The Couch
This thing, this item, this materialistic possession, this icon to the ultimate in couch potato technology has me obsessing harder than Ali Sheedi over Bridgette Fonda. But more so than just the actual furniture piece itself, is the frustrations involved in getting said family room adornment moved from location to location has been driving me insane for the better part of two weeks.
This couch would be referred to as the �shizzel� if I used such verbiage, but thankfully for everyone, I am not fluent in the ways of ebonics. This crafted masterpiece is everything I have always wanted for the center piece in my living room set. For starters, it is suede, not thick suede, but a perfect tan-colored incredibly soft almost blue-suede shoe type of material. The cushions are supple and soft allowing your ass and back to mold comfortably, yet firmly into the depths. What really makes this the graven image worthy of worship are the built in amenities. With a few quick moves, this couch suddenly transforms and becomes ready to take on any and all TV watching persons. The middle of the three sections sports a drawer where you put your feet, suitable for storage of multiple remotes, gaming controllers and an assortment of TV related magazine style documents. The top part above the built in drawer flips back like a slack yawed yokel yawning over a televised political debate. With a quick pull a table suddenly extends down between the two end spots, large enough for two dinner plates and a beer sized cup holder for each side compliment the setup nicely. But the ultimate built in amenities for this entire menagerie are the respective end seating units. Reaching around to the sides a depression can be found on either end housing a small lever. With a gentle pull of the lever the seats suddenly spring to life and in a matter of a few scant seconds, you will find yourself easing back into a fully functioning recliner.
Yeah, told you this was a fucking sweet couch. And I got the son of a bitch for the discounted price of absolutely fucking nothing.
It seems the parental units were looking to upgrade from practical to plush and ordered up a slew of leather furniture to compliment the new house they are having built. By default, the oldest (and only) son gets first dibs on cast off furniture, kitchenware and backyard BBQs. The one and only stipulation attached to this free bounty being that I must figure out how to move this behemoth from point Alpha to point Zulu without the help of my folks or their pickup truck. Living in George Bushes amerika I am well aware of the stipulations that come along with the �price of freedom� so having such subtexted amendments to a �free� item is commonplace and easily digestible for yours truly. To recap; Sweet ass couch and all I have to do is get the thing moved.
A wise man once said, �a good friend will help you move, but a true friend will help you move a dead boy.� While I haven�t had the opportunity to test out the latter theorem (but definitely know who I would call), the former is one I will put to the test and return the favor for anytime I get the chance. Over the past two weeks, what I learned is that either I don�t have many good friends or people just really don�t like to help me move things. I pre-planned, sent emails had my roommate call to recruit able bodied boys to help move the behemoth. Oh yes, did I mention that because of the intricate internal workings and special options this particular sitting device is equipped with that it weighs in three times as heavy as a like minded normal sized non-specialized version? It would take four of us to get this contraption loaded and unloaded, not to mention the need to procure a vehicle since I couldn�t exactly strap this bad boy to the top of my cavalier. As the days mounted, the frustrations multiplied until one day this week I finally declared, �fuck it dude, let�s just DO IT.� So what happens when I give up planning, throw in my lot with fate and fly by the seat of my pants? Five people are rounded up and dropped off, 40�s of beer clutched in hand for payment within one hour�s time. The operation went so smoothly, I likened it to a precision guided munition that actually hit its intended target.
The moral of this story?
Beats the fuck out of me, but I did learn my friends will do things for beer and I now have one sweet fucking couch.
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