Tuesday, February 17, 2009

No worries, I've got custody of Murphy's Law ...

Did you ever know that I'm your hero? I've got this bad karma crap covered. By this point, I'm pretty sure I'm officially Target A on its action item list, and it's STRUCK AGAIN! The victim this time? My poor left thumb.

Picture it: Monday morning, at work in the break room, washing a mod new vase I bought from Michael's - tickled that I stole away with such a great deal, ha ha ha. Only 10 bucks, who do these people think they're kiddin'? I'm totally thrifty.

The vase is in my hands, the faucet running, we're listening to the laughing nervousness of pre-caffeinated employees and feeling the collective sigh to the early start of a new week. Generally, I avoid venturing to the break room, because I don't do well soaking in all the crazy coffee people vibes - prefering instead, their company after the first cup.

Totally absorbed in all the conversations and illustrations around me, I pay no great attention to my vase washing when before I know it, my thumb pops a hole through the glass of the vase where I'm holding it, slicing through my finger like butter. I drop it, annoyed, searching my thumb.

I see my bone - MY BONE - between two different skin flaps! It's not bleeding at first, but I start looking around frantically for a band-aid. Instead, I grab a wad of paper towels and press them to the cut. But not before carefully removing the vase from the sink in order to be polite and avoid any potential drama from someone who - oh, I don't know - might like to wash their coffee mug.

The publisher of the company, who is present, very calmly suggests that we go to the emergency room for stitches, and goes out of his way to drive me to a clinic. Well, the nurse is sitting at the desk, alright, but the sign informs us that no help will be given until 9 - so we drive on to the Topeka hospital instead.

After a visit with a triage nurse, I'm sent to fill out paperwork because I have never visited the Topeka hospital before. I remember this all too well from my kidney stones days: When I was unable to stop from moaning, unable to sit still, and with the burning urge for the pee that wouldn't come - I sat in waiting room torture, hoping they would call my name before that woman in the wheel chair or that guy over there who probably broke his nose, but I don't want to jump to conclusions.

Kidney stones were way worse, but I'm still squirming in the seat as she asks me her great library of questions: When was my father born? What is my billing address? Is this workman's comp? How bad are my family genes? Am I a regular consumer of alcohol? Can they have my organs in the event of my untimely death?

I think they ask you these questions to stall you long enough to bleed you to the point where organ donation is just one fainting spell away.

At this point, my thumb is starting to throb, as I wait for the very slow woman to hunt-and-peck my information into her it-could-crash-at-any-moment computer. Listen, I consider myself a generally pleasant/polite person - and I know it's just her job - but she was slow as hell, and if I may be frank, a bit bitchy - and so, despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but feel personally affected, once again, by a person who hadn't had a sip of the coffee newly poured into her cup.

GRAPHIC MATERIAL AHEAD. Only ye of strong stomach should dare read on ...

Turns out - the doctor had been waiting on me while I was filling out paperwork. Ain't that a kick in the ass!? After about 20 minutes of Frasier and Regis and Kelly, my manager popped in just in time to see them sew my skin shut. It was so great having her there - I was seriously SO happy to work at Ogden Publications, a place where the people genuinely care. She gave me some Juicy Fruit and distracted me as I stomached the four shots! Youch!

She made sure to ask all the questions I forgot. Frankly, the doctor wasn't much help - other than to tell me that I got four stitches, and that the laceration was about 3 centimeters (call me a size-queen, but it was totally more). My skin's a little funky in the pictures because whatever anti-microbial solution she put on the gauze (which totally hooked to my stitches when I tried to take it off) was brown.

I must admit, trying to capture images of the inside of a thumb that doesn't stretch with my one good hand was one of the greatest photographic challenges of my young adult life! I think the doctor may have been right when he said, "Next time, cut yourself in a more convenient location." BTW: WhoTF says that to a patient!?

I think, perhaps, Karma was so displeased that I was OK with being single on Valentine's Day, it decided to remind me how much singularity sucks when you're trying to bandage your sliced thumb all alone in your house. What's next, choking?

Listen, if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me - or buy me a bubble.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Graphic Design - A New Challenge

My blogging (read: lack thereof) has become kind of ridiculous. I've had several people ask for photos of my new car, which I promise are coming presently.

But, I thought I'd catch you up on some of the new things I'm doing - so over the next week, I'm going to start posting photos of some of the things I've been working on at my job - some designs and some photos, just to give you a peek at my life with Ogden.

Here are some poster ads I did for a music festival in Austin called South by Southwest (SXSW), which, funnily enough (and not remarkably so) I had never heard of. The respectful companies liked my work and one, Americana, is interested in using it as part of an email campaign, which is flattering to say the least! (click images to enlarge)

It's certainly not my favorite thing I've ever done - but, it's simple, to the point, and that seemed to be what they wanted. Besides, I spent most of my alotted time making this:

Which got a lot of love from, what I understand, is a really important company.