I tend to think of myself as a pretty smart person. I am not bragging, particularly, and the snobbish tendencies I possess are mostly related to books, movies, music, etc. But when it comes to common sense, to following directions and critical thinking, I like to think I’m ahead of the curve.
So why did I spend the last two days sweating buckets and holding back tears in an effort to assemble a desk and a chest of drawers? I really thought that I had the whole moving thing figured out. I didn’t go to IKEA to buy my stuff, for that place is evil. Everything is so stylish and cute, but that smug feeling of good taste disappears when you attempt to assemble a bunk bed using only pictograms. So I went to good old Target. And yet, I suffered. Frankly, I had faith in Target, but it’s gone now. I loved how nice Target seemed, how simply stylish and yet unpretentious. I even really liked in when Target bought all the ad space in that one issue of The New Yorker and gave it over to cool graphic designers. I didn’t flinch when Target enthusiasts called the store “Tar-zhay.” Well, fuck that. No more!
Now, I look like I’ve been in the wars and I’ve got sore muscles in places I was pretty sure contained only fat, skin, and bones. But my room in Baltimore is set up, damnit. And I’m too tired to write anymore. Sorry for being boring. Tomorrow I’m off to laze about in the park and see Vampire Weekend along with the entire hipster population of the eastern seaboard.
Target, you cruel ungrateful bastard.
Well, I’m breaking my sacred vow again and going back to Baltimore this weekend. And in Baltimore we have opportunities for socializing, drinking, and dancing. But limited internet access. So long, blog. I’m off to party with these guys.