Dear Kinkos, Stop referring people to us.

My hands smelled like celery. Who knew celery had a smell?
I can be very seat of my pants.

I need to plant a garden. My crop? Nuts. Balls. Testicles.
We had a walk-in today. He was a giant man with lots of jewelry and an unidentifiable accent. He made me extremely nervous. Three words out, and I knew he was the type of man who expected people to cater to him. And that's exactly what I did. He needed business cards. He wanted raised ink. Flat ink. Gold ink. Silver ink. Green ink. Gray ink. He want gold foil. Silver foil. He needed it designed from scratch. And he wanted it tomorrow. Screeching hault! Not possible. We aren't open. We don't do raised ink or foiling in house. Oh, but there must be a way. How bout Sunday? Nope, again, we are not here. Are you sure? Yep. Monday? Let me call the company we use for thermography and foiling. Ring ring. Blah blah. Nope, foiling with ink will take no less than seven days. There is no way to rush it. It needs that time to dry. Having something like that done overnight would defy the laws of printing physics. Long story . . . crap crap crap. The only thing we can have by Monday is a two standard color raised ink card. Pick two of the inks on this page. Okay, that green, gold, and silver. TWO COLORS.


I emailed Oscar requesting an apocalypse, NOW!! This is one of the biggest things I hate and am ashamed about. When I am scared or nervous and do not like whatever situation I am in, the only way out I can see is an apocalypse.