I hate this desk chair.
It is horrible.
It is vinyl, it has armrests that wont go under the desk, it is too high and when I lower it on its hydraulics it is too low. My son plays with the lever and makes a horrifying loud smacking sound so that I cannot concentrate on the pictures of cute kittens and dogs on the internet. It sticks to my ass and my thighs, so I can never wear shorts and use the computer. It has a painful tear in the vinyl right at the edge of the seat where it pokes into my skin and leaves a red welt. Another reason why I cannot wear shorts, or cannot surf the web naked. (What, like I have all the time in the world to get dressed after a shower? Please, kittens and puppy pictures wont WAIT.)
I have been fantasizing of a way to destroy this desk chair. I have thought of rolling it into my neighbors back yard, throwing it on the burn pile, and lighting a match. I have thought of throwing off my roof. I have considered stabbing it with a steak knife. But no matter, what I want to do with this desk chair suitable for the Marquis de Sade, I alas, cannot because it is not MY desk chair. It is my husbands. One that he lovingly looked for on craigslist and bought for $50. He likes it. He thinks it's awesome. I imagine he would be upset with me if I stabbed it.
So for now. I will not destroy the desk chair.