My wife called me from Ikea last week, asking if I needed anything. Did I need anything? How about a house that isn’t full of boxes, and incomprehensible Swedi-named plastic detritus? But of course that wasn’t an option.
Ikea’s product design strategy is to make products so futuristic-Euro-looking that no one has a f*cking clue what they are. Case in point was the Egil … stool? I guess it’s a stool, though it looks like something that busted off a whack-a-mole game.
Anyhow, after my wife assembled it, I was flipping through the multilingual instructions (that’s a fancy way of saying “there’s no text”). I found this:
I’m sure you could parse this various ways: Happiness is kneeling on an oriental carpet! Happiness is welding your forearm to a bookshelf! Happiness is welding your forearm to a bookshelf while you use your other hand to scratch your ass!
Whatever that means, that guy is just a little too intimate with that shelf. I try to be tolerant of other people’s kinks, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Otherwise we’ll have a world that looks like this: