As some of you know, my name is Alisa Starr. I make Snarky Cards: Brutally Honest Greeting Cards. I sell them in bars from a box that hangs beneath my boobs. Tonight I went to Meridian Gold Dust, where I saw a bunch of regulars, and we had a pretty good time. I’ve been working out my abs, lately, while I swim. And I think I trapped a bunch of sad feelings in them, because afterwards, I feel a melancholy I have a hard time shaking. So it took a while, but eventually the the drunks at Meridian Gold Dust laughed and joked me back into myself.
Afterwards I walked up to The Aalto. On the way, I ditched my underwear. It wasn’t really my underwear. It was my last-chance underwear. You know, that shitty pair of underwear you wear when you haven’t done laundry in, like, a month, and you want just want something covering your ass? It wasn’t even really mine. It was KT’s, she loaned them to me last time she was here, (they were clean when she gave them to me) but they weren’t really hers. They were her husbands. And he hates me. So, while they’re a little small on me, I delight in wearing the-man-who-hates-me’s underwear.
The irony didn’t make the walk between Hawthorne and Belmont. It was too uncomfortable, and I was trying to feel up on things. By the time I made it to The Aalto, I was in a better mood. I never go without undies, so I was also feeling kinda slutty. Which is new. I know you know I have lived a very slutty life, but in the last 6 months or so, I’ve been keeping my legs closed. I even made a resolution: I’m only having sex with my friends right now. Or people I know, anyway.
I made my way through the Aalto, until I got to this big group, a few hot guys, and some hot girls. The girls turned out to be big Snarky Cards fans, and the boys turned out to be Hot Canadians Taking a Road Trip.
Usually, when I go out selling, I’m purposeful. People invite me to bar crawl with me all the time,or to after-parties, or back to their place to get stoned and chill. And I usually just say “I’m sorry, I have to keep selling, maybe next time?” But I don’t usually mean it. I usually mean: “hanging out with you is fun, but I’d rather make money. Because I am hungry, and out of food.” And when these guys invited me to Rotture (the only dance party in Portland) after the Aalto, I said no at first.
But then Devon, (the hottest Canadian) and I bonded over Davinci’s Inquest. Which is the best Canadian show ever. The thing is, there are only 40 Canadian actors. They all live in Vancouver. They are the rotating cast of Stargate, The X-Files, Battlestar Galactica, Davinci’s Inquest and some lesser known Canadian television shows. He was in the middle of a story about how Christopher Judd was being an asshole at a local club, when I realized he had my full attention. And I didn’t want to keep selling. I just wanted to keep hanging out with this guy. Then he started dancing, to illustrate their ultimate destination, and I remembered that I wasn’t wearing underwear.
So, we went to Rotture, which was closed. So we cruised to The Slammer made a dance party there. The dancing was hot. And as we got down to “Add it Up” by the Violent Femmes, I thought “I could take you home.” But, in the end, I chickened out. Or rather, I put it off, and by the time we were all hanging out at the HotCake House, Dave -one of the other hot Canadians- was all up in Devon’s shit. He totally bro-blocked any canoodling I was going to try to finangle. Not that my game is all that on right now anyway. I mean, I was working up my nerve to invite Devon to crash at my place, but it’s been ages since that kind of thing required any kind of nerve on my part.
I just get tongue-tied lately, which confuses me, because I’ve had game since I was 15 years old. So then I spend time thinking about how I am game-less, and I forget to just grin and shove the cute boy into the bathroom with me for some make-out. In the end, I gave him my card, and Teresa too (who is, by the way, a rad fucking bitch). And kissed him lightly on the lips before I stepped out of the car. I ran upstairs, cursing my new inability to score. I mean, I know I have a rule, but I’m also pretty sure that there’s a Canadian exception.
So, Devon: if you’re reading this, next time I see you, I’m gonna throw you up against a wall. Teresa: Thanks for being the cool chick at the bar. Katie: You are the hottest Welcome Wagon I’ve ever seen, thanks for rounding up the Hot Canadians, Dave: You make me wanna do guy-voice all the time and make skinny jeans look hot, and Hot Guy with 90’s hair, you made me feel like a part of the group.
I hope you are having the kinda rad time I am. This weekend, I’m planning on going to Seattle for The Dead Baby Downhill, and some sister time.
Hopefully I’ll figure out the underwear while I’m up there. Not the pair I abandoned on Hawthorne, the Snarky Underwear, that I’m going to be making and selling. It looks like I”ll be able to finish it in the next week or so. Stay tuned!