Posts Tagged ‘Portland’

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Fuck California

Sunday, June 6th, 2010

Dear Internets,

Since the last time I wrote you, a lot of shit has gone down. I know, I should keep you updated.  But I don’t. Because like it or not, internets, I’m sort of a public figure. I’m kinda famous in Portland. And people seem to know me (or remember me) in San Francisco too. Which makes me feel kinda responsible for telling you the whole truth. And when I don’t tell you about my feelings it’s because I’m waiting until I know how I feel about them.Which sounds kind of lame. But you know what? Feelings are complicated, and outside of not wanting to jinx the nice ones, I also don’t want to burden you with too many of the complicated ones until I can give you the complete picture. In the short run, I may hate that bad sexual decision I made in San Francisco. I may be incredibly angry at my Vagina for leading me astray. Or my 3 girlfriends, for making-out in front of me, and leaving me sexually frustrated so that I ran up to the nearest, hottest single guy and propositioned him. Spending the night with him was the worst sexual decision this year. And I’ve spent at least 30 hours regretting our sexual contact. Which is 28 more hours than we spent in bed. But, larger picture, after a month of context and thinking about it, I realize that I love the  6 best-selling cards out of that bad sexual decision. So, while I still hate the fact that that cock was in my Vagina, I’m glad that I wrote:

Dear_______________

You are a great lay and a bad person. I hope you get hit by a car and someone you love has to unplug you.

Sincerely,

____________________

See? Aren’t you glad I waited to tell you the whole story until I had a happy ending?

So, this is what’s going down. I have been thinking that this might be my last year in Portland. So, of course, hot boys have been hitting on me( my most major complaint about this town) and rad girls have been befriending me. And generally, Portland has been delivering on all of the shit that I was complaining that it didn’t offer in a last minute attempt to woo me here forever.

The Glorious and Awesome Claire

And, as you know, I love California. And I have loved California a lot this year. I’ve spent at least two months there this year, going back for Holidays (passover) and birthdays, and graduations, and general celebrations, because this is the year that Everything Happens. So, my love affair with California has intensified, and since I thought maybe I’d break up with Portland this year, it makes sense that my back-up city (and several of my back-up booty-calls) should start crooning in my ear. But two weeks ago, I went back for a graduation. Claire, my favorite room-mate (and non-sexual life-partner) was graduating from Berkeley. Which reminds me, Claire, if you’re reading this, I found some chips in the living room. The bag was mostly empty, and hidden a corner. You hadn’t spilled beer on them, but I thought they were abandoned in a drunken way. So I stole them, and am devouring them now. If you were saving them for later, I totally owe you a partially eaten bag of Dirty All Natural Potato Chips.

This is Chester. He is gay. And he likes to rape Tigger, whenever he feels feelings. It's pretty fucking hilarious.

So, Claire was graduating from Berkeley. Which is amazing and awesome, right? So I found two, very nice homeless girls to stay in the apartment, and Claire and I booked it to The South Bay. From whence we came. The homeless girls took great care of my very gay, very adorable cats. And Claire did a brilliant job of graduating. Unfortunately, everything else about the trip sucked. Every day I got a sucky phone call, from a Californian with Bad News. And every day, I longed for the comfort of The Art Shack, where I make Snarky Cards, watch my cats rape each other and make hilarious comments while Murder She Wrote or Law and Order SVU reign supreme.

So, while Portland and I might be on the rocks, I’m feeling even worse about California than I ever have. So, I may still think about leaving the Northwest, but I think my only option is going more North West, like Seattle or maybe Canadia (where the stars are more awesome, and the television is more adorable).

So now I’ve been back for a week and a half. And after I crawled out of the fetal position, and realized that I’m in a safe place, where my life rocks, and Californians can call me here, but I still have cat rape and Murder she Wrote to comfort me, regardless of their bad news, I also realized that I have built a beautiful life in Portlandia.

Yes, I may not have a “boyfriend” or any “prospects” or any regular “booty calls” but I drink for free. And most of the people I meet have a story about how Snarky Cards have made their lives better. And while Portland boys don’t put out, they do like to ogle me and they give pretty good motorboats. And I know where to go to get great food on the cheap, and tonight I got let into two of my favorite bars after closing time, to share drinks with cute boys who flirt (with no intention of putting out, or even making out, fucking cunt-teases) and sexy bartenders who pour hard.

This week, while I was selling, I got no less than twelve motor-boats, and I got to squeeze a lot of man-ass (very awesome man-ass by the way) while I was selling. And when I get Bad News Phone Calls, they’re never from Portlandia.

So, PDX, thank you for being the awesome boyfriend I keep coming back to, because my ex-boyfriend (I’m talking to you California) totally used to hit me. And while I know I don’t wanna get hit anymore, I’m not sure if I deserve a fully-functional penis, so I stay with you. Even though you don’t put out so much, you give good cuddle, and when I want to cry, you hold me really nice. I love the fact that I feel safe with you, and I know that even though you don’t sex me up the way I’d like you to, Portlandia, you totally support me as I work through my feelings, and you think my boobs are awesome in an abstract way. Which is almost as good as regular sex and worship. And the food you make me while I’m feeling down, makes up for the fact that my vibrator runs out of batteries almost every week.

That’s the update, internets. I’ll have more better news in a few days. Sorry it took me so long, and it’s not as happy as I’d like it to be. I’m suffering from a little geographical dysmorphia. This is as coherent as the story gets. My next post will be about my fucked up family. Which is way more entertaining than my pathetic and annoying longing-to-be-where-I’m-not

Love,

Alisa

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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

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Crafty Wonderland!

Saturday, October 10th, 2009

Idea!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.

For the last two days, I’ve been selling Snarky Cards in Seattle’s bars. And it’s been really awesome!

But more about that later, right now I wanna tell you about tomorrow. I’m catching a train back to Portland in a few hours, and I’ll be up all night, to make some blank cards for tomorrow’s Crafty Wonderland! At the Doug-fir!

crafty wonderland

Sunday, October 11th, from 11am-4pm at the Doug Fir Lounge, 830 E. Burnside

I’ll be there, with Bob -my Smith Carona typewriter not be racist or anything, it’s just everyone always wants to know what kind of typewriter he is, so I feel like I should just say it straight out – and blank cards, and my witt, to bring you custom cards for your fucked up personal relationships. I’ll help you break-up, make-up, comfort somone in their time of bad sexual experience, or tell your child that you wish they were a different person. Ok, just kidding. I would never help a parent express disappointment. That would be mean. But the other stuff I’ll do!

So, if you’re in Portland tomorrow, come to the Doug Fir! And get your awesome on!

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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.

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The Paintings Are Here!

Tuesday, September 8th, 2009

boobs

As some of you already 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.

$30 at Rock 'n' Rose!

$30 at Rock 'n' Rose!

Some of you may remember that I promised you Snarky Card Paintings. And I delivered. You can now purchase these lovely  paintings at for $30 each at Rock ‘n’ Rose! It’s an awesome store at 616 E Burnside, in  Portland, Oregon. They specialize in Vintage Clothes, but they also have kick-ass jewelry, belt buckles (A Pac-Man belt buckle! Seriously.), and new clothes by local designers. Rock ‘n’ Rose kicks ass, and they have been kind enough to carry my First! Ever! Snarky Paintings in their store.

The painful Vagina! $30 at Rock'n'Rose!

The painful Vagina! $30 at Rock'n'Rose!

If you don’t live in Portland, and you’d like some of these delightful paintings, you can still buy them. Feel free to call or email Rock ‘n’ Rose to ask them about shipping!

As you can see, I took a few of my most popular cards, and put them on Canvass. I hope you are pleased. They look ok, right?

Wouldn't this make you feel better, if you saw it on your wall everyday? Only $30

Wouldn't this make you feel better, if you saw it on your wall everyday? Only $30

The thing is; paintings are different. They’re bigger! And they’re art, so they’re permanant, so I made a Snarky Painting that’s never been a card: The A-hole Mirror. I get that this shit will go on your wall, and I wanted you to have something nice to say to yourself over and over again.

huge-bitch

It's nice right? I can live with being a Huge Bitch if I'm loved.

I really liked making these paintings.

And I’d really like to sell them, so I can justify making more. So, whether it’s a birthday, an anniversary, or just a treat for yourself; you need a Snarky Painting, and you can’t figure out how you lived your life without one for this long!

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Free Booze + Sexy Typewriter

Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009

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.

Aren't we adorable? Come check out these hot girls tomorrow night @ Radish Underground!

Aren't we adorable? Come check out these hot girls tomorrow night @ Radish Underground!

Last month I did First Thursday with the girls from Radish Underground, and it totally fucking rocked! The booze was yummy (and free), the snacks were upscale and everyone who stopped by was clever and attractive. It was the ideal night, and I make a lot of good custom Snark. Also: I found out that Gina’s new husband is so fucking good at making Snarky Cards! He has the rhythm down pat. And also: He loves television as much as I do. It was like meeting myself, if I had a penis.

I stopped by the store a few days later to talk about how awesome we are. “I can’t believe I found the male version of me embedded in your Vagina!” I exclaimed. “Yeah.” Gina agreed. “He’s really excited about being your apprentice too.” She helped a customer while Celeste and I congratulated ourselves on our aweseomeness some more. “Do you think that Gina would let me play with her husband?” I asked nervously. Some girls get weird about that. Celeste snickered. “No, I get to play with him all the time!” It was rad, and a little strange. I’m sure you all have heard about my raging labido, and I do like Gina’s husband a lot. But he’s so much like me, I couldn’t make a crush happen. I mean, I already know I like myself. I don’t have to make a big deal about it, you know?

typingSo, we’ve decided to team up again, for your pleasure and ours. Tomorrow night, from 5-9, at Radish Underground: 414 SW 10th Ave, Portland, OR.

Come get your Snark on, stare at my cleavage, drink some free booze, meet my typewriter, Bob, look at some hot jewelry and sexy new clothes, and bask in the duality of me and me + penis!

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Welcome Genie’s Cafe!

Monday, July 20th, 2009
genies

Doesn't the food look delicious? I love how there's coffee and a Bloody Mary in front of the eggs.

Snarky Cards are now available in Genie’s Cafe! Which, if you don’t know, is a delicious breakfast/lunch cafe on Division, in SE Portland. It’s the best place to drink before noon in town! And now, while you’re revving your alcoholic engines, feeding your hang-over or even just having Saturday Morning Breakfast with your family , you can enjoy Snarky Delights!

I know that sounds insane, why would anyone get up, before noon on a Saturday? And for family? I totally don’t get it, but I saw people do it last week, so I know it happens. And if you are someone who likes that sort of thing, well, then I will pretend to not judge you.

soul-suckingAs a celebration of all things awesome, I give you the newest Snarky Card: Soul-Sucking! I know the economy still sucks, more than we’d like it to. So, I’m going to slip you some more The Economy Sucks Cards this week! It’s like, a whole series! I hope you like it.

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Motor-boating and Make-Out

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009

If I sound a little retarded, it’s because I’m tired. I’ve been painting my ass off, instead of sleeping, trying to get everything all ready so that I can be on my game tomorrow.  I’ll be there, next to St. Christopher, and we will offer you delightful and exciting art. I’ll have new Snarky Cards, Old Snarky Cards, Blank Snarky Cards, my typewriter (Bob) and I’ve started painting my cards on very large canvasses, which I will also have for sale.

love-loss_thumb

I always want to jump inside St. Christophers paintings and live there.

“Have you made out with anyone lately?” St. Christopher asked me today, when I called to finalize our Last Thursday plans. “No. But it might be time to get a little make-out on,” I said, trying to remember who the last person I made-out with was.

Last Saturday night some girlfriends and I formed a roving girl-gang, and sometime around last-call, they started ordering boys to motorboat me. After they had all motor-boated me, they wanted someone to motor-boat each one of them. Which of course, led to a straight-girl-on-girl make-out scene. However, since I don’t make-out with girls anymore, I didn’t get much action.

It's been a while since I posted a boob-a-licious photo, I thought I'd give you some context for the motor-boat story.

It's been a while since I posted a boob-a-licious photo, I thought I'd give you some context for the motor-boat story.

After the first 4 times they made this cute boy motor-boat me, they started getting specific. “Now lick your lips first.” Candace ordered, watching the boy carefully and nodding as he did it. It was a little like doing live porn. I kept saying the phrase “Group-forced mating.” And then laughing butchly (because Betsy The Great told me recently that my laugh is “too butch for me to keep my hair so short.” I was taken aback “Is that why all the straight cute guys think I’m a lesbian?” I asked. She nodded. I laughed so hard I fell over. “See,” she pointed at me, nodding. “That’s what I’m talking about.”) as Cute-Boy-Travis dove again into my 6 inches of cleavage, trying to appease Candace with his technique.

And when I finally turned to him and asked if he wanted to make-out, he said “Sure!” and he closed his eyes, and stuck his tongue out, and started wiggling it around while slowly moving his face towards mine. He kept missing my face. I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t count as action. But I’m also pretty sure I’ll be getting some this weekend maybe. Later, as they dropped me off, The Cool Girls (we’re working on a better name) agreed to share Cute Boy Travis, if he comes to our party this weekend.

big-cockBut my recent post about Ian Tracey Sleep Orgasms leads me to believe that I’ll probably need to get action sooner than that. Sometimes a girl needs some contact, ya know? It doesn’t bother the Vagina Spiders any if I throw some cute boy up against a wall for a few minutes. Maybe I can’t wait until Saturday, and tomorrow, I’ll have all day in the sun to get stoned and flirt with cute boys and figure out who my next make-out is gonna be. This card is for all of you fuckers who have a built in system for getting laid (you know, a partner). I made it for those of you lucky enough to find a big cock attached to a man you can stand. I hope you like!

If you want more, find me and St. Christopher down at Last Thursday tomorrow. We’ll be as near to The Mash-Tun as I can get us. You’ll be able to find us easy, just listen for the sounds of a really butch laugh accompanied by a typewriter. And look for paintings that look like Heaven, if God busted open a 64 set of crayola all over that bitch.

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Salem: The No Horse Town Of My Weekend

Sunday, April 5th, 2009

Last weekend I went to Salem. I was tired of seeing the same old thing, in this gorgeous one horse town. And I was homesick. Salem, is not home. I will be going back to San Francisco for Passover, (in a week) but I thought a few days in a no-horse town, with Alicia H might help me stave off the homesickness that threatens to overwhelm me.

Alicia H and I graduated from Santa Clara High in 1997. And we hadn’t talked to each other since that graduation day, until our reunion last year. After the reunion, she and Anna Shamble and Prasanth came to Portland and we all ate and drank and had a slumber party.

And it was so funny and so sweet. At some point, I was in my bed, with Anna, giggling about Alicia and Prasanth giggling on my futon in the living room and I said “If you had told me ten years ago that I would have a slumber party with you guys, I would said you were crazy.” It’s not that we didn’t get along back in the day, we did. We just weren’t particularly friends.

All of the peices of my life were at odds with each other back then, none of them based on school or acheiving anything in particular. I was a Church Youth Group Leader, and my boyfriends were all in their twenties, they’d dropped out of high school to make 60K a year at Apple. I was the secretary of the Christian Club and I passed out condoms to my friends in the halls. I would play broom hockey with a Jewish Youth Group one night, and spend the next night drinking on the beach with my raver-friends. I belonged a little everywhere, and nowhere. I knew everyone’s secrets, but nobody knew mine.

At Santa Clara High in the mid-90′s, the Honors Kids ruled the school. So they were popular, and I was… well, I was well-liked, but I didn’t have time for high school kids. The Honors Kids were trying to get into Harvard, and didn’t start drinking until we were Seniors.

We had a good time when we were together, but we regarded each other as another species. I remember waking up in the middle of the afternoon, in Cupertino (2 cities away from mine) and freaking out. I roused the boy (whose name I didn’t know, even then, I think he’d picked me up at the Hallmark store I worked at the night before) sleeping next to me and said “I’ve got to get to school to make sure I’m going to graduate!” He wouldn’t wake up, and I had to walk back to school all by myself. I got to school, and my teachers looked at me puzzled. “Yeah, you’re going to graduate.” And in the moment of releif, I was suddenly conscious of my surroundings more than ever. I looked at my peers like they were real, for a minute. And I thought, “Oh, fuck, was I supposed to make friends with these people?”

Alicia and I were allies, when we were thrown together, we gravitated towards each other. We had a common point of interest. We hated the same people. Also: she went out with hot guys that I lusted after (Bellarmine Boys who were probably gay, and oh-so-gorgeous). And ten years later, she doesn’t mind me saying “I wanted your boyfriends.” But despite all of the people we hate in common, this was the first time we’ve spent so much time together.

See how fucking sentimental I am? I made this card. And I thought about giving it to Alicia. It's like having marshmellow parts inside of me. Creepy, right?

See how fucking sentimental I am? I made this card. And I thought about giving it to Alicia. It's like having marshmellow parts inside of me. Creepy, right?

People think that I’m a Snarky Bitch, because of my cards. And to some extent, that’s true. I do hate feelings. And I wish I could cut through other people’s shit and just deal with the truth of what they want and what they mean. But I am a sentimental mother-fucker at heart. And there is something so sweet about being friends with the people who knew me before I had the sense to front. These people were not my close friends, but they were kind to me, before I was whole, when I was still becoming myself. And it’s nice to see them again, and to watch them remember me. It means so much to me that they were kind to my younger, more vulnerable self.

This lovely lady owns the store and models the clothes. Hot, right?

This lovely lady owns the store and models the clothes. Hot, right?

So, we re-united. And it was awesome. Alicia’s boyfriend is nice, and funny, and we told each other stories about what happened to us back then, and what’s happened to us since. We had a girls day, full of shopping and gossip. A lot of this shopping took place at Cherry Redd. The sexiest store in Salem. The guy who owns the store is hot and funny, and good at helping girls find delicious things to wear. His wife does all of the modeling for their business cards, and clothes. She’s fucking hot, right?

And they took me to a few honky-tonk bars, where people went crazy over my Snarky Cards. I was a hit. I love Salem, and it loves me back!

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Room-mates

Thursday, March 26th, 2009

In my long and interesting life, I have had 41 room-mates. I’ve liked about 5 of them. Most of them I don’t talk to anymore. Most of them were psychos.

Some Room-mates suck more than others! Sometimes they tie you up, steal your awesome hair, and then kill your boyfriend with your sexiest shoes. So next time you bitch about dirty dishes and extensive S&M scendarios in the living room; pay attention to the fact that you're not hand-cuffed up by a maniac, who is planning on sucking your boyfriend's dick later tonight.

Some Room-mates suck more than others! Sometimes they tie you up, steal your awesome hair, and then kill your boyfriend with your sexiest shoes. So next time you bitch about dirty dishes and extensive S&M scendarios in the living room; pay attention to the fact that you're not hand-cuffed to a bath-tub by a maniac, who is planning on sucking your boyfriend's dick later.

You know room-mates: they keep you up at night with their fucking. They bring their lame friends over. They don’t clean up after themselves. They judge your life choices, they tell you about the retarded life choices that they’ve made and expect you to keep quiet, while every part of you is screaming “Why the fuck did you do that?”

Another bad room-mate from the conception of Reality TV: Puck! From The Real World! Back when the people were more real! Puck made fun of Pedro, the world's most adorable AIDS patient, was a nazi and made-out with hot girls and then blabbed about it to their friends. What a dick.

Another bad room-mate from Back In The Day: Puck! From The Real World! Back when people were more real! Puck made fun of Pedro, the world's most adorable AIDS patient, was a nazi and made-out with hot girls and then blabbed about it to their friends. What a dick.

Sometimes they fall in love with you, and make your life awkward. They leave you terrible notes and expect that those notes will effectively make you do what they want. They steal your food, or they never have food worth stealing. They’re annoying, or lame and totally fucking necessary. Because you can’t pay the rent by yourself.

And really, honestly, if you lived by yourself, you would live in filth; never making an attempt to vaccum or clean the bathroom. You would have less shit (because they bring haf the furniture or the entertainment system) and you would never have sex in your house because it’s so disgusting, you’re sure that it would ruin your chances.

My room-mate right now is great. Yes, she does chain-smoke in her room, which kinda bugs me. But she doesn’t mind if I stay up painting until 7am with the TV blasting. And she was really, really nice to me when I broke my leg. She bought me a Valentines Day present. She cleans the kitchen a lot. And she deosn’t leave me notes. Ever.

I'd like to dedicate this card to Farah, who was a bitch. And ugly. And who made my life hard.

I'd like to dedicate this card to Farah: my worst room-mate ever. She made my life hard. And she was ugly. And she bought beige furniture, to replace my red, sexy furniture. And also, she was a bitch.

But I have had shitty room-mates in the past. There was Kris, who was great, until his girlfriend Farah moved in. She hated me. And she left me passive agressive notes. Whereas, before she moved in, Kris and I would just tell each other stuff and it would be no big deal. There was Allie, who left her old mattress in our backyard for six months, until it had rotted, and started pulling the fence it was leaning on apart.

There was Randi, who had never cleaned anything, in her life. She also couldn’t wake up in the morning. She claimed it was some sort of disease. So every morning, her Mom called her to wake her up. If it didn’t work, her Mom would come over to our apartment and wake her up. Something I had no inkling of, until I woke up at 8am, on the living room couch, to a middle-aged stranger tiptoeing into our apartment. So I emptied the rank cat boxes, and tried to vaccum years worth of dust and crap up, in order to make our tiny Maxi Pad more liveable, but really, it was impossible.

And there was Bob, whose friends came over at all hours of the night. Most of them came to our apartment as a detour after they had gotten out of prison. His skanky-ass-crack-whore girlfriend stole all of my jewelry and he left two huge boxes of garbage in his room when I kicked him out.
There were The Lesbians who would have knock-down drag out fights in the living room. And leave me stupid notes about how I need to clean up after myself when I spill coffee on the counter in the morning. They would freak out if my cat ate their cats food, (um, hello? Who can control that kind of shit?) They would go into my room and move things around. But mostly, the problem with The Lesbians was that one of The Lesbians didn’t like me talking to her girlfriend, AKA my other room-mate. I started loaning her girlfriend books, but we had to keep it a secret, because her girlfriend didn’t like her to read. Seriously.

Condoms: Not just a "good idea" anymore! They help keep you barren and disease-free while still allowing you to engage in hot-sex with strangers!

Condoms Rock! They help keep you barren and disease-free while still allowing you to engage in hot-sex with strangers!

Krista had skanky-bar sex with strangers. Unprotected Skanky-bar sex with strangers. Which grossed me out to the millionth degree. I mean, it’s fucking 2009, condoms are not “a good idea”. They’ll keep sex from killing you painfully. They’re a necesary part of having sex with strangers. She got upset because I “judged her”. Which annoyed me too. If you don’t want me to judge you, don’t tell me shit. If you don’t like being judged, don’t spend so much time with me. But don’t expect me to listen to your stupid-ass stories, and nod my head and make sympathetic noises. It’s cool that you like to sleep with creeps. But please don’t expect me to think that sleeping with them is a great idea, and especially don’t whine to me that you might have given your co-workers boyfriend Chlamydia. There are condoms in our kitchen, bathroom, living room, and dining area. You can’t do anything in the house without having to move a condom. Don’t fucking tell me that you didn’t use one.

I made this card as revenge for all the creepy notes I've ever gotten. I hope you fucking note-writers are sorry! And I hope you note-receivers are comforted.

I made this card as revenge for all the creepy notes I've ever gotten. I hope you fucking note-writers are sorry! And I hope you note-receivers are comforted.

And then there was Cara, who persuaded me to move to Portland, to live in the shack in the back of her house. We had been best friends for five years. We had been through thick and thin. It was going to be fun! But Cara had just had a baby. And I guess I didn’t like her baby enough, because she wouldn’t let me baby-sit, she didn’t trust me alone with the baby. And that evolved into me just not being welcome. In her kitchen. Which I paid rent for half of. She started shooting me cold looks when I came into the kitchen to eat. So I felt bad every time I ate. Or everytime I thought about eating. It was like living with my mother except without the fun excorcisms!

And she must have made some sort of anouncement, towards the end of my living there, because after a while, she wouldn’t talk to me, and neither would her boyfriend, her brother, her sisters, or her friends, when they came over. It was a shunning. It was effective. It made me want to move. But it was creepy and scary and weird. I totally get why the Amish use it as a threat now. Because even when you dislike the people shunning you, it still hurts that you’re not worth looking in the face. She also left me a lot of fucking notes.

So I get it. Room-mates can suck. And I want to honor your room-mate troubles with Snarky Cards. I hope you dig ‘em.

And to any and all of my old room-mates who are reading this, who I just talked shit about: Ha! Ha! You were dicks to me, and I talked shit about you on The Internets. And you can’t do anything about it. Because everything I said is true.

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Posted in New Cards, Notes From Strangers, Place I'll be, Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

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