Their street names are Tres Perras Locas: 3 crazy bitches. Yuriko, Marisi, and Joy, my sister. Twin to Janis, the muppet to the left.

Janis, my sister's muppet twin

Dear Internets,

I seem to have seamlessly slipped into my new life. I’ve been volunteering at Twilight Artist Collective, and this week, Joy and I saw the Muppets movie together. We texted Stephenie, because he loves the muppets more than he loves chocolate. When we were deciding what time to go, I said “You know, I’ve always worried that I was Miss Piggy. And I’ve always worried that I wasn’t Miss Piggy.” Joy burst out laughing. “Shit! You are Miss Piggy!”

We got our seats in the theater, and Joy opened her bottle of Saki. I’m taking a break from drinking, so I just had one celebratory sip. When we were first starting our lives, Joy and I both had fake names. I went by Molly at work, because people told me that I looked just like Molly Ringwald. And Joy went by Janis, because she looked like the muppet, Janis. I’d told people at the bar that the night before and my friend Colin bent over laughing. “She does!” he said while gasping for air. “I didn’t want to saying anything before!” Joy and I pointed out scenes to each other in which our alter-egos had done a particularly good job. And we held hands while Kermit and Miss Piggy sang the Rainbow Connection.

Christmas Cards are now up on etsy! Get yours today!

And Thursday, I ran into my friend Colin at the bars, so I knocked off work early and went back to his house, to make jokes in his living room.

All these little moments, going to the movies with my sister, hanging out with my friends on the spur of the moment, were so painfully absent in my Portland life. I feel like I’m treating myself by letting myself indulge in them now. And they let me feel loved. They make me feel like I have a life, and I am more than just a Snarky Card machine, created and adored simply so that I can entertain and nudge people towards emotional honesty. I think that’s the root of why I started to feel so angry with Portland. As a town, it embraced my cards. It loved my creativity, and was astounded by my nerve, but very few people wanted to go to the movies with me, or hang out with me after the bar.

And next week I’m the starr of open mike night at 22 doors. One of my favorite bars.

You can buy this this Sunday at 22 doors on Capitol Hill!

I don’t exactly know what I’m going to be doing, or saying. But I’m pretty sure I’ll say a lot of funny things. About my Vagina. And I’ll probably be showing off my boobs. And I’ll be doing custom cards, with my typewriter, Bob. And I’ll have my paintings and my cards and my undies.

So, from 8 to 11 this Sunday night, I’ll be at 22 doors in Capitol Hill: 405 15th Ave E, Seattle, Wa. Come, laugh at my exploits, buy some cards, eat some yummy food, drink some booze and hit on some hotties. See ya then!

Love,

Alisa

Me, slingin' my Snarky Cards

Dear Internets,

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. They will crack you the fuck up.

This Sunday, Red Light Clothing Exchange is having their annual Naked Shopping Party! I’ll be slinging my cards, with my typewriter, and my boobs. There’ll be a band, and prizes. I mean, prizes that are not just “win all the clothes you can wear” which is, of course the big prize.

People have been asking me what the deal is with this Naked Shopping Party.  The rules are simple: everyone shows up with clothes on. The biggest prize offered is  that you can win all the clothes you can put on at once. Obviously, it’s easier to fit more clothes on, if you start off naked. If you’d like to shop naked, you put your name in a box and the delicious and delightful staff at Red Light draw the names of 2 boys and 2 girls from the box.

And they shop. And everyone else shops too. But they shop naked. And the rest of us get to watch. How rad is that? While we’re watching the naked shoppers, I’ll be typing up new and custom Snarky Cards. I’m excited about partying it up, and writing some new shit for your horrible and hilarious sexual situations. There will also be lots of Snarky Undies for those of you who haven’t gotten a pair yet.

So, if you wanna celebrate Easter the way Weed Jesus would want you to, come on down to Red Light, to get your custom Snarky Cards, your Snarky Undies, and your voyeur on.

See ya then!

Love,

Alisa

Me at The Triple Nickel

Dear Internets,

For those of you who don’t 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. They will crack you the fuck up.

Lately, as you might have heard in my last post, I’ve been caught up in a post-break-up haze of miserable-ness. Which has severely crippled my ability to eat, sleep and work. It’s not just the break-up. It’s probably also the fact that I had a relationship in the first place. I’ve been so good at just fucking guys in bars for the last ten years. And it’s served me well. I’ve never had to deal with so many pesky feelings before.

Being slutty has kept me safe from this kind of hurt for a long time. Sigh. I miss being a total whore.

I kept being surprised when the phenomenal sex between me and Magnum (Seriously. It was like, primal shit. My orgasms were longer, and deeper than ever. It was the craziest shit I’ve ever done with another person.) kept getting better. We talked about it once, and he was like “Yeah, I knew it would get better. It’s the trust thing.” Like trusting people you sleep with was normal. Like it was OK, and it had happened before. It was one of those moments where I thought the normal thing he said was hilarious. And I couldn’t laugh, because then he’d know that I was a rusted out robot.

Anyway, so I’m feeling feelings. Every day. They are unwelcome, over-whelming and intense. Usually this is where I come up with a deviant scheme to punish the person who made me feel feelings. However, I don’t seem to want to do that. So, I’m just trying to be normal. Which means selling in my sexy new clothes (Thanks Savvy Plus!). Hopefully tonight, when I’m out at bars, there will be some poor, unsuspecting assholes that I can assault with my wit. That usually makes me feel better.

Tonight, I think that there will be boobs.

Also, I have a feeling there will probably be a lot of aggressive flirting. I think I’m almost ready to start hate-fucking again. It’s a little embarrassing, because my primary post-break-up advice for the last few years has been to start hate-fucking as soon as you possibly can. Because no-one should pay for the mistakes your last lover made, except your next lover. But I’ve been reluctant to take myself up on it. Although, it’s only been a few weeks. Maybe I just needed to ease into the hate-fucking. Maybe I shouldn’t judge myself for needing to be sad before I get mad. And into embarrassingly angry sexual situations.

I just posted this on my etsy site! I hope you like it!

So, I warmed up today for selling by posting some new cards on my etsy site. And some new pictures of me selling, and my customers looking on Facebook. And I’m letting you know Internets, I’m planning on hitting up Meridian Gold Dust, Circa 33, North 45, and Muu-Muu’s. So, if you want some Snarky Cards, from a cranky bitch, who would like to make-out with you/make you pay for her last break-up tonight, you’re in luck!

Love,

Alisa

Here are some cute girls laughing at my newest selections last weekend!

Dear Internets,

For those of you who don’t know, my name is Alisa Starr. I make Snarky Cards. I sell them from a box that hangs beneath my boobs. They will crack you the fuck up. I also have them in 35 different stores, mostly in the Northwest, but I have a few satellite stores in San Francisco, Louisville, Seattle and New York. I love my stores. So, I’m making a concerted effort to give them their props from now on.

So, I’m writing to tell you that Emerald Petals has gotten a new stash of Snarky Cards! Last week on my way home from therapy (yes, Alisa’s brain has gotten a little spazztastic lately. So, I’m back on the couch). I dropped off a new batch of Snarky Cards at Emerald Petals on Mississippi.

Hilary's pretty hot, right? And look at her picking out new Snarky Cards!

Emerald Petals is an eclectic mix of gardening shop and flower shop. Hilary, who owns the joint is sweet and knowledgeable. And she also looks pretty hot in her shop apron.

Sexy Succulents available at Emerald Petals!

They have a lot of cacti in right now. My Grandma was a sucker for succulents. She had two greenhouses full of them. And looking around Emerald Petals, I remember that I didn’t even realize that Grandma’s “plant room” was actually the nicest bathroom in the house. They had 7 people living in that tiny house, and she had the balls to make sure nobody used that third bathroom. Because it was for plants.

Grams love of these prickly pants confounded me as a child. First, they required dirt, which I thought was gross. And they are part of nature. Which I was pretty sure is always trying to kills us, due to some traumatic family camping trips. And she could spend hours watering them, and doing other mysterious things with them, I didn’t know about (I’m assuming there was trimming) because I wasn’t allowed to go into the greenhouses. Because I was a kid, and I could totally fuck some shit up, if left unsupervised. And the greenhouses were her sacred space. All of which I kinda resented. In case you can’t tell.

It's a pretty sweet shop to browse through, right?

So, looking around Emerald Petals, having smelled the fresh tulips, I tried to make my peace with the cacti. And I realized that all those plants required the work of love. Which is something I think I’m only grasping as an adult. Love means coming over to fix a friend’s couch, or taking her out for drinks so that she can talk about her broken heart. Love is Kay helping me take my first shower after I broke my leg. And Grams worked hard at loving those plants. Two greenhouses kept her busy. In the frame of all things dirty and sweet smelling,  I finally started to get gardening a little bit. It’s the work of love. I like to think my relationship with Grams got a little better, because I stopped by the shop. She’s dead now. So, our relationship doesn’t grow as much as it did when she was around. And I try to treasure the little movements towards understanding her better.

So, if you’re in Mississippi, and you want to get some fresh Tulips, or some beautiful cacti, or some of the newest, raddest Snarky Cards, stop by and say hi to Hilary, and get your hands a little dirty. You might not make-up with your dead Grandma, but I know you’ll feel better afterwards.

Love,

Alisa

This weekend, I took some time off. There was a boy. And some weed. And I am waaaayyy more relaxed now.
And despite the fact that Im a little drunk off of the great sex I had this weekend, I am still a responsible person. For an artist. And I wanted to remind you that Snarky Valentines are in stores now! As well as online!
I hope they help you get laid!
Love,
Alisa Starr

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. They will crack you the fuck up.

I’ve been remiss in writing to you. I’ve also kind of sucked at keeping to this schedule. It’s become more of a guideline. And even though Christmas is over, I still find myself drowning in work. It seems that Valentines Day is just as Challenging as Christmas. Though, it’s only one day, instead of a monthly marathon of people buying shit, so the pressure doesn’t last as long. But it’s kind of a big card holiday. People expect Valentines Day Cards. It’s the one time in the year that my art has a purpose. It’s the one time of the year that I don’t have to explain myself as much. And I’m having the same old problem: too much work, not enough of me. And I find myself vacillating between frenzied work, and listless inability to do anything remotely work-related.

Totally inspiring, right?

I find myself re-reading Sara Paretsky’s VI Warshawski novels, which is always a sign that I’m feeling sorry for myself. I know that it’s really, really bad when I start re-watching Aliens. And I know that I absolutely want to do give up when I turn to Buffy. That’s how I fight feelings of wanting to give up. I watch Bitches Kick Total Ass Against All Odds. And at some point, I say to myself “Well, if VI can solve the mystery after someone cuts her face up, I can just make another 15,000 cards on my own.” or “If Ripley can kill that fucking alien, and protect that little girl at the same time, I can go without sleep for a night or two this week.”  Or “If Buffy can fight all kinds of evil, even though she clearly only weighs 90 lbs, I can totally figure out how to sell this new thing I made.” So far, we’re only at a VI Warshawski level of being overwhelmed. And I’m trying not to let it get to the Aliens stage. That’s harder to recover from.

So, I’ve decided to try to find an intern. I put up an ad on the Pacific Northwest College of Arts website. And hopefully, some nice art students who want to learn how to sell their shit will email me, and I’ll finally get someone to help me.  I can teach them how to sell their own shit, while they help me build my Snarky Empire. Soon I’ll figure out a way to pay my bills and take a day off, every week.

On the other hand, I’m really enjoying my life. Lately I’ve noticed that I’ve got a plethora of really good friends. And, I’ve been having sex with some nice guys. I’ve even gotten a couple of repeats, which is unusual for me. I’m trying to be OK with the idea that someone would want to have sex with me more than once. And I’m trying to be OK with guys I like liking me back. It’s not full-fledged dating, exactly, but it’s progress. And I’m pretty happy with all of the great penis I’ve been getting lately.

There’s one guy in particular that I think about a lot. I fell into bed with him by accident, but it turned out he had a lot of cool shit going for him. And sleeping with him made me feel like I might be making better sexual decisions. He’s probably more afraid of commitment than I am of intimacy. When you have two people too busy and freaked out to start anything, the chances of living happily ever after are low. So, I’m not having fantasies about making him my new boyfriend. But I do like him. And I think he likes me. And the sex was pretty good. And I’m going to try to figure out what it was about him. And what I liked about me when I was around him. And I’m going to try to replicate the situation with somebody else. I’m kinda stoked. It’s like sleeping with him gave me a big clue as I try to figure out what kind of guy I could date.

I’ll try and explain it some more in my next post. I’m sorry I’m so vague, I think I’m using my Vagina to figure my shit out again, and I’m not quite done yet, so it’s hard to explain the progress I’m making.

No matter what, I think that getting some really awesome cock in the last few months has made me a better card writer. Or at least, it’s put me in a pretty good mood, so I think I can honestly say that your friends and lovers will be happy to get a Snarky Card from you this year. You can see for yourself on my etsy site. I hope you like the new shit. It was a delight to get some inspiration the old-fashioned way: naked.

Sincerely,

Alisa

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 in bars from a box that hangs beneath my boobs.They will crack you the fuck up! I also have Snarky Cards in 35 different stores. So if you don’t feel like finding the nearest bar, and waiting there hopefully for me, you have other options.

This is Arlette. Yes, she wears short skirts and knee high socks. Because Arlette is a sexy bitch, with sexy knees.

I haven’t posted anything in a while because I’ve been having some small website problems. Which I’m pretty sure are resolved now; basically my website was full, so I needed to buy a bigger site. Or something. I’m not super-savvy-web-chick. I use a typewriter regularly. I cried when I had to give up my rotary phone. In 2007. So, I am not in charge of the website stuff. I’m sorta at my friend, Arlette’s mercy for web-stuff. And luckily, Arlette totally came through! All hail to the super-sexy web-goddess! So, now I can tell you all the rad stuff you missed in the last two months!

As you know, I recently created Snarky Underwear: Amazing Ass Wear. There’s a girls pair, which I told you about two months ago, when they came out. But between now and then, I also created a Boys pair of Undies! They also say ‘fuck you and your fucking feelings” on the ass. So you can moon people with a message! So far, I’m the only model for the  Boys Undies.

So, dear Internets, you finally get to see a close up of The Magic Mountain. Here she is in all her glory, showing off the boys undies.Whaddya think?

It was really nerve-wracking to take my pants off, and let my room-mate Claire take pictures of my ass. I know I joke about it’s size a lot, but I’ve never actually considered letting anyone take a picture of it in all of it’s glory. I mean, ever. So, taking these pictures of the magic mountain totally tripped me out. But afterwards I felt kinda triumphant. Like, if I can take pictures of my huge fucking ass wearing only hilarious underwear, I can do anything! So, yet again, Snarky Cards helps me get over my body-image issues. It’s kind of ironic that shaking my tits to sell my art validates me. And taking kinda-naked pictures of my ass also validates me. It’s almost as if becoming a sex-object gives me purpose and self-esteem.

You might be saying to yourself “Amazing Ass Wear is awesome! How do I get a pair?” Which is a totally good question. They’re available online. And they’re also in these fine stores:

• Radish Underground
• Space Monkey Coffee Shop
• Rock’n'Rose
• Twilight Artist Collective
• Cherry Redd
• Buffalo Exchange Hawthorne

Some super-good press things have happened lately too! Like:  I did the cover of Just Out! Isn’t it awesome? It was really fun painting cards for Just Out! And it was really fun coming up wih and typing their headlines. It was like I really worked for a magazine! Which used to be my dream, when I was a little girl. Actually when I was a little girl, I totally wanted to be a paid writer. I really wanted to write books. But as I grew up I realized I might have to settle for a magazine. So, it was more like my second-place-dream. Either way, when they asked me to make this cover, it felt like it was coming true. And I also felt like a successful artist. I’ve sold 33,780 Snarky Cards so far. And I’m proud of that. But somehow when Just Out! Asked me to do this, it validated my work in a totally different way. So, thanks Just Out! I loved working with you!

After Just Out asked me to do their cover, they wrote an article about me! I think this article captures my awesomeness. It’s my favorite piece of press yet! I even get to say Motherfucker in the middle of the interview! Proving that they really did talk to me! Amanda is an amazing writer. The tone of her writing sounds like… me, It’s just so fucking fantastic. And I’m so excited that such a good writer wrote about me!

Also: the picture is of my tits and my typewriter. Which I love.

Last week, I caught a cold. It was kind of awesome. I spent 3 days sleeping, watching Stargate and eating chocolate cake. It took me 3 days to realize that I was enjoying it so much because I haven’t taken a day off in a couple of months. Which made me think maybe I need to figure out how to slow down a little bit.

After 3 days of that awesome combination, I felt better and I had the energy to scan all of my Christmas and Hanukkah cards in. So, they’re now available online! This is the first Christmas I’ve gotten my stock out so early. And some of my not-taking-time-off since August has been me, trying to get ready for Christmas. So, in celebration I’ve created a coupon code! For my first ever Holiday sale! From now until Wednesday, November 30th at 7pm., use the coupon code: Blackfridaysucks to get 20% off at http://snarkycards.etsy.com! How rad is that?

If you live in Portland, or Seattle, or New York,  or Salem, you can just go into a store and buy my cards, you don’t have to order them online! Check out my list of stores!

So, a whole bunch of rad shit has happened to me since the last time I talked to you! Including some awesome sex! I slept with a friend of mine recently, and it was totally good. And since we’re friends, everything was cool the next day, and we’re still friends. The sex was awesome. There was hot naked boy, and lots of huge penis. Over and over again. A lot of good sex with a guy who is nice, who was nice to me after the sex. I think I really, really needed it.

So, I’m thinking I should start exclusively having sex with my friends. No more stranger-bar-sex. Does that mean that I’m turning into a prude, Internets? I’m thinking it’s an age thing. My sister, and KT have all given up on stranger-sex. And they were just as slutty as I was. Maybe Ani was right, maybe we all do turn into fuckin’ AM radio as we get older, and there isn’t anything we can do about it.

The thing is that lately the bar-sex I’ve gotten has been terrible. And this sex was way better. So, while I may end up getting laid less because I am no longer going to be sleeping with strangers, I will be having better quality sex. So in the end, my Vagina will be much, much happier. I am impressed with my sex-logic. It may seem like a duh-thing to you, but it’s taken me 14 years of sleeping with strangers to figure out that it’s not usually that good.Your no-duh is my aha! moment.

I hope you like the Christmas/Hanukkah Cards! And I hope you like the Amazing Ass Wear! And I hope you enjoy the mountain!

More soon, I promise!

Love,

Alisa

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. Like tonight, for instance, I went selling at The Sidestreet, and The Aalto. And then I made my way down to The Meridian Gold-dust. I stopped by Kelly’s Olympian, before I rounded out the night at Muu-Muu’s, O’Brien’s and 21st Ave Bar and Grill.

And now that my stupid birthday is over, I find myself feeling fewer feelings. And the few feelings I can feel are mostly relief and delight, that that horrible birthday is behind me. It seemed innocuous, right? I mean, it’s only 31. But it sure through me for a loop. Tonight before I left, I called my Uncle Joel. We swapped gossip, and talked some shit about our family. And then I filled him in on my life, and he filled me in on his. I sold a lot of cards tonight, and I got to grab a lot of hot ass. And cute boys smoked me out (Leroy). My regulars were happy to see me, and the kids who hadn’t seen Snarky Cards before were happy I stopped by.

All in all, it was an art-prostitutes dream. All of that whine-ing about my aged-ness brought me up short on rent this month. So I’ll be out slinging my wares all week. If any of you fuckers would like me to stop by anyplace in particular, drop me a line. In the meantime, I’ll see your drunk-ass at the bar.

Love,

Alisa

As some of you know, my name is Alisa Starr. I make Snarky Cards. I sell them in bars from a box that hangs beneath my boobs. And, I also sell them in stores. In fact, my etsy store seems to work as an online advertising tool, more than a place for commerce. I don’t sell my cards online very often, but I’ve been getting one store a month from all over the country, asking about Snarky Cards because they saw them on etsy.

Noir Leather is not one of those stores. Six months ago, Kim emailed me. She was starting a new business in Portland; Cigarrette Girls. She’d buy candy, and some trays, and the girls would wander in and out of the bars of Portland selling things from their chest that drunk people want, but can’t get for themselves.

Kim wanted my advice, since at present the two people selling things in the bars of Portland are me and The Rose Guy. Who is pushy, and annoying, and harbors secret homosexul feelings, and has a tendency of groping straight guys, while trying to bully them into buying a rose for their straight-guy friends. At least once a night a customer tells me “Thank God you’re not The Rose Guy! That guy’s a dick!” He’s been banned (for being a dick) from a lot of the bars that I sell in. So I didn’t start seeing him in action until the last six months or so, and within 15 minutes of me watching him in action for the first time, he totally was trying to give an innapropriate massage to one of my favorite regulars. I almost died laughing. The thing is, The Rose Guy is married. He sometimes makes his wife go out selling with him. And I’m pretty sure that I’ve heard that he has kids too. Which is why his homosexual feelings are secret and they leak out of him at innapropriate times, and in ways that make other people uncomfortable. I think of him as a walking lesson in accepting yourself. Either dig yourself the way you are or become an angry troll who annoys and enrages strangers, and whose sexual advances are both unwanted and abhorred.

If you live in PDX, and you'd like a job selling candy and cigarettes in bars, essentially being this hot girl, leave me a message. I can totally hook you up!

Anyway, so Kim asked me for help. I made her a list of all the bars I like going to, with a little write up of what to expect from each bar. I loved giving her the downlow on my job. I don’t have co-workers, and so I don’t really get to chat about the more mundane parts of my job with anyone. It was fun. “But this isn’t going to be the hardest part.” I warned her. “You’re going to have a hard time finding people who want to do ‘work’ in Portland. I mean, money isn’t really a huge motivator here.” Kim is from Detroit, and works for Target. She has kind of a regular job, and she just got here. So, she didn’t really beleive me.Two months later, she sent me an email saying something like “You’re right. What’s with people in this town? Why aren’t they into working?” I just laughed.

I moved to Portland, initially, because I wanted to go back to school. I grew up in the Silicon Valley. And I started working there at the height of the dot com boom. Most of my working career I’ve spent in the Silicon Valley, where everyone is trying to shape their good idea into a brilliant business. Everyone is trying to get ahead- you have to to survive there. I’ve worked 90 hours a week for most of my adult life. Part of the reason I wanted to live in Portland in the first place is because my friend Cara promised me the life was slower here. I had just gone back to school, and I wanted to go to school full-time without having to also work full-time. I was tired. And hungry. And frustrated. “People can live while only working 30 hours a week.” she told me. I was sold.

After competing in the San Jose rat-race for 10 years, I was burned out. And the idea of a place where people work in order to finance their life, and stop working in order to go out and have that life. And so I moved to Portland, ostensibly to continue to work on my Bachelors Degree in Psychology.

But, it turns out that I don’t want to be a psychologist. They don’t always get to tell their patients the brutally honest truth. Which is kinda my thing. And shrinks are usually crazy. That’s why they become shrinks, to fix their inner crazy-person. And you’re not always allowed to call your co-workers out on the crazy shit they haven’t fixed. So, I’d be surrounded by crazy people all the time, and I wouldn’t be able to confront them about their shit.

Who could torture these adorable monkeys? Harlow you dick.

And also: when I took Intro to Psychology it turns out that psychologists use a lot of animal torture to help us understand understandable pheonomon’s. Like the time that this Asshole named Harlow wanted to know if babies need comfort. So he deprived baby monkey’s of comfort. What kind of fuck-witt wonders about the necesity of comfort? That guy was just a dick, who liked taking out his personal problems on baby monkeys. And I don’t think I can justify being part of a profession whose basic ideals are based on information they got from monkey torture. Also: I don’t want to be part of a group of people who have had to ask themselves “Do people need comfort?” in seriousness.

I made this card for me. My birthday is coming up, and I'd like some make-out.

So, instead of becoming a psychologist, I started Snarky Cards. I know that recently I’ve done a lot of bitching about Portland. I think in my mind, I always felt bad about leaving the Silicon Valley. I left it in part, because I couldn’t keep taking jobs I hated to barely survive; I wanted to pursue my dreams in a less pressurized environment. And, at that point, I had lost two of my best friends to an ill-thought out love affair they embarked on with each other, my sister had abandoned me and I hadn’t had a boyfriend in 5 years. It felt like I was ejected from the Bay Area. I was never convinced that it was all my choice.

Since then, I’ve mended some of my friendships. And some of my other relationships with Californians have gotten stronger. I’ve maintained a casual fling with a boy in Santa Cruz for the last couple of years. And I’ve been feeling like maybe I should just give up and move back. But the last time I went back (as you might have read) it sucked. Reminding me that there are lots of reasons that I don’t want to move back. Money isn’t the only one. Ruling it out as my fantasey-alternative home made me start looking at Portland differently. I live here. And I choose to live here. So, I need to accept the good and the bad of the city. So, instead of being like “Fucking lazy ass hipsters! What the fuck?!? I have no idea why they’re like that. But, really, how much can you blame on the fucking weather?” I’ve been thinking “Isn’t it interesting that I moved here because I wanted to live in a place where people like living their life poor and working less, and now that drives me crazy?”

Anyway, so Kim gave up on her business idea, or at least put it on the back-burner because she couldn’t find the labor. But, she and I are still friends. And she still loves Snarky Cards. So when she went back to Detroit, a few months ago, she asked me if she could sell Snarky Cards, from a box that hangs beneath her boobs, in The City Of Champions. (No shit, that’s a legitimate nickname for the city. Wickipedia said so). So, armed with 100 Snarky Cards, Kim spread the good news through-out the city, while she drank her way through a weeklong friend-fest.

This is an event The Ritz threw, the bondage gear was provided by Noir. See what I mean about them being hard-core?

While she was there, she sold Snarky Cards to Noir Leather; one of Detroit’s oldest sex-positive toy stores. They’ve been around for 26 years. And they specialize in Leather gear for S&M play. They have a leather crafter on staff, for custom peices. They’re probably the most hard-core store to carry my cards. It’s been 2 months, and they seem to have sold all of the dirty cards that Kim sold them. And I just sent them a new stack of the dirtiest cards I could find.

Our Madge: Around the time she declared that she would rule the world

I decided I wanted to be a writer when I was 6 years old. When I was 19 years old, I saw a video of Madonna, as a 24 year old, on Dick Clark. She had been declared a one-hit wonder.And Dick Clark seemed like he was humoring her more than anything else when he asked what she was going to do next, now that her song “Holiday” had peaked on the charts.You might remember that she grabbed the mike and shouted “I’m going to rule the world!”. Everyone around her cheered. She seemed so delighted with herself. I was mesmerized. It occurred to me then that 1. Ruling the world is possible. and 2. Madonna had a plan. And she executed that plan well. I could create a plan, like Madonna, and then execute it well. Since then, I’ve been wondering exactly how I’m going to be famous and a writer, watching the small businesses I’ve worked in, trying to figure out how they worked, and why they sometimes didn’t. When I started Snarky Cards, I came up with a 3 pronged approach to expanding sales, and as I’ve gone along, I’ve explored several different plans for taking it farther. But so far it’s been pretty simple in that: people seem to like Snarky Cards. And people keep buying Snarky Cards.

I’ve never thought about Detroit before, except when I notice that people with Michigan accents are cute. People who live in Campbell, Santa Clara, San Jose, San Francisco, and all the little cities in between tend to think that they are living in the center of the world. And in the 80′s and 90′s, while I was growing up there, we were the center of the world. Google was founded in Mountain View, which is the first place I’ve ever had sex. When I was 20 I had an interview with Napster; the company that invented music file-sharing. Yahoo, Apple, The Internets, they all grew up with me. I assumed that California was the center of the Universe too. I thought that if I was famous in California that that would be enough. I was shocked, last month to discover that I didn’t want to live there anymore.

And even more than that, I feel a rush of pride, when I add another store from another state to my Snarky Card list. (Which also intonates that California is no longer the center of the Universe in my head) Adding Noir Leather makes me feel like my Rule The World plan is working. And it also helped me shed some of my state-snobbery. After all, I like anybody who likes me. And if Detroit likes me, it must be pretty swell itself. So, thanks Noir Leather, for being hard-core and liking bondage, genital mutilation, golden showers, vibrators, dildo’s, anal plugs, whips, chains, rubber hoods, leather imprint paddles, extreme ass spreaders, milking sticks, anal scopes, urethra dilators and Snarky Cards!

Love,

Alisa

Can you honestly imagine me playing hard to get? Because I can't.

When I was 19, The Rules came out. The Rules were written by two skinny Anne-Coulter-esque women. You know, the kind of chicks who think that they’re hotter than shit because they can wear a pencil skirt and have long hair? Anyway, these bitches wrote The Rules, a book which proclaimed that the only way to “capture” Mr. Right is to be unavailable, and make him chase you. On a Rules first date, you’re not allowed to stay for longer than ten minutes. Whether you have something else to do or not, you have to look at your watch and say “Oh! I have to go!” and jump up and run away after ten minutes. After said date and for the rest of the relationship, you’re not allowed to return his first phone call. You have to wait until his third, or fourth. Or something. Apparently, the recipe for success is a combination of being unavailable, and maintaining mystique.

The book that insults us all.

As we all know, I am super-aggressive; sexually and in every other way. And I couldn’t maintain mystique to save my life. So, I fucking hated this bullshit. Probably because they created a program I have no hope of following, and then called any woman who didn’t follow their program lonely and stupid. But that’s not all of it.  It pissed me off that this philosophy is based on the idea that men need to be manipulated into love. Because for all of the slutting around I do, I like men. I respect men. And I’ve spent the better part of the last 17 years trying to work through all of my shit so that I can figure out how to have healthy relationships with them. The idea that I need to manipulate one into loving me means that I’m not lovable all by myself, and I can’t trust a man to make his own decisions about his feelings. All of which sucks.

The Rules Bitches: Arch-nemesis's of everything awesome

About two years after their books hit really big, both of those bitches found themselves divorced. Which gave me some satisfaction. I don’t usually delight in the misfortunes of other people. But I considered these women the Arch-Nemesis’s of everything awesome. And so, their divorces fed my desire to see them sad. Unfortunately, these divorces didn’t stop them from continuing to offer dating advice. They are continuing to wage their war against honest dating, even now. Their website is stocked with pictures of them smiling next to real celebrities. There’s even a quote from Oprah, saying that they are genius’s.

I understand their popularity. I think everyone wants to create some order out of the chaos of our lives. Especially when it comes to dating. Everyone has lines they won’t cross. I have name rules. Like the other night, I met a Ryan. Isn’t it weird how all Ryan’s are hot? And while he was charismatic, I knew he was Hell-bent on his own destruction. As well as the destruction of anyone else who said that they liked him. So, even though he had Dylan-hair, and was trying to throw some (pretty good) game at me, I passed, because it doesn’t matter how good a Ryan is in bed, the mind-fuck you’re getting afterward makes the whole thing feel like a bad sexual decision.

After I’ve met 3 different people with the same name, I can make general observations about the name. My name rules have helped guide me through my life.  I try to believe in exceptions to the rules. They exist. I’ve just never met them. Michael’s always try to fuck with my head. David’s kinda hate themselves. Kaytea’s are always a crazy-ass party, that you will never regret attending. But you should rest-up first. Emily’s are steadfast friends. And Becky’s are bitches. Rebecca’s are usually nice, thoughtful and sensitive. Steve’s are good friends, who will always listen, and seldomly put out.

As much as I depend on my name rules, they’re subjective. They’re based on my experience with people who have those names. The Bexter (note, she goes by Rebecca, not Becky, because she knows Becky’s are bitches too, and has therefore never let anyone call her that)  has had different experiences with different names. So, she is open to dating a David, or a Justin (although, she’s dated a lot of Justin’s she might be done with that particular name). So, basically, while I love my name rules, and they are the guiding light of my life, I can’t pass them along for public consumption, except as a party trick.

Recently, I was updating the list of people I’ve slept with. I’ve got 83 people on the list… And I feel like I’m missing some people. So, if we’ve slept together, could you please email me, so that I can double check and make sure I’ve alredy counted you? Please don’t email if we only made-out. You dont’ count. Wait. Unless we made-out and it was good, and you’d like to make the list. In which case, please email me, and I will consider your request. You can send your sexual requests (and tales of our dalliances together) to snarkycardsatgmaildotcom.

I have noticed lately, that I have a collected a lot of wisdom, from all these different boys, and situations I’ve found myself in. I give great dating advice. Which I can’t figure out how to follow myself (much like the evil bitches I despise). But my observations have helped my friends (and strangers I meet at the bar) navigate through their own dating debacles.

So I’ve decided to put together my own list. The Rules by The Snarky Card Chick! I will feed them to you in the form of cards, until we have enough for a book of our own. And then we can give America a choice, The Rules for girls who like men (by Alisa Starr) or The Rules for girls who like to manipulate men(by some heinous bitches).  Rule #13 is the first rule I ‘ve written so far. I wrote it for my friend, Tina. Who is a cougar. Which is kind of exciting, and it makes me very, very proud.

It’s a good rule, I think. But it’s not going to be part of the top ten. I don’t know how long the list will be yet. I’m just writing down things as they happen to me. Or as they happen to my friends. If you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them!

Love,

Alisa