Sofa, so good (I am so sorry)

Blogger has only gone and made itself awesome. Good show.

It's made the post-creating element a lot more user-friendly. It looks like Microsoft bloody Word! I'm loving this rather muchly. But you know me - any old excuse to waffle on about everything and nothing on here, and I'm typing away, going like the clappers to entertain you lot.

You know what really grinds my gears? Sofa adverts. They frustrate me quite a bit, you know. How is it that these sofa-selling companies and whatnot have so much cash to blow on slick, special effects-saturated cheese fests? I can't imagine the sofa business being that lucrative. How many people buy sofas more than once every three or four years? Now, I'm no domestic-sittables expert (as you can probably tell), but it seems to me that in order for them to have the money that they seem to have, they need to sell the few sofas they do sell at astronomical prices.

And it's not as if they even appear to be trying to boost profits! You turn on the telly and find me a furniture advert that doesn't brag about some sort of sale. It's probably not going to happen, because they are always having sales. I've often been tempted, when seeing an advert that says 'ENDS THIS SUNDAY' to go on a Monday, just to see what it's like then. But maybe leaving it 'til Monday would be too late. Maybe by then, they'll be having yet another sale, twice as punchy and unusual-sounding as the last. It has reached the very zenith of its potential ludicrousness: it's actually a more interesting experience to witness the goings on of these places when there isn't a sale. Instead of it being the traditional 'sell at normal price for ages and ages, and then have a brief, cut-price period' it seems to be 'sell everything dirt-cheap for ages and ages and ages, and then have a brief period of consequently unsettling normality.'
Well, that's what it seems like. The truth of the matter, in my humble opinion, is that they're selling the sofas at insane prices in the first place, palming them off as 'cut-price sales' to pull the wool over our eyes, and then they spend a couple of minutes a year with the prices increased twofold, shrugging it off as the 'normal price'.

The reason they get away with this being that the average human being, with opposable thumbs and a digestive tract, does not have a sofa-price database in their head and is therefore unaware of a rip-off if they are handed one, leather-upholstered. If you are ever in the sordid position of needing a sofa, it's probably because the old one's broken, so you're going to be pretty grief-stricken and desperate when you stagger into DFS the following day to replace 'old Sophie'. You see the word 'SALE' on a poster, and your panic-bludgeoned, fragmented mind can only assume that something good can come of this.
As a result, you end up re-mortgaging your house for a 'stylish white leather three-piece suite' that is freezing cold to sit on in the morning and that makes tremendous farting noises as soon as flesh touches it.

And then Christmas comes along. You know what? The one thing that really frustrates me about Christmas is the collective amnesia of the world when planning the festive celebrations. The precise number of chairs in the house becomes lost in the glee-addled vortex of tinselly euphoria that is the average homeowner when preparing to have the family over, and someone ends up potentially chair-less. If only, I scream on occasion, if only there was something that could be done to remedy this pandemic!

Well fear not. Those jolly old furniture companies are on the case. Every year. Selling us sofas. Deep joy.

Well no, actually! There are many things that really frustrate me about Christmas, but chair quantity is never one of them! I'm hardly at an age to care, but as far as I know, there has never been a moment in my life where, at Christmas, someone has had to sit on a beanbag, or a computer chair wheeled out of the other room. And the people I'm related to/affiliated with are most certainly not the most reliable or organised people in the world.
If I concentrate really hard, shut out all background noise, and enter a meditative trance, I can, after about an hour, begin to slightly appreciate their angle. Okay, so it seems like the rest of the world does have this problem (if they do, there should really be some psychological tests conducted to pinpoint the cause of this) and they need seats. Right. Okay, I can just about appreciate that. But beds?

I'm sorry, is it just me, or is buying a bed the least appropriate thing to do at Christmas? You can't wrap a bed up in paper and pop it under the tree, you can't really reveal it to the person receiving it during a party, and nobody, as far as I know, eats Christmas dinner whilst sat on a bed. Mental, that's what it is.

Well, I have literally exhausted the hate-filled portion of my brain for one night. So go away.