I went to IKEA tonight to shop for a dresser and a bookcase. It took me the better part of three hours to look at every single dresser and bookcase they stocked and come to the realization that I'M EMPLOYED!
I am not going to pay money to build my own fucking furniture. What the fuck is this? The New Yankee Workshop? I don't have a full beard. I don't have a closet full of long-sleeved flannel workshirts. And I certainly don't have an impenetrable New England accent that's rendered even more indecipherable by the constant screeching OF A FUCKING TABLE SAW UNDERNEATH A GODDAMN BOOM MIC! I want my furniture fully assembled, delivered at my leisure, and placed exactly where I want it by a team of gloved men who offer me something cold to drink while I sit back and watch them toil.
As I came to that conclusion over the course of three hours, my concentration understandably waned. Taking periodic breaks from looking at poorly constructed Swedish bedroom furniture, I was able to look around at the other shoppers. This is what I discovered:
1. lesbian couples love IKEA and shop like men. They know what they want generally but, like obscenity or gay men in a 24 Hour Fitness locker room, they won't know specifically until they see it. Once they find what they're looking for they check the price, double-check with each other that this is for sure what they want, and then head down to the "self-service bins" to pick-up their unassembled selection. Watching it happen at least a half dozen times last night in practically the same fashion each time was both shocking and refreshing
2. fat girls should not be friends with other fat girls because all they do is tell each other they look cute in clothes that are clearly too small for them. That is just patently offensive to those who have just eaten and those who lack the intestinal fortitude to handle the sight of cellulite and cottage cheese spilling forth from those places inexorably squeezed outward by the physics of ill-fitting belly shirts and low-rise Frankie B jeans.
3. when married men come to IKEA with their wives they shop like recently-neutered puppies. The wife walks ahead knowingly with a list and the credit cards, while the husband follows behind obediently feeling like he's done something wrong to deserve what he's going through even though he knows somewhere inside his bewildered mind that it's all for the best.
4. while I recognize that pink is in as the color of kitschy home furnishings this year, women between the ages of 16 and 33 need to realize that decking your apartment out in pink will not change the fact that YOU'RE STILL ALONE BECAUSE YOU'RE UGLY AND FAT!
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is one to grow on...
Posted by nils at 9:19 PM