Night of the Living Swedes

I have just gotten through a harrowing ordeal. My psychiatrist says that telling the story may help, so here it goes: My dad has decided to make a little home office in one of the rooms of our house, and he wants to use the desk in my room. But my ancient computer (HAL) sits on it, so we couldn't move it. And when you're in need of home furnishing, you know where to go...



IKEA. The most evil place on Earth. The place that destroys your soul with the heat of a thousand suns. The hellish nightmare where dreams go to die. The abomination where you can buy all your affordable Swedish crap. And the #1 cause of allen wrench-related carpal tunnel syndrome in the US.

      

You know who else had 'solutions'? Hitler.

A quick note: I haven't made a blog post that has more than one picture for almost six months, but this is a special occasion. Anyway, we stepped through the iron gates of this living nightmare and saw nothing but pain. Babies screaming as the florescent lighting killed their brain waves. Unsuspecting college students sitting, whispering to themselves repeatedly. This was truly hell on Earth.

 

As we walked through the final scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark, our knees began to atrophy. We stumbled and plodded through the obstacle courses, waiting-- praying-- for sweet, sweet death to come. We found an acceptable desk, and loaded it onto our cart. But the wheels were bent from overuse, and it was impossible to steer. After finally making it through the rows and rows of Ramivåk Slååkøvs, we found ourselves in an enormous Swedish meatball storage facility. Navigating through it, we (at long last) reached the checkout line-- but we had lost dad on the way.

     

What is this? A contact lens for a giant squid?

I bravely dove back into the crowd as my father was pulled away by the tide of braindead parents and stuck-up hipsters. I grabbed him, and we charged through the horde back to safety. And on the way, we were able to nab a $70 sit-'n-spin. Awesome.

     

Me, after surviving the ordeal.

So, we piled into the checkout line and got out of there as fast as we could. Now all we have to do is... forget. And the most difficult part isn't even over yet-- we still have to assemble the s**t!

Bye!

Bed, Bath, and That's It

'Sup, French people! That's right, this blog has now been read in France! If you are reading this from France right now, I'm coming to your country over the summer for two weeks! Maybe I'll see you there... but you won't know if it's me.

Anyway, back to the boring minutia of every daily event! I got a new bed today (my feet had been hanging out the bottom of the old one), and it took five hours to set up, two more to buy a mattress, and another to find a suitable post for the middle. It's a nice bed, but it's from Ikea (gag). Ikea annoys me. They need to give their products American names. No one wants to buy a 'Ramivak Slakov'.

Ever since I went to Ikea, I've been suffering from something called IISS (Ikea Induced Stress Syndrome). Now whenever I hear the phrase 'Attach the pegs in accordance to fig. 2', I go into fits of projectile vomiting.

Anyway, the bed is finally assembled. I'm sitting here in my room looking at it right now. It's a lot bigger and better than my old one; it's low to the ground and really comfy. Now all I have to do is wait for the mattress to be delivered. If it doesn't come today, I'll end up sleeping in the guest bedroom. Gag.

Bye!