choose a lorem ipsum adventure
We're a bookstore located in Cambridge, Massachusetts. To raise funds to move our store down the block, we wrote this Choose-Your-Own-AdventureTM style story sprinkled with links to items we're selling—because it seemed like more fun than a telethon. We hope you're mildly entertained and will support our cause. We have 19,000 stories better than this one in our bookstore, come visit to find one.
Let's face it, you're quirky. For starters, you count steps when you walk. That's not so high on the quirky scale, you say? It is when you count using lipsum. Anyone who counts to twenty by reciting "Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua out" is carrying an invisible badge of quirk. You, gentle reader, are quirky.
But you're in luck, because you find yourself living in Cambridge, Massachusetts, aka the People's Republic of Cambridge, aka that other city across the river from Boston, aka land of the quirky. Most of the time you just think of it as home--to your grad school (MIT), to your bike (Betty), to your fifty five boxes of books, to your electric guitar (Betty Too), ten t-shirts (black), two pairs of jeans (black, blue), one turtle (oscar, always lowercase o), and about a hundred pounds of old computer parts you picked up from the side of the road. While you picked up the computers because you thought you'd get them working again, you tell the occasional visitors from your book club that it's your electronic art. At this moment, you're at the midpoint of your morning commute, wandering down Hampshire Street towards your grad school den at MIT. Your iced americano from the 1369 Coffee Shop has had two minutes to start its magic, and slowly your surroundings are coming into focus. This is the part of your day that you start to debate your options for the post-graduation you: should you solve some big important problems in a big important public company, or should you go on tour with your band? More than anything though, you really just wish there was a trash can between the S&S Deli back in Inman and Kendall Square. Is that too much to ask? Ever the optimist, you scan the residential neighborhood for a new public garbage can. Ever the pragmatist, you hope to settle for a neighbor's open garbage can to put your now empty americano cup. Then suddenly, out of no where, you see this sign in the window of what you think used to be a bicycle repair shop: 
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