no chair, pube chair, fart chair, new chair

The seating situation in my apartment has become dire. It all started a little over a year ago when Lauren and I moved from Avenue B westward to Waverly Place. Our furniture situation on Avenue B wasn't much better than it is at present: the Ikea couch from Lauren's home in Maryland had caved in on itself numerous times, to the chagrin of many seated guests. We decided to bid adieu to it when we moved to the west side, with big dreams of a brand new futon sparkling in our minds.

However, things didn't go exactly as planned, but then again, they never really do.

The futon we had our hearts set on was out of stock, but we were desperate. We settled on the best they had, which turned out to be extremely uncomfortable, with no lower back support. That was our only seat other than my old red dish chair from college, which made unfortunate farting sounds every time someone moved while sitting in it. Fantastic.

Then, as luck would have it, Lauren and I found a great chair near the garbage area. It looked to be in excellent condition, though it had no seat cushion or cover. We dragged it up to our apartment, all the while discussing how we'd buy a cover for it and have a piece of foam cut to fit it. Yes, it was going to be great! Once placed in our living room, we saw the hair. Black, wiry, pubic. It henceforth became known as the pube chair. And worse yet, we never got around to covering it or getting a cushion cut for it. Weeks passed, and one day, while playing a particularly competitive game of Scrabble, Lauren leaned forward to make her move, and SNAP! The front left leg broke. A few days later, another friend took the 3 other legs off, and to this day it sits legless on the floor in the corner. Classy? We think so.

A few weeks ago, Lauren's mom took pity on us and offered to buy us a new chair. Finally, we thought, a comfortable piece of furniture! We browsed online, found the chair of our dreams, and ordered it. It was to be delivered to Kid O, and all went as planned until the delivery guy wheeled in the giant box. There I saw a problem: a large hole, out of which fell half of a splintered chair leg.

It has since become clear that we are not meant to have comfortable seating in our apartment. Only beds. Further proof: two nights ago, I sat on a folding kitchen chair and it all but bent and crumbled beneath me.

Currently, we're down to two cheap folding chairs, one legless pube chair, and one uncomfortable futon. During the time when we had ordered the new chair, I threw out the fart chair, and I'm pretty sure I saw one of the guys who sells books and records off of card tables on 6th Avenue sleeping in it the other day. So good for him.

Below is a photo from our New Year's party. A true testament to our lack of seating, these poor ladies had to sit...er lie, on the floor. This had more to do with the seating, and less to do with the 9 bottles of cheap champagne consumed.



winner: 6th Avenue book/record merchant
loser: our lower backs