Yesterday, Crystal and Clinton both wrote about me in their blogs. They told you to check me out. My name’s Alisa Starr. I make Snarky Cards: Brutally Honest Greeting Cards. I sell them in bars from a box that hangs beneath my boobs. I’ve been selling my cards for a year and half. They pay my rent and keep me in whiskey, and they make other people crack the fuck up. At my job, I get to analyze the way people laugh. And then I get to hear there secrets, when they tell me what they were laughing at.
Until yesterday, I’d been largely ignored by The Internets. I got a few big orders and people looked at my cards online, but mostly, I didn’t get a lot of traffic.
So last night, when I realized that hundreds of people were visiting my site an hour, I freaked out. Arlette, for once, answered her phone. “Is this like when a boy likes you and it scares you?” She asked.
I thought about it. When a cute boy likes me, I tend to freeze up. I can’t figure out how I got him to like me in the first place, and I worry that I won’t be able to do it again, so I stop doing anything, for fear of scaring him away. Unfortunately, statues who tell lame jokes aren’t sexy, and my imitation of one usually scares the cute boy away. And once I notice he’s gone, I heave a sigh of relief and start telling great jokes and being Charming again. “Yes. It’s like that.” I said. “Well, cut it out.” Arlette responded “and tell me about those boots you just bought”.
I spent the rest of the night eating cake batter, smoking and worrying. What if you guys don’t think I’m cool? Ironically, I started all of this. I emailed both Clinton and Crystal and a slew of other bloggers that I think are cool, asking them to check me out, and write about me. Apparently getting what I want scares the shit out of me.
Last night I had errotic dreams about a circus clown.
And when I woke up, I realized I hadn’t even been calling out his name right. While I’d been having sex with this clown in the woods, I’d been calling him “Jerimiah” my sister’s ex-boyfriend. That’s how unnerved I was.
After I decided not to analyze my calling Jerimiah’s name out in a sexy dream, I got up, and baked the cake batter. And then I realized how I could make you keep liking me: new cards! So, here’s the latest and greatest Snarky Card, just for you, Internets. If you’d like me to send you one of your very own, than you can order it on my etsy site. Where a hundred other cards wait to titillate and reassure you.
Because that’s what my cards are for. They reassure you that you aren’t alone. So your boyfriend doesn’t put out, or you like coke more than sex, or maybe you were molested or you’re a stalker and you want a nice card for your victim. Whatever your deal is, I want to reassure you that your life is normal. No matter how screwed up it is.