Posts in Hygiene
Being buried alive happens – especially if someone thinks you’re dead. Why be unprepared for such misfortune? I practice digging myself free of the shallow grave by waking from daily, coma-like naps. That, and a spoon in my pocket give me peace of mind.
After I shake the dirt from my hair, I ask myself a series of questions: What time is it? Did I really just stab that woman in the neck with a pencil? Why did I have to use that toilet on the 50 yard line?
Whew! Every day is like a new adventure.
Sometimes my subconscious dreams up a new card and that usually comes out in my post-coma Q&A.
Vulgar! I know. I won’t apologize for ideas that The Lord puts into my head.
I finished scrubbing coagulated (cow) blood off the walls of the refrigerator (who stands a raw rump-roast on its side with no plate below?!) just in time for an important meeting.
The Chief Financial Officer, the Chief Accounting Officer, the Chief Content Officer, the Chief Creative Officer, the Chief Visionary Officer AND Loretta
were all in attendance.
The purpose of this conference was to discuss the profitability and potential of a particular product. Were projected earnings delivered? Could a product redesign garner a higher margin of sales?
In other words, we picked some new colors for an existing card because we felt like maybe the card would do better if the colors were a little punchier.
Jen and I have trashed our share of hotel rooms. Dangled from our share of balconies. Saddled our share of large-scale dogs. Roped our share of ferrel cats. But Monday night, while hanging out the back of a speeding pick-up truck, her hair covered in vomit, Jen turned to me and said, “Thank God for our fans. If it weren’t for them, I don’t know how I’d go on.” My response could barely be heard through a mouthful of cotton-candy, “Especially Andy Schefman. Especially Andy Schefman…”
I have noticed that a lot of people around me have “plans” and “schedules.” That is something I’ve always wanted. Even my days of “working outside of the home” seemed haphazardous. I never knew if or how I’d get to work – would it be the city bus? My friend’s pick-up truck? A ride from a stranger? On foot? A police escort? Would I be able to pull-off a cup of coffee before work? Everyone talked about that – the coffee. “Whew, I barely had time for my coffee this morning, the dog just wouldn’t do his business!” They had coffee pots with timers – they’d wake up to the smell and sound of a fresh brewing pot. They’d fill their travel mugs and commute to work.
Why couldn’t I be like these people?
My snooze button (invented by the devil) would be pushed at least twice, granting me temporary amnesty – more time to dream about using inappropriately located toilets. A shower could happen but more than likely would not. Teeth brushed just in time to smoke a cigarette and tie my son’s shoes.
I know what you’re thinking: Glamorous.
A few weeks ago, I started doing the unthinkable: Waking up early and not forcing myself to fall back to sleep.
I actually get out of bed.
I get out of bed, make a smoothie filled with micro-nutrients and whole-food concentrate and go for a bike ride. It seems that other people DO THIS TOO. The paths are full of “others.”
I haven’t decided if I hate myself for being one of these people. Time will tell.
Anyway, number 7 of the Shea 8 will be getting married this Summer and she needed a program – I gladly volunteered and these were created yesterday:
They will contain a disc of music from the ceremony. Understated and cool. Just like my sister. Notice my crummy thumbnail in the upper-left.
Okay, onto something pretty serious.
The customs official demanded we tell him our plans while in Toronto. I told him it was none of his business, and as I reached for the silver cigarette case in my coat pocket, I was wrestled to the ground. The tasers saved me a trip to the bathroom.
Thank God my husband speaks Canadian or we’d still be in the interrogation room.
I should have told that official that my plans were to watch t.v. in my bathroom mirror while soaking in the tub. I think that’s what I did? My head still hurts pretty bad from being banged on the terrazzo.
Like Dora the Explorer, I packed a map and a monkey in my backpack, finished my screwdriver, and headed out.
Using the handy Where To Buy page as a guide, I was able to track down three local stores that carry Zeichen Press goods. Needless to say, my reception was overwhelming – being hoisted up on shoulders and paraded down Queen Street was too much. Do you hear me, shopkeepers??
First shop: Outer Layer, a cheerful boutique. Full of fun and, dare I say, whimsy? No. I’ll never say that again.
But how else could I describe a doll that is also a cheese grater?
Or the Ann Taintor magnet collection on the antique bank safe?
Or a manager named Jett Black???
On to Shop #2: Valhalla Cards & Gifts:
This shop felt like everything in it was curated by a man named Chadwick. Wait, it was! From the Dumpling Dynasty Bunny Kit:
To the Unicorn Wishes action figure:
This shop wouldn’t let me leave – Chadwick finally had to throw me out. But not before he placed an order for more cards.
Okay, onto #3: The Paper Place:
Because paper is my bread & butter, I felt extra reverent crossing the threshold. As I knelt before the card rack, something inside me said, “hey! I wonder if this place has erasers shaped like peanuts.”
And it did! I bought the whole bowl.
I hugged the sock zebra before I left. It was time to go. I knew this because I saw the policeman walking through the door.
Until we meet again, Toronto. Until we meet again.
I could tell Winter was over when my gutter broke and rain poured into the basement, soaking the carpet. Thank goodness we love damp and smelly rooms or we’d be super mad. Another sign of Spring: I found Classic Pam (the kitten) under the tree in the backyard trying to act adorable. When will she realize that we only kept her because we felt sorry for her?
These events inspired a new card. Perfect for a birthday?
Two cousins sat in the front seat of the Chevy Malibu.
The car was parked in the driveway and they waited while it ran and the radio played. “I love this song!” the older cousin was delighted and grinned grotesquely.
The meaning of the song was completely lost on the girl. Many other things were lost on the girl. Like: braces, a toothbrush, a proper haircut, and not wearing her uniform on picture day.
The younger cousin would not lose this opportunity to educate her older cousin. She cupped her hands to her mouth and whispered seriously, “he’s talking about naked ladies.”
It would take years for the older cousin to make sense of what she heard. What could the lyrics, “My angel is in center field” have to do with naked ladies?
ANYWAY, we’re doing a project with my cousin (Sarah Gute) and her husband (Brian Gute).
They’ve ordered the usual: Logo. website, marketing plan. Rototilling. Diaper changing.
Oh, Winter! You blustery old fool – you are the antagonist of the seasons. And as I am the protagonist in my own story, I gladly throw my fleece-lined hat in the ring. It is February and that means Triumph is within my grasp. I can smell it like a plate of clam fries. Mmm, clam fries… Once Upon A Time, I found myself sitting in front of an abandoned plate of clam fries. They were left by an angel disguised as a drunk couple. God is so mysterious!
Here is a new card, inspired by the soft blanket of snow that covers this land:
I love the ladies of the Jelly Shot Test Kitchen. And when I say I love them it means I love that they trust us. Trust us to create business cards of the future. We’re not sure how lasers work but we all saw Superman II.
These days, lasers are used for more than just pulverizing concrete. And I can prove it:
The latest project for JSTK has nothing to do with lasers. Or letterpress – don’t they know we do LETTERPRESS?? They asked us to create some instructional films.
Naturally, I cleaned my bathtub and got to work:
Here’s what I made:
Thank God for A&E’s latest voyeur-drama Hoarders. THANK GOD. Do these people not understand that those television cameras mean that they are going to be on television? Were they told that this would be the only way they could get help? Mary Lynn, this garbage can’t be shoveled out of the house unless we broadcast your story to millions of people. And Mary Lynn (who has been using adult diapers for two years because she can’t find her toilet) immediately gives in. I would, too.
So, in the spirit of Hoarders, I’m de-cluttering my computer. Why would I have eight copies of Michael Jackson’s Thriller?
Look at this old press release I found!: