Twisted DNA

If you are a woman visiting the gynecologist, you have plenty to occupy yourself with.  But for a guy who is accompanying, willingly or otherwise, there is nothing to do other than stare at the walls.  If you want to avoid getting bored out of your mind, you need to find something to do.  Anything.  Here are a few tips to keep yourself amused.

* Every gynecologist’s office has stacks of pregnancy magazines.  Go through them and find pictures of pregnant woman who are air-brushed to perfection, like these:

Use your pen and imagination to add bad hair, a few stretch marks and, in general, make them look more natural.

Add the confused and scared husband too, if you so please.

Time killed: 15 minutes

———-

Time killed: 5 minutes (Varies depending on how thorough you are)

———-

Time killed: 3 minutes

———-

Time killed: 15-30 minutes, depending on the size of audience

———-

Time killed: 5 minutes.  (30 minutes if they call security)

———-

* Go to the sign-in sheet and enter the name, “Aineed Tupee” in there.  Wait for the nurse to come out a few minutes later and shout,

“Aineed Tupee … AINEED TUPEE”

Time killed: 1 minute

———-

* Every gynecologist’s waiting room has a huge chart describing all available forms of contraceptives for women.  The charts even have professionally photographed pictures (No, not of women wearing them!).  Go to that chart.  Look at each contraceptive and “expand” it into something else.  For example, take IUD (Copper T):

You can turn it into:

Time killed: 20 minutes (1+ hours if you pack paints and stuff beforehand)

———-

* Did you notice every gynecologist’s waiting room has humongous posters of “Female Reproductive System”?  Something like this:

I may not be able to crack the mystery that puzzled mankind since the beginning of time.  Why do they hang it on the walls there?  But I can tell you that, with a dextrous finger, you can use the diagram to perfect your technique.

Time killed: Limited only by your imagination (0 minutes if children are present)

I would like to take this opportunity to thank the one search term that got this blog a major portion of hits. It is the phrase “Saree Below Navel.” You cannot imagine how many people search for that phrase on a daily basis. The flood of these hits started when I wrote the post on Sarees. To this date, the number of these search hits rival the numbers of genuine, non-pervert reader hits.

Initially it used to be just “Saree Below Navel.” Of late, I am seeing a host of variations, all centered around Navel. We can attribute it to people becoming either very specific in their tastes or more astute in their ability to use search engines. In any case, here are a few interesting variations.

Saree below sexy navel: Not some godforsaken ugly navel, mind you, a sexy one. Better be specific than sorry for searching for navel pics and stumbling upon mediocre navels.

Saree below navel in bra: “Transferred epithet”, I believe, is what this figure of speech is called as I could hardly imagine a navel adorned in a lacy bra. We must assume that the said bra is worn by the owner of the said navel. But on the other hand, who are we to judge one’s preference of navels and their accoutrements.

Saree below naval: I take comfort in believing that I live in a world of typos rather than a world full of people with some kinky fantasies involving armed forces and Indian garments.

Elizabeth Hurley in saree below navel: It might seem absurd that one would look for her pictures with saree below navel when one could get pictures of her with skirt below ankles. But let’s not underestimate the power of fetish.

Saree below navel pics: Wise people learn quickly to refine their search terms after stumbling upon too many articles that verbosely drone on navel below saree without any pictures, like this one.

Saree below navel above knees: Interesting. Wouldn’t the woman have to be like 12 feet tall for this to happen!?

Mother saree below navel: I hope they found their mom’s pictures

Saree below navel sex: It reeks of their inexperience in either sarees or sex or both not to realize that the entire phrase “saree below navel” is redundant in this case

Saree 10 inches below navel: My, my. Fastidious, aren’t they! They don’t accept it if the saree is 9 inches or 11 inches below the navel. It has to be 10 inches! I wonder if it is even possible without the help of adhesive tape.

Women in saree below navel: This search phrase opened my eyes to my own shameful gender bias. When people search for “Saree Below Navel,” I have been mistakenly assuming that they are looking for women. They could be looking for men! Why one would look for men in a saree, irrespective of its position relative to navel, is better left unexplored.

Getting food on the table is easy for me. I walk into a restaurant, pick up the waiting take-out order and put it on the dining table. Some people prefer a more circuitous method called cooking. I strongly maintain that if all humans are meant to cook, we would have evolved with a spatula for a hand. In any case, I have recently been asked to produce macaroni and cheese, not by the normal processes of getting it from a restaurant but by the infinitely complex process called cooking.

What happened was, over-ambitious wife promised mac-and-cheese to the kid but found herself unable to fulfill the promise due to an unexpected call from work. I was volunteered to fulfill the said promise. In her words, “Mac and cheese is easy. Boil milk. Pour macaroni. Add cheese and serve.” but for some reason she insisted on her writing the recipe down and repeating it 20 times.

The dish may sound simple but the recipe was not. My theory is that when a process involves heating milk to its boiling point, using hot burners and tongs, it should be classified as a chemical experiment rather than a process to produce something edible. Perhaps I should have started with a simpler dish. But as the old adage goes, all’s well that ends well. My cooking certainly ended well and the kid was well-fed and well-nourished.

When my wife arrived home, I was ready to accept the profusion of encomiums that were in order for the extraordinary job I performed. But no! No accolades. No tears of gratitude. Not even a small gift of appreciation.

All she did was look at the dish in which I produced my magnum opus and raise an eyebrow. I waited for the other eyebrow to follow suit but it didn’t. That was not a good sign.

She: (Suspiciously) Why is there ketchup in mac and cheese?

She was in dire need of enlightenment.
Me: When food has a smoky flavor, you nuke it with ketchup

She: It must have tasted awful!

Me: Au contraire, he loved it. (vigorous head-nodding approval from the kid)

She: (Growing more suspicious) Why did the mac-and-cheese have a smoky flavor?

I continued to enlighten her.
Me: Food assumes a smoky flavor when it is burnt

She: You burned MAC-AND-CHEESE? How could anyone burn Mac and cheese! It’s the simplest thing in the world to make!

I would argue with the choice of the word “simple” but it was not the best time for the dissertation of my chemical experiment theory.
Me: It’s not my fault. It’s the kid’s fault.

She: How so?

Me: See, after I put the macaroni in boiling milk, I needed to wait a few minutes for it to cook. So I told the kid to watch it while I cleaned the broken glass in the garage. Apparently in his vocabulary, “cooked” means “general texture of bituminous coal”

She: YOU LEFT A 3 YEAR OLD AT THE STOVE!?

Me: I know, he completely blew it. In retrospect I should have watched the pot while he did the cleaning. But hindsight is 20/20.

She couldn’t speak for a few minutes probably mulling over the cogency of my argument.
She: (Resignedly) So he ate that charred glob.

Me: Why would I do that? We extracted all matter of certain color and brittleness and disposed it carefully in the trash. Then we doubled the cheese portion to compensate for the lost macaroni.

She: Let me get this straight, he basically ate a ball of cheese with ketchup.

Me: You make it sound so unappetizing

In the “good manners” books, they spend chapters upon chapters on such details as which hand to hold the fork with and which finger to pick the nose with. But they don’t spare a word for public restroom etiquette. Which forces me to pass on a few etiquette requests to my colleagues and other people I had the misfortune of sharing a restroom with.

1. When you are in the restroom, I implore you to keep oral communication at a minimum. In other words, shut the f up. We are not having a communal, joyous experience here. Just finish your job and get out.

2. Do you know what’s worse than #1? Turning your head and looking at the guy you are talking to. It’s creepy. Don’t do it. Just pretend there is something very interesting going on in your bowl and focus on it.

3. Do you know what’s worse than #2? Talking from inside the stall. I don’t really need to associate you with all the reverberating sound-effects.

4. As you know, urinals come in two sizes. Tall and short. For some reason short guys insist on choosing the tall one, even if they have to stand up on their toes to reach it. So, please, let the tall guy behind you have the tall one.

5. When somebody is waiting for your to finish, please take as much time as you need to finish your job and dress yourself properly, including zipping up completely before you turn around from the urinal. I am speaking for the entire male and most of female community when I say, nobody wants to see your underpants.

6. It really doesn’t concern me but I have to say this. Please don’t set your drinks on the urinal! Can’t you leave them at your desk or on the sink? And it is just plain gross to sip your drink while urinating.

7. If the restroom has more than one urinal, it is customary to leave at least one urinal between you and any other fellow users. But don’t go out of your way to leave more than one gap. You will look too secretive and raise suspicion.

8. Some restrooms are cursed with attached showers. I understand that you have to wait for the shower when somebody is using it. But that does not give you the right to bare yourself in full-frontal, thereby permanently scarring the retinas of unsuspecting restroom users. Please, for the love of all straight Greek gods, wear a towel or something.

9. It must be one of those unsolved medical mysteries, why some people’s Salivary glands lunge into production precisely when they are at the urinal. Whatever the reason may be, spitting while urinating is disgusting. Further more, you are challenging yourself to hit a single target from two different sources, thereby defocussing yourself and increasing the chances of inaccuracy in your delivery. Remember that the subsequent users of the urinal must suffer the results of your failure to hit the target.

10. Do you really have to check news on your phone when peeing, performing a fine balancing act with both hands, where any slight slippage of either hand could be very expensive? Let me break it to you. Unless you have superpowers to make news happen faster by peeing, nothing is going to change in those 2 minutes.

11. Any bodily contact with another person, such has hand-shakes or shoulder-touches, while in restroom, must be avoided at all costs. Should such contact be unavoidable, it must be restricted to the “green zones.” The following picture depicts a normal path traversed by ordinary urinators. Green and hazard zones are marked.