If you want to know what it means, read this paper. It's one of the reasons why I am grateful I am not a male.
And guys, if you have an urge to do manly home improvement stuff, dispose of the flammable stuff properly before snuffing out your cigarettes. Your buttcheeks will thank you.
So if you have bacillophobia, kindly remove all those romantic notions of capturing snowflakes on your tongue or scampering about in the rain a la Gene Kelly.
Yesterday morning, I was caught in an explicable jam along a 1 km stretch long enough to read at least 80 pages of my novel. If you saw a female person who was absorbedly reading while bopping her head absently to whatever was on the speaker while driving in Petaling Jaya, it is likely it was me.
I am sure that many of us, when caught in a traffic snarl, often wishes we were on the other lane. The magical lane next to ours are often moving at a miraculously speedier clip than our own sluggish ooze. But somehow, once you changed lane into said magical lane (after suitably indicating with the car signal, naturally), the magic disappears and the lane you vacated appear to be moving faster than when you were queueing along in it.
Why does this happen? Is it Murphy's Law? Is it God's wrath?
Mathematically, this is the explanation.
In other words: You can never win in a traffic jam.