Some Assembly Required

I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately.  No, not because I’m in it, but because everyone I know seems to be falling out of it. 

BUT because I worship and adore my friends and want so badly to fix them all, I’ve been spending a ridiculous amount of brainpower attempting to come up with a profound and lasting solution to the heartbreak epidemic.

Sadly for them, when I allow my mind to wander, it often ends up in weird places, lost and embarrassed, with neither a trail of breadcrumbs to indicate how the hell it got there, nor a cell phone to call for help.

So I’ve also been thinking a lot about Sweden lately (for reasons too convoluted to go into here, but it is likely not helped along by the shiny new Ikea catalogue that’s been lying on my desk between loving fondlings for the past few weeks now).  Which brings me to my very deep and potentially award-winning findings.

The human heart is a lot like modern Scandinavian furniture.

Seriously, think about it.

  • Can be flat-packed to reduce risk of damage during transit.  Won’t, however, be of much use or give you much pleasure unless you grab the ol’ Exacto knife and just go ahead and rip it open.
  • Rarely ready for immediate use; some assembly generally required.  Those that are shipped intact are generally very small and generally decorative, which may give you instant enjoyment, but rarely provide a strong foundation for your interior.  Those that require a lot of work can be frustrating at times, but leave you feeling pretty damn good about yourself at the end of the day.
  • The strongest have undergone rigorous quality-testing, often involving pummeling with boxing gloves.
  • Sometimes there is nothing but crap available in a person’s own neighborhood, and so shopping must be done online.  Of course, this inevitably carries risks, as when making any major purchase sight-unseen.  That bed may look pretty sharp in photos, but you don’t really know how it feels, smells or tastes …um…looks until it arrives and you spend the night with it, and it may not always be of as pure a quality as advertised.
  • You get what you pay for.  If you are only wishing to spend a certain amount, you may have to settle for lesser-quality goods.  This means veneers and particle-board, people.  Particle-board that disintegrates at the first sign of dampness.  If you are willing to give a little more, you take home something solid that may endure for quite some time.
  • Can also be recycled indefinitely.  Of course, sometimes this means inheriting something that is severely outdated and smells kinda funny.  However, if proper care is taken, even those found on the side of the road in apparent abandonment can be taken home and revived, providing many more years of service.
  • Can also be broken in sex-related mishaps.
  • Attempts to divide between more than one individual household generally results in a useless pile of broken crap nobody wants.
  • Usually comes with warnings and/or some form of instructions, but 100% of the time, these things are written by someone for whom English is obviously a second language.  Not that it matters, because you never bother to read them anyway.
  • If you really take care of it, it could last forever.

What all of this devastatingly enlightening information means is that I have absolutely no idea how to help my lovelorn friends.  I am completely useless.

I also really need new furniture.

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3 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Amazing post! all of a sudden I am craving those Swedish meatballs from Ikea…

  2. Haha 🙂 I think you are on to something here: The IKEA Guide to the Human Heart. I’m wondering exactly what kind of sexual mishap could cause my heart to break – perhaps if I found a penis where I wasn’t expecting one. That would do the trick, I’m sure.

    And by the way, Swedish furniture tastes wonderful. You should try it. When you get the IKEA furniture assembly instructions here in Sweden the last step is always licking.

    Though when they ship their furniture abroad this step is removed for cultural purposes – though the taste is still there. It tastes a little like middle-class comfort mixed with an aching wintertime despair for anything that looks like the sun. In other words it tastes like chicken.

  3. Speaking of Swedish meatballs… 8)

    (And usually the broken heart comes when a husband finds another man’s penis where he wasn’t expecting it – namely, in his wife… 😈 )

    How does peach Italian leather taste? ‘Cause that looks like it would taste a bit like poo. Not that I know what either of those taste like. Nor do I plan to ever find out.

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