this mess we're in.
where to begin?
"last stop!" calls the bus driver from the front of the bus. heather and i look at each other in confusion.
you see, viggo mortensen's new movie, hidalgo, has been out for a number of weeks and we had not yet seen it. so, we planned an evening of viggo goodness, replete with kraft dinner for dinner and sprite for the after party. hell, heather even bought V8's new juice, V-GO for us.
and now here we were, getting kicked off the bus in the middle of nepean, which is kinda like scarbourogh, but less scary. big areas of nothingness, and then weird rows of townhouses and then tall apartment buildings. and the traffic of the 417 roaring in the background.
"i'm so confused." heather tells me.
"yeah, you and me both" i think to myself. i have no idea which way is north at this point. this always bothers me for some reason.
we turn, slowly. behind us to our right is a sign advertsing Le Biftheque, a french steak house where you can get an 18oz steak for nine ninety nine if you arrive before five pm, and then, beyond that, a beacon. it's blue. it's yellow. and it spells out IKEA.
"DELIVER ME FROM SWEDISH FURNITURE!" screams the inner voice, but i shush it quickly. i've been told of the vertible majesty of the swedish wonderland. it sucked me in, it drew at me. IKEA was calling to me.
apparently it called to heather as well because we ended up going there instead of the movies, wandering around the maze of rooms they had set up. i flopped down on leather couches that were more expensive that my tuition for this year. i sat in chairs that could cover an expensive food bill for the week. i admired the yuppie aspect of it all.
yet was compelled to buy nothing.
"i told you so." pipes up the inner voice. such smugness! "you've been delivered from the swedish furniture."
yeah. i watched fight club the other day. how could you tell?