The Only Cure For A Real Hangover

I Am Pretty Sure That, If You Will Be Quite Honest, You Will Admit That A Good Rousing Sneeze, One That Tears Open Your Collar And Throws Your Hair Into Your Eyes, Is Really One Of Life's Sensational Pleasures.

For Most Visitors To Manhattan, Both Foreign And Domestic, New York Is The Shrine Of The Good Time. "i Don't See How You Stand It," They Often Say To The Native New Yorker Who Has Been Sitting Up Past His Bedtime For A Week In An Attempt To Tire His Guest Out. "it's All Right For A Week Or So, But Give Me The Little Old Home Town When It Comes To Living." And, Under His Breath, The New Yorker Endorses The Transfer And Wonders Himself How He Stands It.

There Is No Such Place As Budapest. Perhaps You Are Thinking Of Bucharest, And There Is No Such Place As Bucharest, Either.

One Of The Great Natural Phenomena Is The Way In Which A Tube Of Toothpaste Suddenly Empties Itself When It Hears That You Are Planning A Trip, So That When You Come To Pack It Is Just A Twisted Shell Of Its Former Self, With Not Even A Cubic Millimeter Left To Be Squeezed Out.

What Is The Disease Which Manifests Itself In An Inability To Leave A Party--any Party At All--until It Is All Over And The Lightsare Being Put Out?... I Suppose That Part Of This Mania For Staying Is Due To A Fear That, If I Go, Something Good Will Happen And I'll Miss It. Somebody Might Do Card Tricks, Or Shoot Somebody Else.