Old-School Birthday Card - funny letterpress

It was Jen’s birthday yesterday. She celebrated by cramming her car with kids and driving East for five hours.

I celebrated by going to my In-Laws to hear some family history —  a combination of Downton Abbey and Angela’s Ashes.

BUT before these festive events, I gave Jen a card:Perhaps you recognize that man?His pants are usually radioactive, but not for this card.

But I don’t need to tell you that.

Sometimes it’s hard to stay humble. Luckily, humility is one of my greatest traits. That, and my perfect attitude and face make it difficult for everyone around me to go about their average lives.

Wait, let me throw down a little manna:

It’s hard to put a price tag on joy and laughter, but we did: $10.

Actually, four cards for $10. This, and Jen not wearing a top, made our shoppers more giddy than usual.

The Zeichen Press booth was a beacon of laughter bobbing in the sea of wrist-warmers, nose-rings, and ironic Christmas sweaters.

I hid behind our card racks for two days and talked to Jen about important things like iron lungs and Santa Clause while our customers snort-laughed (my favorite kind of laugh). There was even a gal that was laughing so hard she had to stamp her foot on the floor. Those responses made me feel like this:

And I think Jen felt like this:

Finally, a man came up to us and told us all about human exoskeletons. (See blog post #390: Freak-Magnet) Eventually, he rode away on a unicorn.

What I guess I’m trying to say is that the No Coast Craft-O-Rama was, once again, awesome.

PS: No show would be complete without a little danger and ours came in the form of an icy, yet beautiful, drive home.

My brother played with Legos. The scowl on his face said, Do Not Disturb (I only tried once). His creations were not cute and were not meant for display. There was no absent-minded pawing through the bin – locating the correct piece was serious business and filled with stern determination.

I tried to play like that but I just couldn’t.

I’d happily organize my little water color trays, wiping excess paint off the tray — rinsing cups, organizing markers in a rainbow spectrum. Finished paintings would be rushed to my parents – and nothing was finished without seeking reaction.

I still seek the reaction but I’m not sure where that tidy part of me went:

I blame the interns. Their willingness to follow orders handicapped me. And without an intern (Summer is over – do you hear me?? OVER.) I’m left to make my own lattes and paw through piles of type.

We have a New Andrea.

The Original Andrea got a life and only wants to email me about hypothetical cold-press coffee dates and cramps. They grow up so fast.

Jen’s on vacation and that means two things:

1) I am crying less.

2) I (the intern) have (has) more work to do.

The reps are faxing in their Christmas orders because they want to remind me that this Summertime happiness I feel is fleeting.

It’s good to keep me grounded.

Oh, and here’s why my work environment is not safe:

The big UK order is just about ready to ship:

Will they think Zeichen Press cards are funny?? Will they appreciate the folksy, Midwestern humor?? I did my research

and I think we could use some more spankings and boobs. But who couldn’t?

Maybe I’m not so good at “folding cards” or “doing what I’m told.” Maybe Jen is just better at those things because she’s part robot. One of these days she’ll malfunction and I’ll have to jump-start her with a car battery. Let’s see who’s laughing then.

After I inserted 200 of the wrong-colored envelope in with this card,

I did a lot of soul searching. And with a little help from Ms. Jerri Blank and Mr. Jellineck, I remembered that not everyone can be good at everything.

I headed right out to the shop and made this card:

What a day!

The Big No-Coast show is only 5 days away.To prepare ourselves, Jen and I are watching hour after hour of training videos. We have found that the only way we can really get into the spirit of a craft show is with a Dolly Parton soundtrack. But I’m sure that’s true for everyone.

Uh. December is, like, over. I don’t even care. Good riddance you ungrateful pig. You think you’re so great with your Christmas and your Hanukkah and your Britney Spears’ birthday. I’ve had it. I think we all have. Even with all of these Feast Days I managed to squeeze in our long-awaited catalog creation. And don’t think I forgot about my 25-birthday-cards. Self-imposed deadlines are the only way to get anything done. You know what else works? Pretending someone is going to kill you if you don’t get something done. SO, I scrounged up some images and wrote some lines. Yeah, yeah – I’ve not set the type or done layouts or pulled any proofs – mere formalities. And anyway, my shop elves will do it while I’m ringing in the New Year in lovely Brainerd, Minnesota. Here are a few images/lines – they’ll be 15% funnier after I’ve had my way with them. And another thing: they’re not all birthday cards. I’m not some sort of one-trick pony.

You make this, you live.

Good luck.

Shhhh. Nobody’ll even notice us.

 

…and in conclusion – quit calling me a pussy.

Sincerely,

Pevenshire Wiffynuts

x=get me the f*ck out of here.

Congratulations.

I said, CONGRATULATIONS!

If you’re old enough to remember this game
you are probably sitting in your own urine.

Thanks for coming to my birthday party, my tiny friends.

••••••••••••

Alright, that’ll do. I’ll post more after the elves work it out. Oh, and if you see a woman running around Brainerd in giant underpants and Sorel Boots it’s not me. Happy New Year!!!

 

 

 

 

I’m the dummy, not you. Or maybe you are? Only you can answer that. So, here we are. One, possibly two, dummies. Maybe you are interested in design, or letterpress, or both. Maybe you like funny things. My studio (Zeichen Press) does all (not all) it can to combine design, letterpress, and funny. We happen to have cornered the market on that little tripartite. As if teaching myself to use tons of antiquated letterpress equipment isn’t geeky enough, I’ll also drop annoying words like, “tripartite” and “antiquated”. Even that phrase, “cornered the market” should be erased. Too late, I said it, it’s done, I refuse to censor myself. Hence the divorce. I’m kidding. I’m separated. I’m not separated, I’m happily married to a separatist. Did I say separatist? I meant, Septembrist.