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I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to it. Every summer I end up working on projects that are promoting something for the winter holidays. The old phrase is “Christmas in July” and I never cease to find it weird. It may be 90+ degrees outside, but I find myself drawing snow.

Here’s some samples from this summer’s big winter project. They’re from a Sony PlayStation fourteen page booklet I designed and illustrated. I really like the way the cover came out and no one can resist Sackboy.

For an added bonus, one of the pages of the booklet got picked up in the gaming press and posted online — starting a huge debate (i.e., flame war) regarding Sony’s new motion controller.

Here’s a poster I’ve been drawing up for the upcoming holiday weekend. It’s about 90% complete, but I wanted to post a preview before the holiday. There’s still some minor tweaks to do, but I think it’s looking good. I’m thinking of using it as a foray into screen printing — actually working with a printer to get a limited edition run on a nice paper stock. The hard part will be pairing down the colors. I tried to keep it to four colors, but kept coming up with other ideas — and that was before I started working on the texture for the background. In any case, I think I get a version that is somewhere around 4-6 six colors for screen printing (although that’s still a lot). It’s 22″ x 28″.

Sometimes meaning is unintended. Here’s an example I ran across recently that couples hand written text and improper installation to create new meaning.

It’s from a panel of scaffolding on a neighborhood home renovation. Obviously, the panel has been installed upside down and the text is supposed to read, “520 W.”

Instead, when viewed upside down — and very importantly, with the specific handwriting — it now reads, “Moes”

There’s something wonderful in how the “2″ transforms into a lowercase “e” right in the middle of what appears to be an all uppercase word. And the number “5″ doesn’t always make a good capital letter “S” but yet it works in this case. Additionally, there appears to be no space between the zero and the “W” helping to create a single word. All very accidental and more wonderful for the fact.

Beyond typography and design, it also made me think of “Moe’s Tavern” from The Simpsons.

Mmm…beer.

Now, I’m am in no way a specialist in user interface design, but as a designer and more importantly as a user, I find this example to be particularly annoying.

What’s wrong with this picture?

Look closely at the positions of the “Next” and “Previous” buttons. See what I’m getting at? In our western, left to right reading world, the “Next” button should be on the right to indicate, well, the next item. Items position on the left indicate “back” or in this case “Previous”. Look at the position of the back button on your web browser. On the left, correct? And the forward button on the browser? Yeah, it’s on the right.

For someone unknown reason, the buttons used in this interface are reversed. And it’s annoying. Not that I spend time clicking the wrong button, but more that I have to actually take a second to ensure I’m clicking the correct one. It’s a small detail, but why would you go against convention and standards and make your product more confusing to use.

Some background on the example. It’s from a product called eRoom from EMC which is basically a web based content management system. The interface isn’t the only flaw — they call the Windows-only .EXE application a “plugin” and they do not yet, despite many years on the market, have a Macintosh version of the app. Mac users (such as myself and my team) can still use the CMS — but without many of the features of the full application.

This is exactly the kind of thing corporate users are forced to deal with on a regular basis. Software that seems to be missing key thinking in it’s initial design. It’s what they complain about (and I hear them). You don’t need a focus group or a board meeting to figure out that the “next” button is intuitively in the wrong position. You need a designer.

1. Chase ball. Try to keep up with my Labrador cousins.
2. Relax in the sun with my cousins’ toy bear.

– Archie

Uses NYC Subway to Make Getaway

Unfortunately, he was heading uptown on the Q line which dead-ends at 57th street. He’ll have to ride the entire length of the line back in the other direction to get out to the beach at Coney Island.

Long before the recent (relatively) peanut salmonella scare, I was having my own battle with the National Peanut Board.

My dilemma started, as is often the case, on the subway. The Board was heavily advertising on the subway and as I love peanuts, I finally broke down and said, “damn, I’ve got to get me some peanuts.” Not just any peanuts though. I’m picky. I prefer peanuts in the shell — and here’s the key — salted. Now in my experience, this isn’t a big deal. In cities across this great peanut-loving nation, salted peanuts in the shell are easily purchased in a big bag at a supermarket. And since I now live in New York City — where a person can get just about anything under the sun (and delivered at that) — I went down to my local market. 

But alas, it seems that it’s nearly impossible to get a salted, in-shell peanut in NYC. The market had tons of big bags of peanuts in the shell — but all of them unsalted. (It’s like comparing a cucumber to a pickle. I’ve never bought a cucumber, but I eat pickles all the time.) Sure, I could have created a brine, soaked the peanuts and then dried them, but I didn’t have the time, the money or more importantly the will. I wanted salted peanuts in the shell and I wanted them now! 

This inevitably led me on an all points multiple store search which turned up but a single tiny bag at a local bodega containing about 4 peanuts — and costing about $4.00. Hungry and angry, I turned to the internet for salvation. Perhaps there was a giant peanut processing warehouse somewhere in the city where I could roll around in a massive pile of salted in-shell peanuts.?

Shockingly, no. The only places in the city that had peanuts were specialty stores featuring gift baskets — and no salted, in-shell peanuts. None. Nada. Zip.

This led me to seek out the Peanut Board because if I wasn’t going to be able to get any peanuts, I wanted them to stop advertising the damn things. It’s just cruel. (I did feel some solidarity with the poor folks in third world countries who are constantly blasted with the advertising of things they can’t get, let alone afford.)

So I emailed the Peanut Board (via their website) saying just that — either stop advertising (and making me hungry) or encourage vendors to start supplying the NYC area with salted in-shell peanuts. We’re here, we’re hungry and we’ve got money. Why not start selling the damn things?

Not surprisingly, I received no response from the peanut board. It did seem that the ads on the subway lessened but that may have just been the expiration of the ad contract versus any action instigated by my email. Nor did market shelves suddenly swell with bags of salted peanuts. Sigh.

And then along comes news that the processing of peanuts has been tainted with salmonella. So what does the peanut board do? Come out with a new round of advertising touting the health benefits of peanuts of course. I still can’t get a damn salted peanut in the shell and to top it off every time I buy any product with peanuts in it, I take a minute to ask myself if I’m prepared for a bout of potentially lethal food poisoning. 

(As a side note, I should let you know that my wife, upon hearing of my dilemma and my email to the peanut board, is convinced that I’m guaranteed to become the grumpiest curmudgeon ever.)

Just writing this post has given me a craving. Please send me peanuts. Salted. In the shell.

…Bacon’s got a new best friend. And his name is fudge.

Classic Simpson’s lines aside, I did recently come across a new partner for one of my all time favorite foods — the hot dog.

Those who know me, know of my long standing love of hot dogs. All things hot dog.  I can’t get enough of them and the joke has been made that my body won’t decay after I die due to the massive amount of nitrates I’ve ingested via hot dogs. I can easily eat ten in a single sitting.

Now one may think that there’s not a lot of innovation left in the hot dog world. That the entire concept is played out. That hot dogs are relegated to backyard BBQs and the kid’s menu. Not so, my friend. Not so.

I’ve tried many a fine hot dog topping in my day. I love Chicago style dogs with yellow mustard, nuclear green relish, chopped onions, tomato wedges, a pickle slice, peperoncini, and a dash of celery salt. i love New York style dogs - either grilled or boiled right off the cart. And of course, my own special toppings set: honey mustard, jalapeno slices and melted cheddar cheese. I could go on and on.

The new addition to my list of favorite hot dog toppings is simple in it’s application and huge in taste and flavor while still being completely complimentary to the hot dog itself. (One may argue that all the best hot dog topping by definition are simple in application.)

It is this simple application of flavor that makes me so fascinated by this topping (as well as being addicted to it — I’ve already eaten four just to ensure it really is as good as I think.)

This new hot dog topping is: Pastrami.

Salty, smokey, spicy, juicy delicious pastrami. Piled high on a grilled hot dog and slathered with brown mustard.

It’s so good that I’ve been kicking myslef asking “why didn’t I think of this?”

And naturally, it’s got me thinking “what other tasty deli meats would go well on a hot dog?” Perhaps, I should try them all?

I don’t know why I never thought of adding other meats to my hot dog. I mean, it seems like the perfect thing. I’ve always been a big fan of what I like to call “the barnyard sampler” — a hot dog made with turkey, chicken, beef and pork. I’ve had bacon wrapped hot dogs before. Maybe I should add some pepperoni to my next hot dog. Or salami, or capicola? The varieties are endless. And so delicious.

(A tip of the hat to my friend Bob who I believe first coined the term “barnyard sampler.”)

Yesterday, I really felt like a New Yorker. The weather was getting warmer and as I walked around town smoking a cigar with Archie, I must have had the magic, the vibe, the luck that made everyone think, “I need to talk to that guy.”

We were repeatedly stopped by people — and not just for the ubiquitous, “OMG! That is the cutest dog EVER!” comments (which Archie is soooo over).

What really made me feel like I had arrived though was that for all of the questions — I had an answer. And the correct answer at that!

Now, I’ve been asked for directions many times before in NYC and usually I don’t know where the person is trying to get to — or — in a few select worst case scenarios, I’ve given out the wrong directions.

Yesterday? I was on it. I knew the best route, the cross streets, answers to follow up questions, alternative locations for the store they were trying to find, everything.

I was no longer a tourist, no longer a transplant. I was obviously a well seasoned New Yorker.

Heck, only took 4 years.

(Although I’m sure many actual born and raised New Yorkers would put me to shame. And I’m also not resting on my laurels too much — I still don’t know enough about the city. I just got lucky in a neighborhood I knew well.)

Lucky days, indeed.