As you know, by now, a few months ago, I broke my leg. You know this because I whine about it all the time. And in this entry, I’m going to whine about it some more.

Breaking your leg means that you are isolated, The only people I saw were my friends/family. Who all had to visit me. And bring me things. And once they got here, I asked them to clean things. So, some of those visits were few and far between.

Yes, when I go out selling I take pictures of myself in the bathroom mirror bar. I think I pose better when I'm by myself.

I was in pain. And I was sweaty. And kinda dirty.  I did not feel sexy.
I couldn’t take care of myself very well: showering, brushing my teeth, changing clothes. Those were are hard things. So, at first, life was so hard I didn’t notice that all the sexy seeped out of my life. Then, when things got a little easier, I had time to look around, and realize just how gross I really was. And then I didn’t mind the fact that the only new men in my life were all doctors/nurses/cab drivers. None of whom were hot. Or hot for me.
So, I gave up on sex AND feeling sexy. For months.
Last month I finally started walking again. With crutches. This didn’t help my quest to be sexy. I worked as hard as I could, as often as I could to get from the crutches to a cane. Once I got pretty good with the cane, I started selling my cards again. I still spend a bunch of time getting ready at night. And I like to think I look good when I leave the house. But being able to walk and wear a skirt didn’t magically bring back my sexual confidence.That kind of things comes back slowly. Over the last few weeks, men have ogled me and motor-boated me, and been delighted by my blatant hitting on them. And every time a guy is not repulsed by me, I find myself feeling a little more sure of myself.

The men who flirt with me are still crappy flirters. And, though clumsy, they seem into me. And despite my annoyance at the lack of game I’m surrounded by; the flirting (largely clumsy as it is)I’m starting to have faith that I will have sex again. Someday. In the future. Because I’m hot. And really good in bed, and people guess that about me. Since I created this business based on what happens in my Vagina.
Right?
There is a hot bartender, named Dougie. He has been starring in my fantasies since I’ve started walking again. I like Doug. He likes me. But I’m pretty sure that the chances that he likes me in a sexy way are, like, super-low.
I give it a 5%-15% chance that he’s ever taken off my clothes in his head.
So, staring at his abs and his arms, and his awesome ass, and trying to gage his penis size while he is absorbed in the task of making drinks for other people makes me feel like a creeper.
But that 5-15% of hope has been keeping me going for the last 2 weeks.

Last night , after I got my eyeful of Doug, I went back out into the world to sell cards. And there was a guy who told me a story about how he got shot by a gangsta in the 90′s, back when he was 1. a gangsta 2. Rich 3. A hard-core coke dealer
He also bought me a drink. All in an attempt to get me back to his place.

When I said “No thank-you! It’s been a long night. I can’t walk anymore. I have to go home and rest.”

He said “We’ve got a car! We’ll drive you!”
That’s how into me he was. He was willing to drive me to his house. Drunk. I mean, he was drunk. And he did start the evening by telling me he’d just got a DUI. So, I’m glad I declined. After he told me he’d gotten that DUI, it took ALL OF MY WILLPOWER not to say “Don’t drink and drive! You could kill your Dad!” Which is my favorite line from the last Cougar Town episode. Which was awesome.
Anyway, while I might have started the evening lusting after Dougie, I ended the evening feeling good about being the rejector. Almost like I’d gotten my sexy back.

I think that Doug’s doing the world a service. Being all sexy all the time. At least, I know that he helped me. Because while I was thinking about helping him take his shirt off (and how grateful he’d be for my help!) I was finally thinking about having sex. With another person. Who found me attractive. Something I’ve had a hard time imagining since since January. And I needed someone to get that started up again for me. So, thanks Dougie! Your sexiness has inspired me! I wrote some sexy Snarky Cards while I was thinking about you! I’m sorry all my thoughts about you are dirty. But you have a huge cock in my fantasies. I don’t know if that helps or make this whole thing weirder and gross.

Love,

Alisa

Here's a card for the next time you see an asshole you used to fuck!

Dear Internets,

After a break-up, I almost always regret having anything to do with my lover at all.
I wish a lot of things. Like that they had never been born. Or I had never been stupid enough to fall for their shit.
But, most fervently at all, I hope and dream that they will move the The Island.
The Island is a beautiful, magical place where I believe all of the men I’ve ever regretted fucking go to die. I assume that my

Let your ex know that you think they're a waste of time! Bring closure to your life with hatred!

staggering awesomeness prevents them from living a normal life. And after fucking/falling for me, they eventually waste away, until a friend of theirs tells them “Well, I hear a lot of the dudes who’ve met Alisa have this problem. There’s somewhere for you to go.” It’s a non-profit island, and they have support groups there for all of their horrible feelings about me that they can’t get rid of.
I know The Island has wi-fi because sometimes these embarrassing mistakes email me. Or Facebook me. Which is annoying. But not as annoying as it would be if these fuck-ups were loose on society.
So, I’m glad about The Island.
I’m glad they have each other. And I’m glad that I don’t have to see them anymore.
Maybe you don’t have The Island. Let’s face it, not everyone is awesome enough that they leave that kind of devastation in their Vaginal wake.
So, these cards can express the outrage you feel when you are confronted by your sexual mistakes in the flesh. You can buy them on my etsy site http://snarkycards.etsy.com.
Love,
Alisa
PS:  Remember! Snarky Cards are Post-Cards. They’ve got pretty pictures hand-painted (by me, Alisa) on both sides, and the words are typewritten with my Smith-Carona: Bob.

I’m still working on the next installment of the story of my broken leg. However, while I haven’t been able to walk for the last 6 weeks, I’ve been able to Internet. So, I’ve been updating my etsy site. And I’m happy to tell you that there are a lot more Snarky Cards now available online. I’m working on getting the online store for Superalisa.com up and running too, but that will take a while longer.

So, until then, I hope you enjoy all of the new cards on http://snarkycards.etsy.com. The descriptions, as usual are peppered with stories of my Vagina. And my painting has gotten seriously awesome.

Help my crippled ass! Come to the Saving Super-Alisa Party!

If you see something you like, please order it. My online sales are paying my bills this month. And if you live in Seattle, and you want to help, my sister is throwing me a fund-raiser! It’s called Saving Super-Alisa! it’s on Friday, March 30th, at 8:30 pm, at Waid’s Restaurant and Lounge.  and it’ll will help me pay my rent this month, as I still can’t walk. So, there’ll be dancing and drinking, and in the end I’ll be able to come home and buy food! And kitty litter! My crippled ass would love to see your hot one.

Love,
Alisa

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