Lovely, my parents have abandoned me for Logan, and I mistakenly just gave the cat a second breakfast.
While waiting for my parents to get back home I had a bowl of Weet-bix. When my parents got home, they brought up several flat boxes, candles, and a cylinder of Sweedish biscuits. The next 6 hours saw me and dad assemble various cupboards, beds and what have you. I have concluded that whoever invented bent pieces of dowel wood as a substitute for nails was probably a nazi, wanting to inflict as much pain and suffering upon me and my father. However it was not the wooden dowels that saw the end of me. It would seem that Ikea, which is based in a questionable part of queensland (springwhat?) originally from a questionably nordic country, has products with a questionable motive. At first, the sweedish bikkies seemed to be delicious, enjoyable, with a light texture and slightly woody undertones. However i can assure you that they very quickly resembeled crumb sized razorblades in my stomach. It felt like I had eaten a lawnmower while it was still on. It would seem that IKEAs strategy is to lure a customer with a trojan horse, and cause tragedy and misery once inside. If the biscuits weren't enough proof, then me and my dad spending 5 hours on a stupid looking bed only to assemble it fucking upside down, and back to front in my brothers bedroom must surely suffice.
I knew there was something bad about springwood..
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