My Life as a grown up

I really have nothing for today. It’s the last day of work before PAX, the last blog post before September (not unlike the final thread on the cape of justice).

Come September, prepare for an ‘exciting’ and ‘titillating’ adventure through the land of Wilbane. I’ll shall spin you adventurous tales of design through a futuristic setting with a compelling plot and interesting characters; or at least that’s the ‘plan’ (as if I ever have a plan). Prepare yourself for more of Gaglaw’s adventures and I’m now changing Friday to Frinksday. Flinksday. Links day. The day that I share good links and possibly talk about a font, or book, or movie, or comic, or song, or band that I’m particularly enamored with at the time of posting. (not unlike the seam on the jean cut-offs of destiny).

Oh, and don’t forget about subscribing to the podcast in iTunes where I’ll be bringing my favorite post that week to life. LIFE!

So all you out there in the blog-o-sphere, strap on your thinking caps, lock your seat into the upright position, and pull the safety bar down a little too tight onto your laps because a ride is about to begin. To those who wish to survive, good luck.

It’s cold.  It’s been cold since we got here.  Somehow… I think it’s going to be cold tomorrow…

The project started so simply, how it ended (or is ending) with us wandering the frozen wastelands of the arctic desert, escapes me.

We knew we shouldn’t have taken the project, we don’t work well as a team, but we needed the money.  That’s always how it starts, right?  Blah blah blah blah, but… we needed the money.  Everyone always needs the money.  Welcome to the world, here’s a bottle.  I’d recommend getting in line at theDMV because you’ll probably be of age by the time it’s your turn.  Silly baby…

So, I started drawing sketches of the logo and he started sketching possible website ideas.  Everything seemed to be going fine… on paper.  We argued constantly, but remained civil for the most part.  Flicking paper clips at each other, snapping rubber bands… but then the pranks began.  Phone pranks,internet pranks, chair pranks, mail pranks.  This is why we should never work together.

Eventually, while we were trying to finalize a color scheme, a large box appeared on our doorstep.  Assuming it to be another of his ‘hilarious’ pranks, I ignored it.  Whilst I was tracing a few of my sketches into illustrator he opened the door and saw the package.  He freaked out thinking it was one of my pranks, but I still figured it was just one of his pranks.  He was probably trying to get my to get into the box to ship me off toalaska, the asshole.

Long story short.  It was and, he did.  But the only way I would trust him was if he got in, too.

So now, we’re being shipped off to alaska.

-Really?!  That’s so fucking cliche!  I don’t know why I work with you, your the most unimaginative person I’ve ever known!

-Me?!  muh, you!

- …

So whipped out my tiny flash light, steadler pencil, and moleskin and continued working on the project.  I’m going to do the whole thing, bollocks to not being a web designer.  And this is where the whole trouble really began.

After landing and decided on a website sketch and began searching for a way home.  He remained on the plane which ended up going further North, the idiot.  Looking around I realized I was in a town where I could possibly get help.  I stopped in at the nearestinternet cafe (convenient!) and sat down at a computer.  I handed the lady there my credit card and sat down at a computer, instantly forgetting that I was by myself in a strange land.

I opened up the internet and began general surfing, while simultaneously opening up remote desktop to access the logo I had traced earlier that… week.  I decided on a blue, monochromatic color scheme and flushed out the colors on the logo.  I called the client to see if they had time to look at the logo mock-ups I had sent, so that I could get started working on their web site.  They did, and they chose the one they liked best (with little to no changes).  So I started to lay out the website when the building exploded all around me.

The intense heat forced me to the ground.  Right at that time a piece of shrapnel from the explosion was sent flying through the computer I was working on.

- I’m going to charge you for that!

I blacked out.

Next thing I knew I was in a helicopter.

-  I told you that was a bad idea.

I looked up and instantly understood.

-You’re the reason we’re here in the first place!  You and your stupid, cliche, pranks!

- Yea well that last one wasn’t cliche!

-  You blew up the cafe?!  You’re insane!

-  You were trying to do web development!  You’re a designer!

-  Take me home!

Suddenly the pilot changed course and started going towards, what I assumed was, home.  I started in disbelief.

-  Well you are the one paying for this.

-  I don’t have any money and my credit card is probably melted in the cafe you all destroyed!

The pilot and wing man looked at each other.

-  So let me get this straight, not only are you a graphic designer who was pretending to be a web developer, but you’re not going to pay us either?

I looked around with fear as the wing man stepped back towards us.  My partner wasn’t paying attention, he was too focus on his own look of triumph for what he thought was a good prank.  Asshole.

We were both promptly shoved out of the helicopter.

As I sit in my chair in my office, with the lights off, I mentally prepare for the day ahead.  Today, I’m preparing to mentally prepare for the weeks coming events.  If you are unaware of this weeks events… anyway, it’s the gaming mecca that is the Penny Arcade Expo.  That’s right, once again PAX is taking over Seattle.

If you aren’t in the know of PAX… *sigh*… it’s a three day tabletop/handheld/console/PC gaming convention held, now, in the Seattle Convention Center.  It is a glorious three days filled with nothing but gaming and gaming related activities.  Gaming tournaments, gaming free play , panels of speakers of gamers who make games, video game music concerts, and video game movie screenings (good ones… like The Wizard orFist full of quarters)

Now that I write that out loud, it does sound a bit insane to those of you who aren’t gamers.  And yes, it does border a bit on obsession, but that’s why it’s such a grand event!  I’m sure being packed into a crowded convention center with over 15,000 gamers geeking out on the newest releases, betas, alphas, and gammas would terrify any non-gamer.

And so I shall be spending these next couple days preparing for the holy gathering that is the Penny Arcade Expo.  I shall be cleansing my mind, body and soul.  As in death, I shall be evacuating my bowels in excitement.  Like many other gamers, whom I’ll see for 3 straight days, I need to take a shower.

Today I am tired.  Partially because I’m anemic and all I’ve had to eat was a bagel with peanut butter, and partially because of the time-suck that is Rock Band.  Late was I playing Rock Band, 20 miles from my bed.  Played until the morn, we did.  And soon there will be ‘Rock Band 2′ a more improved version of Rock Band 1.  I almost fear for my life.

The drums are better, quieter; more deadly.  Stealthy like a cobra as it attacks a weasel.  Or ferret.  Or whatever it is that cobra’s fight when they aren’t dancing for money in baskets (whores).  And worst of all is the limited edition ION drum kit.  With cymbals.  And it can be used as a full digital drum kit (coupled with a ‘brain’).  Not only is this evil and unholy, it’s also a health hazard.  Health AND social hazard!  I’ll never leave my apartment, I’ll be fired from my job and be forced to become a freelance typographer out of survival instinct.  My diet will consist only of rats and drummers who rock less than I.  I fear my only friends will become half-microwaved burritos and that I’ll need to have splints on my arms at all times, no, need to have my arms REPLACED with drum sticks because of my addiction to Rock Band 2!

This will make creating fonts unnecessarily difficult for myself and someone will be forced, probably at gun poi… er… drum stick point, to create a program/computer so that I can still sculpt my creations.  More than likely this will result in a mind computer.  Then all of my ideas will become reality.  This shall eventually lead to unnatural success as a freelance typographer and I will be hunted like Frankenstein or the Easter Bunny.  Luckily my legs are so in shape from the Rock Band 2 double bass, that I’m able to outrun everyone (with the mind computer on my back) and hide in a light house.  There I will make my most beautiful creation.

It will be hailed as the greatest font ever created.  It will have the most elegant and subtle serifs that make it the best body type ever AND be simultaneously sans serif and become Helvetica’s successor.  I shall be named king and I will rule over peasants.  They will give me presents.  Like a jet pack.  And I will fly off into the sunset and probably die trying to eat the moon thinking it to be made of cheese.  Muenster or Red Dragon, hopefully.  But, as my final breath is sucked from my lungs by the blackness of space all I can think about is how I have no idea where I’m going to get a cracker big enough to satisfy the cheese sphere.

Ok.  My life as a grown up… get pumped up… whua!  whua!  Pumped up!  Blog time!

Going to a career.  Having a salary.  Living with my girlfriend in an apartment.  Having bills.  I’m a grown up, right?

I’m pretty sure it’s just Additive stuck in a grown up life.  Not that I don’t like this life, I can see how grown ups get stuck in it for… life.  But I have much bigger and better plans for myself, and this grown up life I’ve got right now is just a source of income.  My life generates money for other people’s lives.  How inane.

Really, my dream (besides becoming an Astronaut to mate with a martian.  That’s right, Mulder, that’s how you make a human/alien hybrid.) is to become a remote freelance typography-based graphic designer.  I mean, how cool would that be?  Let’s find out:

Remote freelancers, while not having many material possessions and much money, get to travel!  The one thing that everyone needs to do in their life is travel, other wise you become the man in the cave with the fire… or something.  You can read you’re New Yorker and drink imported tea with Kevin Rose’s face on it, but that doesn’t really make you cultured (unless the tea is somehow connecting you to Kevin Rose and his amazing adventures).  Get up, right now.  Ok, get up after you’ve finished reading the whole post, and leave.  Take a sick leave, take vacation, take a train, take a bus, take a plane, take a plain shirt and almost nothing with you.  Go.  Adventure.

Plus I’ve always, will always, want to become a freelance typography-based graphic designer.  I’ve been obsessed with graphic designer for over a decade now.(my own personal means of making the world a better place.  Much more effective than starting a picket line to get a statue of myself installed in major cities.)  And, if you’ve been following the blog or you know me personally, then you know my obsession with typography, fonts, ligatures and serifs.  I’m currently designing my first full font and plan on spending a solid year or so on it before releasing it to the public.  It’s nothing fancy, not a body type or display type.  Maybe something someone could use on a techno album or something.  Not too practical, but I don’t think my first font could be a beautiful, elegant body type (like Zurich) or an amazing, balanced sans serif (like Helvetica).  I should write a poem about fonts.

Shit, where was I?  Something about typography and freelance graphic design…. Remote freelance typography based graphic design!  Right!  I think I covered everything I had to say.  Aaaaaand scene.

The next thing I knew, we we’re in a short-walled cage, fluorescent lights beating down on us.

-Welcome

The shadows quickly changed into a tall and lanky man.

-I am the keeper of information, and I have a quest.

We looked at each other. Quests are awesome!

-I need you to take this and deliver it to the one who buys goods and services.

The keeper brought out a small black box and handed it to me. It was so shiny! The short-walled cage melted and the Keeper pointed. We looked around confused and walked into the shadows he was pointing at. We tumbled through the darkness before landing on another checkerboard spiral. Except this one spread out in all directions around us. We looked at each other, confused as to where to go next.

-What the fuh…

-Hello? Gaglaw? Yea, I need you to go in that direction.

A glowing arrow appeared on the checkerboard ground.

-How can we hear you?

-Magical horn. Now go!

His voice faded with reverb. So, we followed the direction he pointed us in. We veered a little bit, but it was in the same general direction. After a while of walking there was a booming and crackling.

-I like where you’re going with this, continue!

His voice faded and we looked around. That wasn’t the Keeper’s voice. We continued to walk. A figure appeared on the horizon. His large arms waved to us. We ran to him with the strange black object.

-I am the one who buys goods and services! Bow before me for it is I!

We did a little bow and handed him the box.

-No. I don’t like it. Can you make it blue? A little taller?

He disappeared and the black cube fell to the ground with a thud.

-Seriously?! What the fuck…

The guitarist picked up the cube and we kept walking the direction we were originally walking.

-No, I don’t like that direction, try something different. Something blue… blue…

The one who buys goods and services’ voice trailed off. So, we walked in another direction the sky pulsating all the while. We walked through loops, spirals, holes and other strange scenery. Eventually we walked to a blue lake and the guitarist threw the cube into the lake.

-Get blue!

And the moment the cube hit what we thought was water the lake disappeared and the blue cube fell to the ground. We looked at each other confused.

-Now how do make it taller?

-I don’t know… maybe… here you grab this end…

-This isn’t going to wo…

-Shut up!

So the bassist and the guitarist grabbed either side of the cube and pulled. The cube made a cracking sound and the cube suddenly elongated.

-I like the directions you’ve taken! Release 5324 R1 to the warehouse!

We looked around confused. The scene around us melted and a warehouse formed around us.

-Look

We stared at the blue box and saw ‘5324 R1′ carved into one of the faces. So we dropped it in the warehouse and started to leave. As we left we heard running and stopped. We turned around at the sound of metal grinding and hammers. There was an army of what looked like ants building something around the box we had ‘delivered’. We watched in awe as they made an exact replica of the box, but 4 or 5 times larger. It was huge now! The Keeper of Information materialized next to the larger 5324 R1.

-It is complete, call the Mover of Things!

The ant-like creatures scurried off into the purple and grey sunset. Or sunrise. We’d been in this strange world so long at least I had no recollection of time.

-Wait. If you could just materialize here, why did you need us to do that quest?

-I was busy keeping the one who buys goods and services happy! He’s been waiting for this for an eternity!

We were forced to accept this excuse as a huge creature came pounding into the warehouse. It’s feet and hands were covered in a strange black material and it’s eyes shine brighter than the inverse sunset. It’s body was a metal compilation of geometric shapes. Points protruded from all over it’s body. It make a strange honking noise and grabbed the large box. In it’s mouth were a dozen or so creatures at controls! It was some sort of machine or robot or something!

-Awesome…

The robot creature lumbered out of the warehouse making grinding and honking sounds the whole way. That’s when we noticed our van was in the warehouse!

-Score!

We ran to our for our van and hopped inside. It was as we left it, but without the deranged midget and all the windows were broken out.

-You may go now, but you will not leave the land until 5324 R1 is installed! It shall be your escape from this land!

He disappeared and the guitarist started up the van. It roared to life and echoed in the warehouse (which was melting around us). We could see the large blue box in the distance and drove towards it. As we drove over the checkerboard highway we realized the van was as we left it… out of gas.

The singer is sick, can’t sing. The consequence of sound. Bassist and guitarist are sick. We’re all sick. Sick of working for some faceless man who barks orders at us. Sick of bowing to the other man’s will. Sick of being in this twisted world. The van’s out of gas and night is approaching. We don’t expect to make it through this night, of all nights. We think the date is October 31st, 2020 and we are Gaglaw. A large shape hovers in the distance, just above the horizon. The wind whistles through the broken windows of the van and a shudder passes through the band.

We see the robot beast slam the blue box down on the silhouette horizon. There was a rumbling and the robot beast fell below the shadows and the blue box began to glow. The hill the van and the box was on split down the middle and faded from out sight. All the shadows began to disappear and fade. The glowing blue box was all we could see now. It filled our vision and blinded us all with a flash. The quest was completed.

That was the last anyone ever heard of Gaglaw. Some say they got day jobs while other’s maintain they were raped to death. The autopsies are inconclusive.

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I a bit like a super hero, you know. You didn’t? Well now you do! Shit!

I mean, I leave my lair everyday (this time I’m referring to my home as my lair. Like the batcave, but with less awesome stuff and less cavedness), put on a disguise and then spend 7 to 4, M-F saving the day. Seriously. Except, my costume is way lamer than any costume ever. Except Auquaman.

My costume consists of taking our or hiding my piercings, hiding my tattoos, putting on fancy clothing (WITHOUT stains!) and looking, overall, presentable.

And my saving the day is less of catching falling sky-buses, but more like knowing how much vinyl or lexan or acrylic we have or we need. That and doing the actual designs for each customer.

Mostly though I spend my days on blogger, myspace, facebook, and kongregate whilst listening to my ‘Rich Kids on LSD’ station on pandora. Because, usually, my work only takes a few moments of touch up or file prep before it’s off my plate again. My work could almost be compared to a wafer-thin cracker. And then I explode.

Not really, though. The exploding. Or the cracker. It just differs from day to day, and today, I don’t even have a cracker. I actually had some oatmeal creme pies, some ice water, and a toasted bagel with peanut butter. And I haven’t even left for lunch yet, awesome.

It’s a rather simple job really, and it leaves me time to work on things that are actually important in my life: my girlfriend, my freelance graphic design work, rock climbing, building a comptuer… etc…

Not to say I don’t like my job! Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE my job! If my job was a gathering of friends, it would be a cheese night… with Rock Band 2 on an HD TV. This job is great: it’s easy, with the occasional challenge; the hours are perfect; the co-workers are awesome; my boss is rad; and soon enough the pay will be spot-on. And it’s not like I slack off, either. Each wafer thin job that comes my way I gobble up and poop out as fast as I can. Sometimes I get enough jobs to get fat like Marco in Metal Slug 3. Except my shotgun pistol is an old dell computer.

Well shit, looks like this post is a little more serious than normal, eh? Probably not very entertaining, but that’s why it’s my blog and not your blog. If it was your blog we’d have to sit around and read about… how… your ponytail won’t stay tight because it keeps getting pulled. Also, you might or might not be a 12 year old girl.

See, even my insults are lame… Well, originally this was going to be a rant about how it’s ironic that someone in a creative position isn’t allowed to creatively express themselves (piercings and tattoos) but I don’t really care because I get paid and it’s Graphic Design experience. Anyway, I’m going to take my lunch and play Sonny on Kongregate. This post is done like dinner.

-peace out and rock on

The singer is sick, can’t sing. The consequence of sound. Bassist and guitarist are sick. We’re all sick. We’ve been on the run for neigh a year. The van’s out of gas and night is approaching. We don’t expect to make it through this night, of all nights. We think the date is October 31st, 2020 and we are Gaglaw. A large shape hovers in the distance, just above the horizon. The wind whistles through the broken windows of the van and a shudder passes through the band. The mood is set, the air is still, and the narrator is a dick.

Now I’m going to go from the normal point. The beginning. Start. Before we were transported to this mixed up world and forced into this messed up scenario. It all started when our tour manager, dirty scum of a midget, booked us on a west-coast tour. It made sense, most of us were from the area anyway.

- Go time bitches.

He waddled in wearing a matching tin-foil suit and hat. The weird thing is that today he wasn’t wearing his tie. I was nervous. He booked our first gig more than 3000 miles away. Unfortunately he had the gun, so I wasn’t asking any questions.

We drove. and drove and drove and drove. Then we slept.

and then we drove.

We got to our first gig and rocked hard. I’ll pass on all the boring detail at this point in the story. Details like: the stage smoke smelled like pistachios; or that the waitress were all trannies; or that our tour manager was fucking the last band on the bar; or that our tour manager was holding something like looked like an nVidia card duct-taped to a cordless toaster. Now, why a toaster would run on batteries is beyond me, unless you were taking it out into the wilderness. Then you could fight Sasquatch off with the power of deliciously buttered toast with jam. Wait, no, the device he was holding was important. That was the thing that got you into this mess.

We finished your gig, all got trashed, and then wandered back into our van. Our tour manager was there, threatening us again and telling us to get on the road if we’re going to make the next gig. We all started to eloquently tell our tour manager that we weren’t going anywhere before simultaneously vomiting all over him. Well, it might not have been simultaneous… I don’t actually know if anyone else gave him a puke shower, but I know I did. As you can imagine, he was furious, but instead of using words like a big boy, he just pointed the toaster-looking-object at us. In that moment before everything went to shit I gazed deep into the shiny object and saw a man so beautiful that many a man would be a ‘mo for those stunning good looks. God damn I’m pretty.

The world then became a blur of green, silver, and vomit. When everyone comes to no one remembers what happened or where you guys are. The last thing I remembered was a beautiful man. Oh wait, haha, that was me. Damn skippy.

The landscape that surrounded us was too strange to explain. Floating blocks, hovering water, the ground made of a translucent… something… We started to walk in a direction, both gravity and the checkerboard carpet started spiraling. Not to say there was an action, but the path was a spiral that we remained attached to. We see a forest of glowing tubes up ahead as the path flattens out. A red sun rises in the distance. The sign outside the forest seems to be in some other language. The bassist tries to read the sign.

-Exclamation point? Ent-three aren-three plus z? What th…

The forest pulsates as he reads the sign. Well, I guess the glowing goo inside the tubes has been pulsating the entire time. Flowing up and down in a constant streaming motion. The singer looks over at me with a look of concern. The guitarist boldly moves into the forest.

-Oh shit balls! There’s something wrong here…

We run into the forest to see if the guitarist is all right.

-I think I’m getting dumberer…

He looks around confused. Then we all looked around. There were webs and nets splayed out everywhere in the forest. I feel my head getting hurtier… pain… I anger at pain! I smash tube!

One of the tubes gets a small crack in it and spills out some of it’s goo. We all stare at the goo as an image appears in it. It seems to be two girls and a cup. As to what they’re about to do we have no idea. The image fades and an alarm goes off. A small man appears from no where to fix the tube.

-Who is you?!

-I’m IT

-it?

-I. T.

-it?

-Just call me ‘Tech Support’

-TS… how do we get out of this place? Where are we?

-You’re in the net, now. No escape really.

We look around terrified. One of the nets in the forest has fallen on us and captured us!

-Ironically, the only way out is to digg. Seems a bit counter-intuitive I know…

The man patches up the tube and disappears. We all start to claw at the forest floor in a panic.

We break through. We fall. The floor was only a few millimeters thick. As I fall I look up at the floor of the forest. A rush of fire emulates from impact and through my entire body before it all goes dark.

To Be Continued!

Awooooo! You stop and smell the air. Another pack is on the hunt tonight. You quickly lead everyone into the bushes and wait. You are out of your comfort zone. You’ve wandered into their hunting zone and you are not the dominate pack. All you can hope for now is that they don’t find you, they leave you scraps, and you remembered to set your TiVo to record Project Runway. How you love the drapery of Rami and crave his perfect, all-day 5 o’ clock shadow.

You hear a rustling near by and drop to the ground in terror. Your pack is small and weak. You fed of your boss’ decaying corpse as long as you could, but the hunger was too much and you were forced to leave the office. A rabbit hops by and you hear a whine rise from your pack. You motion to stay still, but the temp from accounting rushes out in a blood lust. You shake your head and motion to leave, for that was no ordinary rabbit. The interns are young and don’t understand why we are leaving so you let them watch. As the temp rushes to consume the rabbit he suddenly realizes his mistake. It was a thug bunny. His gang bum rushes Jim from all sides and quickly pummels him to death with chains, bats, and his own skull. The interns cry out in fear and the thug bunnies quickly turn their eyes on you. The leader.

You try offering them TPS reports and faxes in exchange for your lives. They take the paper and nibble it. The paper has yet to yellow and was a high quality recycled, so they let you leave. For once your damn glad your boss put more into the office supplies budget than in your own paycheck. You hear the accountants body being dragged away into the Thug Bunny den. Awoooo! One of the interns cries out in anguish. Him and the accountant must have been friends, or at least once had a threesome together on a pool table at Alpha Delta Phi. You remember with a fondness the old ADP parties and crochet marathons. You feel pang of remorse at the loss of your humanity and wonder if this office job was really worth it. You tear off your tie and throw it to the ground and cry out to the night. Forsaking humanity to pay the rent and get an xbox 360 just doesn’t seem worth it in hindsight. You then quickly pick up, dust off, and put back on your tie; lest anyone else challenge you for leader of the pack.

You arrive back at your office to find a pizza delivery man standing at your door with 12 large pizzas, and a 2-liter of diet Dr. Pepper. You spin around and growl at your pack.

-Oop… Sorry, that was me.

one of the receptionists (or man-ceptionist as you’ve come to call him) comes out from the pack, pulls out his man purse, and proceeds to beat the delivery man to death with a brick he’d been carrying around since he was hired. That man-ceptionist did always seem a bit off to you, and he adapted all too well… Best keep him in check. He turns to you with fire and blood in his eyes.

-Tonight we..! Sorry, blood in my eyes, just a se.. yea.. ahh… ok. Yea. Have at it everyone! I got one of everything they had.

The pack rushes to gorge itself after days of fasting.

-Really? Diet Dr. Pepper?

You can’t believe the man-ceptionist got diet Dr. Pepper and shake your mane at him to both congratulate him on the kill and show your disappointment at getting only one soda. All that in just a mane shake. He flashes his new canines at you and puts them in his man purse. You have him put the body in the cooler in the break room so the pack doesn’t go hungry anytime soon.

No, the pack has done well. The pack shall survive.

Such a nice, sunny day in the city. The breeze is caressing your scalp and neck. And god damn do you look fashionable cycling down the city streets in a sun dress and no helmet. Until the ambulance arrives to take you away on a stretcher.

On the way to the big white building in the sky you think about all the mistakes you’ve made. Then you think about how cliche that is and instead start thinking about a pizza pie. About modding your computer to look like a pizza pie.

The wipe! Pasta’s done!

Oh god, why?! I shake myself awake and actually start writing this blog. The day has begin. The day is begun. The day start.

So I’m working full time as a Graphic Designer at a sign company and doing some part-time freelance designing on the side. Truthfully, if I didn’t want the title, I wouldn’t call myself a Graphic Designer at this job. I do no designing. I do no graphicing. I’m as much of a graphic designer as an architect. I just put specs on signs and wait for the customer to tell me to ‘make my logo bigger’. Ohh, I heard they had a cream for that.

In all seriousness my dream is to become a full time type designer. Here’s a few signs that I experienced that helped point the way:

1) Erase 1st bulletin as the joke appears as point 5 2) I know who designed Verdana 3) Helvetica ultra-light gives me a woody 4) Times new Roman takes my woody away 5) Comic sans beats me into submission with my woody

Needless to say it’s like a font-orgy in my head and Lucida Handwriting was not (and will never be) invited. Same goes for you Marker Felt, get the fuck out! I will do it! Don’t think.. I… *gunshot* Damn straight.

I’ve also seen the documentary Helvetica 5-15 times and I have a shrine for the Incredible Hulk. OK, that last bit doesn’t have anything to do with type design, but I’d thought I’d throw it in.

I was really slapped in the face with a giant ‘be-a-type-designer’ brick when I started studying the shapes of different fonts. And I don’t mean I was studying their shapes like your father does at nude beaches and old folks homes, I mean enlarging the lower-case a of helvetica and studying it to a point of obsession.

Yes, I know I have a problem. I’m a fontophile. If little boys were fonts I and was a catholic priest… well, I hope you all know where I was going with that. My name is Additive and I’m addicted to fonts.