Posts in Murder
The much-anticipated matchup between Bionic Fran and Wonder Woman is finally here! Tickets are available by our back gate and the fight will be held in the driveway.
Come early and pick an unripened tomato to throw at the loser.
The event takes place as soon as Jen finds her way out of the mountains — I know her pockets were stuffed with breadcrumbs, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.
I’ve been pretty busy while she’s been gone… The intern and I talked a lot, I picked up two dead birds and one dead baby rabbit… I brought orders to the post office… I made this birthday card…
My older brothers had a bunk bed, my little brother had his own bed and my sister and I shared a queen-sized bed.
We also shared countless hours of strange bedtime rituals: she would put on her school uniform (white blouse and brown plaid jumper) and pull her nightgown over it — that was for early morning efficiency… I would skip the uniform step and go right to the nightgown.
I was so slow!
She would coat her arms in Elmer’s Glue,
I would dress and redress Raggedy Ann.
I don’t know if she shared my fear of the monster under the bed.
No, what am I saying? She did not. In fact, she created the fear!
Siblings can be so cruel.
My Faith in Humanity was fortified! I bought a tripod from a stranger on Craiglist and he made no mention of kidnappng, torturing, OR skinning me.
Now I can stumble my way through taking photographs of the new cards!
The Craigslist man assured me (three times) that the tripod was the “real deal” so that should help.
There IS a universal language on the World Wide Web and understanding it only requires the appreciation of three things:
3) Talking dogs
Also, videos where guys get kicked in the nuts — but those existed before YouTube.
I follow the dog around the house with my iPhone and I plan on kicking a guy in the nuts this week.
My life is all kittens and wine, so I was able to create the following:
Feel free to share that 1,000,000 times.
And here’s a new card: It’s a true story.
Ah, romance! One couple might choose dinner and a movie… Another couple might choose post-coital cannibalism.
Zeichen Press has never had a Wintertime Intern.
I expect the new “intern” to make me laugh. It’s an important job. She also claims she will sort type and organize cards but we’ll see. WE’LL SEE.
In other news: I made ANOTHER Thinking Of You card. I thought and thought about what sort of message I’d like to receive if I were down-in-the-dumps, and I came up with this:My sister wanted me to show The-Softer-Side-Of-Fran, but all I could think of was Marshmallow Fluff® and then I just wanted to sit on the beach and pull hermit crabs out of their shells.
What is wrong with me?
I’m not a lawyer or a scientist but I understand the importance of writing marital vows that contain language relating to soulless corpses.
I know it’s not Zombie Season because the weather is cooler and I know the weather is cooler because the maggots in the garbage bin magically disappeared. The rash of zombie activity this Summer has inspired me to rewrite my vows — I simply cannot have my husband strip naked and eat my face on the turnpike.
Give this card to newlyweds or oldyweds:
Did you know that the Arboretum has a pick-your-own vegetable garden? The signs were more intuitive than posted.
My latest health craze (the last one turned out not to be a “health” craze) promises an upward trajectory of boundless energy and crisply firing synapses. Kale, spinach, green chard, cucumber, celery, lemon, parsley, and apple in one glass.
In one glass.
I’ve learned that a bagful of smuggled kale equals one thimbleful of juice.
I wonder how many ounces I would be if I were juiced. Note to self: Juicing bodies would make them easier to flush down toilet.
Look at these beautiful Dahlias and forget everything I just said:Weren’t those lovely?
All of the flowers and vegetables inspired a Father’s Day card:
September is the schizophrenic sibling in the Year Family—one day a beastly 90°, the next day fighting off dinosaurs in the living room. Dust off your crock-pots, it’s time for meat and vegetables to mingle on the countertop for hours. Once Upon A Time, I got a massage in September. It was from a hobbit—he blessed the vessel that was me and scampered around the table like his footsies were on fire. When it was over, he requested a hug. I consented because I have never hugged a hobbit and I didn’t want to crush his tiny hobbit-heart.
Times were simple then — pre-Facebook… cats fixed… no Dance Moms…
The air was thick with anticipation — it wasn’t fair to keep Zeichen Press hidden from the public.It was time to pry open the (heirloom-quality) tupperware lid. Time to expose the rotting and pungent living carcass to the unblinking eye of its critics.
The Universe demanded documentation. Who am I to refuse?
That was four years ago (today).Now, readership of the Zeichen Press blog hovers somewhere between cable-access viewership and meaningful Craigslist encounters.