I took Buster the cat to the vet today for a follow up appointment after his oral surgery two weeks ago. Given the scene that transpired resulting in Jeff’s car still smelling like every air freshener under the sun… plus the lingering aroma of cat pee, I chose to use the cat carrier which we bought to help with situations like this.
  With a scheduled 10 o’clock appointment and a gas gage on “empty”, I decided to fill up with gas prior to the journey to the vet so as to avoid the trauma that could result for Buster if we had to make a stop. I drove to Lakefield’s last remaining gas station and taped across the pump was a sign telling me that there was no supreme gasoline (something my MINI can’t live without). I hate these dilemmas, but decided I’d put $5 worth in the tank, collect Buster from the house, and stop in Bridgenorth en route to the vet’s to fill up with Supreme. Sounds easy right? Not on your life. You see, I couldn’t for the life of me get the cover open to access the gas cap! I tugged and I pulled. I poked it with my key, I twisted both it and my body in different directions. I told it to fuck off. I rolled my eyes. But nothing worked. Frustrated, I drove home to reschedule the appointment, and see what I could do about fixing the problem and hoping that I wouldn’t run out of gas in the meantime.
  Still mumbling expletives to myself, I pulled into the garage, go out of the vehicle, and tried the gas cap cover one more time. Of course it opened with absolutely no effort whatsoever! Inside I go, wake Buster up from his nap on the bed, lead him into his carrier upon which he start wailing right away, and I put him in the back of the MINI. So we head to the ESSO station together, me grumbling, Buster wailing, and I get my $5 worth of gas and head to Bridgenorth. It’s not a long journey from Lakefield to Bridgenorth, but any journey will seem twice as long with a cat in the back seat screaming his lungs out. I was looking forward to getting out of the car to put gas in the tank when I pulled into the Irving station only to see signs on their pumps that they had no gas at all! FUCK! On to Ultramar I go wondering if I’d missed some overnight gasoline sucking alien invasion, but luckily, gasoline was to be found, and I could still make it to the vet's on time.
  So howling Buster and I once again are on the road and I’m thinking ”God don’t let him pee or poo” and then Buster lets out this cry that was more like a bark from a dog, and I smell it... Buster has taken a shit in his carrier, and he’s not a happy boy. The cries persist and then I smell something different... Buster has had a pee to accompany his poo, and it’s then that I realize that I’d rather have my eye teeth drilled without a Novocain injection that ever take a cat to the vet.
  We are fortunate to have the absolute best vet in the entire universe. She listened to my rant about the trip, took the carrier from my hands and directed me to the exam room with instructions to turn the lights off, sit down and “breathe”. I didn’t need the full treatment, just the opportunity to be "Buster free" for a moment, and the vet and her staff got Buster and his carrier cleaned up and his exam went off without a hitch.
  Buster hated the ride home as much as he did the journey into town, wailing the entire way in the back while I prayed to every God known to mankind to spare me another bladder or bowel accident from him. We pulled into the garage, and I released killer cat from his prison, and me bitched and complained his way down the hall to his food bowl where he wolfed himself down a good sized breakfast, and then carried his traumatized ass onto the bed where he fell asleep with his head tucked into his paws.
  I’m so glad he doesn’t need another appointment, and if he ever does have to return to the vet, I’m busy that day. Sorry buddy! This taxi is out of service. 

My dear friend Sue Kersten is in England right now, and she emailed me a couple of days ago asking if I wanted her to bring me something back from London. I couldn't think of anything, just wanted her to have some fun and return safely. Then it hit me! I messaged her last night and asked her to go to the home of Freddie Mercury at 1 Logan Place in London near the Earl's Court Tube Station and get her picture taken like I did there this past summer. Here are the two pics - mine from the summer of 2011 and hers taken today! What a treat! THANKS SUE!

  Our 20 year old cat Buster had a trip to the vet’s today. It was a visit for a “check-up” and to see if anything was causing his incessant meowing which erupts at all hours of the day or night, and is loud and “throaty” enough to awaken and disturb anyone within ear shot.
  Buster has always loved a ride in the car it seems. Generally he’s travels sans-carrier, which means loose about the inside of the car and usually perching himself on Jeff’s shoulders as he drives. His constant cries are normal there, but it is fun to watch him view the world passing by as we venture down the roadways.
  Unlike most others, this trip to our vet started out fine. Buster sat on my lap in the passenger seat for the duration of the journey, crying the whole way but getting louder and louder the further away from home we got. Buster has a different cry if he’s about to toss his cookies. This usually happens after he’s eaten some Christmas tinsel, a chunk of a houseplant, a piece of string, or whatever else is around the house tantalizing his warped sense of taste. About two blocks from the vet we recognized the "different" cry, and with the paper towel roll ready, I managed to catch his breakfast as he hurled it onto the sponge pockets in my hand. Well, we almost made it without an incident.
  As it turned out, the examination revealed a bad tooth that needs to be extracted. With this dental problem probably being the cause of his vocal outbursts, we left with some antibiotics to clear up any infection before he gets the procedure done this coming week.
  Buster chose to make Jeff’s lap his home for most of the ride back, but his cries of despair at the no doubt horrendously frightening examination (he’s a suck you know), were becoming more than annoying. Then, about half way home and later than expected, Buster started the climb to Jeff’s shoulder. Unfortunately, the climb was not as easy for him as I think he thought it was going to be, and as he clung to Jeff’s jacket, he became frightened (I suppose at the predicament he had gotten himself into), and he released his bladder down Jeff’s left side, the car seat and the inside of the door. Jeff pulled over, and I’m looking into the face of a howling cat who has an expression on his face of complete and utter terror. His claws are extended further than they have probably ever been before, and I carefully grab hold of the cat and put him in the back seat to assess the pee situation, telling Jeff it would be best if he just got out of the car so we could mop it up. Apparently, the bladder wasn’t all Buster released. As Jeff leaned forward, several poop clumps fell down (one was already squished between the seat and Jeff’s back), and the cleanup took on a whole different direction.
  Just a few minutes of wiping was all it took to be on our way again, and Buster, sulking in the back seat, only cried for a short spell before he became so still and quiet that we thought he had a heart attack and died. Upon arriving back home, a very grumpy cat howled his way down the hall to his bed, turning his head back every now and then with a look of death. He was some pissed at us! Jeff and I got out the Bissell Mean Green Machine and some rags and shampooed the car’s interior and disinfected to door.
  I think next time, we’ll resort to a cat carrier for these journeys. None of us need the stress. Oh, and by the way… not a drop of pee or a piece of poop on the cat – of course!

Yes... sometimes I remember too much from the past. I think we were the last house on the street to get colour television, and I remember sitting in front of the TV early in the morning wishing this image would disappear so the day's programming could begin already!

Leave me a comment about where this takes you...

  Many of you will remember my reluctance last fall to entering a "Logo Contest" that a local (get this) "Performing Arts" group was hosting. I later learned that my design had been selected and that I was the winner of two season tickets to their performances... BUT... the Image was too "dancy" and they wanted me to "work with them" to include "musical instruments or something" to make the logo represent "music" more. In short, a complete overhaul of the design for a board of directors playing "creative director" to me, and guess what... They wanted me to do this additional work FREE OF CHARGE!



Here again is my take on “Logo Contests”, followed by an update on their contact with me since then and a showcase of the logo designs:

  For graphic designers who have invested time, effort, energy and money into the career, "Logo Contents" serve only to devalue the work, and demean the profession. Many of these contests offer the misguided prize of being an excellent promotion of the designer's creative abilities which are sure to bring legitimate paying accounts their way. They don't. Sometimes the prizes (or "rewards"), are minimalistic at best (a free night's stay, a one year membership, etc.), and once again presents the message that the value of the design is far less than it is actually worth. Many designers entering these competitions don't realize that businesses are taking advantage of their naiveté. Many of these "contests" are promoted in area newspapers where ads are purchased at full price (or with a small not-for-profit discount), which in most cases exceeds the value of the "prize" awarded to the contest winner. It is also the case that once these images are created (at no cost to the holders of the contests), that those organizations are more than willing to pay for the printing of business cards and stationery, advertisements, flyers, programs, etc., further indicating a far greater degree of respect and understanding for other professions while deeming the actual design as having either no or little value.

 Logo contests are not always held by not-for-profit organizations. Many "for-profit" businesses that can afford to hire qualified designers to create a logo and/or branding package, also choose this less expensive route.
  A true graphic artist understands the complexities of what constitutes a logo. Considerable research into the design is required so that the final design remains a timeless marketing tool for the business in a variety of circumstances. The design must communicate that message in colour, in black and white, in positive and negative scenarios. It must be eye catching, memorable and in most cases communicate a single message. It should take printing expenses into consideration, and in many cases look good printed on a vehicle, a t-shirt, or even embroidered on a ball cap without losing any aspect of its message.

 The Lakefield area is inundated with some very poorly designed logos that do not serve the businesses well as a marketing tool or as an effective identification symbol. Many are cluttered, have confusing meanings, utilize colours that reproduce poorly, are made up of letters placed together to form a shape that's meaningless to the person looking at it and so on.

 If companies or organizations require a new logo, they should ask designers for their portfolios, identify the best candidate for the job or project, and hire them.
  I personally have created logos that have ranged from $300 to $8,500 depending upon the requirements of the business for their use and the variety of applications for the image. We often hear of large corporate logos or governmental images being designed for costs upwards of $250,000 but must remember that these cases are exceptional in that those images are regimented with published volumes of strict guidelines that take months to prepare so that those images are projected in literally thousands of documents, advertisements, stationery and promotional products in a very specific manner. In those cases, teams of creative individuals work solely on these accounts to ensure that the end product accomplishes many things without any opportunity for error or miscommunication.

 
  The small amount of recognition earned from logo contests is more detrimental to the graphics community as a whole, and slowly defeats the efforts so many are trying to make in regards to graphic design industry standards.



HERE’S THE UPDATE:

  As some of you know, I offered to work with Performing Arts Lakefield to revise the logo design at my usual hourly rate. I later received a kind email from their president telling me that none of the logos submitted in the contest met their standards, but that they were so impressed with my design and professionalism that they wished for me to receive the prize of the two free seasonal passes to their concert series. I politely declined the offer.
  Last week I received a telephone call from the husband of one of the board members asking me if I would be willing to help Performing Arts Lakefield with their marketing as their membership and concert attendance was declining and they were in desperate need of help or risk closing altogether. Here we have a board member soliciting marketing assistance without the approval of the board, and through a non-board member. As you can imagine, knowing that this group wasn’t willing to part with a few hundred dollars for a logo, I was not prepared to delve into the more grand task of helping these people design and execute a marketing plan, and I politely pointed the gentleman in another direction.
  Yesterday I received a lovely email from another member of the board who met me at the Happenstance Books & Yarns open house last week. She had looked at this website and loved my logo portfolio, and asked if I’d be interested in entering a logo in Performing Arts Lakefield’s new logo contest, explaining that they badly need to get into the digital age or seriously risk closing. Before I read the email, this woman telephoned me, and I explained about entering the previous logo contest (she knew nothing about that one apparently), and how it transformed. She said she would be speaking with the president of the board to get updated on the situation.

  Given the lack of organization in this organization, and the fact that all of their right hands appear to be totally oblivious that there even is a left hand, is it any wonder that their concerts are poorly attended and that they risk closure?

 Below is their current logo, and my two entries. You be the judge!

   

   

  Throughout a person’s life, many things change for us. With each of these changes a more unique part of us is born, and as our lives progress, we find ourselves growing in unimagined directions and being shaped into what makes us who we are - to ourselves, our families, and our friends.
  I remember when my absolute favourite colour was orange. I don’t believe I have a favourite colour right now, but by looking at my car most would say it was yellow. I do love yellow because it is the colour of sunshine and it is warm, and it seems to always be associated with a smile. That is unless your talking about someone being jaundice or the colour of someone’s teeth. I don’t like those yellows.
  I also love the colour green in all its shades. That’s probably why I love spring so much because when it’s almost about to turn ownership of the season over to summer, you can’t look out your window without seeing a million shades of just that one colour, and for me that is one of the most wonderful feelings in life.
  I remember when I used to love clam chowder. I haven’t had it since 1984 when I got sick from a bowl of it that didn’t agree with me for some reason. I used to love eating pie and cookies like there was no tomorrow, but I can’t remember the last time I sat down and scarfed back a bag or Oreos.
  I’ve always loved tomato soup, french fries with gravy, fish and chips, mashed potatoes, roast beef, turkey, dressing, and a host of other dishes, but I’m always seeking something new to introduce my taste buds to – except liver. Don’t ever serve me liver. It smells awful, and I don’t care who’s mommy makes it perfectly, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!
  I’ve always loved to travel and I doubt that will ever change since there’s just too much in this big old world waiting to be discovered by me in person, so when it’s possible, I visit a little bit more of it because it’s there.
  As for cars, I’ve changed my favourite makes and models so many times, but aside from a couple that I’ve owned, I think they’ve suited who I was at the time.
  Something I haven’t changed that much is my base career. Ever since I was a young lad one of my favourite pastimes was drawing and designing things. I really wanted to become an architect, but I flunked physics in high school so badly it was never to be. I can design a house, or any other structure probably, but I’d suggest having an engineer study the plans prior to building. So with architecture out of the way, and some guidance into the field, I chose graphic design as my post secondary study. While I’ve held many non-graphic jobs since graduating in 1981, I’ve always been designing logos, ads, publications, brochures, and anything else that came my way, and if it wasn’t for my employers, it was with my own business. That’s one thing I have to say about myself, and that is that I’ve never been too afraid to try something different, or take on a project with new found energy and big expectations.
  So then with this talk of change, I have to ask myself that given the fact that the home PC has empowered the talentless, and that we are surrounded by a general acceptance with “do-it-yourself” design, is it time for me to consider a change in careers? Well, I think it is, because I really don’t want to be doing graphics for the rest of my life, and I’ve started to feel a whole lot younger lately. I’ve realized that if I’m going to start at the bottom of some ladder in a job, then I want the ladder to be something I want to climb. Retail ladders are short, short in stature and short in remuneration, so there’s no sense for me to settle for something I know I’m not going to be happy with, and in a short period of time finding myself in the boat I’m in now.
  So the change I need, and the change I want is to enter college as a mature student, and put the wheels in motion to a whole new career that I will enjoy, that will give me purpose in life, and that I can come home from at the end of every shift knowing that I have contributed something to others and the community in which I live. The timing couldn’t be more perfect because College applications are soon to be submitted, and I am in the perfect frame of mind and drive to put these wheels in motion.
  I will offer more on my choice for this new career and the studies I hope to be taking in a later posting. I just felt like writing about it, because this blog is like having someone to talk to, and I just can’t shut up about it right now because I’m excited!

  I have had my Gillette Sensor razor for over 20 years. I don’t need a new one, even though they’ve changed the design enough times trying to entice stupid people to throw their old ones in the landfill and get “hip” while shaving with the latest design in their hands. They’ve gone from the original 1 blade, to two blades, then three, and now I hear there is a 5 blade razor cartridge out there (what happened to four?)!
  I think when I first bought my Sensor razor it came with three cartridges in the package, and you could buy a 5 pack of replacement Sensor Excel cartridges for under five bucks. Now the price for that same package of five blades is a whopping $17.99. Have I missed something?
  When I first starting shaving I had a razor like my dad used. As a child I would watch him each and every morning with his shaving brush and lather cup foaming up his face, and rinsing his stainless steel Gillette pop-up razor that held a single two-sided razor blade (the ones cocaine addicts use to chop the rock into something they can snort up their nasal cavities). Well, I had one of those razors for a short time, but I never had the brush or the cup. By then you could get shaving cream in an ozone destroying can in foam or gel, and of course you put enough on your face to shave the hide off a donkey, but hey, it was the beginning of the “disposal” age, and you never really cared about waste until the end of the can dribbled out that liquidy soap that fell off your face into the sink. And you would curse, and hopefully remember to buy a new can, which you’d never remember to shake, and again, you’d fill up your hand with enough lather to haul that donkey’s ass into the bathroom again.

  Well, I’ve turned over a new leaf! I got me one of the old razors, and I soaked it in cleaning vinegar, and scrubbed it with an used toothbrush, and I soaped it, and soaked it in alcohol, and polished it up all bright and shiny like. For Christmas I got a shaving brush and a dish of shaving soap, and last week I purchased a five pack of razor blades from the drugstore for the small cost of $5.69 and you know what? I bet that the shave I get from that razor when I start using it next week will be as smooth as the shave from my Gillette Sensor! In fact, I’d even put my freshly shaved face up against one shaved with one of those 5 blade razors and dare anyone to tell which blade shaved which beard!
  Sometimes I think it’s OK to be old fashioned, and I think my Dad will look down at me shaving as I once watched him and say “that’s my boy!”

  I just got an email from Apple asking me to fill out an online questionnaire about how I like the “itunes store. Since listing an item with ebay almost one week ago I’ve received two emails from them asking me to fill out a questionnaire on my “ebay experience”. We had to contact Honeywell three weeks ago about a malfunctioning thermostat, and before the replacement unit arrived we received an email asking us to log in and tell us about the service experience. I’m looking at a receipt from Canadian Tire, and one from Staples and another from Home Depot with instructions to go to their website and fill out a questionnaire about my shopping experience and I’ll get a chance to win gift cards. I get those same requests on other receipts all the time. Somewhere in my inbox is a request from Bell Canada asking me for my opinions on a service call I made about an internet problem I was having.
  How in the name of Jesus is it possible for all of these businesses to be so completely out of touch with how their staff are doing their jobs that they have to ask ME each and every time I fart in their general direction to devote more energy and time into these poorly run organizations? I mean, the call to Honeywell wasn’t just one call. In fact, over a period of months it was about eight calls, plus three expensive service calls from the Heating technician before I could convince Honeywell that their God-damned thermostat was a piece of shit. Shouldn’t the client history be enough to tell them I’m not the happiest of customers? Hey itunes, I buy the music don’t I? Leave me the hell alone! And Bell… poor, dear, sweet, so out of touch, misguided Bell... How am I supposed to tell which call it is you want me to fill out the questionnaire for since no one in this entire country has ever been able to get a problem with you solved in just one bloody phone call? And with all of these stupid questionnaires has your service improved one eensie teensie bit? No! And to Canadian Tire, Staples, and Home Depot, I’d probably think about filling out your questionnaire but you want me to register with you to answer the questions and I already get your stupid emails so NO!
  And what ever happened with just putting the fucking prize in the box of cereal anyway? Now you have to go online and give them every little piece of information about you except the size of your dick to win a fucking hand puppet which you’re never get anyway because they send it to you by Canada Post.
  I don’t want your emails, and I don’t want to fill out your stupid questionnaires. If you want something from me, try giving me something… like customer service, some comparable prices, and a little respect and courtesy when I buy your products. Hey… there’s a novel fucking idea don’t you think? Try it, and you might find yourselves not needing to bother people like me with questions you already have the answers for!