I Need To Call Her (Poison Control)

Nothing says "I have a chemistry degree and I'm not afraid to use it" like casually dropping "dihydrogen monoxide" at a dinner party. The face says it all—that smug satisfaction when you deliberately overcomplicate simple molecules just to flex your chemical literacy. We all know that one colleague who refers to table salt as "sodium chloride" and somehow manages to work "covalent bonds" into conversations about coffee.

Biologists labeling every microscopic organelle like they're naming parts in an IKEA instruction manual, while chemists just draw a zigzag and call it a day. The biology diagram has 47 labels, 23 footnotes, and probably a bibliography. Meanwhile, chemists are like "behold: carbon chain." Truly the difference between writing a novel and sending a text that just says "k."

The perfect illustration of chemistry's split personality! Organic chemists live in their neat little world where carbon forms a maximum of 4 bonds and anything more complex is dismissed as "probably just a mistake in the drawing." Meanwhile, transition metals are over here forming coordination complexes like this cat absolutely COVERED in CO ligands. Metal centers be like: "You think 4 bonds is impressive? Hold my beaker while I coordinate with 18 carbon monoxide molecules simultaneously." The poor organic chemists would have an existential crisis if they had to memorize all those d-orbital interactions!

Fighting words have been spoken in the eternal disciplinary smackdown! Chemistry is essentially physics with substance—literally. While physicists are off chasing theoretical particles and abstract concepts, chemists are in the lab making things go boom with actual matter. This savage take is technically correct—chemistry does focus on the interactions of matter, while physics covers both matter and energy in more abstract terms. It's like saying "cooking is just applied chemistry" or "biology is just chemistry that moves around on its own." No physicist will change this brave soul's mind because deep down they know it's true—they're just jealous their equations don't make pretty colors in test tubes.

That's not a round bottom flask, that's a bong. Someone's about to conduct some very "high-level" research. The only reaction you'll be catalyzing with this glassware is between THC and your endocannabinoid receptors. Your lab safety officer is going to have questions about your unusual approach to "stress relief" during long experiments. Technically, it does have a round bottom, so partial credit for accuracy.

Chemists really can't escape their professional obsession! The equilibrium arrow (⇌) haunts them like an ex who won't stop texting. Normal people see Spider-Man perched on a building, but chemists? They spot chemical equilibrium symbols in random architectural features and immediately geek out. It's that special kind of nerd syndrome where your brain has been so thoroughly marinated in chemical equations that you start hallucinating reaction arrows in the wild. Next time your chemist friend points at a random fence and whispers "reversible reaction," just nod sympathetically—they're too far gone.