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Go stick your head in a pig - Diary of a Necromancer
Excuse me, I'm making perfect sense, you're just not keeping up
Go stick your head in a pig
Had a double-feature of a Frustrating Shopping Experience weekend. Saturday's show was "Sam Vs. the Ikea Zombies", a tense psychological thriller where we see exactly how many people we can get to shamble aimlessly along in front of the Protagonist before she starts running amok smacking them silly with a red plastic cutting board [SPOILER: the movie ends abruptly when they're out of stock in the shelving she came in for and she leaves without buying the cutting board]. Sunday's movie was "For the Love of God Will You Shut That Thing Off and Find Me A Stepstool?", a heartwarming buddy-comedy about trying to shop for microwaves at Best Buy.

But both quests did, actually, end successfully; the Container Store near Ikea turned out to be having a sale on Metro shelving starter units, which was kind of what I'd been wanting all along, and after a couple of false starts we managed to find a Best Buy where we could hear ourselves think well enough to discuss the microwave selection in a calm and rational manner. (Remind me never to even bother trying the BB on Howard ever again -- I mean, a TV in a fridge? Who the hell really needs that, much less turned up full-blast and locked so you can't even turn the volume down enough to browse two aisles over?) I even made it to the cake-off sponsored by notmonochrome and her friends, albeit very late and too psychologically worn out to stay for long.

Now, the shelving unit was a purchase long planned, and anyone who's ever heard me rant about the insanity of sticking two artists into the same studio apartment will grasp immediately what getting that was about; but the sudden need of a microwave takes a little explaining. For those of you who've read over the kool-aid-dying-yarn instructions, you will see that a microwave is one suggested method of applying the required heat. So, since I had two more flavors of kool-aid to test-swatch before the yarn I've ordered for my first complete project of this arrives (it's actually waiting for me at the PO over on Devon right now, a notice to that effect having turned up on Saturday), I decided to try giving the swatches a zap instead of waiting around for the sun-tea method I had used to generate previous samples. Two scraps of yarn in glass jar in microwave, two minutes, tum-te-tum... Hmm, why is it making that funny sizzly noise? There isn't anything metal in wool yarn...

And when I opened the microwave to investigate, I discovered that the facing of the microwave, which appears to be some sort of enamelled metal, had a large chip in one corner, partially covered by a charred blob that turned out to correspond to a rough melty spot in the plastic of the door of the microwave. Mum agreed that this was a safety hazard grave enough to warrant the unit's immediate replacement. The next afternoon, already running late, we embarked upon what turned into a two-hour odyessy through a couple of Best Buys, leaving the first empty-handed because not only was it way too loud to consider the merchandise intelligently, half of the display was above my shoulder-level and I wasn't about to drop $100 on an appliance that important without even being able to see how cleanable the turntable mechanism was.

The second BB, fortunately, had the appliance section isolated enough from the stereos that not only was it relatively quiet, I was able to commandeer a stocking ladder for long enough to inspect the models on the higher row of the display before a salesdrone could notice and object. Since it was already 4:30 by the time we'd wrestled the selected beast into the trunk, and we were nearer the expressway than our house, it was agreed that Mum would drive me down to the cake-off party if I in turn agreed to make my visit brief so I could come back with her and lug the new appliance up the stairs directly, instead of having to leave it in the trunk until god-knew-when if she just dropped me off.

The upshot of which is that there is now a humongous box taking up most of the kitchen, and I'll have to get it set up before I can eat much of anything today if only because even climbing over it to get into the fridge is rather a chore. Botheration. Not to mention that since I apparently fell over and went to sleep right after I got it upstairs, now I'm wide awake at this inconveniently unholy hour... But at least I could walk over to the PO a bit later and pick up the package with my new yarn, I suppose. It's a conspiracy, I tells ya.

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4 responses | moved to respond?
violachic From: violachic Date: August 29th, 2005 02:28 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
Those titles remind me of Monsters, INC, when they claim they're writing a play to try to cover up a conversation nobody should have overheard...

"Put that thing back where it came from, or so help me..."

unhipster From: unhipster Date: August 29th, 2005 07:01 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
(Remind me never to even bother trying the BB on Howard ever again -- I mean, a TV in a fridge? Who the hell really needs that, much less turned up full-blast and locked so you can't even turn the volume down enough to browse two aisles over?)
Wait...what? Did they really have a TV in a fridge?
robling_t From: robling_t Date: August 31st, 2005 05:58 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
Wait...what? Did they really have a TV in a fridge?

Could I make shit like this up? :)
unhipster From: unhipster Date: August 31st, 2005 06:48 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
I think that invention pretty much captures the quintessence of America.
4 responses | moved to respond?