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Tuesday’s Type Tip: Please don’t do this. Ever.

No offense to Lex Oto, but he might want to rethink that logo.

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So many corn dogs, so little time…

So here I sit, waiting for people to show up to my event: #BloungeATX Bloggers’ Lounge. There are currently four of us here, and I have food to feed 50+. What the hell am I going to do with 100 chicken wings and 75 corn dog bites? Well, first I’m going to eat. A LOT. As far as my pride goes, meh, I’ll survive. I’ve certainly learned to deal with embarrassment before. Here are just three examples: 1. I insisted on throwing a going away party in my modest home for two VERY popular friends. There were other offers of venues, but I just had to be the hostess with the mostest. The result? 65-year-old women sitting on my living room floor—classy. 2. In preparing to give a talk about graphic design to a group of association executives, I spent so much time making sure my presentation slides were perfect, that I neglected to actually practice my speech. The result? Perhaps the crappiest presentation of all time. Seriously. It was legendary.  3. I used to teach a graphic design course at a community college. Some of my colleagues told me I needed to be tough on the students. As in…

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5 Reasons Award Shows Give Me Anxiety

Last night Mr. Weenie worked behind the scenes at the Texas Film Hall of Fame Awards Show. He does it every year—designing the stage and doing the technical direction. I attended the first year but haven’t been back since. Here are some reasons why: 1. Awards shows make me nervous. I’m constantly cringing at how uncomfortable the celebrities look on the red carpet. And why do all the women have their hands on their hips? It’s not like they have any arm fat to hide. 2. Watching the sycophants reporters interview the celebs makes me feel sad. 3. I don’t understand why they insist on having the cameras focused on the losers. That’s just mean. How many of those people actually practice their “I’m a loser” faces before the ceremony? My guess? All of them. (Except Mel Gibson, who pretty much looks like a loser all the time.) 4. How evil is it that the reporters tell the red carpet walkers how lovely they look and then publish stories about Angie Harmon’s Björk impression and Anne Hathoway’s superpower of turning completely invisible when she wears beige? 5. The worst part of the ceremony by far is the acceptance speech. While…

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By the way, I’m a graphic designer.

Those of you who don’t know me might wonder what it is I actually do for a living since lately my blog has become a random batter of topics from gardening to procrastination, and my tweets consist mainly of what I’ve spilled on my desk that day. I thought I understood what my career was and always would be until recently, when I was hit by what I suspected was a wave of food poisoning. Turns out it was just a mild case of inspiration. (Apparently, both involve sleepless nights and nausea.) I was pretty creative as a child. My mom used to tell stories about the interesting “art” projects I cobbled together out of leaves and crayons; and once I went door to door selling tickets to a puppet show that hadn’t even been produced yet. (Perhaps I should have become a mortgage lender.) So it was no surprise when I decided to study graphic design. I’ve been a designer for pretty much my entire adult life—and I imagine I’ll never stop—but I’ve recently begun feeling a pull to do something else, which is the cause of all this queasiness. For no clear reason I’ve started holding events, monkeying…

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Time to Get Off My Ass & Zip My Pants

The other day I wrote a short, disposable post about being the Worst Blogger Ever. Surprisingly, it received quite a bit of comment traffic from several inspiring friends, including @myerman, @momof5cuties, @JulieGomoll, @jenztweets, @slavetofashion, @NataliaSylv, @luannsaid (comic relief) and @midnightferret. Now, I’m not one for letting small rodent-like creatures (or Tom) define myself as a writer, but I found the back and forth to be rather enlightening. The common thread seemed to be, “Weenie, get off your ass already!” Unsurprising to anyone who’s met me, this is not the first time I’ve received such advice; including from my mother, who also chimed in. I’ve written about my struggle with perfectionism before, and it seems to be a consistent theme in my professional life. If only I could replace this theme with motivation, drive or gold doubloons. Because I understand that I live in reality (which puts me just this side of sane), I must accept my neurosis as a transparent disguise for my fear of failure. That said, what’s the worst that could happen? Nobody reads my posts? People talk about me behind my back? And if people talk behind my back, surely it will be about something more interesting;…

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Update: Still the Worst Blogger Ever

For those of you keeping track (and I know your numbers are impressive), this is my first post since #BlogathonATX occurred nearly a month ago. I have no excuse. I love to write, but everything else seems to fill in the hours, and I never find the time to do it. Once again I’m reminded that I can’t just wait for time to magically appear; I need to MAKE time. How do I go about doing that? Well, here are a few thoughts I’ve had: 1. Stock up on 5-Hour Energy shots. 2. Stop watching Law & Order reruns. 3. Move refrigerator from the kitchen to under my desk. 4. Teach the poodle to use the toilet. 5. Stop organizing blogging events. Of these options, the most realistic one is probably moving the fridge, but the mister might take issue with that (and the poodle is pretty small and flushable). I’m open to other suggestions. Anyone?

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Bad Boys Make Me Queasy

In case you haven’t heard, in addition to my graphic design business I have a little side gig called BlogathonATX. For reasons yet to be identified, last summer I decided that the best way for me to become more accountable for regularly blogging would be to produce a big event showcasing the fact that I’m a shitty blogger. To clarify, graphic design is my first love—the college sweetheart who stuck with me for years, providing a modest yet stable lifestyle. Conversely, BlogathonATX is the questionable, beer-induced fling from which one wakes in a panic, feeling somewhere between thrilled and nauseated, wondering where she is and how she got there (not that I would know). This one-nighter has managed to become a big part of my life and continues to bring me the kind of satisfaction I just can’t get from sitting alone in my office designing brochures and trade show graphics. I believe that creating BlogathonATX fuels my creativity and makes me a better designer, but  sometimes I still wake up confused and unsure how I got here. I worry about getting so caught up with Blogathon lust that I forget my stable, dependable, clean-shaven day job. It’s hard to…

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WTF Wednesday: Whistling Dixie

I’m thinking the south doesn’t really deserve to rise again. Make mine a double D.

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Birthday Math

So, I turned 43 last week. It’s kind of a double edged sword having a birthday so close to the holidays. On one hand, I never had to go to school on my big day, but there is a down side, and it’s called the “combination gift.” Now, it’s not that I don’t understand laziness as a concept. One of the main reasons I choose to work from home is to save the step of changing out of pajamas in the morning. What most folks don’t realize however, is that there are very clear rules about the often misunderstood combination gift. First of all (and most obviously), a combo gift must be at least twice as good (read: expensive) as a typical birthday gift. This is best illustrated using fairly straight forward algebraic equations: If Hanukkah=Bathrobe and Birthday=Pedicure, then Birthukkah=Trip to Canyon Ranch. Similarly, if Christmas=Earrings and Birthday=Tickets to the opera, then Birthmas=Trip to New York for Broadway show with stopover at Tiffany’s. Get it? Another one of the challenges of having a holiday birthday is competing with family gatherings and vacations. As a child this may play out in poorly attended birthday parties where your dad has to dress…

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Why Creativity Is Sometimes Full of Poo

In my recent post about why I’m the Worst Blogger Ever, I received sage advice from the always charming Tom Myer, as well as thought-provoking commentary from my friend and garden designer, Kirsten Bartel. Here’s a little of what Kirsten had to say in response to my ramblings: “It reminded me of a discussion we once had, Ileenieweenie, about the creative process. I remember asking you if you thought your graphic design work was creative, had an artistic process, and you told me ‘no’. That was a long time ago and I don’t know if you’ve changed your mind about that, but it could be part of the difficulty you’re having right now with writing – are you struggling with the creative process?” Oh how cynical I once was. Kirsten is probably right—I do struggle with the creative process—but that’s not the only issue. Using my profession as an example, the process of graphic design is a skill that can be taught/learned. While creativity (a soft skill) may be practiced/developed/massaged, it’s not what I would consider a tangible skill set. I’ve obtained design ability through study and practice. Creativity is a little trickier. Yes, it takes some creativity to come…

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