I know, I know…it’s been twelve days since my last post, which was merely a rant at that. Life has managed to take over for a spell, but things are back in balance again and I’m fulfilling my posting duty once more. But I digress.

Here’s a little-known fact about the White House press office, which makes me really like them. At the end of the daily White House briefing that they fax to a myriad of endpoints around the globe is a section called “Last Laughs.” Every day, they publish the political jokes—specifically those about the current administration—from the previous evening’s late night television. I’m mildly ashamed to admit that it’s the only reason I pay any attention to the briefing—I don’t think I’ve actually read the meaty parts more than twice, and both times were probably motivated by an unusually intense surfeit of boredom. The Last Laughs are a great read, and it gives you the sense of last night’s late night stuff without having to sit through it. I’m a big fat fan.

So what’s it like in my world? My dinner companion of last night posed this question to me midway through our entrees, and I’ve been kicking around the answer since. I think at the time, I responded that it was bizarre (true) and loud (also true), but I think there’s a lot more to it than that. I’m really struck by what I would say if I had time to think about my response, and among other things I’d have to answer that it’s lonely—very, very lonely. I don’t say that to garner sympathy or to complain, because it’s not a condition that I specifically lament. I think it’s always been that way, because I’ve always been isolated in some way. I have an uncanny talent for finding people who disappoint, or who desert, but I think it’s more than that. It seems like I tend to think on a different plane than most people, and that is probably a major source of isolation no matter what your surrounds look like. Being lonely isn’t always a bad thing, but perhaps I’d say that about anything that’s characterized most of my life. Funny. As to how I would characterize the rest of “my world,” that’s going to take some further thought.

I submit the following piece of information into the Ways In Which My Jackass Tendencies Are Self-Destructive file. Recently, I rather skillfully managed to slice the tip of my own finger with a potato peeler. Before you offer any sympathy let me clarify that it was while attempting to prove to myself that I can totally peel potatoes with either my right or left hand…you can see where this is going. In my defense, it was a really small potato, and I peeled over 75% of it before slamming the peeler into the tip of my right index finger. It bled like a stuck pig and finishing the peeling without bloodying the potato was more than a little tricky. What can I say—at least I’ve never gotten involved with chainsaw ice sculpting or anything outwardly dangerous like that. No, I find injury in the most benign of situations. It’s a talent, really.

A few weeks ago, on my way home from work, I arrived at an intersection near a community college where I make a right turn every night. I rolled to a reasonable (but not really complete) stop—call it a decent pause—and proceeded to turn. As I rolled across the crosswalk, a young woman, presumably from the college, began walking across the street about 15 yards in front of my car. Please note at this juncture that my vehicle was in the process of passing the crosswalk, therefore the woman in front of my car was nowhere near it. It wasn’t clear whether or not she was going to wait for me to pass before crossing, so I did a little pause-and-go dance and waited for her cue. Finally she decided to march right across, but not before she pointed aggressively at the intersection behind me and screamed “stop sign!” Does anyone else find the sweet, sweet irony in the jaywalker criticizing me for failing to come to a complete stop? Hey, I’m all for stopping at crosswalks, but if there’s one in sight and someone is readying themselves to dart across at another point in the street, I’ll be damned if I’m stopping. I don’t like to encourage that sort of thing. It’s like letting people make ridiculous left turns at places or times of day that absolutely warrant a creative right. I just can’t support that kind of stupidity. Someday, they’ll probably thank me.

No list today, I promise there will be a good one next week.