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Toothbrush chronicles

Amortya Ray — Wed, 19 May 2010 00:46:12 +0000

It doesn't fit! (twss)

So as it turns out, deciding which toothbrush to buy is possibly the toughest decision I’ve made in a really long time. As I stood in the toothbrush aisle in Duane Reade, my brain was assaulted by ten million different kinds of brushes. Straight, angular, circular, jagged, firm, medium, soft- the variety was astounding. My tiny brain was ill at ease trying to process all the information and come to a decision. And then I see the fancy, new-age battery powered toothbrushes. Those too had countless to choose from. Some of them even let me try the vibrate feature. I’m not sure what purpose that served though. So I decide to be adventurous and try something new. Ultimately I was sold on the Oral-B CrossAction Battery Powered toothbrush. I hurry home, excited like a little 5 year old boy all set to play with a new toy. And even though it’s just 6.30 in the evening, I decide that today is a good day to start my habit of brushing twice a day. The euphoria around the event largely fizzled as I tested the device. Clearly, it is an acquired skill. My face splattered with remnants of my striped, minty pepsodent toothpaste was evidence enough that I need a lot more practice. And just as quickly as I had ripped the packet apart, I cleaned up and placed my oversized robot brush in its rightful place in my now inadequate jungle/monkey themed bathroom toothbrush and razor holder thingy.

I hate you Louisa May Alcott

Amortya Ray — Thu, 13 May 2010 02:24:58 +0000

Last Friday, while discussing books with friends, I remembered this incident that happened when I was 12. And it brought back a torrent of painful memories.

I grew up in a city called Bombay in India. I went to an all boys school. And at age 12, I was a typical adolescent- rebelling against my mother, trying to fit in with the cool crowd, getting the jocks to like me (and by like me, I mean not beat me up during recess) and pick me in their cricket team (and by pick me, I mean have me as the non-playing substitute player) and struggling with polynomial factorization.

On the last day of school, my class teacher Ms. Myra Dias gave out a story book to every boy in the class. And the sweetheart that she is, she wrote a little personal note to every student. Now Ms. Dias was one of the coolest teachers I’ve ever had. She was young, fit and totally in sync with the psyche of a 12 year old. She was one of us- one of the guys! Everyone loved her. She was tough when she needed to be but also knew how to have a good time. So naturally, it was a rather big deal to everyone in the class what she wrote in the note and what book we got. These books were abridged versions of some of the most noted classics in English literature. Now, even though I’m no expert on classic literature, I badly wanted to get a “cool” book. And by cool I mean a book that atleast 3 boys had heard of or even pretended to know about. There were rumors of some guys in the class getting copies of David Copperfield, The Count of Monte Christo and Oliver Twist, and I’m wishing and hoping that I was one of them. I have no idea who David Copperfield is or who wrote it or why Oliver Twist is such a famous book, but they all sounded just so badass. I was also at that precarious age where boys went all ewww at the sight of girls and “having a girlfriend” was actually an insult. Yep, true story.

But no. Even at that tender age, fate plays a cruel game with me. And when my turn comes, I open my packet and stare blankly at the cover of Little Women.

If I still had my washboard abs, I’d be engaged today

Amortya Ray — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 02:39:55 +0000

So this morning while I’m having breakfast and staying up-to-date on my Facebook stalkees (don’t act like you don’t do it), I come across pictures of this girl I knew a long time ago. She was the girl I had my first ever crush on. We met when we were 10 and I knew her for five long years before my family moved to the suburbs and that broke my fragile adolescent heart. Sigh. Fortunately for the creep in me, she hadn’t changed the settings on her albums, making my job as stalker extraordinaire´, a cakewalk. I saw that she had posted her wedding pictures online. And after giving them a cursory glance, the first thought that came to my mind was, “Ugh! That’s the d-bag you’re married to!? Dooood, you should have totally married me. In addition to the perks that being Mrs. Ray can fetch, our kids would look unbelievably awesome since we’re both, well, TOTAL FUCKING KNOCKOUTS. They’d be blessed with superior intellect given that our combined IQ is like twenty-two thousand. This world is in desperate need of first-rate genetic material that only you and I can provide. WE OWE THAT MUCH TO THE WORLD.” Except that it wasn’t the first thought that came to my mind. I was all, “Hmm, he looks like he’s a nice guy and you guys look TOTALLY in love and the pictures look super awesome and you two look insanely cute together and if he ever breaks your heart, I’m going to hunt him down and whoop his sorry Sindhi ass all the way back to Ulhasnagar.”

And then at work, I’m talking to Lil’ m about the gazillion weddings, engagements, hookups and one night stands taking place around me and I suddenly start freaking out. I go like, “Yo m, what if I end up spending the rest of my fucking life completely alone! What if I never find someone? What if I’m the creepy 65 year old with a grey ponytail and cheap sunglasses that buys your kids candy floss, lives with 3 cats and shows up in pictures like this? Sure I could also be a badass oldie like Gandalf or one of these guys. But lets face it, the odds are slim.” And then I decide to take matters in my own hands. BOOM. Just like that. I know that Lil’ m has a boyfriend so, OBVIOUSLY, I decide to make her my plan B. You know plan B? The one where if neither of us are married by the time we’re 30 (or 35 or 40), we marry each other.

But I was still in panic mode. I needed a plan A. Like yesterday. So I decide to con(vince) Big M into marrying me. Except that it wasn’t going to work. Because she works out like every fucking day, and the last time I stepped into a gym was back when MSFT traded at nearly 60 bucks. I wasn’t always like this though. Back in the day, my prowess at tomato racing was rather legendary. Tomato race no comprende? The one where your hands are tied behind your back and you race to the middle of the track, grab the tomato with JUST your mouth (twss!) and sprint to the finish line. However, my moment in the spotlight came to a crashing halt a few years later. I was participating in a 400m relay and comfortably cruising to the finish line. And in true Bollywood fashion, the world around me slows down. Everything and everyone begins moving in super-slow motion. I can hear people chanting my name! And I’m thinking, “Wow! People just love me. I’m quite the superstar here. The crowd just can’t get enough of me.” Except that it wasn’t the crowd yelling my name. It was another runner hollering and swearing and cursing at me because I was in his fucking lane. And as I stealthily move to my own lane, he promptly overtakes me and subsequently wins the race. Yes. Not my proudest moment on the track. And that fall from grace was directly responsible for the end of my career as an athlete and resulted in me embarking on a new career as a crackerjack slouch.

I thought of putting this up on the blog as I was walking back towards Grand Central Station this evening. But I was rudely interrupted by my coworker N who yells out loud that SOMETHING in her bag is vibrating. This would have been funnier AND infinitely more awkward for her had I not known apriori that she was carrying her boyfriend’s electric razor in her bag.

My perfume can be concocted in my kitchen

Amortya Ray — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 13:12:13 +0000

So I was checking out this site and here’s what the test gave me as the cologne that matches my personality. Now I’m wondering why the hell would the perfume guys with their advanced degrees in the alchemy of scents even make something that smells like cardamom, coriander AND cedar. If I wanted to smell like 2 herbs and a coniferous tree, I would probably just open my kitchen cabinet and rub some on my self and then hop on a flight to the Himalayas and DRY HUMP A CEDAR TREE. I had had enough and decided to debunk the bullshit perfume that this clearly shady survey assigned to my sparkling personality.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Now in an effort to give y’all an optimum blog-reading (bleading?) experience, I decided to conduct some stellar research and saw that cardamom is often used as a masticatory. Except that I didn’t know what a masticatory is and Firefox clearly agreed with me as is evident with the dotted-red-underline-thingy.

And since Wikipedia is editable by pretty much anyone, I was convinced that I was a victim of Wikipedia vandalism (it IS A REAL word, look it up), and that word is actually masturbatory, which kind of makes more sense, since this cologne is expected to seduce ANY woman, and hence its ingredients would have such prurient uses. Also the more I tried to imagine the use of cardamom in any sort of multi-person conjugal act, the more my brain spun out of control and the smarties at Google image search couldn’t help me out with this one either.

And then I took another quiz that concluded that was an alcoholic and in desperately need of help which is totally bullshit because all I got was like 3 questions right out of 20. And another that said that I look 62% like Ludacris which is a bucketload of crap because I don’t even have a moustache. And then I took another quiz that would tell me what Twilight character I am but before the goddamn site would give me the answer, it made me fill out like a gazzillion forms and subscribe to another gazzillion newsletters and even then it wouldn’t tell me what I was and then I was so FRUSTRATED THAT I WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE but I didn’t. Instead I finished my drink, closed the computer, drifted to sleep in my wine induced haze, and dreamt about innovative and slightly disturbing uses of cardamom as a masturbatory device.

Choo choo!

Amortya Ray — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 15:55:16 +0000

The Path train that countless working professionals take to get into the city every morning

Sometimes when I miss my morning train into the city by a few seconds, my quant obsessed brain nearly goes completely anal trying to figure out how I could have made the train. Here are the top 10 reasons I feel could help me shave those few precious seconds off the 7.5 minute walk from my building to the train station.

Oh, and before I start, I should add that, typically, I snooze my alarm for an average of 30 minutes before actually crawling out of bed.

Oh God! I shouldn’t have snoozed the alarm again. It was supposed to be 2 more minutes. I closed my eyes and the next thing I know its 20 minutes later!
This obsessive, compulsive need to begin my day with email and facebook is going to get me fired one day!
Juju Chang is gorgeous!
Note to self: iron clothes on the previous night!
Okay, heating my lunch at 7 am is so retarded. I ain’t gonna eat it till noon. Its bound be an icicle by then!
Boxers or briefs, boots or dress shoes, black or brown, polish them or not, reuse socks or get fresh ones. Decisions decisions!
Ugh! I didn’t really need to shave today. The stubble wasn’t really noticeable!
Why the hell did I need to check my mailbox in the morning. Its not like my bills are going to vanish if I don’t check it. Though I wish they did!
Crap! Need to get a new metrocard today! Well, I had to get it any which ways, so this wasn’t going to help me save time in any case!

And my personal favorite:

Dude! Get a grip! Chivalry is dead! That girl doesn’t care that you smiled at her, wished her good morning, held the door open for her and told her to have a great day!

By the time I’m halfway through this list (which is precisely 2 and a half minutes later), the next train to the city charges in. Time to get to work folks!

A Bollywood Dream and Burn

Amortya Ray — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 19:09:12 +0000

So I’m on the phone with a buddy of mine and suddenly it occurs to me that if they were to make a movie on my life, I’d insist Ranbir Kapoor play my role. Why, you might ask? Because just like me, he’s good looking, well read and physically fit. My friend bursts out in a fit of laughter. And elaborately counters every claim of mine. She goes on to list 10 points as to how I am NOT good looking (“burritos with extra cheese, extra sour cream and extra guacamole resulted in the pudgy cheeks that I now oh-so-proudly flaunt“) that , NOT at all well read (“skimming through the Wikipedia pages of books does not constitute reading“). And the fact that I claim to be physically fit was the most ridiculous thing she’d heard in the longest time (“You take the elevator to the 3rd floor conference room. You work on the 4th floor you dork!“).

Now I’m not the kind to take an insult lying down. But here I was getting trash talked by a woman. So I did what I do best- bring out my smart alecky self and make a feeble attempt at redeeming any self respect I might still have after my argument was demolished point for point and my ego destroyed. And after a moment, I say that Kajol should play her in the film. And cheekily added that the only way she and I would get to star in the movie would be if she played the role of my mother or sister, since the rather obvious age gap between Ranbir and Kajol would make for a very awkward couple. Pleased with my acerbic wit, I grin with absolute glee. She responds, “Ok Morty, go ahead, be Ranbir. I’ll be Kajol. I’ll walk away with all the awards year after year. And you can spend the rest of your career compering those very same award shows”. Touché.

I’m bored, hence I tagged myself

Amortya Ray — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 17:14:35 +0000

I jacked this tag from a blog I frequently visit. Here’s my take on it.

What is your current obsession?
Perfecting my biryani recipe, and learn to heat a paratha without tripping the smoke alarm.
What are you wearing today?
A business suit.
What’s for dinner?
Paneer makhni, mango achar, parathas and a glass of Merlot.
What’s the last thing you bought?
A fancy ass camera for my birthday.
What are you listening to right now?
“Bullet the blue sky” by U2. Not my favorite U2 song, but it’s the one currently playing on my iPod. My favorite would be “City of Blinding Lights”. It was only very recently that I was introduced to the awesomeness that is called Bono.
What do you think about the person who tagged you?
Shamelessly picked this tag up from a stranger’s blog. So nothing.
If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
Anywhere between 86th-96th Street on Central Park West, New York, NY overlooking the lake.
What are your must-have pieces for summer?
A pair of well fitting shorts, sunglasses, flip-flops and my Yankees hat.
If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
I was reading Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth a few days ago. The last 3 stories still haunt me. Hence, Rome, Italy.
Which language do you want to learn?
Spanish and, of course, better Bengali so I don’t come across as a pretentious idiot when I speak to my relatives.
What’s your favorite quote?
I have several. Amongst my favorite is this one by George Costanza from Seinfeld about his perspective on life: “The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A death. What’s that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you’re too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you’re young enough to enjoy retirement. You drink alcohol, you party, and you get ready for High School. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last 9 months floating… then you finish off as an orgasm! Amen!”
Who do you want to meet right now?
Chris Brown and sock him in the head.
What is your favorite color?
Blue.
What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own closet?
A gray tee-shirt that I’ve had for 3 years. Its faded, torn and I think its the coolest thing I own.
What is your dream job?
Chief model coordinator at Victoria’s Secret.
What’s your favorite magazine?
I’m a total gossip junkie- so it has to be People magazine.
If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
Books. I’m a huge book whore.
What do you consider a fashion faux pas?
White socks while at work, pleated trousers, black belts with brown formal shoes.
Who according to you is the most over-rated style icon?
Rihanna.
What kind of haircut do you prefer?
Any kind that Mary gives me with her soft-soft hands!
What are you going to do after this?
Walk down to Grand Central Terminal, hop onto the shuttle and head home.
What are your favorite movies?
I’m a big movie junkie. I’ll watch all kinds of crap that Bollywood dishes out on a regular basis. Huge fan of the classics. Roman Holiday is amonsgt my all time favorites, along with Snakes on a plane.
What are three cosmetic/makeup/perfume products that you can’t live without?
Deodorant, hair gel, Polo Blue.
Give us three styling tips that always work for you:
Boots are cool, white shirt/tee-shirt with jeans don’t go out of style,
What do you do when you “have nothing to wear” (even though your closet’s packed)?
Go shopping.
Coffee or tea?
Tea. Yes, definitely tea.
What do you do when you are feeling low or terribly depressed?
Sleep.
What is the meaning of your name?
Immortal being.
Which other blogs do you love visiting?
Current favorite Dooce.
Favorite Dessert/Sweet?
I <3 tiramisu.
Favorite season?
The 7th season of 24. Okay, that was terrible. But I have to say it- Jack Bauer is fuckin’ awesome.
If I come to your house now, what would you cook for me?
Mac and cheese or ramen or maggi, whatever is available.
What is the right way to avoid people who purposefully hurt you?
Cut ‘em out of your life.
What are you afraid of the most?
Losing.
What inspires you?
Ambition.
Is it possible to be in love with two persons simultaneously?
Most definitely.
Life without music/dance.
Would make the pain unbearable.

A Midsummer Update

Amortya Ray — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 13:51:14 +0000

A few noteworthy observations about my life these past few months-

Relegated to the Jersey office, for what I hope will be a temporary thing. I miss my city, I miss it’s ever so vibrant nature, I miss my Chicken Shahi Korma from Minar, I miss being crushed in the train to work in the mornings.
I absolutely adore my new friends here. I have finally managed to maintain a decent balance between the professional and the personal. M, m and V- you guys rock! More on them in due course.
The corner couches at the Hyatt in Exchange Place are henceforth forever reserved for me and my crew. Fridays are generally spent in anticipation of the evenings where we vent the week’s frustrations to each other on possibly the best mojitos in all of New Jersey.
Walking along New York’s Fifth Ave. on a beautiful summer afternoon is delightfully sinful. The Louis Vuitton store has some of the most ridiculously priced jackets I’ve ever seen! However, spending a month’s salary on a single piece of clothing is just not unacceptable.
It’s amazing how quickly time can pass in a bookstore. As a skinny, young boy in South Bombay, I remember begging my parents to take me to the Crossword store at the Mahalaxmi Temple on Sunday evenings. I’d end up spending hours and hours pouring over books and wondering how cool it’d be to own a library. I got that familiar feeling when I visited the Borders bookstore a few weeks back. Came home with a NYT bestseller.
The goal for the near future is to stay as busy as possible. Keeping myself occupied would be beneficial in several ways. For one, I get to meet new people. For someone like me who grew up in a big city, my life story is completely and totally different from someone who spent their entire life living in the a palatial house overlooking a gorgeous yard in a small town in North India!
I’m starting to realize the joys of drinking wine.
Murphy at work: Less than a day after signing the lease to my new apartment, I meet my current neighbor face-to-face for the first time in a year and half. And yes, she’s jaw-dropping gorgeous.
Learning to dress sharper.
Reconnecting with old, long lost friends. Totally. And disconnecting from others who no longer matter.

That’s it for now, folks.