Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Lost in Translation...
Does anyone have any idea what the word "Ikea" actually means in Scandinavian? Well, I was curious, so I looked it up today at www.translations.com. Turns out, loosely translated it means "Imminent-Killing spree-Elicited (by) - Aggravation". I'm not kidding. Okay, maybe I didn't really look it up at translation.com, but that was only because I was holding a itsy-bitsy-teensy-weensy Allan wrench at my own throat. I thought about poking my own eyes out, but realized that I probably wouldn't blind myself given the minuscule size of previously mentioned wrench.
What is it with Ikea? I get the whole "someone has to furnish it". I get the whole "pretty decent furniture for what you pay". I even get the whole, "why include words in the directions when you can effectively confuse just about anyone with close up photos of tiny little topless screws and funny photos of the blob man". What I don't get is why I continue to subject myself to purchasing something that has parts I cannot see with either my naked eye OR my naked eye assisted with some pretty powerful reading glasses.
I know why they include seven teeny wrenches with every part bag. Once you put them down, they become invisible until you sit down on them (taking a rest from utter frustration at not being able to decipher what Mr. Blob is pantomiming you to do) and they poke you in the ass. I know why they include the world's most puny little headless screws. Because somewhere in Scandinavia there is a GIANT POWERFUL satellite dish with a GIANT POWERFUL camera that has the ability to track and watch people putting together their shit. It is has xray vision so that it can not only see you through your roof - - but it can see you while you are scooting underneath the bed trying to find the lilliputian piece of hardware that makes an infant earwig look humongous. They laugh and laugh their Scandinavian laugh while watching you. There is a secret site - similar to Youtube - where members of the clandestine Ikea occult can watch you too. It's fun for the whole family.
There's an Urban Myth that when the designers are unable to locate anyone having difficulty with the paperclip width allen wrenches, the aphid egg sized topless screws, or the little bolty things that require insertion in to the tube/leg part, yet ensuring that the hole in the bolty thing matches up perfectly with the hole in the tube/leg part - - they go back to the drawing board complicate it up just a bit. They love laughing the Scandinavian laugh. It's a hearty, throat-filled guffaw. Sometimes they throw their heads back and grab their stomachs it's so fulfilling.
They laugh and then they head down to the HQ dining room for some meatballs or cod or something. They sometimes laugh all the way there and need to be reminded once they get to the dining room that laughing while eating swedish meatballs is just plain rude no matter how many people end up stabbing themselves in the knee with the mini wrench.
As for me, I "almost" have finished putting up the shades in the boys room that will keep out the sun and the street light and ensure that George the Younger does not need to dress "in front of the whole world". This is absurd since the house sits high above the street and it would take someone with a telephoto lens on a very tall ladder to even get a glimpse of his privates - - but we do what we can to appease the teen. Frankly, I'm just thinking of going back to Ikea and getting a few orders of those Swedish Meatballs and just smearing them over the windows. And then I will laugh a hearty laugh and flip those suckers the bird while they watch me.