“It’s called friendship. It’s like therapy for poor people.” -Without a Trace

Battlestar Galactica: Sexy Robots Doing It With Sexy People
Battlestar Galactica: Sexy Robots Doing It With Sexy People

Friday night I went to the Battlestar Galactica showing at The Baghdad Theater, with my Snarky Cards in tow. It was packed. And it was fun. Cort and Fatboy -the radio guys who threw this gig together- announced a couple of things before the show started, and at the end of these anouncement, Fatboy said “So say we all!” and everyone in the theater yelled “So say we all!” simultaneously. Just like on the show. I’ve never been part of spontaneous group-yelling before. Unless you count Christian Camp when I was a kid. Which, you know, kinda sucked. Some deep part of me tingled at how awesome it was. I beleive the word is nerd-gasm.

I sat next to two people, a guy and a girl -friends, no benefits. The girl had never seen my cards before and wanted one for a girl she is hopelessly throwing herself at. The boy said “You haven’t seen her cards before? Seriously? She’s a Portland Icon!”

I was stoked. I’ve never been iconic before, and he told me about the last time we met, what cards he bought from me, and what he did with them. No-one likes commercials, but Friday night’s Battlestar Galactica episode was brought to us by Viagra. As that anouncement was made, the theater went wild. Nerds like their sex (why do you think there’s so much invisible-robot-sex in the first season?) and the fact that Viagra had deemed us Dorks market-worthy soothed us. I was kind of itching to sell to the hoardes of Geeks, but at the same time, I felt so comfortable talking to my seatmates about what has happened before, and what might happen next, as the robots and the people have sex and get married and try to make life, not war. Which will be hard, because the robots keep nuking all the planets where the people want to live, but I digress.

the-snarky-card-chick-at-the-chapman-swiftsAfterwards, I went to Kelly’s Olympian, as I was walking up, I saw Jake, one of the cute bartenders there. He and I hugged and I bummed a cigarrette from a stranger, walking around amongst the other smokers and showing off my cards.

A guy near the door half-turned and said “Hey! It’s the Snarky Card Chick!” A woman just walking out of Kelly’s looked at me and said “No shit?” I smiled. “Um, yeah!” Her eyes bulged out and she said “Seriously? You make the Snarky Cards?” I nodded and offered her a pile to look at. She kept staring at me, wide-eyed. “Ohmygod! My friends and I talk about you all the time! I live in Seattle, and my friends are not going to beleive that I met you! This is so awesome!”

She rummaged through her bag, and found some money, announcing that she had to have a card. Her name was Pam. The band that she and her friend Lindsey had traveled 145 miles to see play had just cancelled. “But now that I’ve met you, the trip was worth it!” She exclaimed. It’s weird to think that people consider meeting me a triumph, or money well-spent. But I’m glad that my cards made Pam so happy that she talks about them with her friends. And also: I really like it when people talk about me. Good or bad, I love it when people spend time thinking about me when I’m not there. What can I say? I’m a narcissist. I wrote down the directions to Voodoo Doughnuts for them (a real Portland Icon) and happily waltzed inside Kelly’s.

The Glorious Space Monkey Coffee!
The Glorious Space Monkey Coffee!

Where I saw Tom, who owns Space Monkey Coffe. He carries my cards, and he was in really good spirits. His band had just played. It was nice to see him outside of a work context. We hugged a lot, and when one of my customers came up and asked “You know her?” Tom told the story of when I came into his shop with my wheelchair and my broken leg. My friend Alice, who had broken her leg the day before me was pushing me around in my wheelchair. She couldn’t quite walk yet, but she had volunteered to limp behind my wheelchair, pushing. It was one of those stories that made me realize, Tom and I are friends. We have weathered things together.

The whole night had a glow about it, like, The Universe was telling me “You’re still doing a good job. You’re Art is important to other people. This is still what I want you to do.” I made some money, I talked to some people who had never seen my cards and were blown away by them. I drank a delicious Mai-Tai and before I hailed a cab home, I bought myself some of the best Mexican Food that Portland has to offer, from the cart on 2nd and Ash.

Shitting on someone's Coffee Table: A new way of showing love and adulation in this terrible recession?
Shitting on someone's Coffee Table: A new way of showing love and adulation in this terrible recession?

As a thank-you to The Universe, I give you “Sh-t On Your Coffee Table” for all of you out there, who like to shit on your friends stuff to show them your love, or your poor bowel control, or both simultaneously. I hope you like it!

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