Every few weeks Paper Source orders the same poopy cards from us.
This makes us happy because there is no faster way to evangelize than through a chain of shops that snakes its way through the country.
Our message?
Isn’t it obvious by now? Spread (our idea of) letterpress goodness and joy like spackle into every dark crevice on this planet.
No big deal.
This card:
has nothing to do with fecal matter and so we were surprised (and delighted) to see it on our latest Paper Source order.
Perhaps the following dream was a premonition?:
There were no toilets — but there was a shower scene. The light over the C&P
had become a shower head and I had become naked. I prayed that nobody would walk through (why didn’t I just lock it?) the shop door while I took my unnecessary (and might I add: gratuitous?) shower next to my printing press.
But someone did walk in.
I guess his name is Vincent Schiavelli. He was hiding behind the Heidelberg
with his cow. He wasn’t smiling. I woke up.
The End
(Notice my friend, 
I bet because of the tricorn hat.
A shark puppet would help me work through my fears.
These little banks would help me save for my criss-crossing America road-trip.
and I’m so glad he’s not a serial killer. He’ll be here for a few days and then we’ll have to say goodbye. I really, really hate saying goodbye. I hate it so much, I made a card:
I told them that we need to make clam chowder and clams don’t clam themselves — so get to work.
Why would I send that card/who would want to receive a card like that?
We murdered thousands of ants
before Jen and I had an important meeting to decide which cards should be included in our next release.
What began as an optimistic, joy-filled journey down Minnehaha Creek turned into a somber, personal purgatory.
No, no… it’s not a miracle. Just one woman’s attempt to make the world a better place.
Tickets are available by our back gate and the fight will be held in the driveway.
My life is an endless sacrifice.
And because I need attention, I made this:
See, it’s a profound cultural statement? DO YOU SEE?!
Oh, what do I do after the gong show? I chase and scold the cat.
until it peed and died in my hands.
Settle down. SETTLE DOWN. They’ve led us on before — I’m not going to fashion a wooden stool into a potty chair so that I can sit by the phone day and night.
I also took the time to create this:
So I think that makes us even.
Who would do such a thing?
The hydrangeas are blue enough.
And the dead people are still dead.
PHEW!
