IKEA Turds

I moseyed through all 67,459 acres of the new IKEA this morning with Momso, and I must say, it was not how I like to do my shoppin'. We drove through miles of traffic cones and sweaty guys with flags, wedged into one of a gabillion stackable, we-love-small-spaces parking slots, then got right into the log jam of flesh and bones and pushed our way through the whole store like a too-big turd. Did you know that 492 people can fit into a 395 square foot IKEA example room? It's true -- you just hang a few in the closet, stack a few in cute little stackable boxes, stuff a few into the under-the-bed storage area, and you're all set. 492 people. One tiny room. I want to make another turd reference, but I shall resist.

We walked out empty-handed, but slick with other peoples' sweat. Not in the sexy way. In the way that makes you throw up a little in your mouth.

I saw a lot of this:

No, that is not a papasan that will look nice in your neatly-organized living room full of Swedish furniture. It is an ass the size of American Furniture Warehouse blocking your little turd path to the parking lot. And it will play some serious D. Move to the left? AFW ass moves to the left. Spin move to the right? AFW ass puts a hurt on. You will not get around AFW ass, so get used to looking at the wall of Poang chairs before you for at least the next five minutes. Then look at AFW ass until it moves to children's furniture where you will spend another ten to fifteen minutes thinking that these things would look nice in your house if you were a breeder and you wanted your kid to sleep under a giant fake leaf.

Which your kid might like. Or it could give her nightmares about a giant, or the creepy teacher at school turning her into some sort of a delicious lettuce wrap.