It goes without saying that I’m extremely popular. I get a lot of emails. Like a lot a lot. And increasingly, more and more of them are like this:
I came across your site and thought it was neat! I was wondering if you
offer any advertising opportunities? Please let me know if you do, I have a
client that might like to advertise on your site.
I like to respond to such emails in the following way:
I’m thrilled that someone finds my site ‘neat’. Most people use words
like ‘appalling’, ‘slovenly’ and ‘extremely alarming’.
I’m curious to know what kind of advertiser would want to associate
itself with a site in which an inflatable Brad Pitt wears a beard made
of pubic hair, topics such as anal grooming are discussed openly and
grown women wearing half a bird on their head attempt to
prostitute themselves at the races in order to get free drinks.
Looking forward to hearing from you,
Funnily enough, I have yet to hear back from Lindsay – or any others of her ‘ilk’.
Then the other day I got a personal email from a PR chick at Ikea Australia, making me an “offer I couldn’t refuse” regarding their recently launched loyalty scheme called “The Ikea Family”. It’s the kind of thing that makes you worry you’ll wake to find a horse’s head in your bed upholstered in ‘Snöa Flinga’ fabric.
Turns out it really was an offer I couldn’t – or rather, didn’t want to – refuse.
In the interests of full disclosure, I know this PR chick well – I like the cut of her jib. I have gone drinking with her. I let her beat me at online Scrabble. I even gave our mutual friend JS an inadvertent vibrator in her presence.
However, this is not a good enough reason for me to ‘sell out’. After all, I generally don’t play the ‘blogger game’. I don’t run giveaways (although I’m making an exception for the lovely ladies at Cocktails At Naptime in a week or so), I don’t do product reviews or even take part in blogging memes. I just keep writing away in my little ivory blogging tower – although it’s more brown than ivory because I’ve failed to clean it for a few years.
The fact was there is something about Ikea that I really like. There’s the promise of cheerful livable storage solutions in extremely small spaces. My house is currently small and cheerful. But there is nothing livable about it. And most of our storage solutions involve shoving things under the bed.
Also, the words ‘goody bag’ may (or may not) have been mentioned.
“How big is the goody bag?” was my first question when I spoke directly to my Ikea-based friend. “Can it, say, fit a flat-packed kitchen??”
Apparently not. Still, a girl can dream.
So here’s the deal: Ikea are sending a car to drive me and my three children to Ikea where they’ll give me a personalised tour of the store while my children play it up big in SMÅLAND. We will then dine together in the Ikea restaurant on meatballs, mash and (my personal fave) lingonberry sauce (I don’t know what a lingonberry is, exactly, but I like its work) before being returned home. With my goody bag.
The kids are particularly excited about ‘SMÅLAND’. And so am I. One friend said her son absolutely loved going there but that she, herself, was a bit suspicious about the fact that they made her check him in at one desk and then pick him up from another. She suspected they might “process” him in some way between the two desks.
“They probably flat-pack him and then reconstruct him with an Allen key,” I remarked. “I bet he’s returned to you better than ever, though – you know, he probably has that serene feeling you get after you’ve had a spinal readjustment at the chiropractor.”
So yes, I’m extremely excited at the prospect of my children being serene.
And to be frank, I’m extremely excited about my goody bag (did I mention there was going to be a goody bag?). I particularly look forward to watching Sven, the handsome Swedish handyman who will obviously be one of the ‘goodies’, construct my brand new kitchen in a single evening while I sit back and drink lingonberry Schnapps. (Again, a girl can dream, right?).
Anyhoo, I just thought I should warn you all that I’ll be writing about my initiation into the “Ikea Family” one day soon. If anyone has any objections to me pimping my blog this way, please let me know and I’ll reassess the situation – after I’ve digested my meatballs, that is. Oh, and seen how handy Sven is with that Allen key of his…