^ ^ ^ I blew milk out my nose...My DELL got soaked
Just for the record, BMW/Mercedes-Benz/FERRARI/PORSCHE/AUDI/McLaren F-1 GTR/etc...are should be OK, and I bet you can afford.

For me, Japanese gestures, such as bowing, are intimately connected with the language, so when I'm speaking Japanese, even in the States, the bowing reflex gets activated.

The one gesture I sometimes find myself making is the "chop-chop" gesture that people use when moving through a crowd or crossing a street.

After I returned from actually living in Japan, I had two residual effects:

1) I kept expecting my shoes to be at the front door. I would get up in the morning, do all the usual morning things barefoot, and then realize, when I was ready to leave the house, that my shoes were still in the bedroom.

2) For a while after coming back, whenever I approached a sales counter or asked someone for directions, I had to stop myself from saying, "Sumimasen ga..." because that was the first thing that came into my head.

Or how about the one where you put your hand on your forehead, perpendicular to it (as if you were imitating a shark fin), grit your teeth, and suck wind, trying to get out of the back of a crowded elevator?

A good friend of mine, his first job out of Cornell hotel school was a waiter at the Imperial Hotel. He's got all of the aisatsu down pat, it is hilarious.

There you go,

type-1. -2. -3. -4. -5. type-R. and this, that'll be all.

no. 4 doesn't count as it's a chindogu.
Here are the other variants:
4.1
4.2

I'm rather fond of the slipper sterilizer, actually. For once the penchant for antibacterial/sanitized everything makes sense, because who knows where those slippers at some public facility or company have been?

Makes a lot more sense than, say, the antibacterially coated steering wheel. That's just anti-Dad discrimination.

I think wearing type R would require me to have curlers in my hair, smoke cigarettes from a holder, and refer to myself in the third person.

Ksandness, my shoes always are at the door. That's the house rule at Chez Calcifer, with the exception of workmen. Their shoes are probably the dirtiest of all, but since I'm incapable of fixing anything by myself, I figure I should cut them some slack.