And in Winter, It Freezes

Boston has a spitting epidemic. You can't walk more than a few yards in America's quintessential college town without having to dodge globs and splats on the sidewalk. I can't complain about it much beyond that, though, because I've seen worse -- in Paris, of all places. The city of light. Of romance. Of great art. Perhaps Parisians are all too busy making love, but if my walks were anything to go by, not one of them knows how to clean up after their dog. Le doodoo all over the place. Tres icky.

And because I'm a teacher at heart, here's a medical tidbit I learned last night from my roommate, who's a nurse: Alcohol inhibits the body's natural anti-diuretic hormone. Translation: Most of the time your body has the good sense not to wet itself. When you drink, that overwhelming urge to pee isn't just from taking in lots of liquid, or even the same general lack of control that affects every other part of you. There's a chemical that's no longer able to do its job. So, next time you're sitting in a bar and realize you've suddenly soiled your Jordaches, you can slur your way through this nifty little scientific explanation as to why. That ought to impress the cute guy who'd been staring at you ever since your barstool started dripping.