Well West Elm is officially the biggest gobbler of dicks and we chose to take our business elsewhere after a hilariously awful experience in Santa Monica today (which, to be honest, might have had a lot to do with the fact that we were in Santa Monica, aka Satan's Butthole, but I'm pretty sure that even if it had happened elsewhere I would have hated it).
Long story short, I had it out with the cashier who was too busy eating dicks to be a decent human and can't figure out how to ring customers up, so I bought some plates and then took my suburban ass to Macy's, where I bathed in my upper-middle-class element for as many as ten minutes before buying a sofa and arm chair.
Unfortunately it's backordered, but after reading all the Yelp reviews from West Elm's LA stores, it looks like we'll still have our sofa made and delivered before we would have even been notified otherwise, and we spent less than half of West Elm's prices, so. Great.
We celebrated by eating burgers and drinking, and now Brad is playing Grand Theft Auto, which is totally appalling and literally a voice over just said "Don't you hate those anti-gun activists? Don't you just want to shoot them in the face?"
What IS it with men and their incessant need to guilt you about The Kardashians? Go play a video game where you MURDER PEOPLE to STEAL CARS and let me watch this show about beautiful people having made up problems. It’s fine. It’s all fine.
I have 7 articles to write tomorrow and there's no wine, but I'll have a new couch in 6-8 weeks.