For those of you who don’t know: My name is Alisa Starr, and I make Snarky Cards: Brutally Honest Greeting Cards. I sell them from in bars from a box that hangs beneath my boobs. They will crack you the fuck up.
Ok, so First Thursday @ Radish Underground rocked! It was awesome. The booze was yummy, so were the snacks. Spencer, the featured designer, was delightful, and I got to rock out with my Dickleganger, Ammon.
We talked about 80’s television and I gave him some new TV recommendations. And then we both found out that we’ve both just started swimming!
I hate exercise, but being in the water is the closest thing to comfort I can find that isn’t drinking or having sex with strangers. I realized recently that I can’t stay a slutty alcoholic forever. It’s just not physically possible, and I need to develop additional coping mechanisms in case I get a venereal disease, or psoriasis of the liver. So the last month, I’ve made a point of going to the pool more and more often.
Ammon just started swimming too. Which is weird. He’s even started watching videos on You Tube about swimming. I guess he’s just learning all the strokes now. I was on the swim team when I was a kid, and I’ve had tons of swimming classes. They were a great opportunity for my mother to flirt with cute young boys, so she made sure to sign us up every summer. So I don’t need to geek out in front of the computer, most of my work is when I’m in the pool, trying to get up the courage to try the butterfly, or remembering how to breathe and swim at the same time, without drowning.
It’s weird to have a Dickleganger. I mean, I never expected to meet someone who thinks the same way I do. I’ve spent my whole life hearing about how I’m unique, or different, or (the worst ever) spunky. I bet you Ammon never got spunky. Spunky is what you call girls who unnerve you. Or, at least that’s what it means when someone calls me spunky. It’s a nice way of saying that I scare the shit out of them. Which is OK. I’ve been scaring grown people since I was a kid. I’d accepted that it was my lot in life. The idea that there was another version of me out there never really occurred to me. I thought KT was as close to that as I would ever get. And half the time, I have no idea what she’s talking about. It’s so nice to find a person in the universe, who knows what I’m talking about all the fucking time. At least so far. I’m sure at some point, our lives will stop symmetrically lining up, and we will find things that are different, and life will go on in the universe, with that sense of alone-ness that I’ve always carried with me. But for now, it’s nice to be completely, and consistently understood, by a boy, who is my platonic friend. And that’s kind of the bonus too: I love that he and Gina are happily-ever-after-ing. It’s like, even though I’m not romantic, or involved in romance, he is. And that means that maybe there’s hope for me.
Don’t worry, the Vagina Spiders have been banished, and I’m still up to some of my old tricks, and as a tribute to my bad sexual decisions and yours, I give you: My Need for Therapy. A card to give someone you had sex with, who you never want to sleep with again. Because, you know, you figured out mid or post-coitus that you were only having sex with them because you’re crazy. I hope it comes in handy!