Advance apologies for the fact that I will almost definitely not finish any books this week. My work schedule has suddenly shifted so that I am now required to wake up at the ass-crack of 7 a.m. for the foreseeable future and my mental state is suffering the consequences: Last night’s attempts to power through the better part of a paperback ended with me snoring into my couch cushions and drooling on my cat.
[Editor’s note: I realize that for other people, most people even, a 7 a.m. wake-up call is completely normal. Guys, you haven’t lived until you’ve worked a 1 p.m. to 9 p.m. schedule.]
But worry not, avid reader: I have a consolation prize*! (*for people in the greater Brooklyn/New York City metropolitan area). This Saturday marks the first-ever Sorry Television Book Swap, a swanky classy sufficiently adult gathering of local readers with a lot of extra books and a penchant for 3 p.m. Bloody Marys.
Here’s how it works:
(non-New Yorkers, you can stop paying attention now, unless you want to experience extreme envy)
At 2:30 p.m. this Saturday, (February 23) gather up as many unwanted books as you can carry, and bring them over to the Pinebox Rock Shop at 12 Grattan St., just off the Morgan L train.
Cost of entry to STBS is $5, moneys that will be donated to Literacy for Incarcerated Teens, a NYC-based nonprofit that distributes books to, obvi, incarcerated teens. Outside of this paltry admission fee (and the price of the aforementioned Bloody Marys), STBS is a fairly low-cost affair. For every book you bring to Book Swap, you’ll get a ticket. For every ticket you have, you can snag a new book (Tickets will also be available for $1 each, for those of you with an admirably manageable addiction to book ownership). As if that weren’t motivation enough, I’ll also be raffling off some prizes (like I bought legit raffle tickets and everything). Good times will be had by all.
Since God hates me for not believing in Him, it’s slated to rain and/or snow this Saturday, but I am putting my faith in hardy New Yorkers to don their galoshes and schlep out to Brooklyn anyway, if only because there’s no better way to spend a crappy winter afternoon than drinking alcohol among friends. I am also willing to beg and/or plead (personalized phone calls available!) for attendance, since my third-greatest fear (after 1) space and 2) waking up 8 months pregnant) is hosting a party to which no one shows up. Especially in this case, since I’d have to drag home all of my own already-read books.
So tell yo friends, and your mom, and your mom’s friends. Throw those old Twilight paperbacks in a garbage bag and come on by.
couldreads 