Tag Archives: families

And The Swedes Take Over The World

9 Sep

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Yesterday, I stood in 375 square feet of space, masquerading as a real full apartment, in which everything from a bathroom to kitchen, to bedroom, to closet space was compacted on a grid-system of proficiency.

…The sign outside said, “walk into my living space,” and claims that a human actually exists in an exact replica of this area.

…I have 800 square feet, which I share with my two fish, and upon occasion…feel crowded. 

I am “proficient” as hell.

…Which just shows that there is always room for improvement.  Exhausting as that may sound.

IKEA is one of those places that I have to gird my loins to go and visit. There is so much stimulation to the creative sectors of my brain when I frequent all it’s million tiny room mock-ups, that I get hyper enthusiastic.  Somehow, even though the Mod 60’s thing really isn’t my deal, I end up wanting them all anyway.  Every room, every collection of goods, every little bookcase prop.  Why? I dunno.  Possibly because the color coordination and multi-use of every product, screams a challenge of maximum capabilities.  Maybe because I’m addicted to shelving and cabinetry.  Maybe because twelve bucks for a French Press, that costs fifty even at Target, is just too much goodness for my brain to take in.

This place spawns a cousin disease to my general, “I never knew I always wanted that” one…only this time I truly believe my entire life would change for the better if I had it…because all my OCD’s would completely disappear if I could live in something as slip-streamed and categorize-perfected.

…In my mind, as I walk the aisles, all I can see are the dozens of tiny alterations to my little apartment that would bump me into a high-tech, sheer-surface, spot-lit, rug-wielding, stainless steel, goddess.  I’m already practically there, but this would just seal the deal.  And who doesn’t want to run at that level?

Can you imagine what it would be like, to have zero wasted space?  Not a single undevoted centimeter…where everything has a home and convenient location, which tucks away inside of itself about fifty times, until its basically just negative entity? Where every shoes has it’s place on a tree in the closet, where every individual halogen light is focused precisely where you want it, off a steel lined track running the entirety of your room? Where the walls become secret hidden cabinets, which you can still hang shit on, with beds that grow out of other beds and sofas, so your one-bedroom apartment or dorm room can suddenly sleep ten people. You know…for all those times that you REALLY NEED to sleep ten people!

…This place gets me so undone with wonder and excitement, that I accidentally start mirroring the children, calling their parents to, “look at this thing! Oh, but look at that one too!” I simply cannot trust the visuals of whoever I am with to pick up the kind of subtleties that are the entire main focus on the display, and feel the need to walk them through it. I must describing in detail how “this thing” transformers into “that one,” like I’m an expert showcase salesman…because clearly they wouldn’t get the full sliding-swing action, if I didn’t really sell it for them. And I also have to explain why it works aesthetically, on a level far more pleasing than just to the eye:

“Cant you just FEEL how all the books are happy right now, with that certain kind of open wall-mount display on equal parallel planes, without all the box bulk of an actual case?”

“Lookit that lamp. I dunno when in the hell you’d have the reason to mount a giant glowing dandelion above your head…but if you just stand here for a second and think about the kind of room it would go in…it’s totally awesome. Right?”

“Here is why this kitchen layout is better than any other kind: floor to ceiling Lazy Suzans in that corner cabinet. No, just stop right now, you will never beat that.”

…And I also feel compelled to let them know that any time they wanna get rich and buy me shit, this is the place to do it, and here are some reasons why:

“‘Kay, look…this roll out drawer would save my life maybe…because my god, how long have I lived having to reach under my bed to get at things, then scrape the hell out of my arms, or slam my head on that fucking Hollywood frame?”

“…No wait, now picture my living room…but then add this to every wall. Instant James Bond high tech, am I right? Just, push this spot in the wall and, BAM cabinet materializes! Push that over there: a door! That there: a sunken wet bar! Tap here: my whole entertainment center folds out…!”

…And sometimes, I’m not so subtle about it:

“…If you wanted to get me this rug, that would be okay.”

“Maybe you could pick up that chair as an early Birthday present to me now…I mean, since we’re already here.”

“I bet if I had this pot and pan set, I’d be able to cook you a delicious dinner. The ones I have now are just holding me back, mostly cuz you deserve the very best.”

Yes. It is that ridiculous. Ask anyone whose ever gone with me.

…All I know is that in the end: the Swedes with their happy-go-luckiness and uber efficiency, are someday going to take over the world…and there will be nothing we can do about it.

…They will hook up with their handy-dandy equally efficient Swiss friends (with their compacted tools and weaponry), and dig themselves a little mountain fortress somewhere (prob’ly throughout the entire Swiss Alps in a collected switchback of mathematically precise grids.) And they will outfit every square inch of tunnel with IKEA themed, space-aged, 60’s-kick-back wonder…where every man, woman, and child, will live in their own customized pod of up to 375 square feet of perfected living space. (Built entirely by their Swiss Army-issued, fold out tool and weaponry knife.)

You guys, the secret is already out there…

…Like the masterminds that they are, they have hidden it in full fucking sight, inside every single one of their monster stores. They will do this all with a maximum of silent speed and efficiency, (if they haven’t already), and thus, out-last every apocalypse (be it zombie or otherwise) by doing so.

…And when it’s all over, the new world power of quiet, happy blond people with killer skiing skills, will emerge.

…And civilization will be saved.

…And that is the truth.

~D

The End Of An Era

15 Aug

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“Mawwage.  Mawwage is bwings us together, today…”

…Or rather, actually, it is what separates us…spikes lawyer fees, divides up all your friends and worldly possessions, pushes you through custody battles, and has you living on a couch in the garage or someone else’s basement.

Everyone I know is getting divorced. 

…That is a gross overstatement, but it feels like the truth, and is really bumming me out. 

I am of the age where we are demographically told this is all perfectly normal. “Depressing as fuck,” but “normal.” According to what everyone is “supposed to do:” Young twenties is for marrying, mid-to-late is for the baby-making, and once you cross the threshold of your thirties, you suddenly want to repeal all your past decisions…like a Politician…and start looking for exit strategies. 

I get it. 

Marriage is hard. 

I certainly couldn’t do it, and would never be dumb enough to try.

…But a lot of the yous are fairly good at it, seems like. It “wears” well on you…like a tailored suit.  All your little foibles and personal idiosyncrasies, (that might seem totally nut-balls to someone else), are accepted equipment to this person you’ve shared your life and bed with.  They’ve seen you at your pukiest.  They’ve seen you at your sexiest. They’ve been there for births and deaths, know all your secrets, and fears and pains.  The fact you survive this for any extended amount of time, and still come to the conclusion that “alone” is better?…That’s grim.

When I hear, “it just isn’t working out,” with regards to people I care about, it kinda stabs me in my closet romantical parts. I am too ashamed to yell “ouch” about it, cuz then you’d all find me out and stuff.  Instead, I’m sitting here with a current count of five knife wounds, seeping heart-ink.   Because I like you and your families and kids and crazy parent stuffs.  I admire your courage.  I think you’re all totally insane as well, yes, but someone needs to keep “society” moving forward, and better you than me.

…Also, I miss weddings.

I miss the “idea” of weddings.

…I miss the party that comes afterward; the many toastings of free alcohol, the vintage music, bad dancing, and inevitable squabble between new in-laws.  I miss flirting over the food tables, staunchly refusing to join the gladiator fight over the bouquet, downing more glasses of champagne than I intended to, and freely partaking of bad-choice decisions in make-out partners.  (Because everyone looks good in a tux…even your goober brother.)

In my head, it all plays like that movie: “Four Weddings and a Funeral.” Minus Andie MacDowell. (Therefore, only the good parts.)

…So now, not only am I losing my perfectly good matchmakers, crutch-couples, and default Holiday-families…I’m also not being given compensation prizes in the form of “replacement” weddings…which kills the best chance I have to acquire a decent date (and some side-action), for God knows how long.

It’s only fair substitution, really.  If you take one out, the universe should be prepared and obligated to replace it.  Otherwise, who’s going to take pity on all of the forever single friends? 

Who will have us as awkward “thirds” at parties, and introduce us to hot in-law cousins? Who will have tiny people to call us “Aunty,” which we are freely encouraged to hold and snuggle and corrupt, then hand back at day’s end?  Who will invite us for giant home-cooked meals in which it is completely understood we are only responsible to bring a bottle of wine? Or to house sit, and have the kind of two-person income that can afford all the good movie channels, (and maybe a hot tub?)

…Now they’re all gonna be back out here! In the cold, empty world! With me! How is that gonna help?!

…They know more things! They’re more adaptable! And intuitive!  They’re more reasonable people, with deep senses of responsibility and the fierce need to protect their young and rebuild a safe environment for them to grow in.  Now they are “friends” turned vicious Mama and Papa bear on the world…so it’s nothing “personal” or anything, but if there is any “good” to be had or any “decency”…at allwhatsoever…they’re gonna pounce on that shit!  And they will go all Lady-prison-B-movie, ape-shit, in order to achieve it.

…Which leaves me where, exactly?

Now I have no Holidays, no parties, no set-ups, no weddings…and now, even the “free potentials” walking around are gonna be sucked up by “professional” relationship-makers.

I am just screwed.

…And prob’ly never again, in the good way.

Thanks a LOT, inevitable early-thirties and your wishy-washy political exit schemes!

Thanks a lot.

~D

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