For what I'm subjected to in the lab, I should better claim some money from the research funds. Else, how am I supposed to afford the Rehabilitation costs?? Bolo..bolo??
Please Read on..
1. The lab meetings are sometimes interesting but boring-n-never-ending, otherwise. So while we were lost, sleepy and hungry, our breather moment arrived. The last presentation had some supercool stuff..bole toh ekdum dhinchaak kinds!
There was this picture of a toilet brush hanging over a dirty pot in the Men’s Loo. All the anonymous, dirty fellas were asked to use THE hi-tech instrument after their bowel has messed up with the bowl! Man….I was howling!!
2. One of the new instruments in the lab includes this humungous mice faeces and urine collector, proudly owned by the Metabolic Group. So you see, God’s food is never wasted. All the crap goes into science.
3. Our lab jobs were being assigned and a particular chapta (Those who don’t get it (Damn I have such unimaginative readership!), mail me n I will tell you what or rather who a chapta is.) was given the responsibility of First-Aid***…Hmm..now people who know him would only understand the severity of this. He is the kind of guy who is capable of giving a mouse tremors over a unscalable Richter scale, apparently, killing the mouse of a heart attack, before actually getting to kill it. (If looks could kill? Yes sometimes they do!)
The golden history of the first mice dying of a brain haemorrhage and capillary obstruction, the moment he grabbed it, remains..well..golden. So, First Aid?? Thanks. But No Thanks. I would rather kill myself before doing that!
***And as a matter of fact, I laughed the loudest. Reallllllly control nai hota, and I should definitely do something about it. Suggestions?
4. One of the Lab technicians (of the sweetest ones) asked me on my birthday,
Tech: “So, Aaaapitaaaaaaa, how many years did you make?”
Me: “Errrrrr..What did I make??”
Me: (Arpita? Shut Up and Don’t you dare laugh)
Me making Mission Impossible, somewhat possible, “I make 24 years :) ”
5. One of the chaptas in our lab is this very “gol” that mom’s could actually teach their kids shapes on seeing him ...“Beta, woh dekho..“round” bolo”. So “kaddu” as we call him, works always in an almost leg-split position (scientifically-n-socially a bit compromising). I couldn’t resist myself asking him once, why? And he proudly replied, makes him think “good” (I think he meant better). While he blinked and got back to work in his
la grande position, I was rolling in the aisles.
6. Me and Luis working. Suddenly,
Luis: "Do I look fat?"
And I think I laughed my loudest in this year.