I once did a walking tour of downtown Chicago. Every now and then I’d smelled something skunky and attributed it to maybe garbage or a smell wafting up from a sewer. Nope, it was from folks blazing up in the Loop. Confirmed by a scent emanating from a down-the-hall neighbor.
Ugh, can we put the tryptophan myth to rest? It’s the amount of total carbs ingested, requiring increased bloodflow to one’s digestive system, NOT tryptophan, that makes one groggy. Sorry to be a pedant, but sheesh….
I have a fond memory of college dorm life wherein one could hear a fellow flailing his nunchucks in the hallway until one heard definite contact with a hard object. We’d look out our doors to find the poor shlub on the floor, having knocked himself out with said nunchucks. Probably a good shot to the forehead, and blammo, down goes the shlub.
That “oh no, you didn’t” look on her face is priceless. I sense a thwack coming on…