The Craftstravaganza is o-v-e-r. And in case you missed it, Jen gave a stirring performance as Janet Jackson circa 1989 – here’s a photo I took at the event,right before she threw down her cardboard and got totally into it.
That was really something.
Also, and I don’t know why, I made this card after the show:
Happy Mother’s Day, all you mothers!!
Jen has already packed up her cardboard for our big breakdancing number that is our “workshop” for the Craftstravaganza on Saturday at the MN State Fairgrounds.
I sewed costumes (Jen will be dressed as Janet Jackson : Rhythm Nation 1814 and I will be a butterfly). Other workshops include weavers weaving, making t-shirt necklaces, food jewelry, and yarn bombing.The yarn bombing sounds dangerous.
There will benearly 150 vendors, so if you can’t find a Mother’s Day gift on Saturday, I can only assume you hate your mom.
My mind wandered as I listened to the Second Reading.I wondered if I could get my hands on a chocolate milk for lunch. I watched the third graders fidget. I planned my fishing-themed diorama. …Children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth…I figured out what the initials TGIF stood for oh, that makes sense! …I felt something crawl up my uniform blouse.
I felt something crawl up my uniform blouse!Or did I?The question went unanswered because, like Abraham Lincoln in the balcony of Ford’s Theater, I’d been shot. Most likely, an assassination plot carried out by those boys that dumped Mountain Dew on my head last week.Oh, the pain!I signaled my teacher and was escorted to the nurses office by a girl that needed a hero badge to add to her girl scout sash.
The nurses office was familiar to me. Homesickness was an ailment I suffered from semi-regularly.
When I staggered through the door, the nurse stopped her mimeographing and looked at me. I pointed to my gunshot wound nearish my right armpit but closer to a more embarrassing region. She lifted up my blouse. I stared at the poster on the wall.
Yes, kitten. Iwillhang in there.
It turned out not to be a bullet lodged in my ribcage, but a bee sting.
In honor of that important event, I created my ownHang in There!card. Do not accuse me of ripping off the original, it is an homage. An HOMAGE.
I think that meansSeize Mother’s Day.But maybe not – I am really only fluent in Pig-Latin.
As far as I know, we all have mothers. I don’t think Science has done away with that yet. And I’m going to boldly state that the majority of readers of theIs That Funnyblog love their mothers.Why?My research shows that people who$*#%-ing love Zeichen Pressalso $*#%-ing love their mothers.My research involved a picture-day slideshow and ham salad sandwiches. Also, $50 bills stuffed in a piata. It was unorthodox but revealing.
You still have time to order aMother’s Day card(and a card for your Mother-In-Law, dear God, DO NOT FORGET HER) fromthe shop! We will ship it to you so you have time to send (or give) it to mom.
But, don’t let me tell you what to do. I mean, if you don’t want to celebrate your mom (OR mother-in-law!) on this one day of the year, that’s your decision. I’m sure she won’t be hurt at all. It will never be brought up again.
Once Upon A Time,there lived a woman who tried and tried to cram a live chicken into a cooking pot. The chicken would not oblige and finally the woman had to accept the notion that live chickens will never submit to such unnatural behavior.Rather than chop off the chicken’s head, they became companions and live in an abandoned mine shaft.The End
I have dozens of stories like that, just waiting to be published. That reminds me:I was trying really, really hard to write a Father’s Day card. This is what I came up with:
At brunch, George Lucas asked me to write a Father’s Day card that suggests a theme from theStar Wars Trilogybut warned me not to use any of theStar Warsimagery.It was a strange request but I accepted the challenge and after tossing back our mimosas, we arm-wrestled and I made this:
TheNew York International Gift Fair(NYIGF) wrapped up (sans blizzard). I wasn’t there (I never am) but it must have been a huge success because our rep is faxing orders to us
faster than we can pull them.
Fax machines work just like Wonkavision and every day I hope to find a chocolate bar instead of an order.But for now,I must be satisfied with ink on paper.
I complain about January, but secretly, I love it. In January, my skin returns to its natural pasty-white color. I know this because I disrobe weekly for a quick shower and pat myself down with a damp towel. That’s not true, I also see my bare legs as I change from my pajama pants to my less-pajama-ish pants.
But enough about my enchanting facade, onto the chewy nougat:
Jen has almost finished printing the cards for our March Release.
I can’t wait for her to be finished because then we can get back to all of our gabbing.
While I am forced to sit quietly with my own thoughts, I decided to be productive I made two new cards: Guess which one will become an uncategorized orphan:
Jen is printing the new cards for the March release and I have decided to wear the off-brand Forever Lazy suit until April 1.
The following is a dramatization of me wearing the suit.
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:
When Nature and Civilization collide it sounds just like stirring twelve tin cans in the bathtub with a golf club. This sound, combined with another soundthe sound of a pair of teeny-tiny hands strangling a pigeon.
I laid in bed for 1…2…3…4…5 hours and listened to, what I concluded was, a pigeon trapped behind the flashing on my house.
A squirrel met its maker (Bruce Hornsby) that same way last Summer. But not before it spent several days running itself to death. Was the pigeon luckier? It shivered in the cold until shortly before dawn. Likethe Little Match Girl, it shivered to death, clutching a clawful of burnt matches.
We have a client that needs graphics for its trucks so while I listened to the pathetic cries of the dying pigeon, I thought about that.
It was a productive night.
A surprise birthday party is 1,000% more fun than a regular birthday party. The planners plan for weeks – sending out secret invitations:
Unearthing senior photos to print on drink coasters:
And finally the moment arrives!
Hello, January. I hate you. Not as much as February, but I still hate you. I tell my children that you are full of fun and possibilities but I am lying.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NOJIYe6qoI
Perhaps this card captures my true feelings:
Sometimes (not very often)I find myself at a loss for words. Speechless. Struck dumb by powerful emotion.“I’m stunned. I mean, I’m in a state of… somebody should just throw a blanket over me, you know?” – Woody Allen (Manhattan)
Sometimes an empathy card is better than a sympathy card.
Sometimes a bear playing violin says it all.
Jen told me that she is learning to master Quickbooks. I trust her.
I bet that the Quickbooks tutorial requires puzzle completion before you really get into the meat of the applicationjust to make sure the user is nimble-minded.
The New Year is upon us and to celebrate I stood on a chair, my head surrounded by asbestos wrapped pipes, and counted envelopes.
Jen said this was calledtaking inventoryand while I am familiar with this as a spiritual concept, with a priest andconfessionalhandy, I was easily distracted because the priest and confessional were replaced by the dog and a bin of Bazooka bubble gum.
These items were not on Jen’s list
but I think that was a potentially expensive oversight. Just to be on the safe side, I counted one dog named Millie and 34 pieces of Bazooka.
You’re welcome, Jen.
Winter has been creeping in like a gas leak and I am always pleasantly surprised to find myself awake in the morning.
“That’s nice.”I say, as I stretch and crawl off my sofa-bed.Never one to miss nuance, I wonder why I’m not in my own bed.
Good design sometimes requires getting into character – I’ve been dressing like a gypsy (not showering) for our latestTanekproject. A paper fortune teller is easier to mail than a crystal ball and some might argue – more accurate. Tanek will send 300 of these out to their dearest friends – I only hope they take the responsibility of predicting the future seriously:
