Tag Archives: IKEA

Drunken Wassalings & IKEA Breakdowns

18 Nov

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Today I crossed over into Christmas music at the office. 

…The WHS Pimp made fun of it, immediately, by asking what he ever did to me in life to deserve this. I said something along the lines of, “It’s supposed to make us all jolly and shit, so stop fighting my efforts and be joyful, dammit!”

…Course this was before my first cup of coffee. Were he to ask the same question now, I would have answered that totally differently. Like, without the exclamation mark.

…Not that he can ask me again right now anyway, as he is currently at the dental surgeon’s for pre-op extraction work. Which is gonna be super awesome just before Thanksgiving.

…I’m sure they can throw all the dinner fixins into the blender and make it slurpable for him, somehow. That is, if he is able to work his mouth and keep from drooling by then. It’s like half his face they are taking out…so I’m sure he’ll be shot and doped up pretty good through the whole holiday. And even if he isn’t, he’ll only have about three teeth to chew the food with anyway…so, might as well call it a day on that one.

…Which reminds me that I’ve put off MY dental surgery to take out my (yes still present) wisdom teeth…and I should schedule that sometime before bad things start happening and they have to take half my face out too. Luckily, I am busy being a Beaver right now, so can’t book it until later anyway. Even if I do feel guilty about putting it off again. And paranoid.

…Instead, I’m gonna think about something else. So I don’t start giving myself an anxiety attack…

Listen to this:

My friend Bubba and I used to pop in Christmas music the day after Halloween.

…We’d blare it, and sing it really loudly (even at stoplights), wherever we went. And it was awesome. Especially the Dean Martin songs. Cuz he always sounds three-fucking-sheets-to-the-wind. We two never COULD come to agreement on whether he actually WAS wasted all the time, or just “pretending” to be…but either way, slurring a Christmas song about Rudolph is somehow more hilarious than just about anything. You should try it sometime. Cuz, I gotta tell yuh, Those were the BEST sing-alongs, EVER.

…We made a game of trying to play up the wasted angle even more than he did. (Which is NOT an easy thing to do.) And yet surprisingly, never ONCE got pulled over on suspected D.U.I charges while hurling down the freeway, for reasons that I will never know.

In Other Happenings:

This weekend I spent far too much time in the black hole that is IKEA again.

…The first day, I bought nothing. But I came home, (like I always do from IKEA) with an overwhelming knowledge that all my stuff could look ten times better than it currently does, and WOULD, if I bought everything in IKEA.

…All of it.

Look: I realize it ain’t the highest quality. I get that it is almost as far from “Designer” anything, as you can get. But it is SO FUCKING ORGANIZED that it makes the OCD side of me want to marry it and have it’s compacted-muti-user-functionability-fold-away babies.

…Unfortunately for me…I got home at around 10 pm, from that trip…and INSTANTLY knew I needed to rearrange my entire living space immediately, while the ideas were still fresh in my brains.

…Which ended up with me sitting in the middle of the floor in the living room (the only open 2 foot surface in my entire house by that point) at 3 am, near to sobbing. Because I have a tiny, tiny apartment, and everything just fits, one way, and trying to relocate or change it up made the entire main room look like a bomb had gone off. I was totally exhausted, and frustrated, but there was NO WAY my OCD self would be able to just “go to sleep and work on it tomorrow,” and I knew this, becoming totally overwhelmed.

Coming up with an Emergency game-plan, I decided that ultimately, I might not be able to sleep with shit strewn all over every room, but for some reason…if I condensed and piled it all in the kitchen and closed the curtain t’ween it and the rest of the house…so I wouldn’t have to see it making nonsense out of every OTHER room…it would be okay.

I still don’t know why that addendum law “worked” for me, but it seemed to, so I did it, and got up the next day to sail off for IKEA again, and get the crap I needed to “fix” all the resulting problems I had made myself, the night before.

…This then resulted in spending something like four hours building things with fake tools, yesterday….trying to interpret the little pictures that no longer are accompanied with directions in any language at all. (Which I guess were always pointless, really…as none of the directions were ever in English to begin with. But, still…)

…A fifteen page booklet, with 350 screws, nuts, and thing-a-ma-gees, you’ve never seen before, splayed out across the entire living room…so you can put this simple bookcase together, takes a surprising amount of time, when literally done: stick-by-stick.

The result, (by 2 am THIS morning) was something I could ultimately view and not nut up about. A reorganization and reallocation of stuffs which had been in the same original floor plan since the day I moved in…six years ago.

…This morning, I checked on the front room, “just to be sure.”

…OCD people have to do things like that. “Check,” I mean. It’s like feng shui, on crack. If (for whatever thousand reasons) it doesn’t “fit right” in your brain when taking in the visual of a thing, then you HAVE to fix it. ESPECIALLY when it is the place you live. Otherwise it’s like an itch you can’t scratch that will eventually end up driving you fucking crazy.

…Considering, of course, that you haven’t driven yourself there all on your own…cuz you’ve only gotten five hours of sleep in two days, obsessing over it all, to begin with.

Either way: It is almost fully settled now. A few more swaps of book stacks are still ahead, but by and large…”home” feels like “home” again. A thing my bloodshot eyes are TOTALLY thankful for.

…Meanwhile, if you ever hear me so much as make slight hints at an IKEA trip again…anytime in the near future…I charge you with the full accountability to slap me as hard as you can, point a finger in my face and say: “NO!”

I can almost promise that I will listen.

…And, eventually, thank you for saving me.

~D

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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

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