Big Hole

A 330-foot-deep sinkhole killed two teenage siblings when it swallowed about a dozen homes early Friday and forced the evacuation of about 1,000 people in a crowded Guatemala City neighborhood.

Officials blamed the sinkhole on recent rains and an underground sewage flow from a ruptured main. The two bodies were found near the enormous fissure, floating in a river of sewage.

Now that is one big hole.

Pocket Coffee

Pocket Coffee is real Italian espresso enclosed in a praline shell, then coated in chocolate. A mainstay in Italy and with a cultlike following in America, this delicious candy was created in 1968 by Ferrero, the same company that invented Nutella. It's famously hard to buy in the States, but click on the title for a state-side vendor. Pop one in your mouth, close your eyes, and you're standing at a cafe on Rome's Piazza Venezia, watching the scooters swerve by. Seconds later the caffeine buzz kicks in. You can thank me later ladies.

Priming the Pump

Perhaps another guy out there can enlighten me. Men's room etiquette follows many unwritten rule. For example it is not acceptable to have lengthy conversations with your urinal neighbor--stall-side communication is strictly prohibited. Shakes are limited to no more than two. These rules are learned from a young age through frequent washroom use. But there is one such men's room ritual that continues to baffle me. Why do men spit in the urinal while peeing? Is this some archaic tradition remaining in practice by our elders. Or...is this some way to prime the pump? Does spitting somehow get the ball moving when you get older?

Bumblebee Tuna

Leigh, Jared, and I were walking to lunch in Pike Place. Sauntering along, we pass the cluttered food stands adjacent to the street. The lunch crowd is out in full force and lines are forming behind the best lunch spots. A substantial line has formed behind one nondescript Asian food counter. We are negotiating the narrow sidewalk around the line when we are nearly blindsided by a streaking food server, the only clue to her occupation is her white apron. Just as she makes her way beyond us, she reels back and...wait for it...projectile vomits, nearly spattering Leigh's new boots with dietary shrapnel. Naturally we stop, disgusted looks upon our faces. Calmly the woman wipes her mouth and makes her way back to the counter to wash her hands. Leigh is the first to speak, naturally. "Oh...Bumblebee Tuna!" Grins return to our faces and we find ourselves somehow less hungry. Surprisingly enough, not one of the patrons in line at the counter left after the woman puked.