IKEA THREEA

Greetings faithful readers...

Good things come in threes. That is unless you believe that celebrity deaths come in threes...in which case it isn't a good thing...if you're famous...In that case it is most unpleasant.

In this case...my third trip to IKEA...it is a good thing. A triumvirate of jubilation...a trilogy of exuberance, and a trifecta of joie de vivre. Lightning never strikes twice...but it does strike thrice...in the same place. Dance with me...my Swedish friend...may we never part ways for long...

This time, I was headed in to pick up some organizational stuff for the house. You know, boxes, shelves, that kind of thing. During my travels through the oversized Habitrail that is the IKEA layout...I stumbled across my first blog-worthy product.

99 cent shoehorns (see photo). The coolest part of these is that they are long. Scary long. They aren't built for the stocky American...no sir...they are built for the lanky Swede. 6 foot 7 and ready to help slide on those wooden clogs that they wear...(or is that Holland?)...is there even a back to those shoes? My analogies fall apart sometimes...must be my short attention span...want to go sailing?

In either case...I didn't buy one and kept looking. It was then that I had my heartbreak. Right there in the middle of Swedish Wal-Mart. My "lady" friend (see last IKEA post) had a significant other that I knew nothing about. She never even let on that there was another man in her life. As I approached the two of them...it dawned on me that they were both actually lamps. (see photo)

As we sauntered past the cafe...a beautiful scent wafted through the air...the smell of burning cow flesh in the shape of a ball smothered in a Swedish gravy that is not unlike the appearance of slightly out-of-date syrup. Mmmm..... Anyway...we decided to eat lunch at the Scandanavian version of Hometown Buffet. If you've never eaten there..I must warn you. It is an out-of-body experience. Read on. We stood in one line...waited...were waved on to the actual buffet line...waited some more...and finally began to assemble our food trays. I grabbed what I thought was a Turkey wrap (points you know...) and a piece of Swedish pie that had crumbled bits of chocolate candy on top (forget the points...) Mindy had the Swedish meatballs. We paid at the register and put our trays on one of those tray carts that help your bring food to the table (see photo). This invention is amazing. No wonder the Nobel Prize is awarded in Sweden. I got to push my food around the dining room...showing it off to the other price-conscious patrons. I was the drum major in a food parade...displaying my wrapped sandwich and pie to anyone willing to stare at the grinning freak and his tray of fun. Oh, and that guy in the bottom corner picture...I caught him taking digital pictures of my wife at the table. He claims he was taking a picture of our trays on the cart...but who does that...really?

Our first stop was the beverage dispenser. Now let me just take a minute and say that at IKEA...you basically drink out of a clear flower pot (see photo). It holds about 3 eyedroppers full of fluid that (with ice) you can down in as long as it takes you to walk out of a movie starring Carrot Top. However, just when I thought the drink island couldn't be any lamer...IT TOTALLY REDEEMED ITSELF! (Thanks to Lloyd Christmas). There was Lingonberry on tap (see photo). The nectar of the gods flowed from this fountain as though pumped from a hidden magical spring deep below. Now I know what some of you are saying...didn't you compare Lingonberry to moose sweat in the last post. Indeed....I did. However, from this fount of all that is cold came forth a new type of Lingonberry beverage. It was cool, delicious, and smelled a little like that cranberry sauce that never gets eaten at Thanksgiving. I downed 3 glasses.

The IKEA rest rooms are clean, sterile, and scarily white. I mean it. Everything is white. Kinda reminds me of the Virtual Insanity video by Jamiroquai. Except everything wasn't sliding around.

After lunch we continued shopping around. Have you noticed that IKEA products have a weird language on them? Now I know the obvious thing to assume is that it's Swedish..but I have my doubts... I bought a tool kit named "FIXA" C'mon...that's like the Spanish word for sofa is "Sofa"...wait...it is....Sorry....anyway...I found two other products called FARTYG and SNACK (See photos). I don't know what FARTYG smells like when it's on...but I wouldn't suggest eating SNACK.

Our trip was quickly drawing to a close. I had to decide what piece of Swedish craftsmanship was going to adorn my man cave. I decided on a cool chair with chair pad for 90 bucks. Now I don't have the kind of scratch to throw at just anything...so I had to test it out. I pushed it...pulled on the bolts...hung on the back...tried to spin it. It was then that my wife pointed to the sign (see photo). Now I didn't want to be escorted out by an 8 dollar an hour, lemon shirted security Swede, so I refrained from doing my best Donkey Kong impression on the nice furniture.

We parted with our cash, headed up the sad elevator, and were jack-slapped back to reality. As we put our items in the back of the car and pushed our buggy into the corral...I snapped the photo you see above. It had been a good trip....one that would reside in our hearts long after the last bolt falls out of our IKEA fiberboard coffee table.

You don't make purchases at IKEA, faithful readers, you make memories. And then you blog about them...

Enjoy your next trip to IKEA...and don't forget your big blue bags...

BV