We’re all lucky that Ikea doesn’t make life boats. If they did, we would constantly be finding dead bodies at sea, clinging lifelessly to a boat with no bottom and three oars. Ikea tries to be thoughtful and accommodating by including a small assortment of spare parts with your furniture, just in case you happen to lose something. The problem is that you’re always going to be missing a part, and it’s never going to be a piece that has a replacement included. You can have thirty of those weird little wooden peg things, and that’s still not going to make up for the fact that your dresser doesn’t have a top drawer.
A piece of Ikea furniture is a lot like a penis: you never intend to have something really heavy sitting on top of it, but at some point it's going to happen. You usually realize this when you've lifted the entire finished piece of furniture with two fingers of one hand, like you're in an X-Men film and you're just discovering that you have mutant powers. That's when you take a closer look at what the furniture is made of, only to find that, much like Paris Hilton, it's completely hollow, and the people responsible for its creation clearly didn't give a shit.
It’s common knowledge that a few hours of intense frustration, when mixed with physical exertion, results in racial epithets. Unfortunately for us, Ikea is a Swedish company, and most of us don’t know much about Sweden, aside from the fact that their bikini team is pretty good, and they used to be vikings. Both of those things are unquestionably awesome, so we’re forced to fall back on our tried-and-true insult tactic: name-calling. The phrase “F*&king Swedish Motherf*&kers!” will come up repeatedly during the construction process, mostly because that weird little unpronounceable Swedish name on the front of the manual will be mocking you throughout the entire process.
Inevitably, just as you're about to attach the last piece of your furniture, you realize that the reason it won't fit is because one of the other pieces is upside down. It's Ikea's version of an M. Night Shyamalan film: five seconds from finishing, a suprise revelation makes you realize you've just wasted two hours of your life. Feelings of anger, confusion, and self-hate wash over you like a blind child that's stumbled into the wave pool at a local water park.
No man can look at himself in the mirror and be okay with the fact that he called Ikea because he couldn't figure out how to put a shelf together. On the embarrassing manhood scale, it rates somewhere between "getting an erection during a massage from a man" and "actively finding parallels between your current life situation and the theme song from the show Friends (hey, you are still in bed at 10, and work did begin at 8!). The problem is that you can't figure out how to put this piece of shit together, and you secretly need your girlfriend to call Ikea. You just have to go on record stating that you think it's a bad idea, so that you won't look stupid later. It's called "The Hillary Clinton Theory".
Aaah, the crank thingy. Just like a DMV employee, it has no emotions and it never seems like it's actually working. This, of course, makes you project your frustrations onto a loved one who's helping you put the furniture together. Then, at some point, with each creaky turn of the crank thingy, it's like a thousand Dane Cooks performing a bit on soap dispensers all at once. You snap, and demand that your boyfriend or girlfriend relinquish the crank thingy and let you try, as if somehow the way you turn your wrist in a circular motion is far more effective than the way that they do it.
Everyone's got something that they hold against their boyfriend, girlfriend, husband or wife. Y'know, that one attack that you'll only bring up under the most dire of circumstances, when you've lost all hope in humanity? Eventually, after hours of grueling Ikea-related frustration, it's going to boil to the surface. Whether it's an asshole family member, an idiot friend, or an annoying pet, it's eventually going to take the blame for any assembly-related difficulties that you encounter, and suddenly you'll find yourself buried way too deep in an argument that has nothing to do with low-cost, build-it-yourself furniture. The good news is that, after such a heated shouting match, a few hours of furniture assembly will be a welcome departure. The bad news is that, if you happen to be trying to assemble an Ikea couch, you're not going to have anywhere to sleep tonight.
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Inevitably, just as you're about to attach the last piece of your furniture, you realize that the reason it won't fit is because one of the other pieces is upside down. It's Ikea's version of an M. Night Shyamalan film: five seconds from finishing, a suprise revelation makes you realize you've just wasted two hours of your life. Feelings of anger, confusion, and self-hate wash over you like a blind child that's stumbled into the wave pool at a local water park.
No man can look at himself in the mirror and be okay with the fact that he called Ikea because he couldn't figure out how to put a shelf together. On the embarrassing manhood scale, it rates somewhere between "getting an erection during a massage from a man" and "actively finding parallels between your current life situation and the theme song from the show Friends (hey, you are still in bed at 10, and work did begin at 8!). The problem is that you can't figure out how to put this piece of shit together, and you secretly need your girlfriend to call Ikea. You just have to go on record stating that you think it's a bad idea, so that you won't look stupid later. It's called "The Hillary Clinton Theory".
Aaah, the crank thingy. Just like a DMV employee, it has no emotions and it never seems like it's actually working. This, of course, makes you project your frustrations onto a loved one who's helping you put the furniture together. Then, at some point, with each creaky turn of the crank thingy, it's like a thousand Dane Cooks performing a bit on soap dispensers all at once. You snap, and demand that your boyfriend or girlfriend relinquish the crank thingy and let you try, as if somehow the way you turn your wrist in a circular motion is far more effective than the way that they do it.
Everyone's got something that they hold against their boyfriend, girlfriend, husband or wife. Y'know, that one attack that you'll only bring up under the most dire of circumstances, when you've lost all hope in humanity? Eventually, after hours of grueling Ikea-related frustration, it's going to boil to the surface. Whether it's an asshole family member, an idiot friend, or an annoying pet, it's eventually going to take the blame for any assembly-related difficulties that you encounter, and suddenly you'll find yourself buried way too deep in an argument that has nothing to do with low-cost, build-it-yourself furniture. The good news is that, after such a heated shouting match, a few hours of furniture assembly will be a welcome departure. The bad news is that, if you happen to be trying to assemble an Ikea couch, you're not going to have anywhere to sleep tonight.
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