I’ve going out to bars selling a lot lately. For those of you who don’t know, I make Snarky Cards: Brutally Honest Greeting Cards. I sell them in bars from a box that hangs beneath my boobs. And lately, the bars have been seeing a lot of me. And I’ve been seeing a lot of them. And there have been some cute boys, and flirting, and I’ve made a bunch of money, helping me pay my electric bill and keeping my cats in food. So, thanks Portland!
Oh yeah. And guess what, internets? I’ve decided to stop having sex! Forever. Just kidding! I’m going to try to go a month. A month that will feel like forever. I know, I’ve said this before. And some cute boy (or my period) would usually come along and screw up my resolution. But I figure if I keep trying to quit having sex with strangers, over and over again, eventually I’ll get it. At least, that’s how my business manager quit smoking. She just kept quitting. I figure if it worked for cigarrettes, it can work for anonymous sex, right?
OK, so here are the rules: flirting and making-out is ok. But making-out is a maximum. You might be asking yourself “What the fuck is Alisa’s problem? Why is she putting herself through this?” You might also be asking yourself “Why do I care what happens in Alisa’s Vagina?” I don’t know why you care what happens in my Vagina. I just know that I’m compelled to tell you what’s happening in my Vagina. But I can tell you why I’m going to turn perfectly awesome hook-up potentials into high school make-out sessions.
See, when I wasn’t looking, some monster jerry-rigged my feelings to my Vag. So now, while I can still have awesome sex with boys I meet at bars, I find myself wishing it was more than a one night stand when I get home in the morning. I keep finding myself wallowing in regret. So, I’ve decided to try not to have any more one night stands for a while. This is going to be hard, since random hook-ups have been my primary dating experience for the last couple of years. But it looks like I don’t have a choice. And I promise you this, internets, if I find the fucker that hooked up my feelings to my Hoo-Haa, I’m going to beat the living shit out of them.
I feel really validated by the fact that Dr. Mc Steamy from “Doctors who cry in Seattle” (also known as Grey’s Anatomy) is having this very same epiphany right now about his penis. It’s like our genitals are acting in concert. Although, these are his fake genitals, and they’re my real genitals. So, not really. But his fake-epiphany still validates my real one. Which is yet another example of television working to make my life better.
I think I’m headed back to San Francisco sometime next week, for Passover. Until then, I’ve been loading up the internet with new Snarky Cards, for your pleasure. Some of which, are displayed above. I hope you like the new cards. And thanks for understanding about my new Vaginal status.