Tuesday, June 8, 2010

I went-a to Ikea

Hey home assembly fans!

Today I (home) assembled my first piece of Ikea furniture. In case you haven't heard, I moved into a 32-year-old father of two's body last week, so I've been doing a lot of furniture shopping. And by a lot, I mean just that--a great deal. Or else I wouldn't have used the word. I'm a strict Orwellian when it comes to usage.

Anyway, I bought a desk chair, despite having no computer desk, computer table, computer sandbox covered with tarp--nothing to hold up my monitor or desktop except the carpet and a cardboard box. The keyboard is on my lap right now, and in case you were wondering, I am wearing underwear which ix blocking at least 75% of it from interpopulating with my Evergladesian thigh hair and glute pimples.

So, if you are at my house in the next, say, month or so--in between my regular home appliance sterilization cycles--and you are planning on licking the underside of my keyboard, just remember: if it's ASDFGHJKL and under, you're fine; but if you're licking QWERTYUIOP, then, hoo, boy, I don't know WHAT musculo-follicular transmittable diseases you're going to get.

Anyway, the chair.

It is called Markus, which most of you probably know as the name of the director of the beloved 1989 West German animation short ZEICHENFISCHFILM, a movie title which must always be written in all caps and which must always be shouted. My mother chose the Markus over several other more sensibly named chairs, for example, the haughty, elegant, victorious Hugo:

Namesake of Australian tennis great, the Laver:

Or the little-chair-that-could, the Kolon, which is listed on the Ikea website as a swivel chair despite clearly being a floor mat:

Keep growing, buddy! One day you'll be a chair! For a Japanese person!

The real scandal is not that my mother did not choose HUGO or DER KOLONCHAIR, but rather that she passed up on two perfectly good chairs that may or may not have earned our family money in royalties. I am speaking of course about JEFF, named after my father:

And the chair that made Marietta famous, the GILBERT:

Why did my mother opt for the MARKUS and not the JEFF or the GILBERT? Is she leading a secret double-life, perhaps involving a Swede named MARKUS? Only time will tell. If I ever find this mysterious MARKUS, or MARKII, mark my words: "Hey-a, Markus, why you gotta add-a pepperoni? Ikea penis inna your car-a!"

Also I built the MARKUS chair no problem, except the armrests are loose and it is constantly on fire for some reason.

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