Road sign graffiti

The Dilemma

My past life

After trying hard to remember for a long long time, I have now recollected some important details of my past life. You read it right, I am saying that I now remember what I was in my past life. But before you get your hopes too high, let me burst your bubble by saying that I was neither a king nor a nobleman of some sort in my pre-incarnation. Also don't bother asking me if I led an exciting life in one way or another and whether I died a premature and horrible death. A lot of other people claim to have had those experiences in their past lives. Me? I was not even human. I was in fact a parasite. The kind of parasite that could have killed you in the middle ages, if it had entered your stomach. So, if you had seen me then, you would be hard pressed to tell my mouth from my behind. However, I was a spiritual parasite nonetheless. But, since I did not posses a mouth, eyes or limbs, I had no way of expressing my spirituality. You are just going to have to take my word for it.

As I think harder about this, I do remember passing through the digestive tracts of half a dozen kings and two dozen noblemen, with fatal consequences. And some of those people seem to have reincarnated as my friends, just to seek revenge by telling me make-believe stories about their past lives. On such occasions, when I am exasperated by listening to these intolerable blowhards, I yearn to be my fake previous self again.

Gas station gargoyles

At the gas station, as you wait for the familiar click of the nozzle that indicates a full tank, you encounter a lot of interesting characters at the adjacent pumps. Here are some of my favorites:

• The sunglasses dude: This guy's primary motive is to show off his fancy new sunglasses as he tops off his car. So, he picks a pump that is directly in the sunlight, gets the gasoline going and then starts to pose and look around to see if any of the fellow drivers are taking notice. At this point, I am so repulsed by this spectacle (pun intended), that the gas prices themselves seem downright modest. What this "Einstein" does not realize, is that if I am using the other side of the same pump, I can see his ATM pin and zip code in those reflective sunglasses.
  

• The gas pump virgin: The gas station is a completely new experience for this poor sod. This character is typically one of the many minorities that call this country home. This is probably his first trip to the gas pump after landing a job and getting a car. What follows is not related to the level of education he's had or the class of society he belongs to. The first challenge this guy has to overcome is to know "how fast" to slide the card. This is because the instruction "slide card quickly" reads like a threat to a novice. So, it takes about three to four attempts, before the card is successfully read by the machine. Then as he agonizes over the choice of fuel, you pretty much know that he will not realize that the nozzle has a lock that can be used to keep it going until the tank fills up. So obviously he ends up holding the nozzle till he is done. And from behind, he appears as if he were relieving himself into his car.
  

• The new parent: This specimen is similar to sunglasses dude, except that the thing being flaunted here is an infant. This moron is so eager to show off his love for his infant, that a game of peek-a-boo continues throughout the refueling process, much to the chagrin of other drivers and the baby, who would rather take a nap than respond to this idiot. But since you can't choose your parents and yet you have to depend on them for your survival, early on, the poor infant plays along. Yours truly fits squarely in this category (as the parent mind you).
  

• The car rinser: Here's a guy determined to clean his car thoroughly with the crappy windshield cleaner, that is available by the gas pump. As he proceeds with this ill-thought-out plan, the squeaking noises made by the cleaning contraption make people nearby jump. The fact that the same facility also houses a full service car wash does not shake our man's resolve. He is determined to follow through on this plan, no matter how much of other people's time and patience he has to use up.
  

• The shopper: This guy is a close relative of the car rinser, when it comes to consideration for other people's time and patience. He achieves his diabolical goal by purchasing a whole week's worth of food from the convenience store at the pump. This guy is probably into stale donuts, quadruple cooked hot dogs, sub-standard dairy and chilled wine. Either that or he seems to be taking the term "convenience store" too literally. You just hope that the sunglasses dude in all his haste to impress fellow drivers speeds through the gas station, runs over this guy and gets arrested in the process. That would mean the end of two gas pump gargoyles in one incident. Now that's what I would call a coincidence!
  

Mildly funny

The hair salon is probably the only legal business where we pay money, to lose something so fast.

The nice thing about eating spaghetti is that you get to decide how big a mouthful is, after you put it in your mouth.

I like urinals that extend all the way to the ground. When I have had a few drinks and want to relieve myself fast, the last thing I want, is to be insulted in the stall by a urinal that is a bit too high for my stature. It is also more hygienic for the owner of the facility, as it avoids the need for target practice at the most inopportune of times.

Metaphors are like analogies, only better.
(note the use of a simile to compare metaphors and analogies)

Is it me or are there too many Desis (first generation Indian immigrants) driving cars with stupid sounding vanity license plates? It does not look cool in my book to have a Toyota Camry with a vanity plate that says "Bhaskars" in the back. To me that's cheap to begin with. Because you didn't want to fork out the cash to truly pimp your ride, you are resorting to paying the state some extra few bucks every year and getting some gibberish stuck to your car's behind in the process. It is also a kind of car abuse if you ask me! Plus, I don't even get how it is vain to be honest. Why am I supposed to be impressed with the fact that the "Bhaskars" can afford a Toyota Camry, given the fact that they are a working couple employed in high tech companies, with a combined annual income north of 250K? I think we ought to look at these vanity plates, much like we look at tattoos ... as a youthful indiscretion. You were in your early twenties when you landed that high tech job and bought that car. You felt very proud to see that vanity plate at that point ... maybe even justifiably so. But now as a 35 year old jaded professional, it just makes you look goofy when you drive that thing to work everyday. So be kind to your fellow driver and get rid of that vanity plate. And do it before your vanity becomes the reason for my insanity!

The art of project management

See this on a poster here. See this on a T-shirt here.

Assorted observations

Talk is cheap, but silence can cost you.

Which one is larger ... Umpteenth or nth?

Who runs faster ... a girly man or a manly girl?

The next guy who uses the phrase "turn it on its head" in front of me will be turned on his head. I would rather speak to his rear than his face.

Once you meet an Amway guy in a store and listen to his pitch, you are certain that you have witnessed the lowest form in the human food chain.

Being anti-authority is so mainstream these days that today's rebellious teens are actually listening to their parents.

I wonder if all the people who die of similar causes go to the same place after death? Kind of like a postmortem support group of souls who suffered the same fate. A place to find kinship in death, if not in life...

There are many professions where smiling is a necessary part of the job. Receptionist, salesman, drive through operator ... to name a few. But being a baby is the only job I could think of, where crying is a necessary part of the role. If you are an infant and you can't cry well enough to manipulate your own parents, you are pretty much SOL, aren't you?

Do you wonder why plastic bags in stores are so hard to open? This typically happens to me in the produce section. You have to make sure you create a little opening with remarkable skill, as if you were a surgeon with a scalpel opening up a patient's chest. Except that instead of a scalpel, you have to use a thumbnail, that you clipped very inelegantly just that morning. After a poor show of dexterity, you will do anything to pretend that the bag you are trying to open is faulty. You hold it to the light and pretend to notice a speck of dirt on it ... before you proceed to throw it in the cart and grab another one, hoping against hope that you will be lucky this time around. And by the time you are done ... you have a dozen plastic bags carefully concealed underneath your groceries as you proceed to the cash register. I think I know now why people buy pre-packaged produce...