How do I make this stuff? (And other questions)
Right here, by me. I design it, print it, press it, sublimate it, occasionally stare at it and wonder what went wrong, then try again. There’s no giant warehouse, no assembly line, and no mysterious fulfillment center shipping your order from three states away. It’s just one old coot, a mildly ridiculous collection of equipment, and an apparent inability to retire properly. Everything is made one at a time, which may not be the most efficient business model in the world, but it does mean an actual person made your stuff.
Printed means the design is applied on top of the surface. This lets us print on a wider variety of materials and gives you crisp, colorful designs, but because the image sits on the surface, it can eventually show wear with heavy use.
Sublimated means the design is permanently infused into a specially coated surface using heat. There’s nothing sitting on top to peel or scratch off—the image becomes part of the item itself. It’s especially durable and ideal for things like mugs, tumblers, and coated metal.
UV DTF means the design is printed onto a special adhesive transfer film, then transferred onto the finished item. It lets me put full-color, durable designs on objects that are too large, oddly shaped, or otherwise unsuitable for printing directly.
The short version: Printed sits on it. Sublimated becomes part of it. UV DTF gets stuck on it. Same questionable sense of humor, different way of making it.
Returns? Really?
While I’m sure you’re going to like it, I want to be reasonable. So, no. You can’t return it just because you don’t like it. Because you’ll like it.
The only reasons I’ll take stuff back are:
- What you received isn’t what you ordered.
- It was broken or damaged when you received it.
- You decide you want to help me survive retirement, so you return it just so I can sell it again—without expecting any sort of refund.
If #1 or #2 happens, contact me and I’ll tell you how to return it or make it right. If it’s my fault, I’ll cover the cost.
If you broke it after you got it, well, as the saying goes: you bought it.
Just who am I, anyway?
I’m just an old coot trying to survive retirement and having a blast making stuff. I figure some of the stuff I create might make other people smile, so I sell it here.
I don’t have a team. I don’t have a factory. I don’t even have an assistant. Not yet, anyway.
If you buy a bunch of stuff—and get all your friends to buy a bunch of stuff—maybe I’ll get to the point where I need someone to help.
Wouldn’t that be awesome?
I spend my days listening to everyone I know toss the word “fuck” around so casually that I couldn’t help but decide it deserved its own website.
Back in my day...
(I know. “Here we go!”)
Back in my day, dropping the F-bomb around an adult was a pretty reliable way to provoke an unfavorable reaction. Maybe a stern scolding, maybe a smack across the face, or maybe the dreaded bar of soap in the mouth. Whatever the punishment, you learned pretty quickly not to use that word around grown-ups.
Of course, once we were safely out of earshot of the adults, fuck flowed freely. We weren’t saints. We just had better situational awareness.
Today? You’re apt to hear it tossed around so casually you barely notice. At Walmart. Walking down the street. Sitting in a restaurant. At work. At home. Pretty much everywhere. Ralphie Parker would be amazed at what he could get away with now.
And somewhere along the way, I realized something: fuck is an amazingly versatile little word.
It can express anger, surprise, disbelief, admiration, confusion, frustration, affection, excitement, and occasionally all of them at the same time. Add another word or two and the possibilities become nearly endless.
So we celebrate the word in all its vulgar, ridiculous, surprisingly expressive glory.
Not because I’m trying to offend anybody. Not because I think every sentence needs one. And certainly not because my mother would have approved (though I believe she would!)
I just think words are funny. And few words work harder than fuck.
So I put it on stuff.
Apparently, this is what retirement looks like now.