So, instead of going out last night and getting loaded with my pals (it’s a long complicated story). I decided to soak in the tub for like, 10 hours and read trashy magazines.
Which is something I’ve been obsessed with lately, soaking in the tub. Considering my last place didn’t even have a bathtub, and I lived there forever, you see, I am just making up for lost time. It’s not a huge tub, mind you. Not like one of those kick ass claw footed things that hold a million gallon of water and fit like, 10 people and an army of rubber ducks. No, this one’s, kinda small and shallow and I kinda have to scrunch to get the total submersion effect. But it does the trick.
Which of course has it good and bad points.
It helps me cope with my freezing environment and I can catch up on a lot of reading. But I hog all of the hot water, and I am sure that kinda pisses off the fireman. And I wind up prune-like! But it’s worth it!
But speaking of the fireman – after about an hour of soaking I decided I was done with the magazines and it was time to submerge myself. So, to lounge all proper-like, I had to submerge most of my head under water and do a little singing.
So, I sang a few Beatles’ ditties until I got through most of Rubber Sould and Revolver. I realized I didn’t even want to try to cover The White Album so I started in on stuff from The Cars greatest hits and things – seeing how Ric Ocasek’s kinda in my range.
So, I’m all “I don’t mind you coming here – and wasting all my time - ‘cause when you’re standing oh so near – I kinda lose my mind – yeah!”
And then by the time I got to “I GUESS YOU’RE JUST WHAT I NEEDED! (just what I needed!)” I realized I was probably kinda getting a little bit loud. Especially with all of that water in my ears.
I mean I am sure it sounded to me like I was being all quiet and things with all of that water in my ears, blocking the actual volume of things - but when I came up and did a little test run ”I guess you’re just … “
I was practically shouting.
Which really isn’t a problem considering I live by myself. What worries me most is I discovered the other day, when I am in my bathroom and the fireman entertaining in his apartment, I can hear the goings on pretty well through the heating vent. Not when I am in the living room, with him across the hall. But only through the heating vent in the bathroom.
I don’t think he was home. My god, I hope he was out trolling the neighborhood for hotties and booze, all normal like.
But next time I decided to shower and I’m all “You’re just what I needed!” …
And I hear the chorus shouted back at me (just what I needed!) through the vent - I swear, I’m gonna die.
At any rate, I woke up early this morning (another advantage to not getting all loaded the night before) with a wanton lust for marginally priced Swedish furnishings. A total aftermath of reading Wallpaper* magazine in the tub – which I must state for the record, I don’t really read so much as look at the pretty pictures of clean, modern surroundings lusting after a clutter-free life.
Which is something I could really use – but so laughable unattainable in my penniless but packrat life - my afternoon trip to IKEA today was a total bust.
I mean, of all days to go - Sunday? Am I for real?
I mean, I have a complete love/hate relationship with that store in the first place. Seriously – I love the fact the stuff isn’t ugly and I can actually afford a lot of it – but I resent any store that tells me how to shop.
Or rather, a store that has to prepare me for the experience.
Have you ever been to their website? There’s like, a total tutorial on how to approach each department and check out lines.
Seriously! They totally map out the strategy involved in talking on 3 floors of oversized couches, futons, drapes and knick-knacky things. It’s mind boggling!
But I hopped in my car and pretended like it was a road trip or something. I listened to a too cool for school CD that my friend Allison had sent to me as a Christmas gift which consists of like one huge 75 minute track of super-trippy-euro-techno-jazz-beats that made me feel like I was in some Danny Boyle movie all dangerous tooling along on the toll road.
The perfect soundtrack for preparing to fondle marginally priced Euro Furnishings!
The store, to tell you the truth, wasn’t that eventful, really. I mean, I knew I was going there on a Sunday, which meant the place would be a complete herd, so I didn’t allow myself to get annoyed or anything.
Which is way unusual. For me.
The only 2 non-events that occurred:
Once I was finally whisked away to the top floor on the escalator …
You know, how they have like, these little mock-rooms all set up all over so you can actually see right in front of you just how cool your kitchen can look with stainless steel accents and storage tables all by IKEA?
Well, right at the top of the escalator they had one of those cool little kitchens set up and sitting at the tables there were these coolmannequins - male and female complete with expensive haircuts, dark rimmed glasses and like, trendy hand bags.
Or I thought they were mannequins! They were so stoic at first I flipped out when I saw one of them adjust their chair and I realized they just some hipper than thou uber-couple preparing their nest!
And the other non-event was me trying to figure out how the hell one gets out of that place without purchasing anything.
I am not talking temptation to buy here, I knew I was only going to look, I am talking how you literally get out of that place without having to dive through the sea of people at the million check out lines.
I mean, really.
Finally I just sucked it up followed the fella with the cleaning cart as he pushed his way by scads of folks with carts full of 3 foot candle holders and salad bowls and unfinished coffee tables until I was free.
And on my way out I totally expected sirens to go off or something, and men in wire-rimmed glasses and accents sporting lap coats and brandishing clip boards to come running and accost me in the parking lot for an exit interview and be like “How on earth could you resist the ’ ‘IKEA spirit’ of enthusiasm, thrift, responsibility, humbleness, and simplicity; and our refusal to accept a pattern simply because it is well established?’ and not like, buy anything?”
And I’d be all like, “Dude, I was just looking. And to tell you the truth, you almost had me with the thrifty NOT White Lamp, because I could really use it, but damn if I’m gonna stand in line for an hour to spend $10.95.”
I swear. People just don’t get me.