February 13, 2008
Yes, girls, I'm that easy.
Just pop me in the sea of balls for an hour or so, and then buy me four a couple of these:
Simple, eh?
You'll have all the slightly-too-small bedside tables called "Kwog" that you want, along with their matching "Clit" fold-down bed settees designed specifically for half-Swedish, half-Polynesian mothers-in-law, and I'll be facially smeared in clearly-worryingly-MFI-yellow mustard and jumping up and down on my seat while silently leaking mechanically-recovered-meat juice sweat from pores as diverse as my upper lip, my pate, the small of my back, that bit between your big toe and the next one, and, of course, my wee.
Ulp.
Need. Ikea. Hotdogs.
Now.
HektorRevisited
If Ikea had an "M" and no "A" and was rearranged so that it read thus "M-I-K-E" it would be much less intimidating.
"I'm off to Mikes for a hotdog, some flat pack I neither need nor can put up and a nervous breakdown."