Ikea=terrifying

Boredom and a sense of adventure led me to accompany two women who recently moved into my neighborhood on a trip to furnish their kitchen. It was a journey through light and mainly into darkness where I learned a lot about women and also commerce.

These women both were very picky about what kind of plates and cups they wanted even though we were in Ross and then Ikea they somehow went through everything. They also didn't want to spend a lot of money so it quickly descended into a game of passive aggressive hatred where they would each hate on whatever the other one picked out by either commenting on its style (those cups are too thin) or the price (oh man, 23 bucks for a set of knives) so it was a painstaking procedure which yielded items that were no more special than if I had thrown a dart at the aisle.

It made me think that when Alex or I need something we just go get it, usually little to no discussion and certainly not about aesthetics. I just love being a man. We are low on mugs, we go get some fucking mugs, if they suck we throw them out.

Then, Ikea, shit, Ikea man. How many of you have been there? I wrote "ikea is terrifying" on my status on Facebook and that shit had 3 comments in under 10 minutes so clearly I struck a chord. I gotta say, that place creeped me out. Whether it was the mind-manipulation of the floor plan, the utter cornucopia of very cheap and low quality merchandise or the fact that the store had these little mini worlds in it you could completely construct for yourself it was a trip. I don't think I'll be back soon.