Wednesday, December 01, 2010

Runing Gaag

Every time Elizabeth and I go to Ikea I make the same joke. We're usually discussing and strategizing. Which material do we like better, the metal or the fabric? Is this bed going to fit under the low ceilings upstairs? When we get to this sign in the showroom, I point to it:
"Hey hon," I'll say to get her attention, keeping the same tone of serious discussion, "What about these? I hear they really make things go quickly." This is a stupid joke. The knowledge that it is stupid makes it very, very funny to me. At this stage if I'm lucky Elizabeth is amused, or at least indulgent. It goes on.
"This one is the furniture for hyper kids."

A joke is funny the first time, and then it's funny one more time. The next time, the joke is not funny. At that precise point it is ready to become part of a running gag. So goes the remainder of our trip to Ikea.
This one is nice, but I can't seem to figure out what shape it is?
This would be perfect for the mantel, but it already belongs to somebody!
I like this table for the family room except it feels like it's missing something.
This is the same table, last week.
 This is that new robot Ikea makes, the one that's always checking things out?
Ooh these are defective. Their mom and dad intermarried from the same product family.
This table? It always holds the door open for me --- and I like that.
I really crack myself up, audibly. If I still get the indulgent smile from Beth, that's a plus. If she gives me a slightly strained smile (we have a code for it, it's the "you're so cute and funny" or YSCAF smile) that's a real plus. I am a total sadist.

I'm also like a stern martial arts teacher who wants to see the mystical realization that happens when, after turning a joke into a running joke and telling it over and over again, like the Karate Kid hanging up his jacket 600 times, it crosses a threshold and the original joke becomes funny again. (to me). There is a reluctant pupil in that analogy which is where it fails to parallel my relationship; the only thing Beth learns from me about comedy is how to endure it. However, this Sunday, we were at Ikea getting a bookshelf. I also wanted to find something the kids could use to display all the new shells they picked up last week. Beth suggested specimen jars. We found some. I was just about to pick one up. "Don't take that one honey," she said. "It's Burken."
The furniture and laughs at Ikea are cheap. My lady? Priceless. (Read that three times).

5 comments:

Elly Lou said...

I'm chewing my tongue instead of making a crack about meatballs and your lingonberries. You're welcome.

Eric said...

Please, nutcrack all you like.
And, a heartfelt CONGRATULATIONS on your great news. [LIKE]

Pearl said...

Smiling big over here. :-)

Pearl

dufmanno said...

I end up in a withered heap every time I'm forced to walk the circles of doom to escape the place. Once I tried to go in reverse and just escape the way I came in and apparently "backwards" is not allowed. They just give you a cinnabon slathered in knock out drugs so you don't remember anything until you get to the self serve cave four hours later.
Yet I still continue to show up in the blue and yellow parking lot with alarming regularity.

Eric said...

Pearl, I thank you.
Kelly, ha! Self-service cave...