In this awesome photo essay, aptly titled “What If You Lived At Ikea,” photographer Christian Gideon and his friends clandestinely explored—wait for it—what it would be like to live at Ikea. I guess it would be pretty much the same as living in my apartment, except with furniture that has all its screws and isn’t at risk of collapsing every time you open a drawer or set a plate down.
I think there’s an insatiable national hunger for Empowerment Fantasies. The stock market crash disempowered people, made them feel their destinies were in the hands of mysterious market forces rather than their own. Then they watched all these Wall Street Lex Luthor types avoid punishment, and instead receive gigantic cash bailouts.
We flooded the message board with personal flirty messages that redefined the word corny. We called each other husband, and wrote big public posts of longing and missing. After two weeks we had enough of the distance (Death Cab’s Transatlanticism was our theme song.) and decided to meet up.
I’m just saying that giving someone a blowjob is an amazing gift. It’s better than paying for dinner at Buca di Beppo, it’s better than filling someone’s gas tank up, it’s better than paying for the movie and popcorn.
On my way home, I noticed I was dripping beads of tan and had to be at my cousins wedding in less than an hour. On the remainder of the drive, I traveled with my head out of the window, (an appropriate action for a dog, but very dangerous for a person.) I kept reminding myself, “pain is beauty” or in this case, a possible decapitation.