YSaC, Vol. 1347: Let’s table this discussion.
2012 September 25
white tile kitchen table – $200
beautiful table comes with four chairs text only 59number number, number, 5, number
Say, that IS a beautiful table. Wait — no, that’s the box on top of it. Oh, there it is … oops, nope, that’s a Rubbermaid container. Oh, I think that’s … no, that’s a chair. Is that the table? No, that looks like a pair of rollerblades mated with a pomeranian. Well, I’m sure there’s a beautiful table under there somewhere.
Thanks, Ross! (I think we’re way overdue on a tag for Ross; he’s been responsible for quite a few posts, including the baby eating chair and the signed Bible.)
Ah, see:
It’s a description of table and four chairs.
Note, to build tension in the plot, Spark’ has carefully not said that the chairs match, nor precisely what sort of kitchen the table is from/suitable for.
This is a bit derivative of both Rice and Koontz, but, once past that the narrative continues with the twisting calculus of number in twined with number and number. The 5 and 59, hanging Damoclean, suggest a climatic ending beyond description. Thus, highlighting the Deconstructionist nature of the work.
But does it speak to man’s inhumanity to furniture?
Banshee howling of lolspeak was my first impression.
My second impression was of a dottering old coot with less than one cup of coffee achieved.
Capn, it says it’s from a white tile kitchen.
Chef Ramsey’s after falling asleep to a Dean Koontz audiobook after too much cough syrup . . .
Ahh..yes, the signed Bible. One of my better YSaC moments, if I do say so myself…and umm…I guess I do. 🙂
Is that Sparky’s way of saying that the table is beautiful on the inside? If so, that’s very triggering. (pouts)
If you have a shovel, a sander, some patience and a lot of polyurethane, it could be beautiful on the outside as well.
So you’ve been on MediFast too?
Must be a rare Romney table.
“What? You wanna see the white tile table? No, can’t let you do that. You’ll just have to take my word for it that it’s there and it’s beautiful. What? What? You only see 2 chairs? Stop it. Counting is hard. You want to try it? Get in the sink!”
My name is Rock yo’ Mama and I approve this message.
I can see why they’d want to get rid of that white tile table if it’s that defective. Non-white, non-table, non-tile… it’s like no one cares about good craftsmanship any more. No, what we need are NEW tables, NEW chairs, NEW linoleum, NEW fur coats, NEW Jersey, and NEW South Wales. And that ignores all the North wales, too! I wonder what the Prince of Wales will say about that? And since when did Aquaman relinquish his title to a man with ears that huge? Whales don’t even have ears, they hear with their blowholes. I read it on the internet, so it’s true. Not like talk radio with its arrogant blowhards. No one is talking about the issues any more, the national discourse has become a sideshow where the whole point of the game is to smash a table over someone’s head- not to prove anything, not to make a point, just smash the table there. And we can’t even SEE the table, because Sparky clearly uploaded the wrong picture.
My God, you sound like me today! Where did you hide my crazy pills?!
Wait, I thought those were M&Ms. It would explain why I’ve been having a deep, meaningful conversation with this paperclip, though.
You’re welcome my dear
Sing “Soft Kitty” again, pretty-please.
Yes, yes, PLEASE! Save The Wales!
I was going to comment on how the white table is such a pure shade of white that it’s actually reflecting ALL the light, thus looking like there’s no table at all, when, in fact, it’s right there front and center. I was gonna, but Mudsy kinda beat me to it with the “emperor’s new table” bit, which is better. Hats off to Mudsy.
Sparky says “I really wanted to take a picture of my beautiful white tile table but my camera has a mind (?) of its own and kept swinging over to the pile o’ junk beside it. You can trust me; just send $200 and I’ll send you the table. Honest!”
Sounds legit.
:stuffs wallet filled with bees into computer drink holder:
You can just email me the table.
Table One
Bees to Adores (f)x = n * pi
“59number number, number, 5, number”
That is my FAVORITE Tommy Tutone song!
Even better, it seems Sparky has unearthed a rare recording that didn’t make the White Album! All we need now is to find someone who can deconstruct it.
I think that’s from the rare White Tile Album, DDoD!
“Is this my beautiful table?/No it is not my beautiful table/My table/Our table/My beautiful table/[ow! my shin–who left that &*#$%^ table there!?”
No no no. It’s that Billy Idol hit “Nice Day For a White Table”. Come on people! I’m absent for a week and y’all forget the hits!
I love how that second chair is just peeping in at the corner of the picture. It’s like it’s trying to disassociate itself from the whole thing.
I don’t blame it, I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with that mess either.
Are you sure that’s a table?
It could be a unicorn in a sailboat.
The chair is doing that latest craze called “photo bombing”. Crazy kids, er, chairs.
I think my eyesight is getting worse.
Really? Why?
Everything in the picture is blurry.
What do you mean?
Well, do you see those two chairs in the picture?
Yes.
I can’t see those.
Do you see that red wicker basket in the picture?
Yes.
I can’t see that either.
Can you read that box that says “PARENTAL ADVISORY Contents may not be suitable for children under 13 years of age”?
Yes.
I can’t read that.
Can you see the white tile table in the picture?
No.
Me neither. Maybe you should get your eyes checked too.
It’s David Byrne’s table. “This is not my beautiful table. This is not my beautiful house. This is an episode of Hoarders. Same as it ever was.”
Eek, Lara Byrned me . . .
Oh, Sparkies of the world, with every listing I get number and number.
It’s like “Where’s Waldo” but from Ikea.
The Narnia Ikea.
The one in the less-nice part of Narnia.
Y’know, the one over the river Styx in the less nice part of Narnia.
The one where you must have exactly 15 Dá002 fasteners to pay the Ferryman.
Except they are only packaged in bags of eleventeen. And only available in the Perdition of Ikea (which has been rumored to resemble Swindon).
*Dave has waited patiently for hours, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive white tiled table in its natural habitat when suddenly he detects a blur of motion in the corner of his eye*
::FLASH::
*Dave quickly flips the camera over and looks at the review screen*
“Dammit! I missed it again!” He says, letting out a frustrated sigh. He stands up on legs long-ago numb from immobility, when off in the distance he hears the unmistakable call……
“MEEP! MEEP!”
Oh Cream, forgive me!
On a white tile kitchen table text a number.
Black-tooth toothpicks, no gold biscuits, tired Sparkys.
Silver ladles run down moon shine, I like Dark Eyes!
Dawn-light smiles on your grilled cheese, my condiments.
I’ll wait in this place where the tile never shines;
Wait in this place where the faucets run by themselves.
You said no string beans could secure you at your station.
Platform loafers, restless bagels, goodbye Windows.
I walked into such sad clowns in your kitchen.
As I walked out, felt my own knead just beginning.
I’ll wait in the crate by the four chairs;
Lie with you where the faucets run by themselves.
At the party she served cheez whiz over crackers.
Consolation for the hors d’oeuvres now forgotten
Yellow lions crouched in jungles, I like Dark Eyes!
Sheep are dressing, goodbye Windows, tired Sparkys.
I’ll sleep in this place with boxes piled high;
Lie to your face where the faucets run by themselves. *
*it makes about as much sense as the original lyrics
*flicks Bic*
Play Freebird man!
If I sell this tomorrow
Will you still remember me?
‘Cause I’m as free as a chair now
And this tile you cannot cha-y-a-y-a-y-a-y-ange.
And this tile you cannot chaaaaange! Wo-o-wo-o-wo
(Guitar solo for 10 minutes)
I once saw a table and chairs like this in a zoo. It was in the Wildebeest enclosure; one of them was a typical gnu and a tiler, too.
Holy Testicle Tuesday!
Is it just me, do I need new glasses?
I just suck at these hidden picture puzzles. Oh wait,… I think I found Waldo…nope sorry, whatever it was, was rabid. I’d get that looked at if I were you.
The ghostcat came back, she cannot stay away!
She’s back in the box the very next day.
She shares with TacoMagic so
She shall have snark wherever they go.
Punchity Punch Punch!
Good Morning, Brig. Gen. Henry Martyn Robert!
GAHH! An earworm and a punchity-punch at the same time!