ikea
my wife and i have a love/hate relationship with ikea. we love the furniture, we love that it's easy to transport, that you can buy decent(if not extravagant, at least decent) furniture there cheaply, and in most cases, we love the furniture. (some of that shit is just too modern and angular and sparse even for us!)
but as a general rule, we hate the people there.
now, i don't mean the workers. they are always very friendly and helpful, and remind me alot of myself. i mean the other shoppers.
sunday we went, because we needed a few things for the new house, and could get something we'd be happy with and could afford there. we barely get parked and already i feel it washing over me like a hot wave of anger. the shiny black accord that has just pulled into the space beside ours vomits its occupants. they consist of: two girls(i say girls, cause they looked not a day over 15, both of them), sized 0 and 2, respectively, one dressed in a kickin' little hoodie from ambercrummie & felch and jeans that were hanging onto her ass for dear life(as well they should, for they were barely on her hips at all--the space created by the sheer lowness of her waistband completely smooth and flat), and flip flops that probably cost more than my entire outfit, her little french-manicured toes making me want to yakk. the other dressed in a nicer ensem, black button-down top and matching capris. 0 and 2 both looked to be pressed from the same mold, blonde highlights, matching light lip gloss, it just looked like they wanted to not look exactly the same, so one dressed up, the other down. the other two occupants of the car also appeared to be pressed from a similar mold. two one-year old girls(yes, the two 15 year-olds with flawless tummies apparently are either babysitting someone's kids and dragging them shopping to ikea, or they were actually moms) with matching ponies on the top of their head, and polished skin. yes, polished skin. these kids shone like fucking waxed apples. and they had not a drop of drool on them, or a speck of dirt, or a wiff of poo or pee. i nearly lost my lunch again when i hear the little babies' names: brittney and haley. gag. i am actually jamming my finger down my own throat as i type this. (which makes it pretty hard to type, actually, so i'm gonna stop)
so i turn to my wife and say (because, apparently, in another life i was either a woman or gay), "is it okay to hate those two?" to which my wife replied, "oh, absolutely".
and this became a running theme throughout our shopping. wife: "is it okay to hate her?"(indicating middle-aged european-looking woman(who's probably never been to europe!) wearing a goofy scarf knotted around her neck) me: "him?"(indicating twentysomething guy with a beard carefully tailored to look scruffy, and carhartt pants and t-shirt that have never seen a grease stain or paint drop or sharp, snagging nail) wife: "her?"(lady in sunglasses, taller than chewbacca, talking on cell phone in italian. i think her name was anne (either Nerexia or Noying, you pick--my vote is on nerexia, i could've snapped her in half with my bare hands)) me: "them?"(mom-and-daughter team. daughter looked like she bought one of everything at hot topic, and tried to wear most of it that day. mom wearing too-small, unseasonable top to better accent her phd-enhanced cleavage--and i don't mean she had a phd, i mean the person who enhanced her cleavage does)
and so our shopping experience was enhanced by some simple people watching. i recommend you get together with some of your favorite friends, go someplace where there's sure to be plenty of fodder, and go to it. you'll feel better when you're done.
we did.
darth sardonic
but as a general rule, we hate the people there.
now, i don't mean the workers. they are always very friendly and helpful, and remind me alot of myself. i mean the other shoppers.
sunday we went, because we needed a few things for the new house, and could get something we'd be happy with and could afford there. we barely get parked and already i feel it washing over me like a hot wave of anger. the shiny black accord that has just pulled into the space beside ours vomits its occupants. they consist of: two girls(i say girls, cause they looked not a day over 15, both of them), sized 0 and 2, respectively, one dressed in a kickin' little hoodie from ambercrummie & felch and jeans that were hanging onto her ass for dear life(as well they should, for they were barely on her hips at all--the space created by the sheer lowness of her waistband completely smooth and flat), and flip flops that probably cost more than my entire outfit, her little french-manicured toes making me want to yakk. the other dressed in a nicer ensem, black button-down top and matching capris. 0 and 2 both looked to be pressed from the same mold, blonde highlights, matching light lip gloss, it just looked like they wanted to not look exactly the same, so one dressed up, the other down. the other two occupants of the car also appeared to be pressed from a similar mold. two one-year old girls(yes, the two 15 year-olds with flawless tummies apparently are either babysitting someone's kids and dragging them shopping to ikea, or they were actually moms) with matching ponies on the top of their head, and polished skin. yes, polished skin. these kids shone like fucking waxed apples. and they had not a drop of drool on them, or a speck of dirt, or a wiff of poo or pee. i nearly lost my lunch again when i hear the little babies' names: brittney and haley. gag. i am actually jamming my finger down my own throat as i type this. (which makes it pretty hard to type, actually, so i'm gonna stop)
so i turn to my wife and say (because, apparently, in another life i was either a woman or gay), "is it okay to hate those two?" to which my wife replied, "oh, absolutely".
and this became a running theme throughout our shopping. wife: "is it okay to hate her?"(indicating middle-aged european-looking woman(who's probably never been to europe!) wearing a goofy scarf knotted around her neck) me: "him?"(indicating twentysomething guy with a beard carefully tailored to look scruffy, and carhartt pants and t-shirt that have never seen a grease stain or paint drop or sharp, snagging nail) wife: "her?"(lady in sunglasses, taller than chewbacca, talking on cell phone in italian. i think her name was anne (either Nerexia or Noying, you pick--my vote is on nerexia, i could've snapped her in half with my bare hands)) me: "them?"(mom-and-daughter team. daughter looked like she bought one of everything at hot topic, and tried to wear most of it that day. mom wearing too-small, unseasonable top to better accent her phd-enhanced cleavage--and i don't mean she had a phd, i mean the person who enhanced her cleavage does)
and so our shopping experience was enhanced by some simple people watching. i recommend you get together with some of your favorite friends, go someplace where there's sure to be plenty of fodder, and go to it. you'll feel better when you're done.
we did.
darth sardonic
posted by darth sardonic at 7:13 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home