Posts Tagged ‘Bob’

Happy VD!

Sunday, February 14th, 2010

Dear Internets,

It's pretty hot, right? Can you believe Celeste made this? She's a genius!

I had a fantabulous time at Radish Underground, Friday night. We made a lot of custom cards. And I think I outdid myself. Betsy the Great was there, making custom jewelry. And the red dress that Celeste made for me was amazing! You’ll see it tonight, if you come to Voicebox for the Valentines Day party!

Win this delightful painting at Voicebox tonight!

Win this painting at Voicebox tonight!

I’ll be there with Bob, my typewriter. It’s $10 at the door, to get in, a portion of which will be donated to Ethos. Which is a non-profit dedicated to bringing music to poorly funded public schools. Which, is kinda amazing. My public school was pretty well-funded but we had no funding for music. But we were middle-class, and we knew how to sell candy bars, and all that crap. By we, I mean they, of course. I am not musical. I am a groupie. I can write, I can crack wise. I can do all kinds of crap, but when it comes to music, I am useless.

Some of that is probably due to an evil piano teacher I was forced to spend time with as a child (Oh Mrs. Kerr!). And the rest of it I credit to Mr. Hibbert, my 8th grade choir teacher. I’m pretty sure he was in love with my mother. Which wouldn’t have been creepy, but she seemed to relish the crush. I always felt like I was interrupting something whenever I was in the room with the two of them. And they kept coming up for reasons for that to happen. Mr. Hibbert looked like a puppet. And he was an Orange Person. I hated and feared Orange People. I didn’t really get over being racist against them until I was 23 years old. I think that doubled the gross-out factor of his and my mom’s possible emotional affair. Also, in my head, when they did it, he was an actual puppet. It’s gross to think of your mother doing it with anyone, but a puppet puts the whole thing squarely in Stephen King territory.  So after 8th grade choir class, singing was kinda ruined for me.

Which is why you won’t hear me belting out any kind of song tonight. You can belt out as many songs yourself as you’d like -free sing all night! And you’ll get a free Snarky Card with your entrance fee, and you’ll also get entered to win one of my fabulous paintings.

Cards like these could come in handy tonight!

You may not be sure about your night tonight -maybe you’ve been single for a long time (like me!) or maybe you’re trying to deal with a shitty break-up, or maybe you like your boyfriend, but you’re not sure if you’re still attracted to him, maybe your wife has gotten drunk and angrily called your parents for the last time, maybe your husband doesn’t put out enough, maybe your girlfriend obsessively texts you. Whatever the deal is, I can make a Snarky Card, to help you ease the pain of your heart. And hopefully, along the way, you’ll meet other cranky singles, or at least some hotties who wanna cheat. And it’ll all culminate in hot, angry sex.

I mean, seperately couples will take each other home. Not that it’ll end in an orgy. Because, I am not pro-orgy. I mean, I don’t judge other’s orgies, it’s just not the right kind of sex. For me.

I know, it makes me sound like a hard-core prude. But I’m just not into group sex. And (as I recently found out in Seattle) I’m not into hanging out, waiting for someone to finish an orgy in a room next door to me so we can hang out. I’m sorry, I know that this will probably upset you, Internets, because you were totally going to ask me over for a 5some next week. But I always figured, I’m easy. That should be good enough, and the fact that I’ve had sex with 87 people should distract everyone from the fact that I don’t gang-bang. Or orgy. Or even threesome. And while I like having sex in public places, I think that’s as far as my adventuresome sexual spirit goes. It makes me feel a little Vanilla about how I get down. It’s embarassing to be one of the Sex Goddesses of the Western Hemisphere and not orgy. But I am.  Or maybe I’m just more straightforward than that multiple-partner mess. I like the hook-up. The hook-up is easy. The hook-up is my happy place.  And I’m hoping that there might be some in store for each and every one of us who shows up tonight.

Also: I relate to cranky singles better than I relate to happy couples. And if there’s nothing but happy couples at Voicebox tonight, I’m going to feel out of place. So, please angry singles searching for hate-sex, please come down and keep me company and I’ll write you some revenge Snarky Cards, which will soothe your battered egos, and I’ll point out the hottest single person in the room, and you’ll go over and start making out, and I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I made something happen in your Vagina, or on your penis, without having to touch it myself.  Because making people come from a distance is what I live for!

So see ya tonight at Voicebox, from 7-11pm, 2112 NW Hoyt Portland, OR.

Love,

Alisa

Fuck You Bird Flu!

Wednesday, October 21st, 2009
This is me, slaving away at my typewriter (Bob) making custom cards at a show!

This is me, slaving away at my typewriter (Bob).

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. But I haven’t been going to any bars in the last week. I haven’t been going anywhere the last week, because I’ve been slowly dying from Bird Flu. I know all the cool kids have swine flu right now, but I’m old school. And besides, birds are creepier, and I believe that they could do this to me. When I think of pigs I either go to Wilbur or the parable of the man who threw pearls at swine.

Or maybe he was supposed to throw pearls at swine and then Jesus stopped him? Or maybe he wasn’t real, he was just a story Jesus told about how you shouldn’t throw pearls at swine? Anyway, those three elements were in some sort of Sunday school lesson that I didn’t learn: Jesus, pearls and swine. The SwineI think if I ever knew the story, I got distracted because I didn’t want the pigs to choke on the pearls. That was, clearly, when I was  a little girl, and hadn’t seen Deadwood yet, and didn’t realize that pigs can eat people’s bones, effectively covering up a murder. I’m not saying that I wish I’d seen Deadwood as a little girl, but I wish I’d known that as a little girl, because I love murder mysteries, and I love plotting the perfect murder, and that information would have come in really, really handy, when I was, like, 8.

Fuck you birds!

Fuck you birds!

Anyway, so I’ve got bird-flu. And I’ve been so convinced of my imminent death that yesterday, I started doling out the cats and my Janis Ian CD’s to my more responsible friends. So, I haven’t been selling my wares in bars, or really, anywhere. I’ve been too busy trying to breathe without hacking up my lungs, and my wild and crazy moments were mostly about me eating cheese. Which I know I shouldn’t do, but I had it in my refrigerator, and I was hungry, and I love cheese, and it didn’t make me cough so hard I wanted to die for too long.

This way to The Donation Button! PS: My tattoo says "The mistakes are all lessons".

This way to The Donation Button! PS: My tattoo says "The mistakes are all lessons".

Speaking of which: food. As some of you might have heard, Arlette, my favorite computer goddess, added a donation button to my website. It’s on your right side. And if you love reading my blog, or looking at my cards, kicking me a few bucks can help me keep on, keeping on. Thanks to Aunt Julie and Barbara! I got to eat the last few days. See, if I don’t go out and work every day, I don’t have money to buy luxuries like food. And since I couldn’t leave the house, those donations saved my life. So, if you like reading the shit I write, please hit the donation button. I’ll be thanking everyone who donates in my blog, and letting you know what I did with the money.

In the next month, in addition to food, I’d like to buy a scanner, so I can get my newest cards online to you. And some blank canvasses so that I can start making more Snarky Paintings! I’d also like to give my cats some worm medicine. Yes, you can help important things happen in in my cats asses!

I liked you better when you were drunkIn Conclusion: here is the latest Snarky Card, online, for your pleasure. I hope you enjoy, and it helps you confront a friend about her addiction to her baby, which has wrongfully replaced her addiction to alcohol.

An Ode To San Francisco

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

Your big enough cockFor 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. tip money boobs faceThey will crack you the fuck up.

I am back from San Francisco. Coming back from California is always weird for me. When I’m there, my phone rings constantly; friends, needing to know where I am and when I’m going to come hang out, giving me suggestions for where I can sell. Cute Californian boys trying to lure me into bed.

In San Francisco I’m the hot new thing. When people see my cards for the first time, they scream. And they have more money in SF than they do in Portland. So after they stop screaming, they buy more cards.

In Portland, I’m a staple, a “very Portland phenomenon” and people nod and smile and say “Nice to see you again”. They  say “I’ve always wanted to meet the person who does this.” And shrug when I ask if they wanna look at the new cards. They say “Oh, I can buy them at Tiny’s.” Or, “I see these all over!” and I have to work a little harder to dazzle them, to eek my rent out of my Snarky Cards.

I love my Portland life, but it’s very solitary. I spend about 90 hours a week making cards, or selling cards. Most of my good friends are Bad-Ass Bitches who own their own businesses. And they’re busy, trying to build their empire. So I steal a girls night here and there. So the phone is silent, and I’m old hat here, and switching between the two worlds is confusing, and a little depressing.

pegasus-pendragon-books-berkeley-ca

Pegasus Bookstore! Now carries Snarky Cards!

In conclusion: I love The City. And the City seems to love me back. It’s a nice change from the solitary life in Portlandia.

As of last week, Pegasus Books now carries Snarky Cards! It took a year, but Victory is now mine! Now that one store has succumbed to my charms, more will fall! Mooo-hahahahaha! (Is that an evil laugh? I can’t tell. I tried to sound it out, but I’m not sure if I nailed it or not.) So if you love Snarky Cards, and you need some, and you live in the Bay Area, you can go to Pegasus and get yourself some!

Divorce Season's around the corner people! Dig it! I can comfort you in time of need, and help you get laid again!

Divorce Season's around the corner people! Dig it! I can comfort you in time of need, and help you get laid again!

But as I get used to the sweetness of my own company again, I find myself becoming one with the Portland Art Scene once again. I’ve been going out selling at bars almost every night this week. This Saturday, I’ll be at Missisipi Pizza, getting my groove on to The Chapman Swifts. And this Sunday I’ll be at Crafty Wonderland, with my typewriter, Bob, bringing you custom Snarky Cards, and sage advice for those feeling lost in love.