Note (12/2015): Hi there! I'm taking some time off here to focus on other projects for a bit. As of October 2016, those other projects include a science book series for kids titled Things That Make You Go Yuck! -- available at Barnes and Noble, Amazon and (hopefully) a bookstore near you!

Co-author Jenn Dlugos and I are also doing some extremely ridiculous things over at Drinkstorm Studios, including our award-winning webseries, Magicland.

There are also a full 100 posts right here in the archives, and feel free to drop me a line at secondhandscience@gmail.com with comments, suggestions or wacky cold fusion ideas. Cheers!

· Categories: Chemistry, Physics
What I’ve Learned:

Absolute zero: where the temperature itself is strange and unusual.
“Absolute zero: where the temperature itself is strange and unusual.”

You may think you’ve experienced extreme cold. Maybe you accidentally swallowed a whole popsicle once. Or walked into a blizzard with your fly unzipped. Maybe you have a regular bridge game with Betty Draper, April Ludgate and Cruella de Vil.

That’s super. But none of those things compare with absolute zero.

Absolute zero is a theoretical state of matter in which the enthalpy and entropy of a gas are at their lowest possible values. This sounds complicated, but “entropy” and “enthalpy” just mean the amount of energy in the system, and the disorder of that system.

(I can never remember which is which, because the words sound too much alike.

I also mix up Mindy Kaling with Michael Keaton. Which makes reruns of The Office pretty confusing — and Beetlejuice ten times scarier.)

In more familiar terms, absolute zero would be -273.15° Celsius, or -459.67° Fahrenheit, either of which will shrink it right up inside you in a hurry. It’s also zero Kelvin, which is a lot easier to remember. On the other hand, it’s 288 Kelvins outside right now, which is approximately zero help in telling me whether or not I need a coat. Or to zip up my fly.

(Notice that in the Kelvin scale, there are no degrees. That’s because in extremely cold temperatures, that little circle thingy folds completely in on itself and disappears.

See? When you’re flirting with absolute zero, even the measurement units get shrinkage.)

While absolute zero isn’t physically possible to achieve — stupid sexy laws of thermodynamics — you can get pretty close. As in, trillionths of a Kelvin close. Scientists can do amazing things with window fans and ice cubes, apparently.

And when they do, spooky quantum mechanical things start happening.

One of these is superconduction, where electrical resistance in supercooled materials suddenly drops to zero. Another is superfluidity, where viscosity gives up in the cold and goes home. Weirdest of all (and sometimes superfluid) are Bose-Einstein condensates, an entirely distinct state of matter which was first predicted by Albert Einstein and a pair of surround-sound speakers.

(I kid, I kid. Bose was an amazing guy — self-taught, genius and deservedly celebrated. Maybe I should have said “first predicted by Satyendra Nath Bose and a subpar bagel chain”.

Or neither? Probably neither. Moving on.)

Oddly, it’s possible to create a system with a temperature below absolute zero. Oddlier, this system is not only “hotter” than it was before, it’s also hotter than anything else in the universe, based on the physics of heat transfer.

I’d like to tell you this is just like freezer burn. I would. But I don’t think it’s anything like freezer burn, and I have no idea how it works. (And some scientists challenge whether it’s true at all.)

Maybe science thermometers are circular, so the bottom of the scale connects back to the top? Like how some people are so ugly, they’re attractive? I don’t know. Ask an ugly quantum physicist.

So the next time you find yourself trapped in a walk-in freezer (244 Kelvins), sunbathing in Antarctica (190 Kelvins) or drifting in the cold vacuum of space (2.73 Kelvins), just remember that it could be worse. It could be absolute zero.

Well, not quite absolute zero. But really, really close.

Actual Science:
PBS / NovaAbsolute zero
New ScientistWhat happens at absolute zero?
UColorado Boulder / The Atomic LabTemperature and Absolute Zero
Science NewsHottest temperature ever measured is a negative one
MIT NewsIt’s a negative on negative absolute temperatures

Image sources: French Tribune (freezy zero), Betty Draper Looking Pissed (just what it says), Candy-Coated Razor Blades and FanPop / The Office (Mindyjuice! Mindyjuice! Mindyjuice!) and Business Insider (“Shrinkage!”)

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· Categories: Chemistry, Physics
What I’ve Learned:

Avogadro's number: That's a lot of MOOOOOOOOOLEcules!
“Sometimes, even a huge number can leave you wanting MOOOOOOLE!”

Contrary to popular belief, Avogadro’s number is neither the first item in a guacamole recipe, nor the less-successful Italian sequel to Schindler’s List. In fact, modern science says it isn’t officially a thing at all any more, like Pluto’s planethood or Steven Hawking’s dance moves.

Too soon? Sorry.

What is a thing is the Avogadro constant, which is closely related to the measurement known as a ‘mole’. The mole is a very important scientific concept, defined as the amount of a substance in grams equal to the atomic weight of that substance.

For pure elements, figuring a mole is easy. Take carbon, for instance. Carbon’s atomic weight is 12, so a mole of pure carbon — no radioactive isotopes, please — weighs 12 grams. Hydrogen’s a pipsqueak: atomic weight of 1, mole weight of 1. Californium is a beast of atomic weight 98, so a mole of that weighs a hefty 98 grams.

Must be all the Avogadro trees weighing it down.

Since larger atoms weigh more, every element — actually, every substance — has the same number of atoms in a mole. That number is Avogadro’s number, roughly equal to 6.022 x 1023.

(The “Avogadro constant” is basically the same as “Avogadro’s number”, after a bunch of snooty international standards paper-pushers got together and slapped official units on it to make it look pretty in scientific journals. What’s the precise relationship between the “number” and the “constant”? According to Wikipedia:

“Avogadro’s number is a dimensionless quantity and has the numerical value of the Avogadro constant given in base units.”

I know, right? It’s like reading Vogon poetry. Just say they’re the same thing, already, chem-nerds. Jesus.)

Calculating the amount, or molarity, of substances is trickier when they’re more complex — like cyclohexane or gummy bears or Chevrolet Impalas. But it’s still possible. You just figure out the average atomic weight of the molecules involved, plop the stuff on a scale and then calculate the number of moles involved.

(Well. You and I don’t. But other people do. The kind with lab coats and safety goggles and scientific calculators with the fancy buttons worn down.)

The key is Avogadro’s number, which is a pretty amazing thing itself. It’s a universal link between the mysterious world of atoms, which nobody understands, to the everyday world of grams — which only drug dealers and metric Europeans understand.

Also, it’s huge: six hundred and two sextillion, give or take a few quadrillion molecules. That many meters would equal 60 million light years, as far as the Virgo galaxy cluster. If it were gumballs, six hundred sextillion is almost — almost — more than Rachael Ray could fit into her mouth at once. So yeah, it’s a lot.

Yet all those molecules are jammed into 12 grams of carbon, less than half an ounce. It boggles the mind. And the Avogadros.

It even boggles the scientists. Chemists have taken to celebrating “Mole Day” each year, between the hours of 6:02AM and 6:02PM on 10/23. Because they haven’t received quite enough wedgies for sustained dorkiness, apparently.

You’d think they’d at least take it seriously — and not use it as an excuse to make constant “Mooooole!” jokes like a bunch of giddy four-eyed Austin Powers fanboys.

You would be wrong. Score one for Team Avogadro. Yeah, baby.

Image sources: Sturff (call me, Avogadro), Denver Westword (Rachael Ray piechasm), The Virtual School (molar eclipse), Lake Bluff Homebrew Club (Savage mole)

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· Categories: Biology, Chemistry
What I’ve Learned:

Endorphins: NOMNOMNOMNOM!
“Where there’s an ‘oh face’, there are endorphins.”

It’s no wonder people get excited about endorphins. If you believe the Wikipedia, endorphins are released “during exercise, excitement, pain, spicy food consumption, love, and sexual activity”.

On the other hand, so is ass sweat. But you never hear fitness gurus talking about “runners’ butt”. What’s so special about endorphins?

The first hint is in the name itself. “Endorphin” is actually bits of two words jammed together; namely, ‘endo-‘, meaning internal, and ‘-orphin’, meaning morphine. Without the ‘m’ or the ‘e’, for some reason — which just goes to show, even scientists lose their shit and get sloppy when morphine is involved.

Endorphins aren’t literally morphine made inside your body; they’re small peptides recognized by the same brain cell receptors that bind morphine. But whereas putting morphine in your body leads to dependence, drug addiction and 19th century Chinese opium dens, releasing endorphins blocks pain, promotes mild euphoria and helps you power through that third order of Chernobyl hot wings.

Another thing endorphins may do is create the fabled “runners’ high” that annoyingly healthy people with spectacular calves are always yammering about. For years, scientists couldn’t directly test brain endorphin levels in runners to confirm the theory, so it could have been anything causing the buzz: adrenaline, fancy running shoes or compression shorts two sizes too small. But new technology finally allowed them to pin the phenomenon on increased endorphins glomming onto brain cells during a jog.

Not that they ruled out the compression shorts. They just didn’t want to look too closely at those.

(Also, different researchers point to the neurotransmitter anandamide, which is an endocannabinoid, or — you guessed it, body-made weed juices.

Man, our bodies are so busy making knockoff drug compounds, I’m surprised we ever get anything accomplished.)

So endorphins are pretty important. Remember: exercise, pain, eating spicy food and having sex. All activities in which we make the same face, and all associated with endorphin release. It’s probably no coincidence.

There can be downsides to endorphin production. Studies suggest that postpartum depression is a side effect of endorphin withdrawal. Apparently, the placenta produces endorphins during pregnancy, and the fetus milks that good-time vibe for all the nutrients it can grab. After birth, Mom’s endorphin levels suddenly drop and she can fall into a funk.

(So can the child, presumably. But the kid’s so busy learning to drool and poop and cram things into its mouth that it probably doesn’t notice.)

There’s also depersonalization disorder, a mental issue linked in part to endorphins. And the ever-present risk of accidentally signing up for an endorphin lab study — because seriously, researchers love these things.

In one experiment — proving what enormous dicks scientists can be sometimes — they studied people getting acupuncture treatment, probably for stress or pain relief. So how did they measure the amount of endorphins released?

With spinal taps. Because nothing says “relief” to an endorphin researcher quite like, “let me suck some spinal fluid out the small of your back”.

So exercise and sex it up and stuff wasabi up your nostrils, if you want. But maybe — for your safety, and everyone else’s sake — keep your endorphins to yourself.

And ditto for the ass sweat. Just sayin’.

Image sources: GuideChem (alpha-endorphin), Inquisitr (Sonya Thomas wing face), Dogs in Need of Space (happy runners), Smosh (“Oh” face)

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· Categories: Chemistry, Physics
What I’ve Learned:

Jabba the Deen don't need no hydrogen bonding, y'all
“Hydrogen bonding: If you can’t keep it in your pants, keep it in your electron cloud.”

Hydrogen bonding is one of the most important chemical forces holding molecules and matter and us together. Without the power of hydrogen bonding, we’d all blob out into big piles of disorganized goo like Jabba the Hutt. Or Paula Deen.

(Hey, they’ve never been seen in the same room at the same time. I’m just saying.)

As attractive forces go, hydrogen bonding isn’t especially strong. A molecule could probably pull more electrons with Axe body spray and a couple of subatomic guitar lessons. If covalent bonding — solid, strong, crazy hard to break — is like a marriage, then hydrogen bonding is the “I’ll call you” after hooking up in the alley outside a downtown bar. Not exactly a sign of a committed molecular relationship.

Of course, there are advantages to keeping your options open. I’m not saying it’s a playah, chemical-interactionally-speaking, but hydrogen bonding gets around. Almost every substance critical to life on Earth — proteins, DNA, cronuts, you name it — contains hydrogen atoms. And those things are constantly getting busy rubbing up against each other, switching partners and saying to their hydrogen friends, “well, I ‘bonded’ him, but I didn’t ‘bond him, bond him’, you know?

It’s like Penthouse Letters meets Mr. Wizard. But slightly less disturbing.

The craziest hydrogen bonding of all is in water.

(Because everything is sexier when its wet. Except possibly Mr. Wizard. Try not to think about that too much.)

A water molecule is chemically simple — one oxygen and two hydrogens, bound together in holy covalent matrimony. But like any threesome, even the sparkly vampire ones, nobody in the relationship is really happy. So the atoms all doll up at night and go hydrogen bonding — oxygens prowling for other hydrogens, and hydrogens making the move on every oxygen with a dipole and a pulse. These things make Don Juan look like… well, like Mr. Wizard.

Or Jabba the Hutt. Or Paula Deen. Only wetter.

What’s more, these electrostatic horndogs are good at hooking up, one-night-bonding with up to four other water molecules at a time. That’s good for us, because it’s all this hydro-boinking on the side that gives water its high melting point, high boiling point and makes ice float instead of sink. All of which are pretty important for us to continue to live and maintain mostly-unblobby shapes and eat trendy breakfast-pastry hybrids.

So be glad that hydrogen bonding works the way it does. Life wouldn’t be the same — or probably, wouldn’t be life at all — without it. Just try to forget that there’s basically an atomic-level key party orgy going on in the glass of water you’re drinking.

And don’t even ask what’s going on in that cup of coffee. Trust me, you do not want to know.

Actual Science:
UC Davis ChemwikiHydrogen bonding
Northland CollegeA closer look at water (animation)
NatureChemists re-define hydrogen bond
io9The very first image of a hydrogen bond
DoubleXScienceWhy are snowflakes always six-sided?

Image sources: StudyBlue (hydrogen bonding), Ripoff Report and Gossip Rocks (Jabba the Deen), Laughing Squid (Mr. Wizard), Etsy/KnotworkShop (coffee sex mug)

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