Learnin' somethin' every other day

Even though I wasn't able to taste the fabled goodness of their Swedish meatballs, I discovered a perverted appreciation for IKEA. Despite the offensively foreign nature of their product signage, and the ridiculously Walmart-esque "super store" expansiveness of that building, my first visit was a truly manchildish experience. Sure, 500 Days of Summer ringed painfuly close to my conscious perception as I wandered about with Ron and Khonnie (heretoforeverafter referred to as The KhRonnie), I could not help but attempt to maximize the last hour before closing in as many ways possible.
I humped the Lovinge displays. I tried to follow the apparently straight-forward directions to the cashier. I mini-swooned over the random bits of tender ass that browsed the kitchen wares. And then I happened upon a curiosity/gag-reflex: "Art." Economically priced canvas prints of sub-par imagery. My heart hurt for a fleeting moment, then I dove in to inspect the objects in complete disregard of the pitiful pictures passed off as art. My guess was that they are generally less than 8 ounce canvas of a weaker stock that would probably be used for cargo pants in an eastern European sweatshop. Being the sensible consumer I am, I let the "impulse buy" sensation take hold as I pursued a potential canvas frame to commandeer. Surprisingly, I chanced upon the deal of the week. Taking my previous art store retail experience as the bar with which to measure the cost-effectiveness of the imminent sale, a handful of the larger sized items are justifiably priced. But it was the two-pack 22" square canvas print slashed in price from something regrettable to $20 that forced my hand. Accounting for the lower quality and the non-standard dimensions, I snagged it with devilish intent. Ecstatic and remorseful are two oxymoronic emotions that completed the point of sale. The stretch job is just about one notch above terrible in comparison to a studio/side-stapled double-primed canvas one can find at a legitimate art supply store. HOWEVER. Hooks and wire were included.

Tack, Ingvar Kamprad Elmtaryd Agunnaryd. I will happily whitewash your corporate filth.