I live on a farm so I can swim through my gold coin-filled silos like Uncle Scrooge McDuck. My latest money-making scheme is sure to fill its very own silo: A downloadable collection of our cards turned cartoons!
I’ve requested that royalties be paid in gold doubloons.
Clip-clop-clip-clop… I watched her gracefully stroll down 28th Street. She, a 125 pound White Tailed Deer, came towards me on the sidewalk. Her head turned left and right, taking in the scenery like a tourist. I sat as still as a frightened rabbit, hoping she would mistake me for something non-threatening. The air was perfectly calm and the smoke from my cigarette rose straight into the sky. Oh, but she noticed me! We were locked in a staring contest for what felt like forever, and then she bounced away. Faster than I knew a deer could run, she bounded across Hennepin Avenue.And a bear wandered up to a strip mall last week in Cottage Grove. I felt it should be commemorated.
Its time to free ourselves from the shackles of this social networking monster.
We are ignorant prisoners, dragging our metal cups across the bars while our warden stuffs his fat face with naturally-cased wieners.
We are school children, wandering like Wii avatars, waiting for the bell to ring only to be called in to diagram sentences.
We are the Israelites crushed by our taskmasters, waiting for the supernatural smiting of the Egyptians.
Rise up, people. Stop rowing the slave ship. The candy tasted so good before we got in the van, but now we must be deprogrammed. Make no mistake about it this is some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Oh, the candy so sweet, so forbidden, so Turkish-Delighty.
Damn you, Facebook!
Ive flushed my precious time down the toilet. Time Ill never get back. Just like the year I got hooked on Party of Five those orphaned Salingers led by their gorgeous brother/carpenter, Matthew Fox
Oh, but its done now. No point in looking back. Friend requests, status updates, profile pictures word combinations unwittingly added to the English lexicon!
Ive got a word for you: insidious.
Never has there been such a tool, such a divisive tool. It wears a party hat and mixes the strongest drinks, watching the party-goers behave like jackasses. Why?
Ask son-of-a-dentist/billionaire, Mark Zuckerberg. Mr. Zuckerberg was unavailable for comment during the writing of this, and its no wonder. Hes in Palo Alto, counting his drug money. Im booking a flight to Palo Alto and am either going to personally punch him in the face or flatter him until he hires me as his personal secretary. The second scenario is obviously more lucrative. The point is, I will no longer be in this creepy symbiotic relationship.
Hands mangled, digits lost, clothes torn right off of bodies… (I better fact-check that last one).
Zeichen Press is no exception.
Behold:Look if you must. Sometimes it is better to face the painful, it desensitizes the mind.
That’s good, right?
Because I am so committed to my craft, I (by “I”, I mean “my son”) squished the spider, and finished laying out this card:Mother’s Day is coming up but you don’t have to get your mom a card.
These new (lucky) states are: Virginia, West Virginia, Idaho, Montana, Alaska, and New Mexico. Each rep gets a box of goodies, packed by Jen:
I bet that’s a lot of work.
I wish I could help but I’m too busy watching Pam watch kittens on televison while I lay in bed.
I DID write/design some new cards I’ve heard that laughing is as good for your body as eating so I plan to airdrop some new cards to the starving people in the world.
I’M IN THE HOT AIR BALLOON FLOATING OVER YOU AND MARTHA!!
I knew it… She is walking to the mailbox to send a Zeichen Press card!
She ordered a bunch from our online shop, but due to doctor/patient (I’m the doctor in this scenario) confidentiality, I cannot divulge which cards she chose.
I CAN tell you that she is concerned about a funny-looking mole on her mom’s bottom.
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!
That’s the sound that March makes that and a muffled sobbing. February triggers cabin fever but March in Minnesota is far more dangerous.
Here’s a story about March: One Christmas, Santa put a baby albino rabbit under the tree so delightful!
The little rabbit grew into a big rabbit and by the next Winter, our basement smelled like the bunny barn at the State Fair. With scraps of wood and a bale of hay, I built an outdoor rabbit hutch.
In a pinch, it could serve as a coffin for an adult man.
IN A PINCH.
By March it was buried under several feet of snow and I’d order my eldest to go spend time with the rabbit in the snow coffin.
The moral of the story is: Get a dog.
And something about March creating crazy. Thank God I have an outlet for my March crazy:
My high school English teacher told the class that if we looked up the word ‘glib’ in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me.
She was right!
I think I felt insulted.
I’m sure Jen’s high school English teacher said something similar about her.
And if not, she should have.
What does this have to do with angry parents or a new card?
Obviously, my glibness was not celebrated at home. In fact, it was frowned upon can you believe it?!
And Jen’s reckless behavior?? You’ll have to ask her about that… I mean, pregnant at 19?! What was she THINKING?! (Wait, that was me?? We need to hire a fact checker.)