Getting to the Root of the Problem...

In the still of night, when the world was in deep slumber - dark clouds covered the sky, rain pattered heavily on the window, thunder and lightning took their turns to provide the required sound and light effects, someone let out a shrill piercing scream...

Ok fine, that screaming dipshit from the previous paragraph was me and the only thing that is factual about the previous paragraph is probably the fact that it actually was at night and I was warming the couch in my hostel room. The cause of the wail - sharp, piercing pain in my tooth. I was unable to get any sleep that night and even prayed to God that Id do a 101 rounds if s/he could make the pain go away. But oh well, God is a quack - he is no dentist. So, the pain stayed. Anyway, the next morning when I got up, I decided to seek out my 'friends, philosophers & guides' a.k.a other retards like me in the hostel.

((Quick Background) - I developed a cavity some 2034 years back, kept postponing it, befriended a cat which said if I close my eyes the problem would go away (bastard lying feline! He can go to the dogs!), the cavity spread deep due to my nonchalance and my ignorance and f'ed up tooth and hence I had to get RCT)

So, the next day, the entire Retard Posse gathered in my room to offer their expert advice. There is one thing about all of us - we all believe in the same motto - "Opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one". Somehow, the posse got a whiff that I was looking for some advice and they swarmed in hordes. I mentioned that my tooth hurts and here's how the conversation went from there on :

Retarded Posse member 1: "R.C.T is like walking through hell, fire and brimstone. That is like the movie SAW, if and when you get out of it, you will realise the true value of life!"

Retarded Posse member 2: "Oh shit! You are F*cked man!...you hear me??...F**KED!!! Gaand lag gayi teri! Koi hope nahi hai! Whoever I have seen going for that root canal stuff has come back with tears running down his cheeks!"

Retarded Posse member 3: "Deeeeeiii! Trust me.....its bad! Baaaaaaad!"

Retarded Posse member 4: "Believe me...its horrible. I know a couple of friends who got it done. One is a friend from college. He used to live in the street behind me. They had a green house. Both of us had a blast in college all through. The first chemistry class we sat in, we tried to pataofy the class teacher" (interruption from me: "Uhm, the RCT thing?") "Oh yeah! You are fucked. The other friend who went to the dentist, he got up in the morning, then brushed his teeth. Then he went and had breakfast. Im not sure what he had but it could have been anything. Then he took a shower. I watching TV in my room around this time......(this rambling went on and on until the rest of the posse passed out and nobody knows what happened afterwards)

So anyway after the posse bludgeoned me into oblivion with their constant drivel about how going for my RCT was in reality the coming of the, I shivered my ass along to the hospital with Bonnie (Im Clyde BTW). I was still hoping I might be let off with a mild filling etc etc. When my time came, a Chinky with a very 'utensil-dropping' name(but good looking) took me in for preliminary tests. She had prescribed RCT before I could complete telling her my name. So I trudged along to the next department for my date with the Reaper with Bonnie sporadically passing encouraging or mocking comments all through (tilting more towards the latter because she giggled with an evil look more often than not).

I had just finished writing my will, informing my parents that I might not be coming home for this Diwali and the ones thereafter, deciding on my last wish, last meal (well this was anyway not going to happen) when the White reaper called me in. Some people recall in the aftermath that it seems I tried to claw my way through the walls and tried to dig a hole through the tiled floor with my bare hands but was finally subdued with Horse tranquilizer and taken to the seat, but I dont remember anything since my mind was a complete blank from pre-dental trauma. Local anasthesia was given and in a few minutes I was replying to anything the doctor said with "bloobe fublaa gooolloobabo" (translated as: I think I can still feel my teeth). After I repeated it some 10 times, the doctor was wondering as to why the drug wasnt taking effect. Finally he asked me, "what the hell I actually was feeling???" I replied in complete earnest "I think I can still feel my tongue and my tongue touching my teeth". The doc suddenly turned green, ripped out of his shirt, grew to 3 times his size and attacked me with a syringe and forceps while screaming "You retarded fucking moron! I am to work on your teeth, not on your damn tongue! I dont give a fuck if you can feel the teeth on your tongue, you are not supposed to be feeling your teeth!!" (At this point, it was the doctor who needed to be restrained). As I kept on thinking about all the things I hadnt yet done before my life came to an end, the now-back-to-normal doc got up and said, "All done! you can leave now!". I was flabbergasted! All that came out of my mouth (besides the Hydrogen Peroxide and the Calcium Hydroxide) was "Goobla foobli googli" - but this time it was not because of the anasthesia - it was because of the delight at not having felt a thing. I kept on blabbering with relief, joy and excitement while Bonnie patiently listened to my incessant drivel.

So, now I have a shiny crown and a full tooth, while I go about my business of getting back to business with the Retarded Posse so that the next person who comes along complaining of RCT, then we can confidently tell him "You are FUBAR! If they dont give you anasthesia, doesnt matter, youll pass out from the pain itself! It will be as painful as sliding down a tree saw, while the saw is moving upwards! It will be like running full sprint on thumbtacks barefoot! It will be like inserting a closed divider into your dickhole and then opening it up....."

OK - Ill stop here - My tooth's better and I think Im crossing into sick territory....

The 5 Types of Hugs

Placement Day - Otherwise known as the Ides of March to me have come and gone for some, but for some, as the soothsayer says to Caesar, "Soothu! The Ides of March are here, but have not yet gone....". Yep, I ended up being one of those "Wishful-Thinking-The-Only-Reason-You-Didnt-Get-Placed-is-because-something-better-is-waiting-for-you" people (Ofcourse, the other set of people are the I-sucked-balls-on-placement-day-and-had-a-microscopic-GPA-and-an-ugly-face-and-maybe-thats-why-I-didnt-get-placed). I didnt get placed. But not a big deal - I realised I actually believe the 'Wishful-Thinking..." part. So, as I travesed along on the different floors and the different rooms looking at the different people who were in the same boat as I was, while some of them were getting off and I hugged or received a hug from each and every one I met. I decided to classify it:
Key: (G) - Give, (R) - Receive, (R) frm (P) -Receive from Placed person, (R) frm (UP) - Receive from Unplaced person

1) The "Thats so-f**king-awesome! hug" (G) - When your friend gets a job and you see him/her when you hear the news, you are genuinely proud and happy for them and you give them a hug and share their happiness.

2) The "Oh-Sorry-man" hug (G) - This one hurts the most. Especially when you have to go and hug someone and tell them that you truly are sorry that they didnt get through, when they look at you with the same expression that your own job itself hasnt yet materialised.

3) The "Oh-Sorry-Man hug" (R) frm (P) - This one helps you a little and kind of cheers you up and preps you for your next attempt. Especially since this comes from someone who is already placed, you sub-conciously think, 'OK, where's my next interview?" and go on..

4) The "Oh-Sorry-Man hug" (R) frm (UP) - This one amuses you to the maximum. Cheers you up even. I havent the foggiest idea why, but this one would make me just look at the person, smile and go, 'Hey - What the hell? This f**king company doesnt know what its missing' which gives the origin to a class of people (The 'Wishful-Thinking...' class as mentioned above)

5) The "Thats-so-f**king-awesome" hug (R) - I have no idea what this feels like. I have experienced the other 4 multiple times on placement day but was unable to experience number 5.

So what if it couldnt happen on placement day. Better things are waiting for me, the Ides of March have not yet gone and as when I experience it, I shall let you know what it feels like...

Douchebag Questions from Douchebags!!

While I sit and prepare for my placement interviews in complete earnest with the hope that come D-Day, I manage to slit a few throats, lock some people up in their hostel rooms from the outside, run over a couple more etc, elminate whatever competition I can and actually manage to land a job, I came across a few questions which I needed to have ready made answers. One of these questions were "What do you have to offer that would make us hire you?". As I went through my carefully rehearsed bullshit about how I have had a lot of exposure interacting closely with people from different continents, knowing different work cultures etc - when it suddenly hit me - "What is God's name have I actually gained from these 'extremely enlightening interactions?" and I decided to actually think about it and pen them down. The good things I will speak about in my interview, the crappy things are reserved for my blog. So here are some of the things that I noticed are common among idiots in any continent -
1) Photography - When you are out with friends and you want to take a picture of all of you together, you call a stranger standing closeby and give him your camera asking him to click a picture. At this point the stranger takes the camera from you and looks at you and goes
Question: "Which button do I press? This one??"
Answer that I would like to give: "No Einstein! The button is up your ass, so why dont you shove your head up your anus and look for the button and press it!"
Why the hell do people ask that question? You always have to press the button on the top right of the camera where it has been SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME!

2) Ever notice that when you go and knock on the door and when the person opens it and looks at you in your entirety and goes
Q: "Oh! Its you??"
Answer that I would like to give: "No dipshit! Im Goobah, the One-eyed dumb cripple from Turkmenistan with the dyslexic parents and Im here on a mission to convert you to Zorastrianism"
But more than likely I just end up with a "Yeah! Its me, isnt that amazing" or a little better with "Come on! You must be dreaming, it isnt me!"
Why do people actually say this? Truthfully speaking, this is said most often by my mother but I certainly cant say any of those things to her, so I pucker up and respond with the usual "Yes Ma, its me! Whats for lunch?"

3) Relatives: No matter what I do, whether Im seeing them after few days, few months or few years, and whether I have hogged everything under the sun and have bloated like beached whale, to them its always
Question: "OMG OMG OMG! Youve lost weight! Youve become so thin! Why dont you eat more?"
Answer: "I would chitti/athai/aunty but looking at how splendidly youve managed to gain weight in all the wrong places, I dont think I would have much left"

Add on to this: If you are actually having lunch at their place, then its the same routine - revised edition. After I have already mauled through 23 dosas and my chitti/athai/aunty come up and say "Do you want more?" and when I refuse, their standard answer "Oh come on! A young boy like you can certainly have more! Dont be shy! Here..take this" and proceeds to place another 3-4 on my plate. Why even bother asking me this question in the first place when you are already pre-determined to shove the remaining dosas down my throat, with a plunger if necessary. And on top of that, the question is iced with the phrase "Dont feel shy"...WTF. When it comes to home cooked food in anyone's house, Im not shy, Im far from it - infact I develop that cadaverous look, my eyes sink into their sockets, I start salivating and drooling all over my t-shirt and start eating with both hands (on one occasion even took a chapati from the plate with my foot). Im a barbaric bastard when it comes to eating, especially at other people's houses, yet after plundering through 23 dosas without even considering whether there are enough left for the other members of the house (actually if the other members of the house include some random fat retarded kid who is a TSB (the ones who need to get this will get it (Wow! A bracket inside a bracket inside a bracket)) Ill make sure that I hog more than necessary just to make sure the fat fuck doesnt have enough left), Im shy.
Ok - I guess Ill stop here - blabbering might go out of control from here on.....