Sober Moment 4.6.09: Ikea, Model Legs, and Dingleberries

Believe it or not, there have been quite a few sober happenings over the past several days.

On Friday, we were casting for a shoot at work (turns out I don't drink at work) where we were looking for leggy women.  I'd forgotten about it, but as soon as I walked in the door, a colleague was like, "Oh, Kareem, you're right on time!" handing me a box of pens and a stack of forms to give the models.  Um, can I put my bag down first?  

I came back over to the entrance from our floor's lobby with a chair (because god knows I hate standing for long periods of time unless I'm donning tight jeans and a drink).  Over the next 2 hours, I watched Pussycat-Doll-status models go into a conference room in sweats and jeans and emerge with mini skirts and booty shorts.  In heels, of course.

Of all the girls strutting their stuff, my favorite was the girl who came out in a cropped top (not much more than a sports bra), pantie-like hot pants, and no shoes.  Class. Act.

Oh, and who could forget the one girl wearing the flesh-colored g-string under a... basically, it was a black doiley. 

These poor girls (about 40 of them) had to walk from a conference room on one side of our office, down a long hallway (a good 150 feet, at least) to another conference room to be seen and photographed.  What was more entertaining than the appalling things they were wearing were the reactions of the straight guys in the office who saw them (this type of thing doesn't happen nearly often enough).

Selected quotes:
"What the hell is going on?!  I almost tripped over my jaw!"
"Is this the line for the gang bang?"
"What's the first question they're asking them in there?... Say 'O'!"

My favorite came from an older woman who saw one of the models riding in an elevator with one of the older execs: "And I said to myself, 'What's he doing with her?'"

But I'd've killed to eavesdrop on the models' conversations!

On Sunday, I woke up to the sound of my roommate's exercise bike around noon (I'd gone to bed at 5-something).  No big deal because I wanted to get up and enjoy the great weather.  After joining him and his (girl situation?) for a bit of The Emancipation of Mimi tour on TV (which could be it's own blog post), I got a text from TTT: Ms. W and I are headed to Ikea now.  Any takers?  Um, what do you mean by "now"?  Oh, you mean catch-the-Water-Taxi-that's-leaving-from-Wall-St.-in-50-minutes now.

For those of you who aren't familiar, I live in Washington Heights (WaHi), the 2nd most northern neighborhood on the island of Manhattan (that was worded very carefully for reasons probably only Urban Sprawl would get and every Bronx native would deny).  Wall St. is in the southernmost neighborhood in Manhattan.  It takes 20 minutes to get from my train stop to midtown on a local train (not including walking to the subway, waiting on the train, etc.).  Yeah, I couldn't make that boat.

On the train downtown, I ran into a group of out-of-town teenagers who appeared to be on a scavenger hunt.  Four of them were singing all kinds of pop and hip-hop music (from Soulja Boy to Earth Wind and Fire to the Ting Tings).  So basically they were MicHELLe and I (they were black).  Their serenade went on for about 20 minutes, and a "homeless" guy boarded the train at 14th st.  He went into his speech, which was kind of awkward because the girls were the loudest thing on the train, and they immediately stopped when they heard him (they must have thought it was some kind of official announcement).

Homeless guy: "...I've been riding the trains all night... hungry... my back is sore from lying on the seats."

All four of the teenaged girls all stand up, but they don't want to inturrupt his speech. The "homeless" guy stops, looking totally confused.

"You can have my seat," two of the girls say in unison.

"Huh? No... but thanks.  [back to speech mode] If anybody wants to donate so I can get some food."

"oooooh!"

I was trying to type up a blog post on my phone while ignoring him, but I couldn't help cracking up at that point.

TTT and Ms. W had waited for me (aw!), and we hopped on the big yellow Ikea boat!  It was so warm that I took off the jacket I was wearing (to show off my thin sweater).  That is, until we got out of the no-wake zone and started picking up speed.  As soon as that open-water wind hit, the cuteness-to-comfort quotient was reassessed, and the jacket was reapplied.

Ms. W: "That's Governor's Island.  It use to be an Air Force base... or an Army base... or something... but now it's just a park.  It's like really peaceful, and nice and you can like sit and stuff."

Me: "You can like sit and stuff??  In a park?!"'

Ms. W: "Yeah... what?"

And she has a masters.

It was about a 20-minute boat ride before we arrived at the home-goods mecca.  And where do you think these Latinas took me?  Straight Directly to the food.

I've never been to an Ikea before, but I've helped people put together the furniture.  And the food reminds me of the shopping experience: everything comes in a complete package.  You order the Swedish meatbalss: you're getting mac and cheese.  You order the salmon: you're getting mixed veggies.   It reminded me of college because they had the exact same tray and silverware dispensers as my non-Ivy-League school (thank god!), the salad bar looks exactly the same, and I've seen similar self-bussing stations at other schools.  But I was full off $8, and it tasted good.

TTT: "Okay, at the risk of sounding stupid, I'm gonna ask: what's that flag next to Sweden's?"
D. Kareem: "I think it's the New York state flag.
Ms. W: "I think that's it."
TTT: "Yeah, this is really a brilliant business model.  The Swiss are clever like that."
D. Kareem (after a pause): "TTT, please say what you just said one more time exactly as you said it."
TTT: "What?"
D. Kareem: "Nothing.  You just reminded me to put in an application to any master's program.  You inspire me, TTT."

TTT and Ms. W, two Ikea whores experts, kept talking about this mysterious drink with a weird name.  The first few times, I couldn't understand what they said, and they kept bringing it up.

"Did you just say Dingleberry juice?"

I was quickly chastised for my ignorance of Lingonberry juice and forced to try a glass.  Free refills, btw.

Once we began our journey, Ms. W insisted that I take a small pencil and a yellow bag.  "Believe me.  You'll need it."  But I'm just browsing...

TTT's aforementioned (or rather, aforeimplied) master's is in Engineering, so he can figure out how to use shit pretty quickly.  She was a bit slow on this piece.  Ironically so, since it's one of the few times she wouldn't put her legs up.

One of my favorite things about Ikea is the names of the pieces.  I saw a desk that would be practical for me (just something that I can put my laptop on besides my bed... not big enough to get covered in papers).  But one can't just pick up the items from the display floor.  One would have to pick them up downstairs from the area indicated on the tag.  This was what the small pencil and shopping list (which I never got) were for.  But I can't be bothered with writing things down, so I just snapped a picture of the Flärke.

  There was no way I was lugging this on the boat to the subway.

Me: "Don't they deliver?"

Sign:

"!"

Me: "Guess not."  TTT suggested we come back another weekend with a zip car (or a Uhaul truck, which is cheaper).

TTT picked up his phone and hung up after about 5 seconds.  "Urban Spraw's just off the boat."
Me: "That explains the accent."

Somebody thought this was funny.  He's dead now.

Okay, okay, I did kind of chuckle because there's a story behind this.  I already know it's a you-had-to-be-there moment, but I'm gonna tell it anyway.  MicHELLe and I were talking about gay categories based on animals (like bears and otters), and MicHELLe was determined to figure out what animal he'd be because he wasn't hairy.  I originally said an armadillo, which was fun because one could say "armadillo ladies" instead of "all the single ladies"!  He eventually settled on a flounder and concluded that I was a stallion (I feel like such a douchebag saying that!).  

BTW, SoHo Crush was not amused when I suggested that he could be an armadillo.

After what felt like hours, we came to a large staircase that descended into homeware heaven.

This section is particularly precarious because one can actually pick up things to buy here.  I walked through the cookware.  We have enough kitchen items, so that wasn't a problem (though two of the Latinas fell victim to the $2 frying-pan shields).  As much fun as I could have had with the litre glass flasks, I passed those up, too.  Then I saw my kryptonite.

Orange. Velvet. Curtains.

Okay, so maybe they're a plush, velvet-like material.  But there's some kind of simple DIY hemming process, so I don't have to give my hot tailor more money!  I've been complaining that the curtains my roommate put up before I moved in let in too much light in the morning and wake me up early, so I had been in the market for new curtains.  And they're ORANGE!  They'll match my sheets.  And pillows.  And dust ruffle.  And towels.

At that point, the flood gates were already open, so why not get more stuff!  I grabbed a new shower curtain, too.  My roommate and I really need one, but I haven't really talked to him about it.  I wanted to get a cute one, but my roommate and his friends might not appreciate a pink bright one.  I went with white.

"Wait, they have clear ones for like $1.50?!  Inner curtain and outer curtain!"  Okay, that really looks pathetic in print, but it was a very exciting (sober) moment for me.

Urban Sprawl almost got this trés-hot fire-inspired super douche, but $13 was a bit out of her price range.

TTT added a muppet-chic look to her outfit.

I may have grabbed another small item, but by that time, I was just about blacked out from all the shopping stimulation!  I decided to check out the self-service area, just in case the desk and chair I wanted were lighter than expected.  The desk was a definite no-go, but the chair (though in an awkwardly-shaped box) fit right into my bag.  Unassembled, of course.

Near the checkout, they keep all kinds of food products.  "Sparkling dingleberry cider?...  Somebody's so gay, she's shittin' glitter!"

We lugged our bags to the checkout (over $100 bucks spent!), and finally checked the time.

"CRAP, THE WATER TAXI!"

Yeah, we were about 50 meters away when we saw it pull out and leave for Manhattan.  By the time the next one came, it was about sunset.

They were tired Latinos, but TTT (our token Cuban) had the biggest smile.  Mostly because he was on an actual boat this time.


It was fun, but there were was way too much clothing in this entry.  Click here to read about the night we saw go-go-dancer rosebud (oh, and there's a picture, TED).


Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the  Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.