The Library is Open

I don’t know about you, but it takes a pretty damn riveting book to lock me in. It’s not like I don’t like to read. After all, reading is what?

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I wrote this before the Guardian interview…don’t @ me.

And although I love to read a bitch on the reg, it’s probably more socially healthy (and mentally) to read a book on the reg.

I actually used to be a library rat back when I had a life. Mostly because I was way too poor to buy cook books and graphic novels. It also isn’t as shameless to borrow Lauren Conrad’s novel series that is totally not based on her real life, rather than shelling out $14.99 on Barnes and Nobel. It was 2010, cut me a friggin’ break.

Now that I’m not broke as a joke (just regular broke) I like to own a few gems, but a good used book store is always preferred (I consistently refuse to buy retail). The boyfriend is also not allowed in one recreationally because there are only so many non-fiction global conflict and obscure Australian cook books one man should own.

Here’s the Fabulous Weirdo Required Reading List. How did I choose these you ask? Would you stop mid description at a dinner party because you realize it’s probably not appropriate conversation? There you go.

Just kidding…kinda.

1. The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule

THIS bitch.  This lucky lucky bitch.  God bless her.  THIS bitch had a dream of being a true crime writer and worked at a suicide prevention hotline to pay the bills.  Thiiiiiiiiis bitch had a station right next to muthafuckin’ Ted Bundy.  The best part is THIS bitch (and in case you’re wondering I use the term with the up most respect. SO MUCH RESPECT.)  is a really good writer and went on to write more true crime books.

This is shit will keep you up at night.  Especially if you have any prior knowledge of what Ted Bundy did.  You see the unfolding of horror from the perspective of person that only knew him as an incredible advocate for people wanting to harm themselves.  But when it came down to it, it was just another opportunity for him to take control over life and death.  The way he would lure victims is exactly why we actively fuck politeness to stay sexy and not get murdered.

2. Transmetropolitan

I first read this series about 10 years ago when my best friend’s boyfriend (now husband) got it for me as a Christmas gift.  I had mentioned I was interested in getting into graphic novels and he said it was a good starter.  Do NOT take that to mean that is a basic little comic book. Spider Jerusalem is a weirdo with the best of us and lives in this future city that isn’t quite distopian, but still seem kinda creep because you could more than likely seeing it coming to life.  It was written in the 1990s and let’s the just say the author was way ahead of his time on gender, sexuality, politics, and society norms.

Spider Jerusalem is a journalist who gives zeeeeerroooooo fucks and works for an editor that literally smokes 5 cigarettes at a time (everyone does…because you can just grow a fresh lung when you need one.  I’d have 3 livers on reserve at any given time personally).

The forward is written by Sir Patrick Stewart himself, and if they ever considered a movie option, he’s be numero uno for the main role.

3. The Etiquette Guide for Nice People Who Sometimes Say Fuck

This isn’t so much an etiquette book as it is a book that hilariously and scientifically explains why humans are increasingly suspect of other humans. Spoiler alert: you interact with too many of them. This isn’t a further excuse to avoid people. It’s a vote for quality over quantity and that means you Instagram. However, in our day to day life we gotta interact with a ton of strangers. Grocery stores, bars, soul sucking corporate offices, the gym, the office break room when the scary cool people are all having lunch and they stare at you because like who even is she? Does she work here? ALL filled with the unwashed masses that frankly our brains are not evolutionarily equipped to deal with. This book kinda helps you navigate that; and mostly helps you understand your cave person brain.

4. The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck by Mark Manson

Not a self help book. More of a get over your self book. This book…omg I love it. I would say bottom line, the lesson at the end of the day is sit down bitch, be humble.

It sucks to take responsibility for your own life because then you have no one to blame when it all goes wrong. But learning to adapt to the shit life throws at you and not being stuck to an identity or a preconceived notion of how life is “supposed” to go, really does wonders for your sanity.

I’d say Mark’s value system is if Tyler Durden got his shit together and stopped feeling sorry for himself.  Rising above the shitty first world fuckery instead of letting it eat away at him.  Project Mayhem could have been a dope indie production company if the Narrator had a page turner like this.

5. Mind Hunter by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker

You watched the Netflix series.  You already knew about the profiled killers from My Favorite Murder, Last Podcast On the Left, and Generation Why.  You gotta read the book.  Us murderinos are coming out of the wood work and others are following suit.  For once, I ain’t mad about the fact that people who never would have been interested in something “edgy” are jumping on the trend like a 16 year old into an over sized Metallica tee.

These guys are the literal founding fathers of what excites the true crime fandom.  They wanted to find out why the actual FUCK?!  Profiling criminals changed the way law enforcement finds killers.  This is an especially good pick if you need to unplug and take a break from endless podcasts and Law and Order binges.  DUN DUN.  

6. YOU Are A Badass by Jen Sincero

Contrary to this post, I’m not a fan of self help books.  Actually, reading so many so close together kind of gave me a mind fuck.  Unlike run of the mill “how to get people to like you by recreating your personality” this and the two others on this list will help you get to know your self, and possibly actually like your self by sifting through all the bullshit.

Jen says right off the bat (paraphrasing), it’s not your fault that you’re fucked up, but it is your fault for staying fucked up.  Then she goes into explaining how your brain works over your life development.  The thing is with this book is be ready to be a little overwhelmed.  More than a few times I was like “Staaahhhhppp!! Too real! No thanks!”.  She won’t leave you hanging though.  You’ll def feel more bad ass more than you already do by the end of it.

“Adulting”

Watching “Steven Universe” and “Vanderpump Rules” on my Ikea couch that easily turns into a double bed,  I “accidentally” let the neighbor’s cat in the house again and she’s not mad about the head scratches.  Got my favorite robe on, fuzzy socks on my feet, and a glass of rose in my hand.  My laptop is open to the various forms I have to fill out, print off, mail, and punch my bank info into, so I can get my nursing license transferred to California  in time for the move.  It’s a fucking drag, but at least I’m comfy.

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This is a pretty dream adult life so far.  I get to get my busy shit done while I get a little toasted with some TV on the side, then I’ll go to bed listening to a podcast where someone tells me a story.  I could be a little more organized, sure, but my bills get paid and I’m not living off mac’n’cheese and Oreos (not for lack of trying).  I honestly don’t get where this “adulting” accomplishment bullshit came from.  When did doing laundry and paying bills and grocery shopping suddenly became more anxiety producing than going to an actual job.  When I hear the word “adulting” I hear “mildly annoying life stuff getting blown out of proportion”.

I’ll say it myself, I can get a little internally misanthropic about my Millennial status.  There are pros and cons of every generation and I tend to be critical.   Whatever.  However, for some reason my generation has taken to doing life stuff, (keeping a clean house and answering e-mails) like self inflicted chore torture that deserves a prize at the end.  Have the fucking glass of wine whether you mopped your damn kitchen or not.  I don’t need to see your ripped off Instagram meme about it.  I love being melodramatic but this is BORING.

Procrastination in my middle name, folding laundry sucks, I can’t hear my music when my vacuum’s running, and I wish I could eat Chinese food every night.  But when I look up and my bills are late, I can’t find my favorite top, my house is fucked and I’m bloated until the next election, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.  And that is worse than stubbing your toe and knowing that you are literally emotionally enraged with a chair leg.

I get it.  We’re a generation of new adults entering a workforce with seemingly useless degrees and debt up to our ears at the same age our parents were birthing us and buying houses.  Cool.  Who gives a fuck.  My parents got married at 23 and bought my childhood home at 26.  Think about the guy you were dating at 23…husband material or no? And as far as buying a house, do you live in a place where you want to be locked in like that?  News flash:  Our parents had no idea what they were doing either.  No one does.  Just because we’re not hitting the same giant “milestones” doesn’t mean we’re not qualified to complete a mundane “to-do” list.  It doesn’t make us less “adult”.

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And since the fuck when did we hold to convention anyway?  We’re the generation that made it possible for people to out make the rest of us by being really, really, really, ridiculously good looking (and using FaceTune) on Instagram.

I like having a clean house, I like my closet organized, and I like being able to cook a dinner from what’s in my fridge. I like watching “Steven Universe” and seeing what shimmery nail polish looks like with a matte top coat.  Sometimes I won’t put on pants all day, but there won’t be any dishes in my sink.  And even if there are, I’m having some ice cream and champagne anyway.

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Stay fabulous.  Stay weird.