Hell on Earth
Just got back from Portland's brand-new fucking IKEA, of all places, and am sitting on a brand-new fucking cool desk chair, that will probably buckle under the weight of my enormous ass any time now.
Have YOU been to IKEA PDX yet? It's Hell on Earth (who knew hell on earth would be convenient to the airport and mass transit? I sure didn't). It's a good thing they don't also make a line of mass-produced, priced-to-own, sleekly-designed Swedish assault rifles, because I would have shot my way out of the kitchen showroom without a second thought.
It only took us a little over an hour from arrival & departure, but it felt like I lost an entire year (sort of like a big, scandinavian torture device not unlike the "the machine" the evil Count Rugen uses on Wesley in The Princess Bride). Today must have been Slow, Aimless Walker day at IKEA, for the legions of plodding, zombie-esque, catalog-in-hand shoppers were, well, legion. At one point, while standing in a checkout line only slightly longer than say, Mecca on a busy day, I pushed our purchases out of the way, and sat down on the wheeled cart. Devin pushed me all the way to the register, and I LOVE him for it.