Should I shower today or plan a fictional vacation?
Should I take down the Christmas tree or pet the cat?
Life is so challenging.
Decision du jour: Which card is funnier??
A)
B)
I have fictional vacations to plan and cats to pet — help me move on with my day.
Why hide your abnormality under a dingy flannel sack? Love suffers enough in this disposable culture and I will not be a lemming — I will stand up for the odd, the fractured, the misfit, the offbeat, the freaks. I will stand up and say, I embrace the grotesque!
As long as they don’t smell like urine.
I can handle just about any disfigurement — emotional or physical — that sits next to me on the bus, but my achilles heel in my mad-dash for sainthood, is my keen sense of smell.
Damn my olfactory perception.
I don’t think John Merrick
smelled like urine, so we would probably have been great friends.
I made two new cards that celebrate this subject. Feel free to give them to the person in your life that needs to know they’re special.
If you have someone in your life that smells like urine, they would probably appreciate this card very much.
Congratulations, future St. Blankblank.
**Spoiler Alert** Zeichen Press triumphed over Twenty-Twelve.
At times, the year was a nail-biter: will 2012 take it’s boot off of Zeichen Press’s face?… Will 2012 stop hitting Zeichen Press with a folding chair?… Yes and YES.
And as Zeichen Press says adieu to this Year Of Pestilence, Zeichen Press welcomes Twenty-Thirteen — welcomes it the way a mother welcomes the news of another pregnancy. The gift of amnesia is powerful and we are grateful for it. 
I’m wrapping up the year, as usual, in Brainerd, Minnesota. The temperature is hovering around a balmy 0° and as the supplies dwindle to beer and bacon, we are considering sending the children to town for chocolate and dvd’s. And medical marijuana.
Stay tuned…
I welcome the extra-ordinary. In fact, I am hyper-vigilant and ever-watchful for signs of miraculous happenings.
I ate two pounds of filet mignon on Christmas Eve and I’m pretty sure that was a miracle. It felt like a miracle — béarnaise sauce drizzled over huge hunks of very rare cow flesh doesn’t happen every day.
I love Christmas Miracles, they are the most powerful kind of miracle — A change of heart is better than filet mignon and antlers growing out of a dog’s head is, perhaps, the most miraculous of all.
Jen did say I couldn’t make any more Christmas cards but I squeezed this one past her because she is a sucker for dogs and because I threw her computer in a snowbank.
It’s almost January and you know what that means: It’s time to wash my Smart Wool socks. And celebrate Christmas.
Jen told me I can’t write anymore Christmas or Chanukah cards. After I egged her face, I wrote a Get Well card:
The Christmas Tree lot shack doubled as a meth-lab and while I admire ingenuity and entrepreneurship, I like my Holiday Traditions to be more “cozy-by-the-fire” and less “mix-up-a-batch-in-the-tub.”
BUT THAT’S JUST ME.
The “lot” contained exactly eight trees but due to a Christmas Miracle, we found the perfect tree!
We only had to retie the tree back onto the car once. To be fair, cooking meth doesn’t really prepare a person for handling Christmas Trees.
My Jewish friends don’t have these stories and this saddens me, so I made them a card:
I’m not sure if he was gently curb-stomped, or he bit into a fresh apple. Either way, he lost his front teeth.
Do you fantasize about a service that would lick your stamps (and mail awesome cards to a list of people in your address book)??
YOU DO??
Have you heard of Postable??
Did I mention that there are Zeichen Press cards in their line?? (NOT letterpress printed, BUT STILL.)
Now there really is zero excuse to NOT send a card IN THE MAIL.
*Stay tuned: Postable will be adding MORE Zeichen Press cards this week.*
WAIT, I didn’t mention the most important part:
Does Jen hate letterpress printing SO much that I have to create and license all of the art and farm it off to art licensing companies??
Maybe.
The latest for RSVP:
I know one thing for sure. ONE THING. Jen would really hate to print these multi-colored designs. She makes me live in a monochromatic world. But see how I defy?? FIVE colors??
FIVE.
And now they want more cards! FINE.
I’m such a rebel.
Tanek demanded a new website, and who am I to argue?? 
I just do what I’m told.
I designed/art directed it and the good folks at Carney, made my wishes their command.
Observe the fancy bells and whistles!
Rollovers… PDF Downloads… Video Portraits…
And observe what you WON’T observe: My own, personal, Content Management System.
It’s okay to cry. It’s beautiful.
Did I even see Jen on her birthday last week??
Hmm, I don’t think so… But I still made her a card because my love for her just bubbles over and soils the stovetop with a sort of gravy that becomes crusty and has to be scraped off months later with steel wool and maybe a knife.
Whew!
That’s a lot of love!
GET IT?!?! CAT-SUP???
Omg, it just doesn’t stop over here!
Do you need to sell something? You do??
PUT A CAT ON IT.
That sweatshirt is not to be worn ironically and can be yours for a mere $65.
But really, it’s not even realistic. What sort of galaxy is full of white kittens and multi-colored roses??
And where’s the wine and unicorn??
All of those adorable kittens in space DID inspire a graduation card. Don’t ask me why. DON’T ASK ME.
Don’t tell Blockbuster Video, but I still have a VHS copy of Alive in my attic. 
I just love survival dramas. *I* survived the heat last week, it was pretty dramatic… But I ate no one, despite feeling very hungry. To celebrate, the Intern and I set some type.
AND THEN I wrote/designed more cards for RSVP, deadline is TOMORROW. 
No big deal. Chosen card(s) just go into the Major Supermarkets.
ART, I say!
ART!
RSVP asked me for some new art, SPECIFICALLY for 16th birthdays, BUT stay away from the subject of driving?
Um, ok.
How about the subject of dog poop?
I KNOW this is a derivative of MY OWN card.
AND a card I made for ANOTHER Art Licensor. Recycled Paper Greetings.
They also asked for some Wedding Cards… Maybe I’ll say something about flatulence, MAYBE I WON’T.
