ikea should come with mandatory counseling sessions...
...before and after...
i mean, you get there and say, 'i need a dresser. my measurements show two feet wide, who cares how high, and one-and-a-half feet deep.' after you walk in, you realize there are thousands upon thousands of dressers. then you see the things in the office, home, and kitchen sections that *could* be dressers (while you think about how cool you are for thinking outside the box when you bring home a mondo spice rack for your socks and unmentionables. about when you wonder how the t-shirts and pants will be stored...) and then you say, 'well, two feet would be ideal, but would three feet REALLY be a problem?'
and the people. they're everywhere. you cannot escape them. you cannot escape them because they bump/sneeze/yell-at/step-on you. or their spawn do.
and what, exactly, is up with the little arrows on the floor? see, i've never taken authority all that well. (surprise, surprise.) yes, the furniture is damn near free, but don't DARE tell me how to navigate the store. if i want to go from kitchen to bedding, i will. if i want to go from living room to office, don't make eye contact. and if i want to do the tour backwards, on a european-cola high, plucking swedish fish out of my teeth with the handy-dandy complementary golf pencil, just step down, ingemar.
when in hicksville, do as the hicks do...
when i picked-up mancat's what-the-hell-IS-that-thing-exactly thing at the pick-up, alphamaleguy was all, 'hey, have a good night' (which was probably backhanded, as the thing came out in three big, heavy, separate boxes.) i looked at him point-blank and said, 'get me the hell out of here, sven, just get me the hell out of here.' 'i hear you, bro, i really do.'
i mean, you get there and say, 'i need a dresser. my measurements show two feet wide, who cares how high, and one-and-a-half feet deep.' after you walk in, you realize there are thousands upon thousands of dressers. then you see the things in the office, home, and kitchen sections that *could* be dressers (while you think about how cool you are for thinking outside the box when you bring home a mondo spice rack for your socks and unmentionables. about when you wonder how the t-shirts and pants will be stored...) and then you say, 'well, two feet would be ideal, but would three feet REALLY be a problem?'
and the people. they're everywhere. you cannot escape them. you cannot escape them because they bump/sneeze/yell-at/step-on you. or their spawn do.
and what, exactly, is up with the little arrows on the floor? see, i've never taken authority all that well. (surprise, surprise.) yes, the furniture is damn near free, but don't DARE tell me how to navigate the store. if i want to go from kitchen to bedding, i will. if i want to go from living room to office, don't make eye contact. and if i want to do the tour backwards, on a european-cola high, plucking swedish fish out of my teeth with the handy-dandy complementary golf pencil, just step down, ingemar.
when in hicksville, do as the hicks do...
when i picked-up mancat's what-the-hell-IS-that-thing-exactly thing at the pick-up, alphamaleguy was all, 'hey, have a good night' (which was probably backhanded, as the thing came out in three big, heavy, separate boxes.) i looked at him point-blank and said, 'get me the hell out of here, sven, just get me the hell out of here.' 'i hear you, bro, i really do.'
posted by tom at 3:00 PM
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