My couch has an umlaut

"It's like bed, bath, and WAY beyond..." - Eddy Ameen, on Ikea.

So Conci and Marc moved out today, which created a minor problem in that they owned all of our living room furniture. After some pleading, cajoling, prodding, and explaining the long term benefits of buying me furniture now, I managed to convince my very generous father to buy me a bunch of Ikea furniture, on the theory that if he buys me cheap furniture now, he will not have to listen to me bug him about buying me cheap furniture for some time to come.

Since Cleo and Katy both needed futons and Cleo also needed a desk and some other furniture, we rented a UHaul and went on out to the gigantic Ikea store in Schaumburg, Illinois, the flattest place on earth. We went there in search of cheapness and the o's with the little lines through them (can anyone tell me what that's called?) We found quite a bit more of the former than the latter.

My couch is called Grano, with an umlaut (the two dots are over the O), and without a picture online to show you. The problem with Grano is that the frame and cushions are sold seperately, and while there were plenty of frames, there were no cushions. This makes absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.

If you were a giant Swedish furniture store, would it make sense for you to order less cushions than frames? Wouldn't it make sense for you to order more cushions than frames, since some people are insane and buy emergency backup cushions in case someone spills a beer on their new off-white sofa just before Kofi Annan is scheduled to come over for tea or something?

But you are not a giant Swedish furniture store. You are reading my weblog, hence you are a human or a highly advanced species of dolphin with internet access. So they didn't have the cushions, though they were supposedly having a large number delivered tonight. So I get to get up early on a Sunday, call to make sure the damn cushions came in, then drive all the way to Schaumberg to complete my couch.

And then, all will be well. Except now I feel kinda like Ed Norton's character in Fight Club, living in the Ikea catalog. And that might not be a good thing, considering what happens in the movie...which if you haven't seen it, you're either going to go rent it now or just not get this, 'cause I'm sure as hell not going to explain it to you.

Busting Blocks

So I decided to quit Blockbuster. I gave the manager my two weeks' notice tonight.

It's not really a bad job. All you have to know how to do is work a cash register and alphabetize things. And be able to deal with extreme stupidity:

me: I'm sorry, this coupon expired January 31st.
girl: But it says valid through January 31st.
her boyfriend: That means until January 31st.
girl: But through...doesn't that mean it starts working January 31st?
me: No, that means it stops working January 31st.
girl: But...but...through generally means continuous, right?
me: Um, not on coupons, sorry.
her boyfriend: No, honey, it expired. How much?
me: $7.58.
girl: But I don't understand. this coupon should still work, right?
me: 42 cents is your change. It's good from when you recieve it through January 31st.
girl: So it still works?
me: No. Through means the same as until. The coupon is no longer valid. Your movies are due Wednesday at noon.
girl: But it says through....
(boyfriend leads her away)

So that part's kind of a pain in the ass. The other thing is that standing for eight hours is a pain not only in the ass, but in the feet, knees, back, and leg muscles as well.

I did the math, and the amount of money I was going to make by staying on as long as I had planned to just was not going to be worth it. The free movies are a nice benefit, but I'm so goddamn busy with school I never have time to watch them anyway, so that moots that whole point.

And it's not like I was getting health insurance from them or anything (hooray for Searle, where a bleeding flesh wound could be a sign of pregnancy, even if you are, technically, male), so the only thing quitting takes away is money. And granted, I need more money for this album I have all these elaborate plans to record. But when it comes right down to it, I can eat Mac N Cheez instead of Papa John's for a few weeks, and all will be well in Financeville.

Well, until I graduate. Then I'm fucked.

Putting the Twinkie Defense to shame

This has got to be one of the oddest stories I've read all year. Granted, it's only April, but it's still pretty goddamn strange. Thanks to Obscure Store for this one.

Michael "Mucko" McDermott shot and killed seven of his co-workers just outside of Boston last year, and is getting ready to go on trial soon. His defense lawyers unveiled his defense today. From the Boston Herald, here is a boiled down version of what happened:

"In a dramatic turn of events in Cambridge Superior Court yesterday, Reddington (the lawyer) outlined his insanity defense, saying McDermott gunned down seven co-workers because he thought they were Hitler and six German generals whom he was sent to kill by angels to stop the Holocaust. McDermott, 43, believes he died while being booked for the killings and that the whole world does not exist, Reddington said."

This story is so bizarre I'm not sure if it's real or not. However, one of the officers who arrested him testified that when he approached McDermott, Mucko told him he didn't speak German.

I'm not sure which idea is scarier: That his story is true, and that someone could become this delusional, or that he has a mind twisted enough to make something like this up.

Further proof, I guess, that we humans are one fucked up species.

What flag is this?

Ok, now that I made the middle of the weblog white so people might actually be able to read it, it looks like a flag to me. Anybody know what flag this is? I'd look it up, but I'm feeling horribly lazy.

The return of quality cinema

A commercial for The Scorpion King, the new movie starring professional wrestler The Rock came on while I was watching TV this afternoon. You know this is going to be a major feat of film with lines such as:

THE ROCK: I'm here for the girl...and your HEAD!

I'm smelling what The Rock is cooking. It smells like a fish that has been left in the back seat of a car for a week. In Miami. In July.

I am away from my sanity right now

Despite the fact that I only got 44% on the IM Addict Quiz, I am terribly addicted to Instant Messenger. Why, why, why do I spend so much time:
1. composing away messages?
2. reading other people's away messages?

I think #2 probably has a lot to do with #1 since I feel that if I put a certain amount of effort into my away messages, I should see exactly how carried away I'm getting. But why do we all come up with such elaborate ways to say that we're elsewhere? Some people put up a simple "zzzzzzz" for sleep, yet others leave a message approximately the length of War and Peace to tell the universe that they will not be at their computer due to REM cycles.

It's kind of odd how away messages can become a tracking device. You can tell people where you are, where you are not, where you could possibly be, everywhere you will be within the next eighteen hours, or just leave some sort of cryptic message just saying "out." But why are we compelled to provide what is, in essence, a stalking tool to the universe?

Mostly, I think I do it because I'm interested by what people have to say. I keep people on my buddy list that I haven't talked to in years, but generally only ones that are either a) never online and thus I never get around to deleting them or b) put up really amusing away messages, causing me to keep them up on my list just for shits and giggles, even though I never talk to them.

And why do we get vaguely frustrated by the lack of effort when someone puts up the generic "I am away from my computer right now" message? Does the lack of effort on the part of the poster angry that they don't put in the effort we do, or does it make us wonder if our own effort is simply wasted?

Or is that just me?

On the bandwagon

Well, I guess this is my first post. I wish I could think of something more entertaining to put up here, but I'm too hungry.