The first time I went to an IKEA, I learned that I may have a predisposition to being gay. I remember the Swedish-accented voices on the radio “…Yasure, Yabetcha, you’ll love IKEA…”, but nothing had prepared me for this:
I marveled at the simplicity of the designs and at the relatively low cost of their wares. I was charmed by the way they name bookcases and chairs with Swedish words that I later learned from my sister, who lived for a year in Denmark, translated into quaint terms like “chopped liver” and “Hot Damn!” I was fascinated by the deli that served authentic Swedish entrées including Southern fried chicken and mashed potatoes, and sold caviar in toothpaste-like tubes for $3.99. I stopped to notice the kids playing “King of the Mountain” in an entire room filled with multi-colored plastic balls, transporting my mind to my childhood when I would bathe in similar balls at the local Chuck-E-Cheese. The unmistakable smell of children permeating the air. I enjoyed sitting on a sofa named “Veklig”, which understandibly translates to “soft”, while I stared at a cardboard box that was covered with printed paper to resemble a TV.
…soon, squiggly dreamlike lines swerved across the blank television screen as I imagined an idea for a Saturday Night Live sketch. It was based mostly on African American stereotypes and would take place in a similar store named “IKESHA”, and would have the general appearance of a pawn shop for furniture…with leopard covered couches and so on…
I enjoyed strolling a flatbed cart through the warehouse with my tube of caviar placed gently in the center as I wondered if all the IKEA furniture in the world would make my house any less crappy. The clerks were friendly and helpful and spoke in perfect english, I would have never guessed they were Swedish.
I left the store with the tube of caviar, which was delectible, and a small wooden table, not to mention a smile on my face. I had spent under $30. Tack så mycket, my friends.
Only Norwegians would come up with something as detestable at Lutefisk.
My Swedish grandfather loved IKEA, especially the foods that he couldn’t get anywhere else. The Lakrits candy was his favourite; chocolate centers coated with a crispy licorice shell, like a Swedish Smartie.
He was a master carpenter and built nearly every piece of furniture he ever owned. He did appreciate the practical designs of the furniture at IKEA and used them for inspiration in making some of his own pieces.
Please try to remember that a woman who is able to eat lutefisk and enjoy it will probably be happy eating anything else a guy can find for her to gobble. This is a likely source of the fine reputation that Scandihoovian women enjoy as insatiable sexpots.
