There are few flaws I abhor more in myself, and in others, than carelessness. Carelessness includes actions such as the following:
- Accidentally smashing glasses in the dish drain because we keep canned goods directly above the dish drain and now that we’re penniless, we have 15 cans of chickpeas up in there
- Leaving umbrellas behind on the subway
- Drooling toothpaste-backwash all over my sweater and leaving for work anyhow knowing goddamn full well that I didn’t get the toothpaste stain out because NOTHING removes toothpaste stains (except peanut butter, I think…or is it chewing gum?), like I did today
- Eating spaghetti and meatballs with my hands while riding a unicycle and wearing my white silk chantung pantsuit
Another thing that could be considered careless, and something of which I’m frequently guilty, is blurting things out in conversation that could be construed as “lacking in politesse.”
Some background: Every business guru book in the world has a chapter on EQ, which, in shorthand, is what allows idiots to rise to upper echelons of management simply by remembering coworkers’ names and frequently commenting on how interesting their ideas are. I do not possess even a smidgen of EQ, which is why I will always have jobs where I have to ask permission to go to lunch. For awhile, I thought that maybe I had Aspergers, which afflicts EVERYONE on the Internet. But no, I can’t have Aspergers, because I’m not obsessed with WWII biplanes or Turing machines.
Anyway, this weekend, N and I were at a Christmas party, talking to this young woman about what we do for a living (what else — it’s NY).
Me: You’re a writer?
Her: Yeah, I have a book coming out this summer.
N: Are you going to tell us what it’s about?
Her: No.
Me: Is it called I Fucked Tiger Woods? Because I hear that’s a really hot subject right now.
Her: [blinks]
Come to find out* she’s the daughter of a rather prominent Republican politician. Ultimately, I won her over once we discovered a shared love of guns (I didn’t mention my plans to Smash The State) but let’s just say I won’t be trotting that joke out at the Junior League anytime soon.
*About four hours later
Stroke me.
