Flu’s Gold!

I’ve found out that the three most fascinating letters in the English language happen to be F, L and U. Put together and pronounced as a word, they provide us the perfect excuse to get out of any situation. Imagine yourself, waking up in the morning and realizing that you’ve got to go to work or school or wherever, and you’d rather be lazing around at home in your PJs, watching reruns of House. What do you do? Fall back on the most reliable of all excuses – no, the dog didn’t eat your homework; rather, it gave you a flu.

And everyone will buy this excuse. They won’t question it. You don’t have to produce a medical certificate because no one in their right mind would spend hundreds of dollars on a visit to the doctor for a common flu when they can get a pill for half a buck. And the best part of the flu is that it’s just debilitating enough to put you out of action for at least a couple of days.

Need long weekends? 😉


A Nail Polish Scenario…

There’s a rat trapped in a maze, cornered by walls on three sides and a hungry cat on the fourth. The rat doesn’t want to be there. It doesn’t like the whole idea, but it is unknowingly a player in a sick game of sadism played under the auspices of Scientific Research. What does it do?

The rat knows that it has no chance against the big hungry cat. It can’t scale the walls. It can’t call out for help because, well, for obvious reasons! It can’t dig its way out. Simply put, it is well and truly screwed. It’s life flashes before its eyes – those sweet, tender moments it had spent with its mother; those sweet, tender pieces of cheese that the human in the white coat had fed it; those sweet, tender minutes it spent with the pretty albino rat in the next room; those sweet, tender spots in the corner where it was cornered, where the temperature was just right and where it would have liked to curl up that night and dream of sweet and tender sticks of cheese if it weren’t for that hungry predator smacking his lips and looking on in quiet amusement at the panic on the rat’s tiny face. So, the rat makes a drastic decision.

Darwin was right – the fittest survive. The rat, trapped and helpless, proved to me more fit than the cat. The cat didn’t know and probably didn’t realize that for the rat, this was the last chance, the last stab at a chance to live, the desperation move. The cat was blissfully unaware of the fact that it had been a subject of study in a ground-breaking technology – one that made cats slow in their reaction times.

The rat rushed forward towards the cat, with all the speed it could muster, and the cat looked helplessly on, as it slid through its feet and ran away from the corner, away from the hungry predator, towards freedom and a well-earned stick of tender cheese. The cat didn’t quite understand how this had happened. It stood there, looking at the empty corner, still not being to comprehend the fact that the rat wasn’t there anymore. It blinked and looked around stupidly, trying to make sense. It must have been that strange nail polish-like milk that human fed me earlier, it thought. I must be more careful next time.

The rat, on the other hand, was on cloud nine. It began to feel that it had super powers and that it could outrun any cat. It smiled broadly as it bit into the piece of cheese. What a strange taste, it thought, as is licked its paws. Almost like nail polish…

The Status Message Generation…

Of late, I’ve been seeing a trend of increasing awareness to the Gtalk status messages among my friends. From lovely, soothing messages like, “Love is not about who you can live with; it’s about who you can’t live without…” and “dance, dance, dance…” to outright corny ones like, “Life sucks, which makes us all pornstars!” and “I still love nature despite what it did to me!”

The fact that people aren’t satisfied by being just “Available” and “Busy” tells us something about the kind of world we live in and the kind of peer pressure we are facing from all sides.

Actually, it doesn’t. I’m just trying to draw some rationality into the argument, and I can see that I’ve done a bad job of it so far. I’ve fretted over my status messages for hours at a time, to make sure that whoever sees me online on gtalk can read my message and be impressed. It’s such a pity that Freud is dead – he’d have drawn some inference of family trauma for this phenomenon!