Today I completely indulged my inner faggot. Don't worry, I didn't pry my ass-cheeks open, thrust a funnel deep into my sweet pinkiness and pour a variety of ejaculatory emmisions into my hungry hole. I just went to Ikea, is all! Now I'm sure none of you down south are aware, but here in Queensland we have just been blessed with a brand-new, absolutely enormous Ikea. Of course, it's still filled with the same shit, ugly staff, and horrible patrons, but the Leggo-esque yellow and blue plastic facade is quite cool, and really, one can never have too many tealight candles.

But today was such an experience. The new store only opened a few days ago, but I thought the mad frenzy would have died down already. But no. I was driving back from the Gold Coast, and, as it was about 9.10, I thought I would quickly duck in and check it out. Basically, the HUGE car park was rapidly filling, despite me soon discovering that Ikea doesn't even open until 10! What's with that? So I had to go get a (horrible) coffee at McCafé (don't blame me! I challenge anyone to find a decent coffee in Logan), and then returned at 9.55. By this stage the car park was full, and I ascended the first escalator, already dreaming of my first worthless purchase I would make. You know. As a souvenir?

Anyway, the lower foyer had about fifty people on it; the higher foyer was completely full, and they weren't letting any more people go up. Apparently they had some special offer of a $500 bed being reduced to $99. Wow. They were calling out "anyone here for the bed special?" and it was really embarrassing when people actually said they were, as they got escorted to a special section. And it was made more embarrassing when considering their age/standing. Like, these were not uni students. These people were, like, old people (well, at least in their thirties). Sheesh, splash out on a decent bed, fo'.

Anyhoo, finally we were all shepherded up the second escalator. They had Ikea staff dressed as Svens and Ingunas: the former in yellow overalls and black glasses frames, the latter resembling deranged milk maids. It was quite embarrassing. I pretended to be a foreign student so people wouldn't think I was a tightass. Not that it mattered, as Ikea, as usual, was full of disgusting single mothers and ferals. Like, really. Dump your children in the playroom please. I really don't want to hear your snot-nosed brat screaming for the next hour.

And then I... I don't know. Wandered around. Did the Ikea thing. I did buy a few things I will probably never, ever use (a garlic press and a pedal bin!). But I can see how the head of Ikea is so damn rich. You wouldn't believe how many Sharons I overheard saying "awwww should I get one of these? *holding aloft mysterious metal object shrouded in plastic in flat pack* I don't really use one but it's only six bucks!"

Ugh.

Ikea would be a lot nicer if they had no kids, and no ferals. I like the idea behind Ikea, but in practice its just a bit ick.

Also, they need to hire cuter staff. More Swedes, please.