And then it became tainted, since the person whom I enjoyed it with turned out to be a really, really super bad person right down to her soul.
Bad memories are hard to erase. I remember once having scrambled eggs and then getting a tummy bug shortly after. I vomited up those eggs... I vomited them up something fierce. It took me quite a while before we made up. A very long while. IKEA was the same way. In fact, I thought we would never be okay again.
Enter my niece. You might remember her as the bad ass 4 year old that wanted to feed her new baby sister to some crocodiles.
And I now share with you how the amazingness and giggles of one child made IKEA and me friends again...
I still won't eat their shitty ass horse meatballs though. Not ever.
|At first, Christopher totally agreed to push us around on the cart... Even after we had gotten in trouble for pencil and flyer hoarding, chair spinning, pretending we were turtles, and furniture jumping. So, it was all good.|
|Then he was all "Fuck this shit." And... And he just left us!|
|And that's when we started pushing ourselves around on the cart. In circles... And MAYBE running people down. MAYBE. Ok... We ran people down.|
|After our tomfoolery was put to an end, we decided to decorate the box with Nya's dresser in it with our "borrowed" pencils.|
|You can't really see it, since it was in pencil... But that drawing was fucking epic. Sunshine, ladybugs, butterflies... and one unicorn poo-ing into the wind.|
|I know... It's fucking epic. You're welcome.|
Thank you, Nya. Thank you for believing in IKEA... and me. And thank you to my brother and his wife for not bitch-slapping the shit out of me when me and Nya went puddle jumping in the parking lot.
So remember: Dreams really do come true, bitches! And sometimes stores deserve a second chance!
Word to yo' mama.