Posts Tagged ‘birthday’

Babies

Monday, July 5th, 2010

Dear Internets,

Is it me, or are these two going to make an Awesome Baby?

As some of you know, today I turned 31. And today Snarky Cards is 3.

And I’ve been having a lot of mental anguish over my family. So, it’s been hard to convince myself to celebrate my birth, or the birth of my loud-mouthed, bitchy company. But I have good news! Two pieces of good news!

First: Thank God for faulty birth control. Usually I don’t believe in faulty birth control. It always sounds like bullshit to me. I mean, there’s a 3% chance that birth control doesn’t work. It seems like there are a lot more babies attributed to faulty birth control than that. And I really hate it when people don’t own their shit. But right now, I love faulty birth control. I believe in faulty birth control. It’s my favorite thing. It’s real and it happens to regular people. That or, Stephenie’s got super-hero sperm. Which is what he keeps telling me. My brother, Stephanie, has knocked up his girlfriend, Christina. They are delighted. But I am more delighted. I don’t think that there’s any way for me to be more excited about another person. I now call Stephenie once a week to get updates on Baby Awesome. And I’ve been racking my brain, trying to remember all of the horrible things that he’s done in order to blackmail him into actually naming the baby Awesome. So far, Stephanie has declined. Almost all of the other names they are actually considering are Alisa-approved.

Here is Awesome’s first picture. Stephenie has very kindly circled all of the important parts of Awesome’s features, which may be hard to make-out, because Awesome is, at present, very, very tiny. Awesome will grace us with his or her presence on or around January 22, 2011. So, on this momentous occasion of my birth, and the birth of Snarky Cards, we will look forward to the birth of my new family, Baby Awesome, Stephenie, Christina, and Claire, finally becoming “That lady who lives with your Aunt.”.

This may be a good time for me to explain something. Stephenie is a boy. He was born Stephen Daniel Shumaker. I call him Stephenie because I was a really mean older sister. When he was 8, Joy and I gave him a choice. We would call him Stephenie or Becky. Becky was an option because our parents were convinced he was a girl, and had planned to name him Rebecca. It was a mean (but hilarious!) nickname, which somehow became less mean and more endearing. As most nicknames do, in time. I also tried to make him gay when he was in high-school. (because what’s more awesome than having a gay brother? Nothing.) It almost worked. I got him wearing my prom dress, shaving his legs, dating guys, and hanging out at the Billy De Frank Center. Which is the only gay community center in Santa Clara, CA. I tried to make him start smoking when he was 11. So, while it isn’t miraculous that he knocked up the illustrious and amazing Christina, it is however, miraculous that he thinks it’s a good idea for me to be around Baby Awesome at all.

Secondly: My cousin Deanna and I are going to be working, this summer on Snarky Cards Undies. They should be available in the next month or so. The first pair will be American Apparel Boy Briefs, with “Fuck you and your fucking Feelings.” We’ll have them available in stores, and online. This picture is a facsimile of what they’ll look like.

I’ll give you updates, while I work on them.

These are the two projects that gave me some solace. This birthday has been the hardest that I’ve had in a long time. When I started Snarky Cards I gave it three years. I thought that by the third year I’d have a book deal, and an apparel line, and I’d be mass producing them across the country. I probably would have gotten that far, had I had any funding. Which I also expected to get. But, finding funding, and a publishing company interested in producing a book of Snarky Cards has, thus far, eluded me. I’m continually surprised by the rejection that I’ve gotten from major and minor publishing companies. I’ve now sold 29.705 Snarky Cards. I have them in stores in Seattle, San Francisco, Eugene, and Salem, Oregon, Louisville, Kentucky, Brooklyn, NY, Detroit, and -of course- Portland. That’s five states and seven cities. It seems clear to me that a book would sell well.

Anyway, I thought it would be much farther along by now. My other project for the summer is to lose weight. When I was 20, I started therapy. And I gained about 40 pounds. As time went by, I gained another 20 pounds. For the last five years or so I’ve hovered around 200 pounds. But then I broke my leg, and I gained another 40. This summer I realized I was done carrying all this weight around. I think, in my 20′s, the weight comforted me. It separated me from the person I’d been when I was younger. My larger body was not the same one that had been abused. I liked being part of the big girls club. I liked my big boobs.

But my back hurt. And it kept getting worse. And this year I realized that if I lost all the weight, and replaced a lot of it with muscles, I could probably stop seeing my chiropractor. So, this summer, I’m losing the magic mountain that was my ass. And I’m going for a flat stomach. I’m eating more healthily, and I’ve started to find some solace in exercise. Now a nice long walk will clear my head, almost as completely as weed does.

So, I was hoping that I would be thin (and possibly buff), and outrageously successful by now. And I think I’ve been really hard on myself for the last couple of weeks, because instead of being super-thin and internationally famous; I’m thinner than I was, and moderately successful. It feels like failure.

Joel had this picture taken of the two of us at Kelly's Olympian. We look pretty good, right?

Yesterday I woke up feeling terrible too. I walked around the apartment in my pj’s moaning about my life, checking my neck for wrinkles, eyeing my tummy. This week my friend Matt turned 40. I went to his birthday party, and it was fun. Usually I spend parties thinking “I should be working.” But this time, I let it go.I didn’t even bring my cards, I talked to people all night, not the Snarky Card Chick, just Alisa. Matt was drunk, and happy. And the party was packed. Everyone there was so happy to be there. It felt like a real celebration of Matt. “You know, I never thought I’d live this long.” His porch looks out on Broadway, and the city lights were luminous behind him. “I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

While I was moaning around the apartment Claire tried to think of things to say to cheer me up. “You don’t look 31.” She soothed. Nothing seemed to work. When I thought she’d given up she said “You know what? Matt’s party the other night was so great. If I have a party like that when I’m 40, I’ll be so glad. There were all kinds of people there, all ages, and all kinds. And Matt was so hot. And he was making out with his boyfriend all night. And it was so beautiful.”  Somehow, that propelled me out into the night with my cards. And I made it as far as Kelly’s Olympian, which is one of my happy places. People recognized me as I walked through the door. A few girls shreiked “You’re here! I want some cards!” and a few boys said “Hey, I’ve heard of you. Can I see some cards?” which made me feel kinda famous. I had some celebratory whiskey. I went over to Mike’s house, where I drank more and hung out with him, and Todd (also of the famed Fenbi) and we got more plastered. Mike announced that he was going to church today. I said I’d go with him.

Which is why I found myself hung-over and surrounded by hippies at 11am this morning. I was miserable. Mike was a champ. I was pouty, and hung-over, and convinced that my life sucked. “I’m fat, and ugly, and I’m going to die alone.” I whined. Mike just made reassuring noises and hugged me. “I’m going to become a spinster.” I moaned later. “What’s a spinster?” Mike asked, reminding me that men don’t live in constant fear of becoming an old-maid. And I didn’t used to either.

And somehow, in the middle of the inspirational talk that Science of Mind pastors call a sermon, I started to realize that I can’t be this hard on myself forever. The service forced me to be quiet. Instead of whining or pouting or trying to be funny, I sat quietly in my pew, with tears running down my cheeks, trying to give up all of the shit I’ve been piling on myself. Mike occasionally patted my hand, to let me know that I wasn’t alone. But he seemed just as absorbed as I was in the message.

We had a hangover breakfast at Holman’s, and then I went home, where I laid in The Nest (a pile of blankets and pillows we keep in our living room) and Claire got me things. I got birthday texts from friends all day, but all I wanted to do was sleep away my alcohol poisoning. I took a nap, waking up to twilight. The cats cowered and Claire and I stood on our porch, watching our neighbors fireworks. She went to Safeway, to pick me up a birthday dinner, and on the street, halfway between our apartment and the store, she found us a new recliner for the living room.

She came home to get me out of The Nest, and we spent the next half hour pushing the damn thing back to our apartment, with the fireworks going off all around us. “It feels kind of apocalyptic.” She said, in wonderment. “Um, I think the apocalypse will be less celebratory.” We were very, very stoned. It’s been 5 years since I moved to Portland, and I’ve never gotten used to the idea of legal fireworks. This is Claire’s first 4th of July in Oregon. “You know there are going to be a lot of handless people tomorrow.” I predicted darkly. “Why isn’t everything catching on fire?” She asked. Finally, we rested in the parking lot of the strip club across the street from our place.

Angela Lansbury can be very comforting.

As we caught our breaths, she twirled around, gaping at the pretty lights in the sky. “What if the propaganda we grew up with is wrong?” She sounded puzzled. “What if when people set off their own fireworks they don’t blow their hands up and set their neighborhoods on fire?” I looked around us thoughtfully. “Well. Maybe everything we heard growing up was wrong. Let’s wait for the news tomorrow, and see how many fires and missing limbs are reported, and then decide whether to turn our backs on everything we believe in.” It’s comfortable and not-smelly. And it made us feel luxurious. We took turns sitting in it, while watching Murder She Wrote.

And somehow, I got through it. Thanks to Kelly’s Olympian, and my enthusiastic customers, friends, cats, and Claire, I made it through. And now that it’s over, I’m ready to make the underwear and lose my weight. And I plan to spend the next month figuring out how to be nicer to myself. And also: I didn’t plan on sticking with Snarky Cards after 3 years. I figured whatever size the company was by now, I’d sell it, and use the fame I’d garnered to leverage me a job writing television scripts. I didn’t make any plans for Snarky Cards beyond now. I can’t walk away from it just as it’s getting exciting. So, I’m going to spend the summer figuring out a new timeline for Snarky Cards Success. Maybe something a little more realistic this time.

Thanks for all the Happy Birthday Wishes, and thanks for digging my shit.

Love,

Alisa

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Posted in Alisa has feelings, Snarky Cards | 1 Comment »

Feelings and Family

Monday, February 22nd, 2010

Dear Internets,

Some of you might have noticed that last night I was out selling Snarky Cards at Zeitgeist in The Mission. I have returned home to San Francisco, to celebrate my ex-fake-husband’s 30th birthday.

I’ve taken the opportunity to get the Hell off my couch, jettisoning myself out of the Art Shack, which is stuffed to the brim with cats and people right now. Steve and Emily have a guest room, with a ginormous, comfy bed. There’s a swimming pool nearby and a bart station. So I can swim in the morning, and go out selling in The City at night. And I can return home, to the comfy bed, and bask in the love of my friends.

Isn't Steve adorable?

Steve and I started fake dating 8 years ago. It took us two years to fake-marry. And then it took that two years to explode in our faces. No-one really gets my fake marriage. Most people assume that I married someone so that they could stay in the country. Steve was born in Rochester, NY. And he and I didn’t actually marry. We just had a purely emotional relationship. Partly because I think he wasn’t attracted to me. And partly because I wasn’t capable of more than a fake relationship. We acted like we were dating. And then, when I moved into The Funhouse, we acted like we were married. And our divorce was painful and long. Yesterday, at his party, all of his friends stood around, and told stories about Steve. He’s kind of a private person, as his sister pointed after he got embarrassed, and stole out of the room in the middle of our hoots and reminisces. I didn’t really get that until all of the people who love him were in the same room with him (not his idea). No wonder our fake-marriage didn’t work. I’m not even a little bit private.

I can’t imagine keeping my life private, and that’s, like, one of his goals. His sister was really happy to meet me. “Well, he didn’t want to introduce me to you when we were fake-married because I say the word cunt, and you’re too delicate.” I informed her, feeling triumphant that we’d finally met, despite Steve’s best efforts. “I wanna hear more about this fake marriage!” She leaned her pregnant belly into the question. “Well, it’s a lot better now that we’re fake-divorced.” I was feeling smug because Steve and I are so close now. But a room full of people objected. “The divorce was horrible!” Jen cut her eyes at me, making sure I remembered. Jon nodded his head, looking frightened. “It was like a real divorce.” Randy explained to his still-confused sister. I looked around the room, at my friend’s pained faces, as they mentally relived my fake-divorce, trying to figure out how to give the whole thing a sensible narrative. And I saw Emily trying to scoot between Steve’s sister and her husband, and I realized what  had happened. And I realized that I could finally say it. “Yeah, and it would have stayed horrible between us, if not for Emily.”

Emily The Bridge

“Really?” Steve’s sister sounded surprised. Maybe in the real world ex-fake-wives don’t usually get along with newer, perfect girlfriends. “Yup. Emily is the bridge to all things awesome. She’s the one who got us all here.” It was true, but I was also happy to tell the story of me and Steve without getting stuck. “To Emily!” I raised my glass and everyone in the room toasted the girl who fixed my best-friendship.

Emily and Steve like to go out in nature together. I think nature is really gross. And deadly. I think that she's always trying to kill us. So we shouldn't be going out into the wilderness to be alone on her turf, where she has the upper hand. They're perfect together, right?

We were just trying to recover from our fake-divorce, when he brought Emily to Portland two years ago, to see me and some of her friends. I spent the whole weekend putting off being alone with them. I brought them to the bar, and then I disappeared to go off selling Snarky Cards. I made plans and then broke them, until finally he called and said “Could we please have breakfast before we leave town? I’d like to spend time with you.” So I couldn’t get out of it without looking like an asshole. I got high before I left the house, to loosen me up for whatever discomfort there was in front of me. I felt awkward as the three of us waited for a table, until Emily turned to me, and said to me “Steve tells me that you’re the reason that he’s good at communicating. And I just want to thank you because communication has been a big part of our relationship.” I froze, like I’d been caught doing something wrong. And then the last remaining bit of me that hadn’t forgiven him dropped, and smashed, and I fell in love with Emily a little bit. “Oh. Uh.” I stammered. “I didn’t realize he still said that to people.” She nodded brightly. I was amazed at how simply she’d put me at ease, and mended my relationship with Steve in one swift move.

Emily’s like that, her clear honesty sees you through uncomfortable moments, and where Steve and I break down, she picks up the slack. And so I have my best friend, Steve, back, and a bonus new best friend.

I realized, once I got here, that I haven’t been sleeping for the last month. Not just because I have been sleeping on the couch, but also because I’ve been worried about the next stage of Snarky Cards. I’ve been trying to figure out what kind of person I want to be in business. I’ve been wondering how to choose business partners. I’ve been trying to figure out what the next stage is. And I’ve got all these instincts, and intuitions, and feelings. And I’ve largely been trying to quash them. Because in business you go by numbers. And intuition is a woman thing. And Vagina’s are a weakness. Or at least, that’s what I’ve heard in all of the other business situations I’ve been in. And I’ve had over 30 jobs. I’ve been in a lot of business situations. Before Snarky Cards I had a sales career, an office-bitch career, and a book career. And I always closely watched the executives, the decision-makers. And I tried to figure out what I liked about what they were doing, and what I didn’t and what I’d do differently, if it was my company.

And somewhere along the way I let it sink into my beliefs that having a Vagina, and feelings, and letting those influence my business decisions would mean that I made bad decisions. But looking around the room yesterday, at the faces of our friends, I realized that Steve and I built a life together, and when it fell apart, they still loved us. And they still want to celebrate us. And without all of those feelings, and all of those friends, I wouldn’t have been able to get this far.

My life has been saved over and over again by my feelings and my intuitions. So, it’s OK if my business runs on those same feelings and intuitions. I can be successful on the strength of my friends love.

Emily let me borrow her scanner, so that I could bring you New Snarky Cards. So if you wanna check out my etsy site, just remember that it’s brought to you by my Vagina. And my intuition. And the love of my friends.

Sincerely,

Alisa

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Posted in It Happened In My Vagina | 1 Comment »

Stephanie: everyone’s favorite little brother

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

For those of you who don’t know, I make Snarky Cards: Brutally Honest Greeting Cards. They will crack you the fuck up.

People always wanna know where I get my sense of humor from, which is a stupid question from my perspective. How do I fucking know? I mean, really? But I think I might have an answer.

I love my brother, Stephanie. He’s not transgendered. That’s just what we call him. He likes it better than Becky, which was his other option. Anyway, it’s his birthday this month. And so I was calling to tell him Happy Birthday! Because I knew I’d forget on the actual day, because in reality, I’m a pretty shitty sister. And also, I wanted to get his address to send him his birthday present. Which is actually just some junk he left at my house when he lived here (See? I told you I’m shitty). We were catching up and he said “Guess what? I got laid last week!” I was flabberghasted. Stephanie doesn’t have a lot of game. He’s pretty sure of himself in bed, I know, because he brags about his cunnilingus skills CONSTANTLY. But he doesn’t always clue into the moment where the girl is actually interested in getting it on. I swear, I’ve watched him walk away from more pussy because he was oblivious than I’ve seen him buy comic books. And The Kidd loves comic books.

Anyway so I was like “Cool. How was it?” “Awesome!” He said using his cocky voice. “Oh yeah? You kids gonna Do It again?” I really want Stephanie to get a girlfriend. I would be sooooooo happy if he found a kick-ass girl. I ask this question with the hopefulness of a Mother. Unfortunately, his love life is as lame as mine. (Maybe it was our childhood?) “I don’t think so.” He said. “I like her a lot. But she just got out of a relationship. And she hasn’t been with a guy in a long-” “Oh, so it was break-up sex?” I interrupted. “Well, yeah. I mean, it was, like four hours long though.” He said. “Oh” I cooed. “It was so nice of you to have Lesbian sex with her!”

“What?!” He thundered. “You had sex for four hours. Straight people don’t do that.” I pointed out. “Lesbians do that. God, gay men don’t even do that. Four hour sex is a lesbian thing. It was so nice of you to have sex with her all Lesbionic so that she would feel comfortable!”

Stephanie has a reputation for being a Lesbian. This is in part because lesbians are his happy place. If you asked him whether he’d rather hang out in a room full of Bull-Dykes or hang out in a room full of hot girls who want to sleep with him, he’d think for a really long time and then he’d ask you plaintively “Can’t I do both? I mean, hang out with The Bull Dykes first and then hit up the hot girl room?” The other reason he has a reputation for being a Lesbian is that he is reassured by chocolate, Buffy and calls himself a feminist. All of which are good qualities. But that doesn’t stop any of his sisters from calling him a pussy. Which he is kind of tired of. So he retaliated.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that we had Lesbian sex. Except when you count all the times I put my penis in her vagina!” He sneered. I continued arguing my point. And he said “My penis in her vagina!” five more times. Finally, the imagery won out. “All right. All right. You win!” I finally spat out. “You totally grossed me out. Are you happy now?” “Yes. As a matter of fact, I am” He was smug. Because he had won. Because that’s what the conversation had turned into. He was trying to tell me about his sex life. Bonus if it grossed me out. I have been doing this same thing to him for the last twelve years.

This is for Stephanie! The best brother a girl could hope for!

This is for Stephanie! The best brother a girl could hope for!

After we hung up, laughing, I thought about it. Maybe my sense of humor is genetic. Maybe that’s where it comes from. Or maybe it’s fucked up, and I gave it to my little brother too. And now he uses it as a weapon against me. In honor of my beloved brother, I give you: The After School Special. Because, really, he does make my life an after school special. Because being his sister is like a constant, annoying lesson about how great it is to have a brother. And how to use sex as a weapon to disgust people.

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Posted in Hot Sexy Time!, Uncategorized | No Comments »