So I had a dream that Sebastian Stan was my best friend and he taught me how to ski, and then later on when we were at a party together he pointed out a guy he said was handsome and sexy and that he’d think I’d like him and I look over and it’s another Sebastian Stan.
I have a theory that nobody actually works in Ikea. Their ‘employees’ are people that have gotten lost inside, and over the years they simply assimilate into the store. They find themselves wearing clothes that match the logo, they forget the need to eat or sleep. They are Ikea. Ikea is them. We are all Ikea.