the worm.

The Lowly Worm.