Bookslut

I grew up with parents who had a library. We're not talking like one bookcase, we're talking at least three bookcases-- LARGE ONES -- confined to a room that was basically dedicated to their ownership of books. When I was little, like ten, I used to love standing on the ledges of the bookshelves (they were built into the walls/super strong) and pulling books that looked interesting and asking my mom if they were appropriate. If they weren't, I'd get to a "sexy part" and ask my mom to skip forward. I was one prude kid.

[Random fact: the first time I got so into a book's story that I kept reading through a "sexy part" was the rape scene in THE THORN BIRDS. I was terrified of the idea of sex for a long time after that.]

When we moved to La Canada Flintridge, where my parents still preside, the library expanded. Not only did it have my mom's books from when she was a teen (we're talking 49 cent romances), but her books from college, and then my books from middle school along with my dad's science shit. An entire room was nothing but books! As this was where the "work computer" was for me and my little brother to do our homework, I spent a lot of time in that room. It was also basically sound proof, so thus the location of many a movie night with my louder friends.

Thus, I took way more books with me to college than was normal, and I took those from college to my first apartment, where I added books, and added more books, and then shipped all three bookcases worth to Brooklyn, where I had another bookshelf built so I had four bookcases, plus a bookcase for DVDs. Seriously. That's all one wall of my old apartment was:


And I love owning books. Lots of books. It's a point of pride. I like being able to say "oh, you want to read that? Well I own it, let me lend it to you." I love having people over and looking through the bookcase and talking about our similar likes or dislikes. I love recommending new books to people, and often to do that I have to peruse what I already own. It's my collection.

So, moving with Nick was wonderful but also hard in that I suddenly had to get rid of a lot of books. Not a ton, Nick, while mocking my book collection, didn't like forbid me or anything from having them. After all, the guy owns a shit ton of records. They're just able to be confined to one spot because they're thin.

But, for basic reality's sake, I had to get rid of some books I didn't read as much as I thought, or didn't really NEED to have around. And I had to get rid of two bookcases. They were shitty ikea ones anyway. So when Nick and I moved in to our pink house, we found that I had still six medium boxes full of books while the two bookcases I HAD brought were brimming.

Thus, I began the search to find a bookcase that could hold DVDs AND books. Thanks to Keagan's tip, I found the great site homedecorators.com (which I guess is part of Home Depot) and found this bookcase:


Pretty, right? Funny-- there's a REASON they don't show the books sitting straight up. Ends up the shelves barely hold them.

How did Nick and I find this out? Well, after going to Home Depot and purchasing a power drill-- my new favorite toy--


Nick and I spent two hours trying to BUILD said bookshelf. This is after we found it propped downstairs in its packaging. As the warning labels all over the beat-up package warned us, the thing was over 70 pounds. Thus, Nick and I had to individually carry up each piece of the bookcase.

I, deciding I was the next Wonder Woman, took a crack at the bookshelf. All was going swimmingly-- Nick had The Simpsons on as background fun -- until I got to the part involving hinges/the bottom cabinet. I could NOT figure them out. Then Nick got involved and did, but it took us an hour of wondering why the pictures were so poorly drawn.

But then we succeeded! And I filled the bookcase (and the below cabinet, double the times in the cabinet) with books and DVDs! And then Nick added his DVDs! Success!

So while now all of my bookcases in the apartment are double-stacked with books, we are box free. Huzzah!

Note: building the home decorators bookcase was a helluva lot easier than building the piece of shit hanging wall unit Target sent us for the kitchen.



In other news, my stitches are out! Now I just have a bandaid on my chin. So I guess I grow beards?


Em

Keep Your Chin Up

My chin.

So sorry for the delay in updates, but on my way to FedEx and Bed Bath & Beyond on Tuesday I tripped and ripped open my chin. It was around four pm and on 21st street outside a valet/parking place. This woman who saw me fall (I tripped on the driveway right in front of her SUV) started screaming when she saw me. I hadn't realized how bad my trip was until I looked down and saw blood pouring out of my chin. She was screaming "you need to go to the hospital! you need stitches!" and the valets looked terrified and had me look in a car side mirror and that's when I saw it. I saw the gaping hole that looked like someone had stuck their finger in a raw hamburger patty that was my chin. And I knew just then that shit, yes, I needed to go to the hospital.

The woman wanted to drive me but I took a cab. I called my friend Alice who works at Sound Lounge as their awesome marketing coordinator and started crying in the cab, blood pouring all over myself and the cab and the bag of Bed Bath & Beyond supplies to return and the purses to mail via FedEx and I was hyperventilating and the cab didn't seem to know where to go with the command "nearest hospital." Alice told me to take it easy and I was just sobbing and blood wouldn't stop gushing and the cab driver gave me his Subway Sandwich napkins but those were soaked through.

The cabbie was so freaked out that he drove onto the sidewalk outside Bellvue Hospital thinking it was an emergency ramp and then the cops were yelling at him and I was still crying and trying to figure out how to pay him and the cops saw me and let him go and I paid and got out of the cab and saw everyone staring at me. I walked as calmly as I could through the remarkably modern and clean hospital entry rooms and into the ER, which was like walking into a movie set because holy shit, those shows have it right. The place was a hell hole of humanity run by caring people trying to do their job but god there are a lot of assholes out there.

So they saw me and this nice lady cop helped me figure out where to go and then I was put in the suture ward which is where they also store the crazies so I was surrounded by people in handcuffs with cops guarding them and I had no phone service so I couldn't text or call Nick or my mom... and finally a doctor saw me and said it was a clean wound, but I'd need two to three stitches. I ended up with three. They gave me tylenol.

I have this memory of lying back in the stretcher and thinking how weird it was because I knew the new doctor who took over, this female doctor, was putting a shot of some sort of anesthesia in my chin. Like she was putting a shot directly into the open flaps of the skin in my face and I didn't care. By then I had had a painful tetanus shot and had my chin ripped open. And then I laid back and watched upside-down as she sutured my chin shut.

Then I left. And I threw out the bag of Bed Bath and Beyond returns and purses because it was covered in my blood and I wanted no memory of what had happened.

Then I went back to work because I felt bad. I guess this means I have a good work ethic?

I blame the move for this. If I hadn't had to mail more shit to my cousins, if I hadn't had to return things to Bed Bath & Beyond, I wouldn't have been carrying such a heavy bag that knocked me over after the original trip onto my knees. But it's my own fault. Shit happens.

As my dad says, keep your chin up!

My chin the next day, post stitches.